Batgirl at the Con

"Oh please no!" she exclaimed, closing her eyes in anticipated embarrassment as her cheeks flushed mightily under her cowl.

"Come on now Batgirl. No one knows who you really are including me. I think you'd be up to enjoying all the attention. After all isn't that what we costumers live for? You do enjoy showing off your beautiful but unattainable body to the lusting fan boys, don't you?" She blushed anew at that. He turned to her and grasped a breast in each hand from the underside, dragging his thumbs down across the top of her breasts, squeezing her nipples to attention. By the time he led her off the elevator, her nipples were straining prominently against her clinging costume. Even though she was completely dressed, she was on full display sexually as he led her into the dealers' room.

"Bastard," she muttered.

"We villains are known for our fiendishness," he cackled, "but you knew that before you showed up at the door to my lair. It's the chance every superheroine takes, isn't it?"

She felt like every eye in the crowded dealers' room was on her as he led her among the tables. She could see some indeed stopped to stare.

"Oh, can we get a picture?" two young men asked.

"Of course," Deathstroke replied. He posed next to Batgirl, holding her leash high enough to make it obvious that Batgirl was his prisoner. Batgirl tried to shrink away but his other arm was around her shoulder. Just before they snapped the picture, he slid his hand down to cup her breast. She stiffened and shivered against him. This was totally humiliating. "Be sure to post the pictures online where we can find them," Deathstroke said cheerily.

He stopped at one vendor's table and purchased copies of Detective Comics #400 and #401. He twirled Batgirl around in a dancer's pirouette and pushed them into her cape pocket where he had earlier stashed her thong. "I think you'll enjoy these issues particularly. Think of them as my parting gift, and think of me as you read them."

"The hour's up," he explained to her puzzled look. "Good bye Batgirl. It's been quite memorable, but now I must make my escape." He dropped the "leash" and began to walk away.

"Wait! Aren't you going to untie me?"

"And forfeit my head start at a getaway Batgirl? I don't think so."

"But..."

"If your escape artist skills don't suffice, I'm sure you can always find someone eager to help you out of your predicament," he said with a wicked grin, "Farewell Batgirl. May we meet again."

That was going to be both embarrassing and dangerous, she thought.