breaking catgirl 1

Breaking Catwoman Redux

By Nimrod

Note: Breaking Catwoman was the first bondage story I ever written. It had been almost fifteen years since then. Looking back at the original story, I found it to be very amateurish indeed. I’ve decided to update the story and make it more interesting. I hope you will like the results. Thanks!

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Selina Kyle stopped flipping through a glossy magazine about the life-style of the super-rich and famous. Her green eyes, heavily lined in black with eye-lashes extended by thick mascara, focused intently on a picture in the magazine, her thin eyebrows knitting together in a soft frown.

"What in the world is that?" she asked, more to herself than anyone else, given the fact that she was alone in her apartment.

What Selina saw was the picture of a man standing next to a little statue. What caught her eye was its cat-like shape. The next thing that caught her eye was that it is made of gold, with diamonds liberally placed all over it. The caption read, "Mr Jonathan Smith with one of his heirlooms, a statue of a cat made by the great artist ..."

By then, the infamous alter ego of Selina – the skilled burglar who called herself the Catwoman - had lost interest. She was looking intently at all the pictures taken of the mansion that Mr Smith calls his little bachelor's pad. She also noted the helpful detail that Mr Smith will be attending a charity ball thrown the very next day organized by the wealthy playboy, Bruce Wayne, in the Gotham City Zoo, to help raise fund for its proposed wild cats enclosure, then under construction.

The article did not give an address for Mr Smith's place, of course, but it did mention it was in an exclusive district of Gotham City. There were not many of those in Gotham City nowadays. A quick reference to the city directory told Catwoman that the house could only be in one area of the city. It was time for a little footwork.

Catwoman sat up from her lounging posture on the large king-sized bed in her ‘hide-out’ – in truth, a luxury penthouse in an apartment building high above Gotham City’s streets, bought by the ill-gotten gains of her life of crime. She was still dressed in her night-wear, which consisted entirely of a black lacy thong. She wore no bra to restrain her breasts, which – while they were not overly large – were firm and perky, with her light brown nipple pointed provocatively forward at their tips. As she stretched her long lithe body, they juggled slightly to her movement.

Catwoman got off the bed and walked towards her walk-in wardrobe. Her body – sculpted and horned through hours of work-out in weights, running, rock-climbing, hand-to-hand combat training – was lean but well-toned. The hint of hardness in her long limbs did not mar the femininity of her figure, with its hour-glass silhouette, with a narrow waist which flared out to form wide and well-rounded hips.

Selecting a black lacy bra from a drawer in the wardrobe, Catwoman hooked it up behind her back, before shuffling the elastic band of the bra up, and fitted each of her breasts in turn into the appropriate cup. When she slipped the elastic shoulder straps of the bra over her shoulders, the cups shoved her breasts together to form a deep cleavage.

Next, Catwoman selected an expensive looking dress out of the many she had hanging in her wardrobe. She knew that she had to look the part of a socialite to look as if she belonged to the area she was going to visit. It was a black silky number with a plunging neck-line that showed off her cleavage as she knelt down to select a pair of high-heeled pumps.

Then, standing up, Catwoman took a quick glance at her hair and make-up, which she had already done in anticipation of a day of shopping – plans which would now be deferred for work. Her raven black hair was cut short into a rather manly hairstyle, which nonetheless served to show off her face, with its high cheek-bones, straight nose and sensually thick lips, the latter of which was painted a glossy cherry red.

Within ten minutes, Catwoman had taken the private lift down from her penthouse to the underground garage, climbed into her Jaguar, and was roaring eastward within half an hour. Within an hour, she had located the house from a picture of the front of the house, given helpfully by the magazine. A feature that helped her identified the house was a small blue box mounted near the door that gave the name of the security firm he used. The same blue box was quite visible from outside the tall iron gates of the house.

She had gotten out of her car, put on a really large and ridiculous looking hat that at the same time hid her features from plying eyes, and went up to the gate. She pressed a buzzer several times, but there was no response. She then tried rattling the gate, and waited. There did not seem to be any roaming guard-dogs - they would have made an appearance by now. The gate did not seem to be wired either. She rattled hard enough to set off any alarm, and no one had turned up. She knew that she could scale the gates in five seconds flat. She glanced around at the neighbouring houses, and satisfied herself that the gates could not be easily seen from those houses because of the large hedges on both sides serving as fences. What she needed was a precise plan of the security system for the house.

She had those by the next morning. The moment she got back from her first recce, she got in touch with one of her many ‘business associates’, and had him hacked into the computer of the security firm protecting the mansion. Before the night was over, he had retrieved the necessary plans without Catwoman even having to leave her penthouse.

Catwoman looked through the plans carefully on the three large monitors of her iMac computer. They were extremely detailed and she was almost disappointed to see that the security would be minimal. She had expected that such a rich man would have paid for strong security to protect his own abode, but instead, he had chosen only a basic package. There was no armed guards, no fierce dogs, not even sensors in the garden.

The only line of defence was wired windows and doors, using contact breakers - something she knew how to disarm blindfolded. The location of the safe was almost a cliché, being hidden in a room behind a bookshelf.

Catwoman took a moment to ponder how the advance of technology had taken the challenge out of high larceny. It used to be a process where skills were important and had to be highly horned. Nowadays, a simple computer hacking job would provide everything a burglar would need to just waltz in and take what she needed. It had become a decidedly white collar job … except, of course, that the actual physical act of breaking in and taking the loot was still required.  

With the plans, Catwoman was all set for the night’s activities. She took a long hot shower, during which she carefully scrub herself down to remove any dead skin material that might fall off during her burglary and provide DNA evidence. Then, she blew dry her hair, combing them back over the top of her head to keep her ears exposed. Finally, she expertly put on make-up, even though much of her face would soon be covered by her costume. She placed particular attention to her green eyes, lining them with extra thick black eye-liners, and painting her eyelids with dark purple eyeshadows, before putting on thick mascara over her eyelashes. These made her eyes even more stunning. Just as importantly, it also changed the outline of her eyes, making it more difficult to identify her through her eyes. To finish off, she put on a glossy cheery red lipstick on her thick lips.

Catwoman walked over to her wardrobe, and opened her underwear drawer. She chose another pair of black lacy thong panties, similar to the one she had worn earlier as she did not want to left any panty lines visible across her butt in her costume.

Then, Catwoman turned and opened a hidden compartment to the side of the wardrobe. Here was where she kept her work clothes, the costumes that had become her trademark. She had worn different styles over the years, as her fashion sense changed, but always, the costumes were skin-tight to show off her figure. She found that if she was caught red-headed by security, the guards would usually pause for a moment in surprise as they looked at her gorgeous body, more than enough for her to gain the advantage and fight her way out of trouble.

Catwoman had on occasions been caught on camera – usually the CCTVs of the places she robbed – in her costumes, and she took great pleasure in how the media would sensationalise her exploits and used the sexiest images of her that they could find. Indeed, she had acquired quite a fan club online.

Catwoman reached in and pulled out a costume. The rich aroma of rubber filled the air. A while back, she had worn a purple spandex cat-suit for most of her ‘jobs’. It was comfortable, stretching to allow her the maximum freedom of movement. It also looked great on her body. However, the increasing use of modern forensics had forced Catwoman to retire it for something that would seal her more hermitically.

Instead, Catwoman nowadays wore a black latex costume that would cover her more thoroughly, sealing her body in to reduce any chance she would leave any DNA evidence behind. She first took out the black latex catsuit. It had a long zip that ran down the back, from the back of her head, all the way down to her crotch, before extending forward over her nether region and finally going up to her abdomen. It was a double ended zip, with zippers both at the front and the rear. This would make it easier for her to relief herself, if need be, while still in the costume, without having to undress almost entirely.

Pulling the top zipper down almost all the way to the crotch, she sat down on a bench before she fed her legs one by one into the costume. The interior of the latex garment had already been powdered to allow her limbs easy passage. She pulled the leggings of the catsuit up until her feet slipped into the sealed ends of the leggings. The leggings were bent at this point to form booties, with reinforced heels so that the soft latex would not wear out in the footwear she wore.

Catwoman stood up, lifting up the top of the garment before feeding her arms into the sleeves of the garment, one by one, and pulled the shoulders of the catsuit in place over her own. Again, they slipped in easily. Like the leggings, the ends of the sleeves were sealed, ending in built-in latex gloves. Catwoman inserted her digits into the fingers of the gloves and wriggled them until they fitted snuggly. When she was done, her entire body was almost entirely covered with black latex, from her long slender neck down to the soles of her feet, with the exception of the open back of the costume.

Catwoman now reached around back, and grasped the rear zipper with her gloved fingers. She pulled up the zipper first with her right hand from below, then transferred the zipper to her left hand from above, finally sealing her body entirely in the costume with the exception of her head.

Catwoman turned and picked up a pair of boots from the floor. These were made from glossy black PVC. She put them on, and pulled up the zips on the inner sides of her lower legs. The boots had fairly low spike heels – about three inches - for her taste, but more practical for physical activities, such as climbing or fighting. The tops hugged her lower legs tightly, accentuating their lean lengths.

When Catwoman was done, she admired herself briefly in the mirror. She examined her body critically for a moment, but decided that her daily regime of exercise had managed to keep the fat at bay. The latex that stretched over her body was almost like a second skin painted over every curve of her body, with the curvatures of her hips and breasts reflecting the lights in the wardrobe, emphasizing them in a most sexy way. Her breasts, encased in latex cups on the front of her costume, looked particularly enticing in their roundness, suspended high on her chest, hardly restrained with every slight move she made. Indeed, the thin latex material of the cups did not even shield her nipples, which poked out provocatively under the rubber.

There was still one last component, the cowl, which Catwoman did not put on. It would have been far too conspicuous to be running around with a latex mask – completed with pointy ears – on. Granted, Gotham City more than sees its fair share of costumed nutcases running around, but it’s always best not to draw too much attention to oneself before and after the commissioning of a burglary.

Instead, Catwoman put on a rather chic looking leather biker jacket. She opened a drawer and retrieved two items – her mask and a pair of special goggles. She stuffed them into her pocket, took one final look in the full-length mirror to ensure that she looked okay, before striding out of her apartment through the private elevator.

The elevator took her straight down into the underground garage of the building. Standing next to her Jaguar was a well-muffled motor-cycle. It was a glossy black Ducanti that could easily out-run any police cruiser or bike. It had a false license plate so that it could not be traced to her even if seen at the scene of crime. She raised one long leg gracefully and swung it over the saddle of the bike. As she settled her beautiful buttocks onto the leather seat, the latex material of her costume squeaked softly. She then pulled on a helmet, started the beast, and was on her way.

Catwoman had gotten to the house just after one o'clock. She parked the bike right next to the gate, confident that its expensive, well-polished appearance would fool anyone into thinking that it belonged there.

Catwoman took out the cowl from her pocket. It was of one piece construction out of black elastic latex. It had two pointed ears on top. Most notably, its face had only two small eyeholes and two grommets where the nose would be, which meant that her face would be almost entirely sealed inside the cowl once she had put it on. This she did by rolling up the cowl from the neck up to the crown. She then pulled the cowl over her head, before unrolling the cowl down. The neck of the cowl was smaller than the upper portion, and fitted snugly under the chin of Catwoman, which – together with the high neck of the catsuit – prevented any gaps from opening between the cowl and the catsuit. The latex was pliable enough that an impression of her own face was formed vaguely on the face of the cowl, including the outline of her sensual lips.

Only Catwoman’s heavily made-up green eyes peered out through two small eyeholes now. To cover them, and thus sealing off the last openings of her costume – aside from the grommets for her breathe, of course – and to prevent any errant eyelashes from falling out, Catwoman now proceeded to put on the goggles, sealing her body completely from the outside world.

The effect was certainly striking, especially once Catwoman had removed her jacket and stored it away in the storage compartment built into saddle seat, after first having pulled out her bullwhip. Wielding the whip, she looked every inch a fetish goddess.

Inside the costume, the heat was already beginning to build up, and every breath that Catwoman took was infused with the aroma of rubber. This more than aroused her a little, but she used that to help sharpen her senses as she walked towards the gates of the house, her buttocks swaying behind her from side to side, her breasts bouncing lightly, barely restrained by the bra she wore underneath.

When Catwoman reached the gates, she coiled the bullwhip she was holding around her waist, leaving a length of the tip to trail down behind the small of her back, down between her buttocks, rather like the tail of a cat.

Catwoman scaled the gate by the fourth second, was into the shadows by the fifth, and was at a window not visible to the street by the tenth second. By the twentieth second, she had cut a neat hole in a pane of glass with a glass cutting tool. She found the wiring for the contact breakers through the latex over her fingers, by passed them with an extension wire, and pushed up the window. Then she crawled through the opening on all fours, almost as if she was pouring herself through the narrow opening, first stretching her arms through the slit, then sliding her head in, before squeezing her upper chest with her mounds through, to be followed by her hips and buttocks, before reeling in her long legs. Each move she made was slick and graceful, even sensual, like black liquid pouring through the window. 

Once Catwoman had slipped into the house, she took up a squatting position, with her folded legs spread open and her arms extended straight to the ground in front of her, like a cat, listening. There was a soft moan as the rubber on her upper arms rubbed against the rubber on the sides of her breasts. As she turned her head, the pointed ears on top of her cowl turned as well, as if they were the real ears. Indeed, the ears were fitted with sound amplification microphones to allow her to pick up the minutest sound, and yet filtered digitally to prevent loud sounds from overwhelming her hearing.

After squatting for a moment to see if there were any movement in the house, Catwoman reached up and flipped a small switch on her goggles, whose lenses swept up at their corners to resemble cat ears. Instantly, what she saw through them turned from darkness to a semi-bright grainy green. It was yet another high technology aid she had acquired. Both the lenses were fitted with a night vision amplification filter that boosted ambient light and allowed her to see in the dark.

Looking around, Catwoman was astonished to find that the owner of the house seemed to have at least as much of an obsession with cats as she does, with various statues, carvings, pictures and other art forms of cats, tigers, lions, and other felines littered throughout the study.

Some of the items actually rather struck Catwoman’s fancy, but she quickly focused her mind on the task at hand on the ultimate object of her break-in. She stood up and strode up to a far wall lined with book shelves. Along the way, she noticed that the CCTV cameras mounted at strategic corners of the room, a factor that she had already taken into account from the plans. She knew that although the cameras recorded footages, they were not monitored in real-life, and would not lead to any outside intervention. Also, clad as she was in latex from head to toe, it would be difficult to identify her from the footages taken. 

Catwoman went to the shelf identified by the stolen plans as the secret doorway to the room containing the safe. She quickly identified the hidden switch – again revealed in the plans - and pressed it. The shelf receded back until it cleared the other shelves to either side, before it slid to one side to reveal a doorway.

Catwoman stepped in through the doorway. In front of her was the safe. It had a good, old fashion tumbler lock. The security plans she had did not include the actual combination of the safe, but if there was one traditional burglary skill she had kept sharply honed, it was safe-cracking.

Catwoman got on her knees. The latex costume creaked softly as she moved. She ignored the heat inside the costume that was already making her wet with perspiration under the second skin and set to work. Within five minutes, she had defeated the tumblers, the latter with the aid of the digital enhanced hearing aid in her cowl. She swung the door open to reveal the object of her enterprise, the small little statue.

Purring contentedly to herself, she reached forward and grasped the statue. It really was a beauty. She stood up and stepped out of the room, examining it in the green glow of her goggles.

“You are every bit as beautiful as I had fantasised.”

Catwoman spun around. Instantly, her right hand was on the thick braided grip of her bull whip. Swinging her right arm over her head, she uncoiled the whip in an instant, her right hand holding the handle up, ready to strike in an instant. Even as she was arming herself, she turned towards the direction of the voice.

Catwoman saw a dark figure standing in a corner of the room, barely perceptible even through the light amplification lenses of her goggles. How could she have missed him, she cursed. Her second thought was to wonder whether it was Batman, although the figure certainly did not have the bulk of that costumed crime-fighter.

“I’m afraid I do not like people to steal from me.” The voice continued calmly even in the face of a latex clad female wielding a whip.

“Hmm. I assume you’ve called the police then?” Catwoman asked calmly, her voice muffled but still audible and comprehensible through the thin latex covering her mouth.

“I must say that I have not. I have always been eager to meet you, Catwoman. I certainly would not call the police on you and have our meeting cut short.”

“I see.” Catwoman said warily. This was getting weird, she thought. She retreated towards the open window from which she had come in.

“Leaving so soon?” the voice asked again, “I insist that you stay. We barely got to know each other. And I intend to get to know you quite well.”

OK, that was really past weird! Catwoman thought as she inched towards the window.

“And how do you propose to stop me?” Catwoman asked, her voice now containing an element of threat.

“I’m afraid I’ve studied your methods quite thoroughly, and has set a cunning trap.” The voice said.

“Which is?” Catwoman asked.

“A light switch.”

Catwoman stopped, for a moment completely befuddled by what the man said. There was the sound of a click, and the room was flooded with bright light. The brightness smashed through her light amplification lenses, assaulting her visual senses. She physically jerked back, lifting her arms to shield her eyes even as she was temporarily blinded.

The next instant, Catwoman felt a powerful punch into her stomach. She felt the wind knocked out of her, and she bent forward. Then she felt a powerful slap across the left side of her face, and she fell to the floor on her right. She was still blinded, and now she was stunned by the twin assaults on her. She tried to sit up, but she felt another slap, this time on her right cheek, a powerful blow which knocked her to the left now.

Catwoman felt the bullwhip in her right hand being snatched away. She reached up to her goggles and ripped it off, even as her vision began to return, although most of her perception was blurred with red dots. She vaguely saw legs stretched up in front of her, but before she could do anything, one of the legs was lifted up, and a foot was shoved into her chest, just above her breasts. She fell onto her back. As she tried to roll out of her supine position, she felt the tip of a boot catch her right flank, and flipped on onto her front.

“Move Selina! MOVE!” Catwoman screamed at herself, but her body was sluggish after the sucker punch, the slaps and the kicks. She tried to lift herself up on her hands, but a crushing weight landed on the small of her back, pinning her hips to the floor. She felt her arms swept back and lifted high up into the air behind her back, pinning her shoulders to the floor.

“Urgh!” Catwoman let out a cry. She felt thighs pushed against her upper arms, pinning her arms in the upraised position. As her vision cleared further, she saw that she was now pinned to the floor of the study, which was now brightly lit. She still could not see her assailant, except for his knees. They were covered by denim fabric.

“As I said, I’ve always wanted to get to know you better.” The man’s voice said again, even as Catwoman struggled to get a good look at him.

“Fuck you!” Catwoman screamed in defiance.

“Oh dear, what a dirty mouth you have. We will have to do something about that, but for the time being, you’ll have to be suitably silenced.” The man on top of Catwoman said. Continuing to pin her arms in the upraised position with his thighs, the man took the end of her own whip and pulled the braided leather against the front of her cowl, where her mouth was underneath. The leather braid was forced deep into her mouth, pushing the elastic latex of her cowl in before it, such that a cleft of black latex was formed where her mouth was. When the man tied the end of the whip back to the main length of the whip, he very effective cleave-gagged the struggling thief pinned to the floor.

The man now pulled back on the rest of the whip, forcing Catwoman to lift up her head to look forward. He took her upraised arms and placed her elbows together. She felt him coil the whip around her upper arms once, just below her elbows, then tie it in place. When he released her arms, even though her wrists were not tied together, she found that there was very little she could do with her hands, bound as she was with her elbows painfully meshed together.

Turning around on Catwoman’s back, but still using his weight to pin her down, the man unbuckled his broad leather belt. He looped the leather belt once around her left thigh, just above her knee, before pulling the ends over to her right knee. Feeding the buckled end under her right thigh, and pulling the tip over the limb, he mated up the two ends on the side of her right thigh, and constricted it until her knees were locked together, before he buckled the belt snuggly in place, imprisoning her two limbs together.

The man now got off Catwoman, but the female thief could not escape now, held as she was by improvised bonds around her elbows and her knees. Worse, the shortness of the length of the whip between the rear of her head and her bound elbows was such that she had to lift up her head uncomfortably. With the whip residing deep in her mouth and the latex of the cowl intervening between her throat and the outside world, she also found that she had been very effectively gagged. “MMMMMPH!” was all she managed as she struggled.

“Stand up!” Catwoman’s captor commanded, pulling on the end of the whip, lifting up her bound elbows. This transmitted pressure down the whip to her gagged jaws, increasing her discomfort. She had no choice but to reluctantly climb onto her feet, a difficult process because of the way her knees were bound together. She had to sway her hips from side to side to get the momentum necessary for her to boost herself up onto her feet, her body’s motion juggling her breasts from side to side. Even then, she stood unsteadily, her knees locked together and her arms twisted behind her back.

A figure walked around to her front, and Catwoman found herself looking at the owner of the house. He was a little shorter than she had imagined from the photographs in the magazine. Indeed, in her heels, he seemed a couple of inches shorter than she was. Nonetheless, he obviously had her at a disadvantage, bound and hobbled as she was.

“How does it feel to be bound with your own whip, Catwoman?” the man asked, a grin on his face. Indeed, his captive looked particularly enticing, given the way her bound elbows thrust her chest – with her two firm breasts - forward towards him.

“MMMMMMMPH!” Catwoman let out a gagged curse, the only retort she could give in her condition. Instantly, the man slapped her across her right cheek, sending her falling heavily onto the floor, moaning.

“I see that you’re still rather untamed. We’ll have to do something about that.” The man said. He took the end of the whip again, and forced Catwoman up to a standing position once more, disregarding the gagged curses she was making under her cowl. Then, he pulled on the whip and walked towards a lamp suspended from the ceiling at the centre of the study. Catwoman felt her elbows being pulled towards the man, which forced her to turn physically away from him, and walk backwards, which added to the clumsiness of her movements enforced by her bound knees. She had to shuffle backwards with her buttocks swaying sharply from side to side as she struggled to keep up.

The lamp was an ornate one resembling a small chandelier. The bottom of the lamp had a D-ring wielded to it. The man now passed the end of the whip binding his latex clad captive through the ring and pulled it down. This forced Catwoman to raise her elbows upwards towards the lamp. The man kept pulling until her arms were lifted high up into the air, and the woman was forced to bend forward, raising her rump into the air.

The man now stepped back to admire his handiwork. Catwoman was every bit as sexy as he had imagined her to be, particularly when bound in her highly vulnerable strappado position. Her hard buttocks waved in the air, made all the more enticing by the way her legs were hobbled together. Her rotund breasts, restrained by the latex on the front of her costume, bounced lightly beneath her as she struggled futilely with her bonds. Finally, her crotch was pointed back, allowing him to see the impression of the crotch piece of her panties.

The man took out his iPhone from his pocket and switched it to the camcorder mode. Then began to walk around Catwoman, filming his captive in her humiliation as she struggled sinuously in her bondage.

“MMMMMMPH MMMMMMPH!” Catwoman swore again under her improvised gag when she realized that she was being filmed, but there was nothing she could do to stop the man.

The man folded back the flap of the leather casing of his phone to form a stand. He then placed his phone on the desk off to Catwoman’s right. This allowed the phone to continue to record video without the man holding the phone. He now came up to his helpless captive and reached under her chest. He grasped both her breasts and squeezed hard.

“MMMMMPH!” Catwoman complained into her gag at the molestation, but was unable to stop him. She felt him begin to knead her fleshy mounds. He worked with expert effectiveness, caressing her breasts until – to her horror – she could feel herself becoming aroused. After a while, the man released her breasts and squatted down to look at them.

“My, my, your nipples are becoming engorged.” The man said. Indeed, Catwoman could feel her nipples becoming sensitive and pressing against the rubber cups holding her breasts. She could only glance sideways at the man with hatred.

The man stood up and walked around behind Catwoman’s upraised rump. She felt a hand brush against her crotch through the latex of her catsuit and the material of her panties. She shuddered involuntarily. Then, she felt the man place his fingers against her vulva, and begin to rub. She tried to buck away, but the man reached forward with his other hand and grabbed her left breast, pulling it in and kneading it.

“MMMMMMMMPH!” Catwoman pleaded but her gag cries did nothing to dissuade the man from continuing his actions. His probing fingers over her vulva soon found her engorging vagina lips, and he pressed into the latex of her costume to drive the panties underneath into the mouth of her tunnel. This sent another shudder up her body. Her breath began to shallow as she felt herself becoming horny under the man’s expert ministration.

Catwoman was shocked. She was not new to the concept of bondage sex, of course. In her career before becoming a burglar, she had been a prostitute. However, she had usually been the dominatrix, the top, and not the submissive. Nevertheless, there were times in her prostitution career when she was paid to be fucked. Occasionally, at the hands of a skilled customer, she had actually found the experience highly erotic. However, what was shocking now was that she was actually responding to a man’s touch after having been violently captured and involuntarily bound.

Catwoman could only shake her head and moan into her gag. As the man continued to molest her, she felt herself becoming more and more aroused. Her body writhed, and she swayed her buttocks behind her. Before long, she felt herself becoming wet underneath as her cunt juiced. Her breath became more and more shallow as she felt her body being pushed towards an orgasm.

Then, just before she achieved release, the man stopped, leaving Catwoman – who was in the throes of erotic stimulation – confused. Looking out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the man walked away for a moment, and returned with a letter opener from his desk. For a moment Catwoman felt a sense of fear as he tested the edge. Then, he stepped behind the bound captive. Squeezing his hand forward between her legs, he grasped the front zipper of her catsuit, then pulled it down her abdomen to her crotch. He pulled the zipper up her crotch before pulling it partly up the small of her back. This exposed the lacy black panties Catwoman wore underneath. Having thus exposed her, he pressed a finger into the crotch of her panties, eliciting an involuntarily moan from his captive.

“My, you are all wet underneath.” The man mocked, “Is it that the great Catwoman actually loved to be bound?”

Catwoman, stung by the comment, could only renew the struggle with her bonds to show her continued defiance. The man ignored the futile display and grabbed the waist band of her panties and yanked the garment’s back out of the slit in her costume. This wedged the fabric of the panties through her vagina lips and chafed her clitoris hood, rubbing her erotic knob underneath, causing Catwoman to shudder once more and moan into her gag.

“MMMMMMMPH!” Catwoman protested but there was nothing she could do as the man tugged out the waist band until he could find the spot that would usually reside over her left hip. He sliced through the band at this point. Then he tugged out the right side of the waist band and repeated the cut at the point the band would go over her right hip. Once the band was severed at these two points, he had no problems pulling the panties out through the slit of her catsuit. As he did so, the fabric rubbed against her sensitive vagina move on its way out, causing her to buck.

“I see that you have waxed your vulva. Not a strand of hair here.” The man said as he stepped back.

“MMMMMPH!” Catwoman could only moan again as the man walked round in front of her, holding the panties which had been cut into a rough X-shaped piece of cloth.

“See how nice and wet it is?” the man asked, showing his bound captive her own panties that had just been nestling against her crotch just a moment ago. She could only glance up at him with hate filled eyes.

“I can see that you’re still defiant.” The man said, “You still seem to think that you are the proud Catwoman, the queen of thieves. I think I will have to take that pride of yours down a peg or two.”

The man stepped forward and placed the wet crotch piece of Catwoman’s panties against the front of her cowl, where the breathing grommets were. Instantly, she could smell her own musky aroma through them.

“MMMMMMMPH!” Catwoman protested, but the man now took the two ends of the severed waist band of her panties, and tied them around the crown of her head. Then he took the lower two ends, and tied them together behind her neck. This left the panties spread out over Catwoman’s face, forcing her to smell her own soiled panties. She could only shake her head weakly, a useless attempt to shake off the offending garment.

“How do you like your own smelly panties?” the man asked, laughing.

“MMMMMMMMPH!” Catwoman could only let out another gagged curse at the humiliation of being forced to smell her own intimates after she had juiced on it. With a sinking feeling, she realized that the man could do whatever he wanted with her in this state.

The man now returned to the spot behind Catwoman. She felt his fingers touch her again. Now his digits have direct access to her vulva, and he easily located her swollen clitoris under its hood. He began to knead the clitoris, even as he reached forward once more to knead her left breast, causing the feline captive to become aroused again. As she began to pant, she took in whiff after whiff of her own juice through the panties covering her nose, which – unexpectedly for her – seemed to add to the arousal.

When Catwoman became suitably wet, the man stopped kneading her breast and clitoris. He reached for his denim jeans and unbuttoned the front. The sound of the front zip being pulled down reached the ears of his captive, and she realized what was happening. She tried to swing her buttocks away, but the man easily grasped her wide rounded hips after he had pulled down his pants and underwear. His penis was already hardened and pointed straight forward. He leaned forward, aiming the hot knob of his penis at the slit of her vulva.

Catwoman felt the hot flesh penetrate into her cunt. She screamed into her gag, and tried to break free of the man’s grasp but he pulled her hips in, even as he rammed his own hips forward. His manhood charged into her wet vagina, rubbing the sensitive insides. Catwoman bucked her head back and let out another gagged scream at the penetration.

“MMMMMMMMPH! MMMMMMMMPH!” Catwoman moaned as the man repeated pumped into her. She could not believe it. She was being raped. She thought it was something that only happened to other women, something that could never happen to her, skilled as she was in combatives. She had trained herself in various forms of fighting styles, including unarmed combat and the use of the whip as a formidable weapon. Yet, the man had taken her so easily, bound her, made her a helpless captive, as if she was one of those weak women who could not defend themselves, and now was raping her, rendering her a victim as well.

Catwoman continued to squirm in her bonds, struggling against her own whip holding her captive. The braided leather groaned softly, but held her. She had chosen the bullwhip precisely for its strength, which would allow her to use it to swing from one point to another. Now, that very strength was being exploited to keep her in captivity.

The man continued to pump her. He panted as he moved his hips faster and faster, ramming his cock up and down her love tunnel. Catwoman could only moan as her cunt was pounded. She felt herself responding to the man’s fucking, becoming more and more aroused, until, finally, she let out a gagged scream into the whip cleaving her mouth as she cummed. Just at that moment, the man also reached his climax, and ejaculated into her.

The man withdrew his member from Catwoman’s cunt as it began to shrink. He was panting, but he was satisfied. She was every bit of a good fuck that he had fantasized about. Everything about her was perfect. Her beautiful body. Her fetishistic costume. Her bondage. Above all, he had captured and raped Catwoman! The very thief that had befuddled the Gotham Police Department and Batman!

Catwoman panted before the man, her body limp in its strappado bondage. The overwhelming sense of humiliation filled her as she breathed heavily through the stained fabric of her panties. The man had so successfully humbled her, binding her with her own whip and debasing her with her own panties before mercilessly raping her. Every fiber of her identity as a cunning burglar, as the Catwoman, had been shredded by the man in less than an hour. Reluctant tears of shame welled up in her eyes, and rolled down her latex covered cheeks. Along the way, it messed up her mascara, leaving streaks of black flowing down the exposed skins around her eyes.

“Was that as good for you as it was for me?” the man asked, pulling up his pants and zipping it. He came around to her front and cupped her chin, lifting her head up. He knew the answer. Catwoman may look in defiance up at him, but the tears in her eyes and the messed up mascara told him all he needed to know.

The man smiled and released Catwoman’s chin. He disappeared from view for a while. She heard a drawer being opened behind her, and then the man came back into view. He was holding something in his hands, which she recognized almost immediately. It was a chastity belt of shining stainless steel. The waist portion of the belt was high, almost a waist clincher, designed to be secured on both flanks of the wearer by means of two steel flanges with ratchet teeth fitted to the ends of the front half of the belt. These mated up to oblong locks welded to the ends of the rear half of the belt. The crotch piece of the belt consisted of a flexible metal strip that ran down the front, to be pulled up to the rear and locked in place with the same type of lock as those on the flanks, except that this one was oriented vertically. At the moment, the crotch strap was unsecured to the rear, allowing her to glance down at its inner surface, which was fitted with a dildo. Her eyes widened when she saw the girth of the black rubber, which was beefier than any human version could ever be. She looked up in horror at the smiling man before her.

“Yes,” the man said, “You’ll be fully stuffed.”

Catwoman writhed as the man unbuckled one side of the belt and placed it around her waist. In spite of this, the man effortlessly buckled the belt in place, clinching it tightly in to compress Catwoman’s already narrow waist. Then he reached down and gathered up the end of crotch piece. He pulled it up and aimed the tip of the rubber giant penis straight at Catwoman’s open cunt. She was still fully juiced from her rape, and there was no friction as the monster penetrated her and rode its way up her tunnel.

Catwoman shuddered as she felt the wall of her vagina stretch and the monster push deeper and deeper into her until its tip seemed to impale her. She could only shake in anger and frustration at this intrusion. When the dildo was fully inside of her, the man took the rest of the strap and buckled it tightly in place on the back of the belt, leaving the rubber phallus buried deep within Catwoman.

“Mmmmmmmph…” Catwoman could only moan weakly at the discomfort of having the monster within her.

The man walked away for a moment, and when he returned, he was holding several small padlocks. Methodically, he began fitting the locks to every single buckle on the chastity belt, imprisoning her loins in the steely embrace of the contraption.

When the man was done, he walked around to Catwoman’s front again and spoke to her.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. I’m going to turn in. Meanwhile, to keep you entertained …”

The man held up a small remote control, like that for a car, and pressed a button. Catwoman’s eyes widened when she felt the dildo inside of her began to squirm. Its movement slowly became more and more intense, sending pulses of sensation up her spine. Catwoman threw back her head at the sensation and moaned into her improvised gag. She shook her head as the monster’s movements turned into intense vibration, shaking her to the core.

“MMMMMMMPH!” Catwoman moaned. The man gave her one last evil smile, then turned and left the thief alone in her bondage.

+++++

The rubber monster had sent Catwoman into orgasm after orgasm through the night. Within her own latex catsuit and cowl, she was perspiring buckets, some of wetness flowing out of the slit in her catsuit to mix with her juice escaping out of either side of the crotch strap of her chastity belt, to form streaks of fluid running down the rubber cladding her inner thighs. Then, whether it was from the shock of her rape, or the inadequacy of oxygen entering her lungs through the panties covering her face, or the sheer exhaustion, or her strenuous bondage position, or dehydration from her perspiration and juicing, she blacked out.

When she finally regained consciousness, Catwoman found herself still hanging strappado from the lamp she had been tied to. The tightness around her jaws and her arms told her that she was still bound by her own whip. Glancing down, she could see that her thighs were still bound as well. The shiny steel of the chastity belt still cladding her loins reminded her of her ordeal.

Catwoman twisted her body and glanced around the study. She seemed to be alone. She also noticed that the darkness of the night was beginning to lift, and she realized that dawn was breaking. She began to squirm and struggle desperately with the leather braids binding her.

Catwoman had had some training in escaping from bonds. Granted, it was more difficult to escape from being bound by her elbows than by being bound by her wrists, but it was possible. It had to be possible. Little by little, Catwoman twisted her elbows and manipulated her arms, until she was rewarded with her left elbow slipping above the braids of the leather whip. This allowed her to wriggle and shrug her left arm out of the coil of the whip. Once it was free, she could reach around and untie the crude reef knot used to secure the whip in place around her elbows. Then, she ripped the soiled panties from her face and threw it on the floor, before reaching up with both hands, to untie the knot binding the whip around her jaws, ungagging herself. Finally, she dropped to her knees and untied the belt binding them together.

Catwoman gave herself a few moments to recover. Then, she stood up gingerly. The monster dildo was still within her, but there was little time for her to find the keys to the little padlock holding the chastity belt in place, or pick them. She took a few tentative steps forward and found that she could walk, albeit unsteadily. Then she stumbled towards the window she had entered from and crawled through it.

The thought of revenge entered Catwoman’s mind for a moment, but even though her mind was clouded by exhaustion and dehydration, she realized the risks involved. She did not know where the man was, whether he would be armed, or even whether he had called the police. The best option now was to escape and reassess her options.

Catwoman stumbled through the garden on her weakened legs. When she finally got to the gate, she took a while to climb over it, her usual dexterity hampered by the abuse she had taken in her bondage and rape, as well as by the rubber monster still residing within her cunt. Finally she reached her Ducanti motorbike, still parked where she had left it.

Catwoman ripped off her cowl as she popped open the storage compartment to retrieve the helmet and jacket. Her hair was all wet and matted against her skull. Her make-up was all messed-up, with mascara running down her eye sockets.

Putting her jacket and helmet on, just as the sky continue to brighten, Catwoman swung up her legs and planted her buttocks onto the saddle once more. She sucked in a sharp breath when she felt the dildo within her move deeper into her vagina, but there was nothing she could do about that.

It was a very interesting ride back to Catwoman’s apartment building indeed, as she was terrified that she would be pulled over by the cops. It would be difficult to explain the chastity belt that she was wearing. And, with every bump or unevenness on the road, the motorcycle would buck, pummeling the dildo up into her cunt.

Thankfully, Catwoman finally got back into the privacy of her garage. It was a great relief when she finally entered her apartment. She bent down and quickly got rid of the boots she had been wearing, then unzipped her catsuit and peeled it off her wet body. Beads of perspiration covered her torso and limbs. She felt the relief of the cool air against her body as she walked into the kitchen, still wearing the chastity belt and the lower part of her catsuit. She took a bottle of water and drained it, before turning to examine the locks on the belt still imprisoning her loins.

Catwoman cursed. These were not simple locks that she could defeat easily with lock-picks. These used disk tumbler locks that were impossible to pick. Being constructed with no shanks visible, it was also impossible for her to cut with any tools she had available at the moment. The same went for the steel of the belt’s body.

Catwoman had no choice but to leave the belt alone for the moment. Instead she cut her catsuit in half, to allow herself to undress fully. She tore the rubber of the catsuit off her limbs, then staggered to her shower.

Catwoman felt more human after a hot shower and had a warm glass of milk. Then, she dressed quickly for the trip to the storage facility just outside of town. She put on a light yellow bra and a tight white T-shirt before pulling on a pair of denims. There was no need for panties, with the chastity belt still locked around her.

Catwoman took the Jaguar and drove across town. She quickly retrieved the tools she needed and drove back again. She could not wait to get rid of the dildo inside of her as the elevator took her up from the garage to her apartment. The doors slid open and she stepped in the hall-way, stripping off her sneakers before walking into her living room.

Then, Catwoman stopped in her tracks. There, lounging on her expensive designer armchair was the man. He had changed into an expensive gray pin-stripe suit and white shirt, and was looking at her, grinning.

“YOU!” Catwoman screamed, overcoming her surprise. She dropped the bag containing the tools she had retrieved. She launched herself at the man, determined to tear him to pieces for raping her.

There was a beep sound. Before Catwoman could take another step, the dildo inside of her sprung to life with an intensity beyond anything it had generated the night before. The woman gasped in shock and her knees went weak as the powerful pulses shot through her. She fell onto all fours on the carpet as the man got up off her armchair.

The man stepped forward and slapped Catwoman with the back of his right hand. She fell to her side. There she stayed as she reached down with her hands, crawling at the chastity belt in a futile attempt to pull out the dildo.

“Let’s crank it up a notch, shall we?” the man asked. He was standing over her now. He pressed the remote control in his hand again, and the dildo shook even more vigorously within Catwoman. She felt as if she was being torn asunder inside, and the intensity of the stimulation rocked her to the core.

Finally, almost unconsciously, Catwoman panted, “Please… please make it stop…”

“Will you be a good girl?” the man asked. Catwoman could only nod desperately as she squirmed on the floor.

The man smiled triumphantly and pressed the remote again. Instantly, the dildo stopped, leaving Catwoman weak and panting on the floor. She lay there for a few moments, catching her breath. Then, with the dexterity of a cat, she rolled onto a squatting position and launched herself at the man, like a cat hurling itself at a rat.

Just before Catwoman’s outreached hands could grasp the man’s throat, the dildo within her exploded to life again. She let out a scream and landed heavily onto the floor, as her senses were disrupted by the powerful assault administered by the dildo. She squirmed and arched her back as she tried once again to reach the dildo, parting her legs obscenely wide and reaching down with both her arms.

“I thought you’ll try that.” The man said, “No more tricks now, huh?”

Catwoman put up a longer defiance this time, but it was a losing battle as she was shaken to the core. She felt as if her lower regions would be shredded by the monster’s vibration. Finally, she had to give in, and pleaded once more for the dildo to be switched off.

“Good.” The man said, pressing his remote control again, “I hope you understand now that you must obey my every command or you will be punished, understand?”

Catwoman nodded dumbly as she laid on her side. She could not believe that she had once again been rendered so helpless, in her own home at that. She had been caught off guard twice.

“How did you find me?” Catwoman asked weakly. She screamed again as the man switched on the dildo again, shocking her to the core once more.

“PLEEEASSSEEEEEEE STOP!” Catwoman screamed, crutching her crotch.

“You will speak only when given permission. Understand?” The man said. Catwoman nodded once more. The man switched off the dildo as he retrieved an item from a large canvas bag next to the armchair. He threw it onto the floor in front of Catwoman even as he stood a distance from her supine form.

“You will have to be broken properly, of course, but until then, this will keep you quiet.” The man said. Looking at the item, Catwoman saw that it was a ball-gag. Its red rubber ball was almost three inches in girth, penetrated by an inch-wide leather strap fitted with tongue and buckle. She realized that she would have to stretch her jaws wide to accommodate it.

“Put it on!” the man ordered.

Catwoman picked up the ball gag, and she gathered up the ends with both hands. She parted her own jaws and pushed the rubber ball into her mouth. It tasted foul as it pressed down on her tongue and stretched her jaws. She then pulled the thick leather straps of the gag around her head to mate them up behind her neck.

“Tighter!” the man ordered. Catwoman undid the buckle and clinched the straps in by another notch, forcing the ball deeper into her mouth and curling back the corners of her mouth further. The man appeared satisfied at this, even though it left her with a dull ache in her jaws.

“Get up onto your feet now.” The man ordered. Catwoman slowly crawled onto all fours before slowly rising onto her feet. She stared balefully at the man, full of hatred. She was already beginning to drool from the corners of her wide open jaws.

“Take off the jeans and T-shirt, then the bra.” The man ordered. Catwoman did as she was told, pulling up the hem of the T-shirt first before throwing it aside. Then she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled it down her long legs before stripping the leggings off each of her leg. She now stood in only her bra and the chastity belt, her lips forming an O around what was visible of the wet red ball nestled in her mouth. She now reached back and unhook her bra, before shrugging off the shoulder straps to allow the garment to drop to the floor, exposing her firm breasts. She crossed her arms over them in an act of futile modesty, but that only served to push them together to form a deep and enticing cleavage.

“I really would prefer you in a costume. Where do you keep them?” the man asked curiously. Catwoman could not reply of course, but she turned her head and looked at the door leading into her walk-in wardrobe.

“Show me.” The man said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

The man followed Catwoman as she walked into the room, her arms still crossed over her breasts. Her buttocks oscillated behind her as she moved, bringing a lusty smile to the man’s face. Once inside the wardrobe, she walked up to the secret compartment and opened it.

“Take them all out.” The man ordered. Catwoman did as she was told, throwing the costumes onto the floor.

“Mmmmm. Quite a collection. I see that you’ve cut the latex one from last night. Such a pity. However, I’ve always imagined you in this one.” The man said, pointing at the purple lycra costume that she used to wear.

Catwoman stared back at him. For a moment, she hesitated. When the man produced the remote control again, and poised his finger threateningly over it, she quickly picked up the garment and unzipped its back. Then she stepped into the leggings of the costume, and pulled its rump up to her buttocks, covering the silver chastity belt around her waist and crotch. She pulled up the front of the costume over her chest, before inserting her arms into its sleeves. Then, she pulled up the long zip running up the back. The purple costume, unlike the latex one, had open ended sleeves and leggings, so her hands and feet were left expose. However, like its latex counterpart, it stretched tightly over every curve of her body, particularly her breasts, the nipples of which poked against the elastic material.

The costume did not have a separate cowl. Instead, it was attached to the front of the neck of the costume. Catwoman pulled open its hem, and stretched it over her head, pulling it back and down until the hem met the top of the back of the costume, covering the rear portions of the leather straps of her ball-gag. The front of the cowl had three openings. Two large eyeholes left her eyes and eyebrows uncovered, while a third one left the lower part of her face uncovered, revealing her gagged mouth.

“Good. It really looks good on you.” The man complemented, “Now, put on some make-up.”

Catwoman wanted to tear out the man’s eyes, but his thumb was rested threateningly on the remote control. She turned and went over to her vanity top, and sat down. Once again, she lined her eyes heavily with black-eyeliner and dark mascara, but used a dark purple eye-shadow instead. She also used a glossy dark purple lipstick.

“Excellent.” The man said, “I see you need less time to get ready than most women I know. Now for the boots.”

Catwoman gave him a hateful look before turning to pick up a pair of boots.

“No. Put these on.” The man said, dropping his bag on the floor. Watching her carefully out of the corner of his eye to give her no opportunity to attack him, he picked up a pair of black PVC boots from inside the bag. At first glance, they resembled the ones she had worn the night before, except that the tops stretched much higher. On closer examination, she realized that the heels were much higher than the ones she had worn. The stiletto heels were at least six inches in height. She sat down on her rump on the floor and unzipped the boots, and fed her feet into them, before pulling up the zips on the inner sides of her legs. She found that the elastic top came almost to her crotch, and fitted snuggly against the curves of her long legs.

“Stand up.” The man ordered.

Catwoman obeyed and carefully got onto her feet. As she expected, her feet were forced into an uncomfortably steep angle. She was literally standing on tip-toes, putting a lot of stress on her calf muscles. It also made it difficult for her, unaccustomed as she was to heels of this height, to stand steadily. On the other hand, the tip-toe position imposed on her body tipped her torso forward, thrusting her breasts out, while at the same time pushing her rounded buttocks out behind her, putting her body into an enticing form.

“Now the gloves.” The man said, retrieving a pair of black PVC opera gloves from within the bag and threw them on the floor, forcing Catwoman to lower herself into a squat with her legs wide open to retrieve them. She found that these gloves did not have fingers, but ended with sealed ends. She put on the left one first, which was relatively straightforward, but the right one was difficult, as the fingers of her left hand could only grasp the opening with difficulty. They could extend and curl back fully, but they were held against one another by the material. The thumb was rendered useless as it was imprisoned against the side of the hand. After some effort, she finally succeeded in sliding her right arm in, and pulling the glove up to her elbows.

“Now turn your back towards me and get on your knees.”

Catwoman moved from her squatting position onto her knees. She heard the man take something from the bag, and walked up to her.

“Hands behind your back.” The man ordered. When Catwoman obeyed, he fitted a pair of handcuffs around her wrists, securing them behind her back. Then she felt him fit something around her neck and buckled behind her neck. Glancing at the mirror next to her, she saw that it was a beefy black leather collar with steel spikes along its length. A D-ring was fitted to the front. The man now took a leash and fitted its snap-hook to the ring.

“Get up!”

Catwoman struggled once more onto her feet, balancing precariously on her impractical footwear. The man gave the leash a tug, forcing her to follow him. He led her out of the wardrobe into the living room, towards the elevator. She towered over him in her boots, but this physical superiority did not translate into any possibility of escape, not when she could barely balance, not when her hands were useless in the gloves, and not when her wrists were cuffed together behind her back. Indeed, the boots forced her to arch her body forward, thrusting her lycra covered breasts out enticingly, and they swayed with every step she took, even as her ass was pushed back out behind her to sway like the stern of a ship in a storm.

The man took Catwoman down to her private garage in the elevator. There, she saw an extra car, a Jaguar coupe. The man saw her surprised look and informed her, “It wasn’t difficult to obtain the codes to your garage door, once I tracked you down using the cellular transmitter fitted to your dildo. I’m sure I used the same means you did to penetrate my security.”

Catwoman’s eyes opened wide, but she could say nothing with the ball gag still in her mouth. The man opened the passenger side door of the coupe.

“Get in.” the man ordered. Catwoman had to turn around and fold herself into the narrow space, not an easy task with her wrists still cuffed together. When she rested her rump on the seat, she was once again reminded of the presence of the dildo when it was pushed up her tract. The she folded her long legs and hauled them in, twisting her body to face the front. The man reached in and pulled the seat belt over her body, pinning her body into the cushioned seat, her arms trapped uselessly behind her. Then the man closed the passenger side door before getting into the driver’s seat.

The man drove the car out of the garage onto the busy Gotham streets. Catwoman looked desperately out at the crowd outside the car, but she knew that no one could look in through the heavily tinted windows. Help was literally within arm’s reach, but she was completely helpless to try to draw their attention. She could only sit silently next to the man as he drove her to an unknown fate.

+++++

The drive out of Gotham City lasted for a couple of hours as the car was initially constrained by the heavy traffic on the streets of the city. The man kept himself occupied by molesting his captive, sliding his free hand up and down her long thighs or kneading her breasts. To add to her torment, he switched on her dildo, using a lower setting which, although it was not deliberating like in her apartment, only added to her torment as she became sexually aroused.

Catwoman felt the crotch of her costume becoming wet as she juiced from the stimulation of the dildo. Even worse, the man would wait until she was almost cumming before shutting the dildo down, just as she was on the cusp of orgasm. It was intensely frustrating, made all the more so by her captor repeating it several times during the drive.

Once out of the city, the man made speedy but careful progress, so as not to attract the attention of the police. He drove over the country roads until, at last, he turned up into a seemingly deserted dirt track. After a short distance, at a point where the main road could no longer be seen, he came to a stop next to a pick-up truck. He got out and came around to the passenger side. He opened the door and released the seat belt pinning Catwoman down, then took her leash and pulled viciously.

Catwoman fell out of the car onto her side.

“MMMMPH!” Catwoman moaned in pain.

“Get on your feet!” he ordered, tugging on the leash in his hands to constrict the collar around her throat, choking her, as an incentive to obedience. Catwoman obeyed as slowly as she dared, but she understood the futility of resistance. She reluctantly got onto on her feet, putting immense pressure on them in their torturous footwear. She stood upright with her feet together as the man walked around her once.

“My, my, you’re so wet down there.” The man said, looking down at her crotch. Catwoman felt the flash of shame on her cheeks. She could not help but look down, only to confirm that the sides of her crotch was all wet, the purple lycra fabric being stained a darker shade than the rest of her costume. She turned her head so that the man would not see her embarrassment.

“Move!” the man ordered, leading her towards the pick-up. He brought her around to the front of the truck, then pushed her against the bumper, before bending her over until her front was against the hood of the engine. She felt the cold of the metal penetrate through the thin fabric of her catsuit and shuddered involuntarily.

Catwoman found that, with her body stretched over the hood, her face came almost up against the windscreen. Just beneath her throat, where the D-ring of the collar dangled, a heavy steel snap-hook had been bolted onto the edge of the hood. This was no coincidence as the man now reached came round to the side and took the hook, and snapped it into the D-ring. She could no longer raise herself up even if she wanted to.

The man now went around behind the bent-over Catwoman. He liked the way she looked with her body stretched over the hood, her buttocks raised into the air and her large breasts squashed against the metal. He took her right leg, and pulled it to one side of the front bumper, spreading her long legs. Here, a steel manacle – of the same design as a police handcuff, except of greater circumference - dangled from a short length of heavy chain, the other end of which had been bolted to the body of the pick-up, just before the front wheel well. He took the manacle, clicked open its swinging arm and placed the steel band around the ankle of Catwoman, before swinging the arm in place. The sound of the ratchet lock clicking into place rang through the quiet forest they were in the middle of. The man walked over and picked up Catwoman’s left ankle, and stretched it to the other side, where another manacle had been similarly set-up and secured her left ankle. Catwoman was now left sprawled over the engine compartment of the pick-up truck, her legs spread obscenely open to either side of the front, her crotch pointed directly forward, the two dark purple stains on either side of her crotch plainly visible.

Much to Catwoman’s mortification, the man now took out a Digital SLR camera, and proceeded to take photos and videos of her in her current predicament. She squirmed in her bondage, trying to put up a show of resistance, but bound as she was, she ended up only shaking her booty, making her look even more helpless.

“My, you look lovely.” The man said as he came over to her, and turned the camera around so that Catwoman could look at the LCD display on its back. He ran through the photos of her, bound to the hood.

“MMMMMMMMPH! MMMMMMMPH!” Catwoman cursed.

The man ignored the bound captive and reached into the pick-up truck again. He took out a camera tripod and walked to a spot in front of the truck. Catwoman twisted her neck around to see what he was doing. He set up the tripod and screwed the camera into place. Then he focused the camera, before switching on the video mode and pressing the shutter button to begin recording. Then he came back to the truck.

The man took out a folding knife and opened it. For a moment, Catwoman felt fear pierce her heart. What was he going to do? She wondered, and squirmed against her bonds again. However, the manacles around her ankles held her firmly in place, with her legs spread wide open, her crotch completely vulnerable. With her wrists handcuffed behind her, and her fingers rendered useless in the fingerless gloves, she could do very little as she felt the man put a hand on her steel covered vulva.

Then, Catwoman felt the man pinched the purple lycra fabric above the small of her back and she heard the sound of fabric being cut. She felt the cool air against the skin of her back. The man had penetrated the fabric with the tip of his knife over her back, just above the point where her buttocks began. He began slicing through the fabric, making a clockwise movement, cutting towards her side, then down. The fabric peeled back to reveal her right buttock as he reached the start of her right thigh. The man turn turned his blade and cut across the top of her right thigh. The fabric peeled back further to reveal the steel of her chastity belt.

The man continued cutting, now over her left thigh. When he reached Catwoman’s left flank. He now begin cutting up, along Catwoman’s left buttock until he reached a point parallel to where he had made his first incision, then turned again and cut across to where he first started.

The man took the roughly rectangular piece of purple lycra he had cut out and put it aside. Catwoman’s rear was now covered only by her steel chastity belt. Her buttocks were completely uncovered, looking enticingly vulnerable. The man could not resist but gave a sharp slap on one of them.

“MMMMMMPH!” Catwoman moaned, and pulled at her bindings. Her buttocks wriggled as she did so, which only made them more arousing to look at.

The man now took a key from his pocket. He hooked a finger through the edge of the cut in Catwoman’s costume, over her left hip, and pulled it down to reveal the locks on her chastity belt. He unlocked these locks. Then he walked over to her right and repeated the process, unlocking the chastity belt fully. Then he went around behind her. He unfolded the rear of the belt off Catwoman’s back through the hole in her costume, before pulling it backwards. As the belt slid out from under her body, the dildo came out. The rubber slid out easily, still lubricated by the captive’s own juice. When the front of the belt came up against her thighs, the man had to twist the belt this way and that in order to pull it out completely from under her. With the tip of the dildo still embedded within her cunt, this caused Catwoman further torment before the rubber monster finally popped softly out of her vagina, trailing strands of slimy cum. Her vulva was now completely exposed, with its vagina lips and the puckered asshole darkly prominent with her legs spread wide open.

“Your cunt is so slimy. I would have to clean it up.” The man said. He took the rectangular fabric that he had cut from the rump of Catwoman’s costume and used the central portion to wipe the juice off her vulva. He also pressed the fabric into Catwoman’s cunt, causing her to throw her head back at the sensation caused by the intrusion, especially as he wiped the inside of her tunnel. When he came round to where Catwoman could see him, he spread open the cloth to reveal a large dark purple patch in its centre, the stain from all the juice she had produced in the car and from the man ‘cleaning’ her.

The man went back to the cabin of the pick-up, and took something out of the glove compartment. Looking at him, Catwoman saw that it was a rubber-ball, about the same diameter as the ball gag residing in her mouth. She watched him place the ball in the centre of the fabric, where the dark purple patch was. Then he rolled up the rectangular fabric. He held the ends of the roll, and spun the centre, twisting the two ends up towards the ball. Then, he knotted the fabric on either side of the ball.

The man now reached forward to Catwoman’s head. He pushed up the hem of her cowl, and unbuckled the ball gag, before pulling the large rubber ball out of her jaws. He dropped the ball-gag onto the hood, but before Catwoman could relax her aching jaws, he pulled back on her forehead again to force her to part her jaws, and – to her horror – pushed the fabric-covered rubber ball into her mouth. This was, of course, the part which was most saturated with her own juice, and she tasted the tangy bitterness of her own cum as the rubber ball settled between her jaws. The man now took either end of the fabric, and pulled them back around her jaws, and knotted them tightly together behind the back of her neck.

“MMMMMMMMMMM!” Catwoman moaned at this new twist in her ordeal.

To be forced to taste her own juice, produced against her will by her bondage and stimulation was a new dimension in her humiliation.

“How do you like the taste of your own cum?” the man asked.

“MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!”

The man laughed haughtily. He came around to behind Catwoman, and undid the front of his pants. He pulled down his briefs to reveal his hardening penis. Spread as she was on the hood of the truck, she was completely defenceless. Without pausing, he rammed his manhood deep into Catwoman. His captive bucked and writhed, as she was once more reduced to a rape victim.

The man pumped away at Catwoman, shaking the pick-up truck. His captive moaned into her gag, sucking on the stains of her own juice in her improvised gag. She writhed and wriggled, pulling at her steel bonds as the man pounded her inside with his penis. Then, at last, the man spurted his seeds deep into her cunt.

The man sighed with satisfaction and withdrew his shrinking penis. He pulled up his briefs and pants, and went around to the cargo bed of the truck. He came back with a long steel shank. One end had an eyehole near its tip, while the other end had a steel screw nut welded to the other end. A steel phallus, one end of which was threaded, was screwed into the nut perpendicularly.

The man went to the front of the truck, between Catwoman’s wide-spread legs. Here, a steel bracket had been fitted, consisting of a U-shape piece with its two shanks projecting forward, with a screw bolt piercing the centre of the shanks. He unscrewed the bolt, to permit the end of the shank he was holding to slid in between the shanks of the U-shaped piece of metal, then screwed the bolt back into position, piercing through the eyehole of the shank he was holding. The tip of the phallus now hovered just beyond his captive’s wet vagina lips. The man now began to twist the shank of the phallus. Its tip rotated and moved forward as the shank rode forward on the screw threads inside. Finally, the cold steel parted her vagina lips and entered the hot interior, causing Catwoman to squirm from the cold of its metallic surface. As the steel phallus penetrated into her, it also rotated, rimming the inside of her cunt, causing her even more distress. The man only stopped after about two inches had penetrated into her.