Lois Lane Loves Bondage

"I can't believe I'm doing this," the driver said. "I can not believe I'm doing this!" she repeated, slamming her well-manicured hand onto the steering wheel.

Exceedingly rare violet eyes scanned up to the rear-view mirror. "You're Lois god damn Lane, you can't be doing this," Lois Lane told herself. "You're a star reporter," said the star reporter. "You're a multiple Pulitzer Prize winning journalist," said the multiple Pulitzer Prize winning journalist. "You're a self-possessed woman at the top of her field and you are 100% in charge of your own life! If Wonder Woman didn't exist, you'd likely be the ideal woman. So why are you doing this?" she asked herself. "You know what? You're not doing this."

On a road that was now closer to Gotham City than Metropolis, Lois Lane trashed her original plan and began to look for an exit ramp to take her back. As her sharp, alluring, eyes darted around, she felt it again. That itch. That persistent, metaphorical (an important distinction), itch between her legs that had been plaguing her for months. It was the reason she was on her way to Gotham in the first place, and as soon as she thought of ignoring it again, it intensified.

"Ugh! Fine!" Lois said to her libido. "Can't believe I'm having my strings pulled by my god damn vagina."

It would be another hour before Lois reached Gotham, found the selected hotel, got up to the roof, and waited at the meeting spot for 30 minutes past the agreed-upon meeting time. "I'm freezing my tits off up here," Lois said, hugging her arms to her chest. She had worn her usual professional attire of a low-cut white blouse, covered by a buttoned up purple blazer, and a white pleated skirt that reached only halfway to her knees. She used to enjoy a form fitting pencil skirt, but her frantic life often led to it tearing during both pursuit and escape alike. Lois was not at all dressed for the weather, because she assumed it would be a quick chat, despite the gravity. She also assumed she would be on time.

"You know what? This is a sign," Lois reasoned. "This was a stupid idea and I'm going home." But when she turned away from the Gotham skyline and to the exit, she was there. Perched on top of the roof access door. Squatting with arms aimed straight down so her clawed gloves could grip the edge. Her black suit almost disappeared entirely against the black, starless, Gotham sky. Lois was only able to spot her by the few scant strips of color she allowed. The red of her goggles and the white of her jaw. Most notable was the plunging cut into her suit that displayed her deep, creamy, cleavage.

"Going home so soon?" Catwoman purred.

"You're late," Lois sneered.

"You're grumpy," Catwoman mocked.

"No, I'm going home," Lois corrected and reiterated, acting as the signal to her exit. As Catwoman was sitting above it, it was all too easy for her to slip down and stand between Lois and her trepidations. Annoyed, Lois stood defiantly, arms at her sides and fists clenched, trying to will Catwoman out of the way.

"You came all this way and you're just going to leave because you're a little chilly?" Catwoman clicked her tongue. "No, no I don't think you are." The sleek cat burglar started her approach. Lois, remaining defiant, stood completely still, refusing to feed a villain's need to banter. "I think you want to stay. With me." A steel claw scratched at Lois's lapel, flipping it flippantly. Catwoman looked her up and down as she circled. Standing behind Lois, the busty burglar pressed her bust against her back while leaning her black-lipstick lips over to Lois's ear, after her long black hair was pulled back like a curtain. "I see you shiver, with antici..." One exceedingly long pause later. "...pation."

"Rocky Horror?" Lois groaned, looking over her shoulder at her Cheshire grin. "Okay, now I'm really out of here." Purple heels clicked on the roof top only a few moments before Catwoman grabbed Lois's arm.

"Okay, okay," Catwoman said as she chuckled. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. I forgot you Metroplinites don't have the same dash of madness in your daily diet as Gothamites have."

Lois spun around and yanked her arm free so she could cross it with the other over her chest. "It's Metropolitans," she corrected.

Catwoman's smirk rose higher. She'll be fun, she thought. "Pleasantries aside, why don't you tell me why you've summoned me?" Catwoman asked, crossing her arms like Lois, in some half mockery, though she kept her arms under her exceeding bust just to get a reaction. Lois wasn't that easy to crack, however.

"I came to ask you a question," she plainly put.

"Seems like you could have saved yourself the trip and some frozen tits if you'd just texted me."

"It's not the sort of conversation you have over the phone," Lois reasoned.

"Curious," Catwoman purred. "So, what is it?"

"It's..." Lois paused, her eyes darting to the floor as she tried to find the words necessary that wouldn't necessarily embarrass her. She couldn't do it. Libido be damned. "It's nothing. It's a bad idea and a waste of time. I'm sorry for wasting yours and mine. Goodbye." Before she could finish a full turn, Catwoman called out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it, sister. There's no way you made the trip all the way from Metropolis to Gotham, at night, which is the most dangerous time to visit Gotham, and stood up here 30 minutes past our meeting time in the cold for nothing. It'll only be a waste of time if you leave right now," Catwoman reasoned. "And you don't strike me as the kind of person who likes to waste anyone's time, especially her own. So, spill."

Lois took in a deep inhale through her nostrils and let out a long exhale past her rosy lips. "It started about six months ago. I had been kidnapped, again, and was tied up to a chair, gagged, waiting for either the ransom or rescue. Usually, it would annoy me. It should have annoyed me, but it didn't. Instead, I felt this...urge."

"Urge?"

"It was this emptiness in me, just below my stomach, and it was begging to be filled," Lois explained.

"You were horny?" Catwoman simplified.

Lois sighed, hoping to maintain some modesty with the conversation, but failing. "In so many words, yes. Eventually I would get rescued and life would continue. Another couple weeks later and I get kidnapped, again. That time I was handcuffed to a pipe and that feeling came back. Over and over, this would happen. I'd get kidnapped, I'd get bound, and I'd get horny. It didn't take me long to realize I was enjoying being bound. Cuffed, tied, gagged, the works."

"Maybe you were just turned on by the danger," Catwoman couldn't help but wonder. After all, the sexual thrill that came with danger was half the reason Catwoman got into the costumed game.

"Danger?" Lois curtly laughed. "My husband is Superman. I have no danger in my life. I could throw myself off this building, right now, and he would catch me before I hit the ground. I felt no risk to my life while being kidnapped by some goons. I was enjoying the bondage that came with kidnapped. Cuffs, chains, rope, leather. Around my ankles, wrists, torso, above and below my breasts. Against chairs, posts, heaters, bombs, and even railroad tracks!"

"They still do that?" Catwoman said in response to hearing criminals were still using railroad tracks to bind their damsels in distress.

"Villains tend to be unimaginative, unoriginal, and uninteresting," Lois briefly ranted. "No offense."

"None taken," Catwoman dismissed. "I'm more of a self-serving rogue than a villain."

"Anyway, that's how it started, and that's why I'm here. I'm need you to tell me what you know about bondage," Lois expressed.

"And why would you think I know anything about bondage?" Catwoman inquired.

"Seriously?" Lois said, looking Catwoman up and down and gesturing to her.

"Humor me," Catwoman said with a smirk. She figured she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear her say it.

"For one, your domineering attitude mixed with a lust for, well, lusty remarks suggest you're not only open sexually, but you also enjoy control within the bedroom - a common theme in BDSM," Lois began to explain. "Before you became Catwoman you worked as a prostitute. Though there's nothing to suggest you worked exclusively with clients who enjoyed bondage, the law of averages says that you would have run into at least a dozen or so clients with this popular, albeit taboo, fetish. When I mentioned bondage, you didn't react, much. However, your pupils dilated, and your cheeks became slightly flushed, suggesting that while hearing me mention bondage surprised you, your refusal to let me see that surprise likely means it excited you more than anything. And finally, you wear leather and carry a whip." Lois took a deep breath after finishing her assessment.

"Wow," Catwoman said, stunned. She knew Lois would know one answer, but not all of them, not more than she herself knew. "You sure you're not the world's greatest detective?"

"I'm a journalist," Lois shrugged, "and a damn fine one at that."

"Clearly. Thanks for bringing up my hooker past, by the way, that's always fun to remember." Lois looked away in shame. "You are right, though. About everything, so top marks for you." Catwoman paused to mull over her next move. "Okay, I'll tell you what I know. However, I know a lot, so why don't we relocate somewhere warmer? My place?" Catwoman suggested. Lois, too, had to mull over her options, though eventually nodded in agreement. "Wonderful."

Catwoman made her way over to the edge of the building and peered down. Her usual route might be difficult for someone who wasn't a master of parkour. Looking over her shoulder at Lois, she asked, "Do you know how to shimmy down a drainpipe and jump from a fire escape?"

"Of course, I do," Lois said, unbuttoning her jacket. "Like I said, I'm a journalist."

"And a damn fine one at that," Catwoman finished with a smirk.

[LATER, AT CATWOMAN'S LOFT]

Lois wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting when she entered Catwoman's apartment. That's not true, she knew exactly what she was expecting. Rundown, possibly just a temporary safehouse, minimal belongings, and more cats than cockroaches. What she got was pure elegance. In fact, it was bigger than, and better furnished and decorated than, Lois's own apartment. Who says crime doesn't pay? She thought.

Catwoman tossed her whip onto the white couch while Lois hung up her suit jacket in the closet. She even has better fashion sense than I do, Lois thought. Her host told her to make herself comfortable while she freshened up. "This suit tends to run hot while I'm out on the town. Why do you think I keep the zipper down so far?" Catwoman had told her. I'm sure that's not why, Lois thought.

Her naturally curious nature, something she had in common with Catwoman, took Lois all around the open planned living space of Catwoman's apartment. She examined her art and decorations, as well as the gorgeous view she had. She felt tempted to go through the few doors she found, but easily resisted. Lois was a journalist, but she also wasn't a rude guest. When she was done exploring as far as her manners allowed, Lois sat back on the couch and waited. And waited.

"She better not be making me wait on purpose. Again," Lois said, looking back toward the door she could hear the shower running behind. Lois was left alone on the couch. Alone with Catwoman's whip. She ran her curious fingers across the handle, scrapping her nails gently along the leather weave. A familiar itch came back as she examined the whip. Before it could go further, Catwoman re-entered.

"Nothing like a hot shower after a long night's work, eh, Lois?" Catwoman said as she strolled in. Lois looked back over the couch to watch her enter, and her breath caught in her throat. As sexy as she had to admit she looked in that leather outfit, Lois was at least used to it by that point. She wasn't, however, used to seeing Catwoman dressed in a black satin robe that could hardly reach her milky white thighs. Just like her suit, she proudly displayed her cleavage, bouncier in the robe than in her tight leather. The only difference was the neckline was at least smaller, giving Lois a chance to focus.

Lois kept her eyes trained on the woman as she entered the kitchen. She told herself it was so she could catch her pulling any tricks. She lied to herself. Catwoman didn't spend long in the kitchen before coming back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"When discussing matters of a sexual nature, I find wine helps to loosen the tongue," Catwoman told Lois as she sat the wine glasses down on the glass coffee table in front of her. "When discussing matters of bondage, I find that red wine works even better," the sultry woman added while popping the cork. Lois held her hand to her chest in surprise, and titillation.

Her host poured both of them some wine, but in doing so only served to quicken Lois's heartrate further. Catwoman had turned her back to Lois so as to face the glasses. Rather than pick up the glasses and pour, she bent over just enough to both pour accurately, but also show off a few more tantalizing inches of her body. Lois couldn't peel her purple eyes away from the sight of Catwoman showing off her underwear. Black, of course, and very revealing. A thong that divided the firm halves of her moon and cradled her pronounced labia. The image had become so seared into her mind that she hadn't even noticed when Catwoman stood back up and turned around.

"Lois?" Lois shook herself back to reality and looked up. "Cat got your tongue?" the famous Gotham thief joked, handing her the wine glass. It was her favorite cat idiom to use. Once Lois took hold of the stem, Catwoman moved her whip to the wide armrest and sat in its place on the couch. Where Lois was sitting upright and forward, Catwoman was sitting casually, resting one arm on the back of the couch, black fingernails pointed toward Lois, with her agile legs crossed over one another.

Lois sipped from the wine, licking and smacking her lips after the initial taste. "This is very good, thank you. What vintage is it?" She asked, trying to keep the conversation away from the very topic she had come to discuss.

Catwoman took a deeper swig, then similarly licked and smacked her fuller lips. "I have no idea. I just buy whatever's the most expensive. Honestly, I can't tell the difference between one from the other," she admitted. "But one must keep up appearances, right?" Catwoman asked knowingly, smirking as she looked right into Lois's soul.

Purple eyes darted elsewhere as Lois felt herself being challenged. "Well, regardless, thank you, Catwoman."

"Please, call me Selina," Catwo- er, Selina corrected. "I'm only Catwoman when I put on the leather. Well, when I put on that leather," she added, implying there were other leather goods in her possession. Another sultry smirk sent Lois's way sent a shiver down her spine.

The two continued to talk and talk and drink glass after glass until they finished off the bottle. Selina had grown tired of the pretension and grabbed the two of them a couple bottles of beer instead of more wine. As the evening continued, the women grew closer. At a point, Selina felt Lois was finally relaxed enough to be honest.

"I have to ask," Selina said after setting down her beer. "If this new curiosity of yours has been such a problem, why haven't you talked to your husband, ol' Big Blue, about it?"

Lois took a deep gulp as her husband was brought up. "Oh, he would never understand. Cla- I mean Superman!.." Selina held up her hand before she could continue.

"Let's save ourselves both some time and just call him Clark, okay?" Selina suggested.

"H-how do you...I mean he's not...I don't-" Lois uncharacteristically stammered. She was usually a better liar, but the alcohol and the sight of Selina's robe slipping down her shoulder, exposing the strap of her bra, weakened her resolve.

"How did I find out? Let's just say I have my ways," Selina smugly said. In truth, Batman had his ways. Selina just had her ways of stealing that information from Batman. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone. Secret identities are old hat, anyway. Now, as you were saying."

After Lois calmed down from the initial shock, she took another deep gulp of liquid courage and continued. "Clark would never understand. He's too...bashful."

"Really? So, you're saying that even if you could breach the subject, there'd be no way he'd actually go through with it? Tie you up and what not?" Selina posed.

"Absolutely not." Lois couldn't help but laugh. "He's a boy scout in all aspects of life."

"Well that's a shame. I know he's all truth, justice, and mom's apple pie when he dons the cape. But if I'm being honest? I always fantasized that he'd be a complete beast in the bedroom!" Selina admitted, baring her teeth and scratching at the air.

"Oh, no, Clark is- wait, you've fantasized about him?" Lois had to ask.

"Hasn't every woman?" Selina shrugged.

Lois laughed and hid her face in her hand. "Oh god, this is so embarrassing. I can't believe I'm talking about this!"

"Don't stop now," Selina encouraged. "What happens here, stays here." Selina rested a reassuring hand on Lois's thigh, less than an inch from where her skirt met her skin.

Was she always sitting this close? Lois thought. Many of her inhibitions defeated, she thought little else of it and continued speaking. "Despite what you, and apparently every woman, imagines - no. Clark is not a beast in the bedroom. He can be firm, if I ask him, but he'd never go harder than that. And he'd certainly never agree to tie me up and do...other stuff." Lois trailed off, still not liquored up enough to be totally unabashed.

"No wonder you're seeking outside consultants." A smirking Selina took another swig of her beer.

"Don't get me wrong!" Lois was quick to interject, wanting to defend her husband's sexual honor. "Clark is the greatest lover I've ever known! He's considerate and compassionate. He always tends to my needs above his own and can anticipate my every desire."

Not every desire, Selina thought, but knew better than to say. So, she went with something more playful instead. "Plus, he's got that body." Selina smiled at the blush she caused Lois. "So, you start to develop this new fetish, thanks to all the kidnappings, and you feel like there's no way Clark will be able to talk about it, much less experiment with it. Is that right?"

"That's right," Lois answered.

"Which brings you seeking me out, correct?"

"Correct."

"To answer your questions about bondage and BDSM?"

"Yes."

"Except that's not really why you're here, is it?" Selina challenged.

"Excuse me?" Lois replied, brows knitting.

"Anyone can find out about bondage with a simple Google search. I'm sure Metropolis's best journalist could handle that," Selina said before taking in the last of her beer. Empty, the bottle was set firmly down on the table before Selina scooted just an inch closer. "No, the reason you came to me wasn't for answers. The reason you came to me is because you want me to tie you up."

Lois had to keep herself from spitting up her beer. After she got it down, she set the bottle on the table and addressed the presumption. "What are you talking about? That is not at all why I came here!"

"Mhm," Selina doubted. "You have your detective skills, but so do I. Years of working as an escort, not a prostitute, by the way, taught me how to read people. Read their desires. Even though they'd come to me, they were too shy to be honest. And you, sister? You've been giving off some very specific vibes all night." Selina began to move her fingers across Lois's hair, deftly moving the strands.