Birds of Prey - Twisted Desire Ch. 08

Both were set upon their strapping male student, roaming across his firm, toned body with hands, lips, and tongue. And he was set upon them in turn, wrapping his thick, corded arms around their slender waists to draw them closer, his big hands planted upon the soft flesh of their hips, their asses. Possessive. Like the two women were his property.

So much creamy flesh on display had sent a shock through Barbara. For a moment she had even forgotten to breathe. She couldn't move. The debauchery unfolding before her eyes had her rooted to the spot.

"Couldn't even wait for the ceremony to have his fun, either." Rita Flores spoke again, her lovely accent coloring her heated words. She ran her hand adoringly over Westfield's flat stomach while Jameson did the same to the young man's broad chest. Their darker skin was a shock against the student's pale body, caramel and chocolate feeling up vanilla. "No patience at all. We shouldn't be rewarding this behavior, Miss Jameson."

Belle Jameson gave a simple hum of agreement. But quickly she burst into a giggling fit. The darker woman shifted on the couch, the simplest of movements sending a subtle-yet-magnificent quaking across her proud breasts, her lush thighs. With a wicked smile, she reached down and began to stroke Westfield's long, thick cock.

Jesus... Barbara inhaled sharply as her eyes settled on the enormity that sprang up between Westfield's tree-trunk legs. Him and Reston and probably the other Brotherhood creeps... What the hell is Kingston feeding these guys? Why are they all so damn hung?

Unnoticed, unsuspected, the caped heroine looked on from her place in the hallway. A sensation frothed in the pit of her belly, while thoughts bubbled within the cauldron of her mind. Was it revulsion that she was feeling? Dismay? Or was it a twisted admiration? Whatever it was, Barbara's eyes were fixated on Westfield's thick, monstrous, throbbing manhood... And Miss Jameson's dainty hand that was stroking the shaft.

"We really shouldn't." Belle tittered sweetly, teasingly. She gave Westfield's dick a slow, maddening pump, her thumb pressing into the swollen head and rubbing circles. She had the young man grunting, red-faced and huffing through his nose like some primal beast. With the arm he had wrapped around her waist, he drew her closer so that her body, the sweetness of her abundant flesh, was pressed flush against him. But instead of stroking him harder, faster like he silently demanded, Belle only gave another fit of spirited laughter. She held the weighty stalk of meat in her hand, slowly milking it as she presented it to her partner in crime. "But a man with equipment like this... It must be very hard to keep his urges in check, Rita."

Rita Flores gave a tsk-tsk, shaking her head. The faux-disappointment was betrayed by the fire in the latina's eyes. The same eyes that hungered, yearned for the fat dick her friend was stroking.

"Off the hook yet again, Mister Westfield." Miss Flores cooed, her voice rising an octave as the student in question slid his hand up her nightie's skirt to grab a handful of her supple rear. Pale fingers sank into the lush, brown flesh of her ass. The young man's shameless groping caused her voice to break as she continued on. "You should appreciate how... lucky you are. Looks, wealth... y tienes esta gran verga de mierda."

Miss Jameson removed her hand from Westfield's cock, like she knew what was coming. Miss Flores dipped her head down then, engulfing the head of her student's cock in the softness of her lips, the warmth of her tongue, the delicious wetness of her mouth. Or at least that's what Barbara assumed, judging from the student's pleased groan as Miss Flores dropped her face to his groin.

Barbara felt a shudder travel through her body, starting from the back of her neck and running down, down, down her spin, before ending in the deep pit of her belly. She should have felt a measure of horror at the realization that she was getting off on this - and she did somewhat. But it was muted, smothered. Overshadowed by the wicked thrill that shot through her nerves as she watched Miss Flores bob her head in Andrew Westfield's lap.

But while the latina was sucking and licking Westfield's shaft, Miss Jameson was not sitting idly by. The other teacher was not the woman to wait on the sidelines. With a bold, daring glimmer in her eyes, the ebony seductress reached behind to undo her bra. An instant later, the white lace cups fell loose and Jameson's ample tits swung free into open air. Those proud swells were succulent, perfect. Dark brown teardrop globes capped with even darker nipples. They were hardened and poking, begging for a man's hungry mouth. And Andrew Westfield was all too willing to answer.

Belle Jameson gave a lovely sigh as the strapping lad latched his mouth to one of her teats. She cradled his head, running her fingers through his short, blond hair.

The younger man - the teenage boy - suckled at her chocolate bosom, groaning, grunting like a low-minded brute as he lashed his tongue against her delectable peaks. Like a man starving, he feasted. Only pausing to murmur lazily, drunkenly, with his face buried in the deep valley between her tits.

"There's no point in us waiting for the ceremony..." Westfield groused, using one hand to clap down onto Miss Jameson's luscious ass. The teacher gasped, indignant... But broke into a giddy laugh a moment later, petering out into soft, sweet moans. His other hand... Barbara watched as Westfield drew his groping paw away from Miss Flores' behind, offering her poor buttocks some respite... Only for him to grip the latina by her dark locks. With a fist tightened in her hair, he forced her to service him at his pace. "All that shit is for the green brothers and new girls. It doesn't make sense... for me to wait... to enjoy what's already mine. Fuck."

GLRK GLRK GLRK GLRK

Barbara should have been sickened. And she was. But she couldn't deny the sick delight she felt watching Westfield pummel Miss Flores' mouth with his fat cock. And the sound. Good god, it was fucked-up music at its most sublime.

Miss Jameson's yelp shook Barbara from her mesmerized state. The sound of palm slapping against skin resounded in her ears. Westfield had clapped his hand onto her ass again, growling into her tits.

One teacher was choking on his cock. Another was feeding him her ample teats. Westfield was doubtless living a life most men only dreamed of. And there was a voice in the back - the far back - of Barbara's mind screaming to her that he shouldn't be.

Barbara bit her lip, remembering the purpose of her being there. Batgirl was on a mission. A crusade to save her friends and all the other women ensnared by Westfield and his cohorts.

Blushing under her cowl, the redhead felt a wave of shame pour over her. She pulled away from the open door, stewing in loathing and embarrassment. Angry - no, furious - at herself, at her own body.

What kind of superheroine gets off on this? What kind of woman gets off on this?

Another slap. Another yelp. Another sultry moan. The sound of Miss Flores gagging and slurping on the teen's fat dick continued to carry out into the hallway.

Barbara ignored it all. Shaking her head, forcing herself to focus on what mattered, she slipped by the open door undetected. Westfield would get his, just not now. Not when Batgirl had more important matters at hand.

Dinah was still somewhere in those very same halls. And she was running out of time.

I can't let her down. I won't.

Barbara Gordon continued on, deeper and deeper into the Brotherhood's dark sanctum.

- - -

Chapter Twenty Two

Belly of the Beast

For Dinah, it was worse than being naked.

The outfit that she wore had been prepared not simply to accentuate, but to arouse. To titillate. The ensemble - if it could even be called that - was put together with the intent of pleasing an audience. A male audience.

Dinah was no stranger to using her goods to throw off the pigheaded street toughs she encounters on her nightly patrols. The Black Canary was meant to be underestimated. Distracting. A pretty bird with sharp talons and an ear-splitting song. But this...?

The fishnets were far more revealing, boasting a wider mesh than what even Zatanna would dare. The lace thong certainly afforded less coverage than her regular leotard bottoms, leaving her ass exposed as the rear band sank between her cheeks. But the corset was the worst of them all. Dinah had discovered to her dismay that it was cupless. The only thing covering her breasts was the leather half-jacket. And even then, with the damn thing being zipperless... If she turned too quickly or moved her arms the wrong way she'd be flashing the goods to any and all.

The outfit Dinah wore was a perversion. The heroic garb of a League veteran, twisted at the pleasure of horny junior criminals. It turned Dinah's belly. Even just wearing the scanty things felt like a betrayal.

And yet the blonde wore them. It could never be said that Dinah Lance didn't tough it out for her girls.

At least the boots were of a sort that she was used to. A few undercover stints as a stripper, wearing them on special nights with assorted gentlemen visitors, or simply because Dinah thought they looked good and that she'd look good wearing them. The familiarity brought a sense of comfort. A small one, but enough to keep Dinah on the level. Mostly.

Dinah had a number of choice words for the jackass who put together her get-up. But she kept her more biting words to herself. Quietly, obediently, she followed Lilith. The gym teacher, Dinah noted, hadn't changed into a new outfit. The fit brunette still wore her backless dress of red silk.

Lucky her, Dinah thought bitterly.

Lilith led the Canary to her quarry, taking them both deeper and deeper into the bowels of Timm Hall. The trek passed in a haze, with Dinah unknowing if it had been lengthy or brief. It was an odd feeling, the blonde noted in her mind. She had always been the alert type, keenly aware of her surroundings. But for a moment, not so much. Dinah put the feeling aside and followed Lilith onward.

They were upon a stairway then, gray stone steps taking them down, down, down. Unlike the architecture of the upper floors, the place Lilith had led her seemed older, mustier.

This must be the basement, Dinah guessed blithely. Of course the Brotherhood operates out of their basement.

The stone steps ended and opened up into a hall with an arched ceiling. Gray stone still, the walls and pillars and arches. All made of thick, stone bricks. All except for the statues.

The statues caught Dinah's eyes. Her vision was drawn to them. They were impossible to ignore. Statues of men and women. Naked men and women. Bold in their natural beauty, towering over Dinah and Lilith, oppressive with their effortless sensuality. The men exuded primal power and the women appeared to surrender to it, offering themselves. Each of them a breathtaking work of art, immaculately carved from glossy black stone.

It was not right. A voice in the back of Dinah's head was urging her to turn and leave. Screaming at her to run. But it was muffled. Smothered. Until it was finally silenced. Dinah stared at the statues, drinking in the perfection of their stone bodies. The hall was lit only by braziers and Dinah was enthralled by the way the firelight reflected on these carved men and women. Bright, brilliant tongues dancing across their nudity.

Dinah watched for a moment longer. Then she continued on.

She joined Lilith who was waiting for her at a set of large, wooden double doors. The brunette had been waiting patiently, as if guests being mesmerized by the statues was routine. Dinah wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case.

Lilith offered a small, knowing smile. She reached out and tucked some of Dinah's hair behind her ear, taking a moment to admire the blonde. It was an odd feeling. A few moments ago, Dinah would have felt repulsed. But now...

Now, the other woman's admiration was... not unwelcome.

Dinah felt her heart begin to quicken. She felt warm. Inexplicable, given her state of near-undress. But before she could dwell on the absurdity, Lilith spoke up.

"I'm glad you found the courage to join us in our righteous sisterhood, Dinah." The brunette began. Dinah watched as she leaned back against the double doors, clasping her hands together before her thighs. The woman regarded Dinah in silence for a moment, staring at her with unreadable eyes. Lilith bit her lower lip, as if pondering her next words. Then she spoke again, warm and matronly. "You may still have some concerns... But I promise you won't regret this."

Again, Lilith did not wait for Dinah to respond. The brunette turned and knocked upon the large wooden door. Once, twice, thrice. Heavy booming knocks, each one hammering in sync with Dinah's heart.

This is it, Dinah realized. Beyond those doors... the Belly of the Beast....

There was the groaning, creaking of old lumber as the doors slowly parted, opening inward. Each one was being pulled by a young man, a fresh-faced Kingston Brother. Both were dressed in hooded robes, colored red. Not the rich, sensual red of Lilith's dress, but a deep, dark red. Crimson. The color of fire. Of power. Of hot, boiling blood.

And beyond the doors and the two hooded men? The Brotherhood's central chamber. It had to be, from what Dinah saw. The large circular room was illuminated by candlelight, the warm glow of a hundred tiny flames giving the chamber a decidedly ancient, primal feel. Like a brothel out of the heart of Rome.

Plush, velvet cushions were arranged in half circles around the central, stone dais. And it too was topped with pillows and velvet sheets. Silk drapes of red and pink hung from the ceiling, a shock against the stone walls.

But the biggest shock was the people. Dinah knew she had been invited to a Brotherhood gathering. She knew it wouldn't be a lonely experience. But she didn't expect there to be so many people. There had to be fifty of them, at least! Kingston Brothers and their lady guests. Green recruits and their vulnerable inductees.

And Dinah Lance had just joined the party.

Lilith and Dinah strode forth together into the chamber, the brunette standing tall, elegant, and proud. It was an honor, it seemed, to present the newest woman to be officially ensnared. Even Dinah found herself moving forward with a sense of dignity, to her own bewilderment. Was she trying to impress these bastards?

One of the bastards in question stepped up to the opposite end of the circular dais. He too wore a hooded robe of red silk, the same as every other male in the room. And from the way his robe was opened, Dinah could see that he wore the robe, a pair of black boxers, and nothing else. Like Reston, he was in damn good shape. Though the candlelight was dim, Dinah could make out the lines of his chest and abdomen. A quick glance around the room told the blonde that this too was the case for all the other men.

The Black Canary's lips curled into a small frown. This would have been easier if these creeps were all just a bunch of skinny nerds. She had hoped that Reston and Barbara's mark, the Westfield boy, were outliers. But no dice. The Kingston Brotherhood was composed entirely, it seemed, of healthy, strapping young men.

The Kingston Brother at the other end of the dais spoke, his voice deep and commanding. Dinah didn't like the tremble that crawled down her back. Not at all.

"I am pleased to announce that Miss Dinah Blake, our new gym teacher, has chosen to step into the Brotherhood's shadow." He said, lifting his arms to 'present' Dinah to the gathering. Dinah narrowed her eyes, not recognizing the young man. The presenter was not Matthew Reston. The blonde glanced around the room, hoping to catch sight of her quarry among the others. But it was no good. Not with everyone wearing their hoods up. The presenter's voice thundered again, shocking Dinah out of her thoughts. "She has accepted Brother Reston's affections and will henceforth be considered under his protection."

The women of the gathering broke into fits of whispers and giggles. Dinah felt her cheeks grow warm - but was it because of embarrassment or something else? She was the only one present who was dressed like a streetwalker. Everyone else was garbed in silk robes - though only the men were hooded.

Dinah glanced around the chamber, catching sight of all manner of pretty ladies. She recognized many of them. Cheerleaders were an obvious choice, but Dinah spotted some young women from the gymnastics team, others from the debate club, and so on. And of course, many of the women were of the Kingston faculty.

Adult women, all of them turned into the pretty, fawning arm candy of a group of villainous preppy jocks. And they wanted to make Dinah into one of them. A weak little woman, all giggles and batted eyelashes. A pretty little thing meant to be protected. Owned.

Dinah's cheeks were no longer warm. They were burning.

Beside her, Lilith gave a snap of her fingers. A moment later, two figures in blue hooded robes emerged from the darkness. They approached Dinah and Lilith's side of the dais, coming upon them like indigo wraiths. Reapers coming to collect Dinah's soul. But as they drew closer, the blonde brawler could make out their faces. Their very familiar faces.

"For a moment there, I was afraid you'd gotten cold feet." Matthew Reston said, wearing an infuriatingly pleased smile.

Dinah felt her belly coil and uncoil as the King Creep himself drew his eyes up and down her outrageously dressed body. His hungry gaze was... it was... Dinah couldn't even think of the words, her mind was such a whirlwind. She balled her hands into fists, her nails digging into the skin. The sting would bring her some clarity. It had to.

But Helena put a quick stop to that.

"After her performance last night?" The raven-haired Huntress cut in, slicing Dinah's hope for sanity to ribbons. Dinah gave her friend a wide-eyed stare, but Helena only gave a throaty laugh. The woman who used to be a superheroine gave a delighted hum as she pressed herself into Reston's side. Dinah could only watch in silent horror as Helena draped herself over the younger man's shoulder. She watched her friend purr into the bastard's ear. "You don't know Dinah like I do, babe. When she commits, she commits."

Helena gave Reston a small peck on the cheek before pulling away. Dinah was rooted to the spot as her friend then closed in, drawing her in for a deep hug. There was warmth in Helena's touch, loving affection as she rubbed circles into Dinah's back. And even more still, if Dinah bothered to dwell on it. But she did not.

Dinah's mind was a storm. A war of emotions. And her body? A war of sensations. She didn't know whether to feel shame or pride at Helena's praise. She didn't know whether to feel disgusted or horny at being the center of so much lustful attention. All she knew was that she was enduring this for Helena. Feeling her friend's touch, seeing her friend's smile... Dinah knew she had to see the mission through.

Helena pulled away from their hug, smiling. It was only then that Dinah noticed her black-painted lips, so full and glossy and kissable. Plenty of kinky things could be done with such darkly colored lipstick, Dinah knew from much experience. And despite the inner conflict, the blonde felt a spark of anticipation.