Fantasy: Batgirl Part I: Spiderweb

Batgirl’s head cleared quickly, but she didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious. She kept her eyes closed, playing possum until she could gauge the situation. Her wrists were bound above her head, so her arms were getting sore; soon she’d need to reassert the strength in her legs and stand, to relieve the ache, but for now she let them dangle limply beneath her, hanging from her restraints, to keep up the ruse.


With only the tiniest of muscle movements she verified that she still had on her cowl, as well as the various weapons and tools secreted about her body. The latter was, frankly, surprising. Any time she’d been captured in the past, the first thing her captors did was remove her paraphernalia. (Usually they snuck in a quick grope while they were at it, the perverts. Did they really expect to find weapons by spending so much time pawing her breasts or rubbing her pussy through her tights? No, they just wanted to assert dominance, and prove she was still a girl in a man’s world. Disgusting.)

There was a sore spot at the base of her skull – probably where she’d been clobbered – but she was otherwise unhurt. Her arms were sore, of course, and getting worse, but the fact that her muscles weren’t screaming out in pain indicated that she probably hadn’t been hanging here too long.

To her chagrin, she’d been taken completely by surprise by the blow to her head. She’d heard vague rumours of some kind of unsavoury activity happening at this house – maybe drugs, maybe stolen goods, there was no specific crime mentioned – so her plan was simply to scope the place out and see if anything nefarious was happening. She saw an open window, crept up to peer inside, and then all went black. To have been captured so quickly, the very moment she got on the property, meant that she had completely underestimated what might be happening here.

So now she was hanging from her arms, which were starting to scream out in pain. It was time to stop faking unconsciousness, open her eyes, and stand on her feet to relieve her arm muscles and get some circulation back in her wrists. She did so, and opened her eyes to see that she was in a well-appointed library. She glanced up to see the ring in the ceiling, to which the ropes around her wrists were attached, but other than that the library was similar to any other, albeit with a more plush carpet and a nicer desk than one usually saw in a home library. Directly across from her, in a sumptuous red leather chair, sat a man who was patiently waiting for her to wake up. Legs crossed, arms resting casually on the arms of the chair, his steel-grey eyes watched Batgirl as she took in the room.

When he stood she could see that he was easily six feet tall, and probably taller. He was well-muscled, but more importantly he radiated self assurance. Batgirl knew nothing about him but intuited that he was used to getting his way. She was also mesmerized by his eyes. With years of practice she had no problem meeting the man’s gaze, projecting her own air of confidence (whether truly felt or not), but deep inside she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to tear her eyes from his even if she’d wanted to.

She kept her poker face even when he came up to her – right within striking distance! He may have been self confident, but he obviously didn’t know how to deal with superheroes. When the moment was right, she’d easily be able to leverage the rope from which she hung, strike the heel of her boot into his face, and free herself from her restraints, all in one swift move. It was exactly the type of thing for which she trained incessantly. Her ray of hope blossomed into joy when he grabbed a knife from the desk. She knew what was going to come next, it was the mistake so many villains made: unable to help himself, he planned to unmask her, and find out who “Batgirl” really was. He’d waited for her to wake up because villains always wanted her to feel the shame of being unmasked, though none had ever successfully done so. This would be her moment to strike: his attention would be diverted to the prize under her cowl, and the many times she’d tried this maneuver had all been with a villain in exactly that position: he’d be reaching up toward her face, when he should be worried about protecting himself.

As expected, the steely-eyed man reached up with his knife, and with no conscious thought her well-trained reflexes kicked in. Some lower part of her mind noticed that something was amiss, but there wasn’t enough time for her to register the fact that the blade of the knife was pointed down, instead of up toward her cowl; her body was already in motion.

Exactly as she’d planned, she grabbed the rope attached to her wrists and sprang with her coiled legs to leap up. In one graceful motion she flipped back through the air, kicked out at the man with her boot, and cut the ropes around her wrists with a blade she kept there. Her legs got back under her, red hair trailing behind her arc like a tail of fire, and she landed in a perfect fighter’s stance. It was a beautiful move, and beautifully executed – all the more beautiful since she was topless when she landed, belatedly realizing that the knife hadn’t been intended for her mask after all, the man had used it to slice down, removing her spandex top instead, which was now in the man’s hand. The heel of her boot had also missed his face, since it hadn’t been quite where she’d anticipated it would be.

The unexpected touch of air to her skin, and the light bounce of her pert breasts as she landed, drove the situation home to her: Aside from her cowl, the top half of her body was now open to this man’s cool gaze. She had no time to rue the fact that it was summer, which had driven her decision to go without a bra on this outing. In fact, the shock of standing half naked in front of this stranger drove all thought from her head. Normally, she’d already be lashing out with her fists and her feet – pummelling her would-be captor into submission – but now she just stood there, eyes wide open, trying to process the situation.

Batgirl was used to following her instincts, and, uncharacteristically, her instincts were telling her to run, rather than trying to fight this man topless. There was no training for this situation!

In a moment she was out the library door and running down the hall. At the end of the hall she could see an open window, which became her goal. She didn’t know how high up she was, or what was outside the window, but she planned to dive through it and figure out what to do while she was in the air. Again, she would rely on her training.

When she was close enough she dove, arrowing her lithe body through the window’s opening as if diving into a tiny swimming pool. Once again her training served her well, and she perfectly executed the move; once again, circumstances thwarted the elegance of her execution, as the window slammed down on her, catching her at the waist and pinning her half through the window.

The force of the window pane slamming down on her midsection in mid dive knocked the wind out of her, and she needed a moment to catch her breath. The physical exertion wasn’t so bad, she’d had her breath knocked out before, but on a mental level she was still thrown off by her sudden nudity and it was slowing down her responses to the rapidly changing situation. Superheroes did not run around half naked! All her career Batgirl had avoided the “nudity” of being unmasked as Barbara Gordon, but it had never occurred to her that she’d find herself literally naked in front of a villain.

As her breath came back to her so did her mental faculties and sense of propriety, and she covered her breasts with one arm. With the other she propped herself against the side of the building and struggled to push the window pane up, to free herself, but it wouldn’t budge. More than gravity was holding it there, it had locked in place. Luckily, it was also padded. Or was that really a good thing? The padding indicated that the grey-eyed man intended her to stay here for a while. That he had always expected her to end up here.

She looked up to see where she was, and saw that the window from which she was pinned was between two gables. She also realized, to her horror, that she was at the front of the building, and could see the sidewalk! It was late at night, so there wouldn’t be much foot traffic, and the gables shielded her from all but a passerby directly in front of her, but anyone who happened to look up at the wrong moment would spy a helpless, topless Batgirl, exposed for all the world to see.

The window had her pinned too tightly to turn around and see back into the house, but she shortly sensed the man behind her. Given the time it took for him to reach her, he obviously hadn’t run when she did, he’d taken his time following her down the hall. It frustrated her to realize that he’d planned this from the beginning, and now he was shaming her by exposing her breasts to the world.

Finally, he made the move she’d expected him to take from the beginning: he reached under her waist to unclasp her utility belt, which he tossed aside. Then, in one rough motion, he grabbed her spandex tights and panties and pulled them down to her mid thigh, exposing her bum! She reacted instantly, but the window held her so firmly that the most she could do was wriggle a bit, which was wholly unsatisfactory. She couldn't even kick out at him, because her own spandex tights were now holding her legs awkwardly together.

She blushed furiously at her predicament: bare-assed in front of a total stranger inside the house, and breasts exposed to the world outside of it, with only an arm to cover them. She was Batgirl, dammit! How had the situation gotten to this point? She wondered how long he would leave her like this, gloating and probably smirking at her while he stared at her bum. She was answered soon enough.

She was thrown off balance by a powerful smack to her bare ass. He had spanked her! She was so surprised by the attack to her delicate cheek that she allowed herself to be thrown off balance, and had to remove the arm that had been shielding her breasts to prop herself against the building again. She switched arms, placing the other over her breasts, only for him to smack the other cheek, throwing her off balance the other way, so again she had to use that arm to prop herself against the outside of the house.

He began spanking her in earnest now, randomly switching the side he would smack on her bum, until she gave up trying to cover her breasts with either arm. She needed both propped against the outside wall to keep her balance as she dangled out the side of the house, so her breasts were free to sway to and fro, depending on how her body was thrown about by his blows. She could feel her ass cheeks burning as he mercilessly flogged her skin.

She could also feel how stiff her nipples were, from the touch of the cool night air. As well as from—

No. It was from the cool night air. Nothing else. And through force of will she was able to refrain from wriggling her pussy at all, so that she wouldn’t have to think about the fact that it was starting to become squishy. She couldn’t blame the night air for that.