Chapitre 1: Chapter 1 - When the Bat is away...
Sometimes this job is too easy. Selina didn't let her thoughts become an excuse to get lazy. An excuse to get sloppy. An excuse to get caught. There was a time and place for getting caught. Thirty six floors up the side of a high rise office building was definitely neither, nor was it a good time or place to let her mind wander.
As Catwoman, Selina was a very skilled burglar. She'd even go so far as to venture that she was the best of burglars, able to bypass the tightest security anywhere in the world given enough time and the proper motivation (cash, lots and lots of cash preferably wired straight to her Swiss banking account). Despite what some people might believe, she was a purely human burglar.
She slipped her hand out of the suction cup she was using and put the clawed tips of her gloves to the window, slowly twisting her wrist to use them like a glass cutter. The circle she removed was no wider than the palm of her hand. She dropped it and glanced down after it. It was too dark and too far for her to see it shatter against the pavement, but she was no less sure that it broke into innumerable pieces.
Selina, purely human burglar, wouldn't make out much better if she slipped and fell. She definitely wasn't going to land on her feet, and she didn't have eight more lives if she lost this one. Focus, girl.
But that was a tall order. This robbery was as easy as snatching candy from a baby, and the last few commissions she took on had been no better. I need some excitement. Careful and steady, she reached through the hole in the glass, hit the window's lock and pushed it open. She needed more than just excitement. I need a chase. I want to get caught. Selina Kyle got along just fine with her off-again, on-again lover Bruce Wayne, but she didn't associate the playboy billionaire with excitement.
Excitement was playing cat and mouse with the Batman, the real Bruce Wayne. It was getting chased across Gotham's rooftops by the caped crusader, the wind in her face and hair as she leaped through the air. It was her cunt growing hotter and damper by the moment as the pursuit continued. Whatever score or commission she had stopped mattering, only serving as bait to keep the powerful protector of Gotham City right on her heels. How many jobs had she taken on just because she knew they would catch his attention?
Plenty. The pay was nice, but it was just a bonus compared to the sex. To getting caught by the Bat and weaseling her way out of trouble by cracking his normally iron composure with her body and their wild chemistry. The real prize was getting Batman's dick all to herself after a long, hard chase. Was a rooftop a comfortable place to fuck or get fucked? No, but that didn't matter in the heat of the moment or the afterglow.
It's been too long. Selina thought to herself as she slipped into the office, feeling terribly empty at the thought. Was it even worth sneaking? If there was anyone, she could knock them out quickly and easily. No. She'd do it anyway. She wasn't about to end up in a cell. Once she had her client's desired item in hand, though?
I'm going to get this scratch itched, one way or the other.
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Batman always showed up where he was needed, and Selina desperately needed him in her cunt. She knew it wasn't going to be that easy. The closest thing to a bat signal for her mewling quim was a text message, but that would be boring. Over the course of the night, she looked for some sign of the Dark Knight patrolling his city.
Robin? Sure.
Batgirl? Yeah.
Red Robin? No, though it seemed Dick was visiting from Bludhaven.
Batman? No. No Batman.
She spent twenty minutes playing with the bat signal, expecting him to come check -- but no, it was one of the kids. Selina exited stage left. Perhaps she'd have more luck at one of his favorite haunts, one of the buildings he liked to perch on and study the city from on high.
Not a sign. Fine. She could go somewhere he couldn't possibly ignore, the one place she could break into and get his attention without fail. The sex would be angry and thus amazing, assuming he didn't just throw her out with a growl, but she was sure she could win him over with her secret weapon against the Batman: a TWM, aka tactical wardrobe malfunction.
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There were some things a body just didn't forget. Innocent things like riding a bike, for instance. Another, albeit far more specific, example was 'special forces training'. Though Alfred Pennyworth left Her Majesty's service several decades ago, the training he received there was ingrained into him. He fell back into those old habits the moment they became necessary without a thought. Those occasions were few and far between, usually the result of some villain or another breaking into Wayne Manor after learning Batman's secret identity.
It's a wonder one of them hasn't just held a press conference, Alfred thought to himself as he moved on silent feet through one of the manor's secret passages. The best way to kill the Bat would be to put a spotlight on him. Tonight's intruder didn't hit the manor. They had somehow bypassed all of the security measures protecting Batman's base of operations beneath it, the Batcave. A scan of the security cameras hadn't revealed anything, but the silent alarm didn't lie. Whomever was down there was good -- or invisible.
Alfred was just human. If it was the latter, well, he'd deal with that bridge when it came time to cross it, but it probably wasn't going to be pretty. It probably wouldn't be pretty if it was a professional without super powers either, which is why he held the shotgun Bruce begrudgingly allowed his father figure to keep in the home. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he reached out and slowly pushed out the false wall hiding the passage and stepped forth, scanning the dimly lit cave. Nothing was out of place, but the chair situated before the Batcomputer rocked ever-so-gently. What gall, Alfred thought to himself. It would take a bold soul to seat themselves in what may as well served as Batman's throne, where he held court over Gotham's criminals. He began to creep forward one silent step after another.
The Batcomputer? The Batwave? Alfred couldn't keep up with the names Bruce parceled out to his various toys and gadgets. He had everything short of a batgun. Alfred took one hand off the shotgun, the closest thing to it, and rested it on the back of the chair. This close he was certain someone was sitting in it, surely smaller than Bruce so as to be hidden by the seat and positioned in it so their legs didn't show. He waited a beat, just long enough to hear them breathe, then suddenly spun the chair and took a step back, hand back on his firearm's pump.
Alfred blinked. Selina blinked. They both stared at each other, surprise plain and immediate on their faces. One of them was expecting Batman and the other was expecting an enemy, not a gun in her face or…
"Miss Kyle," Alfred recovered his wits first; other than a sharp raise of his eyebrows and that blink, there was never any evidence that he lost them in the first place. He slowly lifted the barrel of the shotgun, staring at her for several long seconds before speaking again. "Just what on earth are you doing?"
Selina was caught with her proverbial pants down, her goggles around her neck and her suit's hood left down. Its zipper was left all the way down, too, revealing a long stretch of her pale skin from neck to navel and even further down, the sparse hair covering Catwoman's kitty just peeking out from where it ended, with her fingers tucked just under the suit to stroke her feline. Both of her gloves were off, of course. It left the soft ripple of her lean, toned stomach on display and bared the side of one of her breasts. The other was half-out, her hard nipple a clear flag to anyone who might try to project any kind of innocence upon the seductive catburglar.
Her pose was no less lewd than the state of her attire, one of her legs stretched back behind her with its heel tucked behind her head to show off just how flexible she was. The other was half-out, half-curled beneath her in a way that would be terribly uncomfortable for anyone less flexible than an Olympic gymnast.
Selina Kyle was not an easy woman to fluster, flirty by nature and used to using her bombshell body to open doors that would be otherwise closed to someone who was effectively an orphan. Yet there was a stark difference between being caught with one's pants down and being intentionally caught with your pants down by the wrong person. A light flush creeped up her cheeks, though she slid easily enough into an answer, her full lips no longer hanging open. "You've never seen a cat groom itself, Pennyworth?" she teased, her fingers beneath her suit clearly doing something crass before pulling free, glistening with her wetness. She unfolded herself from the vulnerable and blatantly sexual position, standing as the butler took a step back to give her some room.
"Certainly not one your size," Alfred replied plainly, lowering the shotgun though one of his hands remained on the pump out of well-trained habit. As his eyebrows raised, Selina knew she hadn't deflected the question. Was it something she wanted to admit to Bruce's butler? Not answering it would be suspicious. And Alfred wasn't just Bruce's butler, he was for all intents and purposes the billionaire orphan's father. It occurred to Selina she didn't know much about Alfred Pennyworth at all, while he probably knew all about her from standing silently on the Bat family's sidelines.
She smiled to buy herself time. Saucy, never shy, not even in this situation where by all rights, the cat should have had her tongue. In a manner of speaking, it did.
Alfred normally warranted little of her attention, even when she was a regular guest of his employer. It occurred to her that's what made him such a good butler. Quiet, competent, and always where he needed to be, always anticipating the needs of those he served before they had a chance to realize them, let alone voice them. In spite of that, he managed to blend into the background until the situation called for him to speak up. Looking at him now, Selina realized she could see Bruce's preternatural calm in the butler. But...
That's not quite right.
It wasn't that she saw Bruce in him. She saw parts of Alfred in Bruce. That made sense, he was the only man around for the Dark Knight's formative years. Still, those thoughts didn't feel right until it suddenly clicked into place for her. Selina had never seen parts of Alfred in Bruce, billionaire playboy in spite of his tragic past. She saw Alfred in Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham City.
Quiet. Competent. Always where he needed to be. Always anticipating, always foreseeing. Never seen unless he needed to be. Her eyes widened slightly.
And then abruptly, Selina threw back her head and laughed with glee, the sudden movement causing part of her catsuit to slide down her shoulder. That movement exposed the rest of her heavy breast, the free mammary happy to be free of the latex-like material, at last able to sway as nature intended. Batman wasn't the Dark Knight, he was the Dark Butler. All this time, I've been fucking Gotham's manservant. I'm acting like a stray in heat for hired help.
"Miss Kyle?" Alfred brought her back to reality with his voice, and she looked at him in a new light… and now that she was really listening to Alfred Pennyworth, she realized just how much she liked the sound of his accent. If she was just there in the Batcave for no particular reason, she wouldn't have made that observation.
She wasn't, of course. Selina snuck into the Batcave and deliberately tripped the silent alarm because she wanted to get fucked, and she kept her sweet little kitty purring while she waited for the Batman himself to show up and ask her what the hell she was doing touching herself at his computer. The Dark Butler himself. Though her (hasty, ill-considered) plan had fallen apart, she could see herself getting by with the man who shaped Batman into everything she found hot about him.
"Sorry, Pennyworth. Just had a funny thought." As casual as anyone could be after being caught masturbating in another person's home, Selina took a long look over the cave. Suits, hardware, mementos of Batman's strangest cases… but no Bruce. No more Bruce than she found when she first got there. There was one thing the hot and bothered kitty cat needed to get out of the way before making her move. "Sorry, I was expecting Bruce." Her smile was distinctly not sorry, and she made no effort to zip her catsuit back up. "Camping trip?" She was almost nonchalant.
"Quite." Alfred motioned upward with a gloved hand, which then returned to his shotgun as easily as pocketing his hand. "In outer space."
Ah. League meeting. He wouldn't be back any time soon. That suited her just fine. It would be awkward if Bruce showed up in the middle of his on-again, off-again lover fucking his butler. As far as Selina was considered, it would be none of his business what she did with her body and certainly none of his business what Alfred did with his.
She was getting ahead of herself, wasn't she? Yet she was sure of what she would do next. If Alfred was anything like Batman (and she now thought it was the other way around), his silence was telling. He hadn't suggested she cover up. Hadn't glanced at her bare flesh, her free tit… he simply stood there, calm as could be, waiting and watching. And not because he was a passive man, but because beneath his stony patience and calm hid a deep reservoir of passion, just waiting for one crack to open so it could break free.
Selina was going to make that crack, and she wasn't going to be particularly subtle about it. She'd know right away if it wouldn't work.
The beautiful, busty burglar took a slow step back, leaning back against the Batcomputer's console with one hand. "That's too bad," the sinful seductress sighed, lifting her other hand's graceful digits to drag them through her stylishly rumpled hair. The way she tipped her chin down and looked at Alfred through her long eyelashes made a mockery of the word 'coquettish'; the way she slowly licked her full lips before speaking again ensured that much was clear. You'd have to be blind or a vestal virgin to mistake this.
"I was hoping," Selina continued, her hand gliding down her face and then to her chest, tracing along the curve of her exposed breast with deliberate laziness, "he'd be able to help me with something." Alfred still stood there, his calm seemingly immutable. "Since he can't… he'd want you to give a girl a hand, wouldn't he?" she asked as her fingers continued to trail down her body and over her belly. Once it reached where the zipper ended and her cunt's carpet began, she pulled it aside to reveal much more of herself. Her dark landing strip led to flushed skin, her horny need unmistakable.
"I'm not sure he would, Miss Kyle," Alfred said, though he took a step forward and set the shotgun down in the chair. He didn't leave. He didn't remove his jacket and toss it at her. Selina's heart raced in a way it hadn't raced in a long time. Being chased by the Dark Butler always filled her with a thrill, but had long had it been since she was this bad? A long, long time. It was like her first nervous theft all over again, so sure of what she was doing but still jittery with sudden anxious excitement. "I daresay he values your independence." She knew she had Alfred now. They were playing chicken, seeing who would crack first, just a hint of challenge in the old man's normally placid and unassuming eyes.
"Please, Alfred," Selina let her voice drop into a low, promising purr. Her cheeks remained flushed now, another mark of the wanton need she had chosen to wear so openly with her lover's father figure. The thief's fingers dipped further down the v-shape between her lean thighs, two fingers stealing inside her damp cunt. "Take pity on this poor little kitty. Bruce has been neglecting it," she continued, her voice hitching breathlessly as she played at pleasing herself. Selina bit her bottom lip gently as the butler took another step forward, and then another. His presence was so much more formidable when he was the focus of the room, not his master.
"I could be persuaded, Miss Kyle." Though Selina was right there and ripe for the taking -- and she'd be happy to be taken any which way the silver fox in butler's clothing would care for right now -- he hadn't reached out. She slowly circled her fingers inside herself, eyelids heavy as she looked back at Alfred.
"Go on," she murmured, sliding her damp fingers free of her cunt's hot clench and tucking them into her mouth, unabashed in her 'innocence' as she tasted herself while waiting for Alfred's elaboration.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone