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Subject: {ASSM} Story. Batgirl & Dirk Thrustbox.
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As usual, all the normal rules apply, you can visit the site shown at the
end, e-mail this to your friends, read it and weep, read it and polish your
rocket. BUT! I wrote it, it is my copyright, if you put this on a pay site
without my permission in writing I will personally come round and shag your
throat. You have been warned.

Oh, if you are not aold enough to go into a bar and buy a drink, vote, or
die for your country, then bugger off and look at Buffy the Vampire Slayer
or something similar.
Batgirl and Dirk Thrustbox


[ Following our break we return to find Batgirl still fastened by steel
ropes to boating winches, spread-eagled, with Dr. Strangetrousers' seminal
emissions chilling her inner thigh. Now, in her own words, she continues the
story. ]
And so a stood there, or hung there, depending on whether I could stand the
pressure on my wrists or toes at the time. Dr. Strangetrousers had left the
room some time earlier.
I strained, pulling alternately at each winch holding my wrists, knowing
that if I could just get one to release its ratchet, then I would be free.
With each pull the cable resonated but the ratchet stayed firmly in place.
My efforts became more desperate until the noise of my straining was heard
by another in the house. The door to the room opened quietly as the figure
crept in. His build was familiar, his shape also, yet his hair and moustache
threw me. If I was not more switched on I might have doubted whether this
really was a moustache and not a poor quality prosthesis sold at the local
joke shop.
This was obviously the evil Dr. Strangetrousers' assistant. I knew from my
observations over the past few weeks that Dirk Thrustbox, a pervert of the
highest order, was now working for the doctor.
I was still, in spite of my expectations, somewhat shocked when Dirk
Thrustbox knelt in front of me and started to lick my thigh. His tongue
moved steadily, lapping from side to side in snake style until it reached
the now cooled and gelatinous streak halfway to my knee. His tongue, with
devilish efficiency, gathered up his evil master's emission and balanced it,
glistening on the tip, then whipping his tongue into his mouth he leant back
and stood up.
Unable to defend myself, I was powerless to stop him when he gripped the
sides of my head in his hands and covered my mouth with his. His tongue,
with power never seen in a mere device of cunnilingus, forced my lips apart
and thrust deep into my mouth. I could taste the salty tang of the seed of
his evil employer as he transferred the semen to my mouth.
Holy Snowballs! And that is exactly what was happening to me.
And, well, I had little option but to swallow; after all, I was in no
position to get a tissue out and I'm a well brought up girl and not likely
to reject a present, no matter how it is delivered. It is bad manners to
refuse a gift.
Dirk Thrustbox then stood back, an evil leer on his face. He stepped to the
side and gripped a lever. As he pulled it I felt the frame holding me
release and start to fall. Were it not for my Batsenses, I swear I would
have been terrified at this time, however, I balanced myself perfectly as
the frame revolved about a central point. I steadily inverted until the
frame had turned through 180 degrees. I was now upside done and locked in
place.
Dirk Thrustbox reached down to my tool-belt and unclipped the sonic
screwdriver (a little device I had been given by my old friend Dr. Who at a
superheroes convention).
The interesting thing about the sonic screwdriver, for those of you who have
never seen one, is that it has batteries for power, a tip about half an inch
wide in a tear drop shape, and a narrow tapering handle. In fact it looks a
bit like an electric toothbrush without the bristles.
So, back to the story from my diversion into sonic toys. Oh! By the way, the
vibrations from the sonic screwdriver are a bit annoying at times, but
tolerable if you keep it in your pocket.
So, again, I digress: the story.
No sooner had I been locked in an upside down position then Dirk Thrustbox
stepped straight up to me, unzipped his trousers and slipped his wicked
weapon straight into my mouth.
Holy Helmets! Has this man no manners? He didn't even buy me some flowers
and a drink first.
I did of course consider objecting, but it's impolite to speak with your
mouth full.
I was debating what to do when the evil Thrustbox started to push in and out
of my mouth in a steady rhythm. I noticed that he seemed pretty excited by
this as he was already leaking. Mmmm, interestingly, it was a familiar taste
but I couldn't remember where from. Was my Battaste letting me down?
As I pondered, I felt his tongue tickle my fancy, so to speak. It seemed
that the evil assistant was after all, more considerate toward a girl's
needs than his master.
Steadily for minute after minute he lapped away, my head underneath, his
higher up. So this is what they mean by getting a laptop. I could get into
this computer thing; it seemed quite pleasant really. I was starting to get
a little tired of his constant thrusting; my head was filling with blood and
he was certainly getting quite vigorous. Mind you he was not slacking in his
attempts to make me forget about his despicable actions.
I heard a buzzing sound. My first thought of course was that it was the
sonic screwdriver. Now if he was using the sonic screwdriver he would soon
be freeing me from my shackles; after all, what other use is there for the
slim, smooth, streamlined buzzer?
I soon found out his dastardly intent as the tip of the buzzing tool touched
my bottom. I began to realise that this place was even more depraved than I
thought. His master, Dr. Strangetrousers, had inserted the thick torpedo of
my buzzing Batcommunicator deep into my cuntal cavity, and now, the even
more warped assistant, Dirk Thrustbox, was thrusting another tool at my
dirtbox, so to speak. Now I know that kind of language is not polite but,
hey, at least I've worked out how he got his name: Thrustbox by name,
Thrustbox by nature.
With the sonic screwdriver pulsing away, doing its worst in my rear end, and
his tongue working away at my clit, I had little time to do anything else
but relax and try and go with the flow, which was not too difficult as my
Battraining had taught me to tolerate any torture.
Even when I could take it no longer and felt my muscles spasm and contract,
I managed not to cry out. As I reached the peak of sensation of this
torture, with his tongue probing my front and my sonic screwdriver
torpedoing my rear, he seemed as pained as I. I felt him shudder in time as
he thrust deeply into my throat. I swear, had I not been taught to relax my
throat muscles I would have got a right mouthful. Thank God again for
Battraining.
Now, if he had had the decency to remove my sonic screwdriver from where the
sun doesn't shine, I would have been in a position to set about putting my
escape plan into effect.


Visit the Lair of The Fanged One for Batgirl and other perverse scribbling

http://pages.whowhere.lycos.com/arts/paulinusfang/index.html

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