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Zoey in Distress	By : tooshoes Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 1809 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman or Gotham franchise, nor any of the characters therein. I will in no way profit from this story, except for the satisfaction that comes with sharing it.

Chapter List
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I wake up as though jolted by electricity, heartbeat pounding, like when I woke up in the ambulance, except this time I remember everything. The explosion. My father’s body on the ground. My mother in surgery. Bruce. Everything.
I’m sitting up naked in bed. The blankets are all rolled up into a bunch, so I must have slept restlessly. My first thought is that I only slept an hour or two, because the sun is low in the sky, blasting through the windows onto my skin, but when I look to the clock on the bedside table, it reads 3:30. So it must be afternoon, already.
I hadn’t noticed how fancy this bedroom was when I crashed last night. It’s like something I’ve only seen in movies. The furniture is made from fine wood. A giant projection TV is propped within an elaborate stereo system. The bed itself looks like a piece of art.
I stand up and stretch out with a yawn. I’m feeling really good, but when I realize that, I want to cover up in shame. I have no reason to feel good right now, not after everything that has happened. I should be mourning or reminiscing or even taking a stab at praying. That is what good people do after a tragedy like this, right? Instead, I had spent all of last night fantasizing about sex with the kind guy who wanted to help me, or of masturbating in the hospital.
After taking an inventory of my feelings, though, I don’t feel those urges now, and I sigh in relief. That drug must finally have worn off.
I hear a loud knocking on the bedroom door.
“Hello, Miss?” I heard Bruce’s butler call out. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” I reply, then look around frantically for Bruce’s jacket. “But I’m naked. I don’t know where the jacket is.”
“Look through the closet,” Alfred replies. “We’ve accommodated quite a few lady visitors over the years, and I’m sure you’ll find something in there you can wear.”
“Okay. Do... Have you heard anything about my mother?”
“Nothing new yet, Miss, which is a good sign,” he encourages. “They know to reach you here, and you can call whenever you like, but I don’t expect we’ll hear anything new until they wake her from her sleep tomorrow. For now, might I suggest taking a shower, and when you are ready, meet me in the dining room.”
“Okay,” I reply meekly, and I hear his footsteps echo as he walks away.
I look around and find a small door to the bathroom, which is not impressive for a place like Wayne Manor, except for the fact that it is attached to the bedroom. This place must have a dozen bathrooms, but this one is very small, featuring only a standard toilet, sink and a stand-up shower.
I am much more impressed when I open the closet, which is as large as my whole bedroom at the Kindling Club. The variety of clothes is limited though, essentially coming in three sizes. I find several flowery dresses that are much too big for me. Some of the sexy gowns are closer to my size, but when I try them on, they are too loose to be appealing. Then I find several black jackets, shirts and pants that are not my style at all, but they fit me perfectly.
I can’t find any underwear in the closet or any of the bureaus in the bedroom. I guess I’m the first person to come here with no underwear on hand.
I squeeze into a stretchy black tank top and black latex pants.
I find a few pairs of shoes, but the only footwear that fits me are dark boots with one-inch heels. At least these match the outfit I’m wearing.
I don’t have any expectation when I finally look in the mirror. I never thought black was my color, and I like to show much more skin than these clothes allow. But now I’m changing my mind. The shine of the form-fitting latex looks hot, and my pale skin glows through the black shirt almost as though it was sheer. I imagine going out in public dressed like this, and I feel myself getting excited again.
Damn, is that drug still in me? Or is it just my exhibitionist nature?
Well, I can’t meet Alfred in the dining room with my tits glowing, so I slip into a black faux leather jacket which at least covers my nipples.
I can’t do much else for my appearance. I can’t even find a comb in the bathroom, so I open the door and start searching for the dining room in the mansion.
Alfred is reading a newspaper when I finally find the place, and his eyes register surprise and barely disguised disdain when he sees me. Is it me or the clothes that he objects to? He does not tell me. He stands and says, “Alright, then. I’m sure you’re hungry after a long night and a long sleep.”
I try to win him over with a smile. It occurs to me that I haven’t eaten anything for almost an entire day, and now that I think of it, I’m starving.
“What would you like?” Alfred asks politely. “We have cereal, eggs, left-over lasagna, sushi…”
“A peanut butter sandwich?” I ask, suddenly choking up. “That’s what Marilyn used to make for me growing up,” I explain.
Alfred smiles sympathetically. “Very good. Would you like milk with that?”
I nod.
I look around the dining room while I wait, checking out various treasures laid on the mantle as though they were trinkets, but before long Alfred is back. He places my sandwich on one side of the table and some raw fish sushi for himself on the other. The table is long. He could have chosen to place the plates at the ends, but he chooses the friendlier arrangement instead, putting me at ease.
As I start to eat, I am drawn to the scent of his sushi. Then I can’t stop looking at it on his plate, on his fork, then in his mouth. I quickly forget my peanut butter, and suddenly I’m only hungry for that sushi. Which is strange, because I always hated sushi. In fact, just the thought of it was usually enough to make me nauseous. But now it makes my mouth water.
Alfred cannot help but notice my attention, and he asks, “Would you like some, Miss? We have plenty more.”
I nod with an eager smile, and I feel stupid for feeling that way, but when he brings back another plate for me, I devour the sushi like a tiger attacking her prey. I have only taken one bite of the sandwich by the time I’m done eating.
Alfred is amused.
“Where is Bruce?” I finally get around to asking. I had been expecting Bruce to walk in from another room at any moment, but now his absence seems conspicuous.
“He’s at the police station, trying to nudge those lazy bums to do their job and find out who killed your dad,” Alfred says spitefully.
I look at the ground upon the mention of Daddy. “Don’t we already know who did it? Bruce says it was someone at the Sirens Club.”
Alfred raises an eyebrow. “Did he? Well, he’s probably right. They lost a lot of business to your club when Penguin destroyed theirs, and they are having trouble now that they have rebuilt it. But the police won’t go just on motive. For those of us who are not corrupt, we need a lot of evidence if we want the police to get off of their arses.”
“Oh,” I say, understanding better why Daddy was always upset with the cops. “So, Bruce is looking for evidence against the Sirens Club?”
“God, I hope not,” he replies quickly, then looks at me with scorn. “But the way he looks at you, I doubt I could stop him.”
I inch back in my chair, stunned by his sudden hostility, and all I can utter is, “What?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Miss, I sympathize with your loss, but the last thing Master Bruce needs is another lost girl to save, especially a stripper. He doesn’t know your type as I do.”
“My type?” I ask, feeling equally confused and upset. I now realize that his kindness so far was out of politeness, not affection.
He rolls his eyes. “Minxes like you latch onto a bank account like leeches. I don’t judge. It’s a living. But I have to look out for Master Bruce because the only girls he gravitates to are slappers and thieves.”
“Thank you for the food,” I say as politely as I can. I stand up, and I walk towards the bedroom quickly, before he can see the tears forming in my eyes.
Before I walk twenty feet, the front door swings open in front of me, and Bruce walks briskly through the door.
My anxiety eases, but only for a second, because when he sees me, he looks tormented, as though merely seeing me was causing him pain.
I cross my arms and ask, “Are you alright?”
“It’s nothing,“ Bruce says, then he looks away from me and clenches his teeth. “I can’t talk to you right now, OK?”
Then Bruce walks into the dining room and starts whispering with Alfred.
Now, I’m just standing there, not knowing what to do and wondering if I had done something wrong. I thought I was welcome there. After all, Bruce had insisted that I come home with him last night. What am I missing?
Then I remember all of the things I do without thinking. Things I learned during a lifetime among strippers. Things I like to forget.
I remember how Bruce and I met and how I did everything I could to beguile him on stage.
I remember how I ran to him at the hospital like a damsel in distress.
I remember how I rubbed against his dick in the waiting room.
Now, many hours later, no wonder the spell I had put him under is now broken.
I’m still standing near the manor entrance, looking back at the dining room, but I feel guilty for manipulating these good people and for taking everything they had to offer. Clearly, they were just taking pity on me.
I look towards the bedroom, but I have no business going there, now.
Instead, I walk out the front door, wearing only the clothes on my back, which aren’t even mine, but I need to take at least that much.
I’ll go back to the hospital, I decide, as I exit the gate to the mansion and gaze upon Gotham in the distance. It sticks out from the lush grounds of Wayne Manor like a bruise on clear skin. I will need to ask people on the streets for directions because I don’t know my way around Gotham, or even how to get there.
After walking a few miles, the sun sets, and it seems like the decent people retreat into their houses, and a tougher crowd takes their place. In the dark, everyone looks more threatening. Everyone looks like someone who could light a bomb and kill strangers.
Or maybe it just seems that way because I’ve entered The Narrows.
I feel anxious, at first, but the more I see, the sadder I get.
This is the world Daddy had tried to protect me from. I had thought I understood evil while living in the Kindling Club, but Daddy had kept the worst threats outside of our castle until the evil people blew a hole in that castle’s wall and killed its king.
I walk by a drunkard in an alley. He is lying on the ground in a puddle of vomit. Just the smell would normally make me nauseous and walk away, but all I feel is sympathy. He reminds me of one of my uncles in the club, and he makes me wonder if I’ll be in the same situation in a few days. I kneel beside him and ask him if he’s OK. I don’t know what I can do to help a man in such a sorry state, but I want to try.
What a surprise when I feel his hand reach between my legs and squeeze my pussy through the latex!
I jump back with a “what the fuck!” and then continue my walk. Ok, so that’s why people ignore these people, I think as I try to put this incident behind me. I especially want to forget how being groped by him makes me feel. I should feel violated. Instead, I’m getting wet.
Just a short walk from there, the neighborhood lights up with nightlife, and for the first time I see the neon glow of the word “Sirens.”
I didn't intend to come here, but I pause in front of the notorious building, torn by wonderment and anger.
From the outside, The Sirens Club looks so much fancier than the Kindling Club, and in a much busier neighborhood, right in the center of the city.
The bouncers appear to be letting girls enter without a cover charge, so I step forward and take my chances. The two linebacker-sized men look me over twice, weighing my looks against my rough clothes, but ultimately they wave me in.
When I walk through the door and see what the club has to offer, I wonder how they could ever have seen my home as a threat. Everyone dresses up to come here. They drink champagne. The women keep their clothes on.
But looking a little deeper, I start to see the connections. Even here, the men bring most of the money, and the women bring the beautiful bodies. Back home, my sisters would give the men table dances, but here the women fawn over the men in the lounge. Not much difference.
The more I check out The Sirens Club, the faker the experience seems. The Kindling Club doesn’t pretend to be anything but a strip club, but even so, it has a real bar where the bartender would really listen. Some dancers were friends with the regulars. For those only interested in the show, we performed, but for those wanting companionship, Daddy made the club feel like a family. That’s why we were beating the Siren’s Club.
Until yesterday.
I’m glad I don’t have mascara on, or it would be running down my cheeks. I’m thinking too much about Daddy. I need to stay angry.
A man walks up to me to flirt, but he walks away when he sees my tears.
I escape into the ladies’ room to relieve myself, of what I don’t know. The toilets are both taken, but I don’t need them or even the sink. I need the mirror. I need a reminder of who I am and of who I was.
I wonder, why did I come here? To learn something? To get angry? Or because I don’t have anywhere else to go?
I need answers. Why Daddy had to die. Why Marilyn is clinging to life. Why I’m wandering around Gotham all alone.
I think I’ll find the answers here if I hang back and observe like a fly on the wall.
I know if I mingle, I’ll be distracted, so I’ll stay in the shadows instead.
I can feel that drug still inside me, turning the slightest of sparks of almost any emotion into an inferno, and it won’t let up. I feel stupid for drinking that wine, now. Maybe its effects are permanent. I remember that Frank worked on genetic splicing; did that drug change my genes?
If I stay away from the crowd, maybe I can control my feelings.
The club is still under construction in parts, so there are unsightly spots that are unlit. I hide in those places. My black clothes make it easy for me to avoid detection.
I watch the parade of beauty and money for hours, looking for something, some reason to explain my family's tragic turn of fate, but all I see are people spending extravagantly and getting drunk, putting all they have on the table, but only the house ever wins in the end.
When the clock passes midnight, the flow of money and energy is mostly spent, and many of the customers have shuffled out. The workers had mingled with the customers all night, so I could barely tell them apart in the crowd, but now that the night nears its end, the workers move onto closing tasks. The three owners are pointing and giving orders, clearly distinguishing themselves from the rest of the workers.
Soon after, “Closing Time” plays on the loudspeakers, and the last of the customers are ushered out.
Now I’m totally in spy mode. One man is sweeping the dark areas where I was standing, so I climb scaffolding to avoid detection, and I am rewarded with a great view of the whole bar.
The hired help rush through their final chores and then call it a night, until only three women remain.
As soon as the women are alone, the black girl does a little dance and yells, “We’re back, baby!”
The girl with the big curls laughs and shakes her fist in the air, saying, “Take that, Penguin.”
The blonde girl remains collected but shines a mischievous smile. “Didn’t I tell you we’d come back stronger, Tabitha?”
“Well, Barb, we wouldn’t be celebrating without the help of a few thugs,” Tabitha replies.
Barbara glances sideways and says, “Hmm, I wonder who they work for?”
“Stop teasing,” says the third girl. “If Bruce suspects, so do others.”
“Oh, lighten up, Selina?” Tabitha challenges. “Jealous much?”
Selina gives her a hard stare.
“Whatever,” Tabitha says. “I don’t know what you see in him.”
They walk across the club to the bar and pour themselves some drinks and make a toast, but now they are so far away that I can’t hear.
I need to know what they are talking about, so I sneak down the scaffolding as slowly and quietly as I can. A partition panel divides sections of the club, so I tiptoe along the panel out of their view, so I can get closer.
“Oh, whatever shall we do?” Tabitha says with mock concern.
“I guess we’ll just have to confess to everything,” Barbara jokes back. “Blowing up the Kindling Club. Killing Carmine. Wiping out the League of Shadows.”
Suddenly, Barbara pulls the partition over, catching me red-handed. Tabitha steps in front of me, and Selina sneaks up from behind me, leaving me nowhere to run.
"Who are you?" Barbara asks while looking me over.
"Zoey," I reply obediently, like a child .
"It's that bitch from the Kindling Club," Tabitha spits out contemptuously.
"Oh! You are a dancer? What is your stripper name?" " Barbara asks, her eyes lighting up, as though having a stripper name was the coolest thing ever.
"I'm just Zoey," I reply meekly.
"Oh," Barbara barely hides her disappointment. “What do you want, little girl?”
I swallow but say nothing. I feel like I could explode from the adrenaline rushing through my veins, but I’m paralyzed.
“She wants to avenge her daddy, I think,” Tabitha says with a laugh, then she dares, “Well, go for it, then.”
I feel released by her dare. I attack like a cornered animal pushed too far, turning fear into rage.
I leap at Tabitha the way I was taught to fight in the dojo, baring my teeth.
Tabitha casually stepped to the side, avoiding my punch, while stunning me with an elbow to the back of my head.
My rage disappears as quickly as it came, as my vision and mind both get fuzzy for a moment, and the next thing I know, my hands are tied behind my back with Tabitha’s whip, and I’m lying face down on the floor. I hurry to get up twice, desperate to defend myself, but without the use of my arms, I stumble both times and fall back down.
Tabitha laughs. “You are almost as bad at sneaking around as you are at fighting. Did you ever notice that you leave shadows?”
I feel her strong hands grab my jacket by the collar and lift me to my feet, almost completely off of the ground, and now I’m staring into the eyes of Barbara, who I sense is the leader. Barbara’s eyes bore into me, and I have to look away, but Tabitha’s strong hands grab me by the hair and force me to face the blonde’s piercing eyes.
Barbara licks her lips, as she stands so close I can smell her perfume mixed with the scent of tequila. “My, you are a sweet thing, aren’t you?” She says while she touches my lips with her fingertips. Then she slides a finger into my mouth, against my tongue, daring me to bite.
A yank of my hair guarantees my submission.
“So, you think we killed your precious daddy, do you?” she breathes in my ear while exploring my mouth with her finger, and she caresses my face with her other hand. “No wonder you are upset.”
I’m breathing heavily, and my heart is racing, and my mouth is watering as her finger strokes my tongue. I start to cry. Not just tears, but pathetic moans as well, because I can’t control myself. This damn drug has magnified all of my feelings, except disgust. I can’t feel disgust anymore. Whatever should disgust me now fills me with longing, like having an unspeakable kink that reaches to the core of my being. That’s why I cry, as my heartbeat seems to have migrated down between my legs. I want to hate Barbara with all of my mind, but I can’t.
“Take those clothes off!” Selena demands, surprising everyone. “Does he like seeing you in my clothes? Take them off!”
Barbara smiles and withdraws; then she says to me, “You heard her. Take those clothes off. That’s what you are good at, right?”
“I – I can’t,” I whimper, as I struggle with my arms pinned behind my back.
Barbara sighs. “Very disappointing. You can’t overcome a little obstacle like this, so how did you imagine you could come in here and avenge your father?”
I can’t keep my eyes open, and I can’t reply, because I’m all choked up and raining tears. Damn it, but what hurts the most is that I know I’m disappointing her, and I feel so ashamed.
Barbara rolls her eyes, laughing cruelly. “Oh, come now, what kind of hero are you? You are so pathetic. Everything you do goes from bad to worse. It's like you live for peril. That should be your stripper name. You don't deserve a strong name. Henceforth, you shall be known as Peril,” she pronounces with a wicked laugh, loving her own inspiration.
“Take those clothes off!” Selina insists again, slamming her foot down.
“Here, let me help you,” Barbara says, then she pops the button atop my latex pants and pulls the zipper down. She steps back, wanting to watch me struggle to undress myself.
I try very hard to comply, though I have no idea why. With my hands behind my back, I can push the waistband over my ass with my fingertips. Then, with some bending and gyrating, I can lower the pants further, until about halfway down my thighs. But I can’t push any further. The latex is now bunched up tight, and no matter how much twisting I might do, the pants are not moving again.
Now Barbara walks around me, looking at me from all sides with approving eyes, and I hate myself because I’m getting wet again.
Barbara speaks while she admires. “Now, baby girl, I hate to disappoint you, but we didn’t have anything to do with your daddy’s death. Bruce Wayne came by before we opened the doors today, making all kinds of accusations. OK, I’ll admit, whoever took out the Kindling Club boosted out profits, but they helped Penguin even more. Cobblepot’s new gang is setting up a permanent Foxglove across town with nude shows. He has much more reason to want the Kindling Club out of the way. So you see, you don’t have any gripe with us. But we do have a gripe with you. We can’t just let people sneak in here, making threats and stealing Selina’s property – and I’m not talking about clothes.”
Barbara stares at me, saying nothing until I finally crack and ask, “What … do you want from me?”
“Punishment,” she says simply.
“Let’s take off her hand,” Tabitha says eagerly.
“Is that all you can think of?” Barbara says, laughing. Then she grabs a stool from the bar and slides it in front of me. “No, I have a better idea, a punishment to fit the crime.” Then she grabs my head and bends me over the stool and forces me to face Selina. “A good, old-fashioned spanking, with the aggrieved party doing the honors.”
Selina doesn’t seem interested at first, but then her eyes go cold, and she steps forward with determination. Barbara releases my hair, and Selina grabs it much more roughly, making sure it hurts.
I brace myself when Selina raises her hand and pauses for suspense before swinging down hard on my ass.
The impact of her leather glove on my skin feels like a whip, much sharper than I expected, and it takes my breath away.
Selina takes my silence as an insult, and her next strike is even harder.
With each clap against my bare ass, waves of cries and moans and saliva accelerate from my mouth. I look at Selina, wanting to beg for mercy, but her face is unreadable.
“Oh! Oh! Please! No!” I cry out, but each complaint brings my punishment harder and faster, yet I cry out even louder. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Oh!”
My mind wanders amid the relentless assault. I imagine how red my ass must be now. I think of how much Selina must hate me to hit so hard.
Selina seems to be slowing down, but slapping just as hard. I feel each impact more precisely, from the initial sting to the bounce of my ass to the long moment of anticipation before it starts again.
“Oh God! Please! Oh Fuck!” I cry out, and I’m not sure where I am, anymore. “Please Daddy! I’m so sorry! I won’t do it again!”
Then the slapping stops, and Selina lets my hair go. I don’t change my stance. I’m not ready for this to end. I’m on the verge of something. Spirit and body are tangled in a way that is both beautiful and obscene. My heart is racing too fast. The rhythm of my penance still echoes through my body. Old wounds open, and pleasure washes over the pain. My pussy is dripping almost as fast as my mouth.
“What the fuck!” Selina says with a confused laugh, stepping away.
“She’s getting off on this!” Barbara says excitedly, then she grabs my hair again and resumes slapping my ass with her bare hand. But Barbara slaps differently than Selina did. Barbara makes sure to punish my pussy with each meeting of flesh on flesh.
“Oh my God!” I utter once, then I’m beyond words. I am breathing. My heart is racing. Every sensation I feel jolts through my body like an electric charge.
Then, in what feels like a long, aching moment, Barbara stops slapping me. She kneels behind me now, and now she’s rubbing my pussy carefully, like she’s on a mission, like she’s trying to summon a genie from a bottle.
I want to spread my legs for her, but the latex is holding my thighs firmly in place.
That doesn’t stop Barbara from pushing three fingers inside of me up to the knuckle while rubbing my clit harder with the other hand.
I can’t tell the difference between love and whatever I am feeling right now. I can’t tell the difference between my worst nightmare and my best fantasy. My mind is shattering, and my body is convulsing in waves. All of the shame and pain and guilt and fear and sadness that was overwhelming me a moment ago has morphed into the purest pleasure I’ve ever known.
I open my eyes, and I see Barbara’s face focused on pleasuring me, as though she hoped to join me where I was going. Tabitha flashes me a sinister grin, and Selina is watching intently, but with her hand over her mouth.
Time has nearly stopped now, keeping me in this over-heated state for what feels like an hour, and I don’t want it to stop. I feel like I love these three women who had set out to torture me.
But when the waves of orgasms pass some limit, a clearer mind returns to me, even while time still passes at a snail’s pace. I can see that Tabitha's expression is still fierce, and that Barbara is not pleasuring me to make me happy; she is getting her own pleasure, and I can see a sadistic glint in her eye. I can’t trust that I’ll like what she has planned for me next.
Now I realize the three Sirens aren’t going to simply release me, and we aren’t all going to suddenly be lovers, doing this every night.
I need to get away, and it feels like I have all of the time in the world, but I’m stuck with my pants down by my knees and my arms behind my back and with three women who could each kick my ass with ease when time finally speeds up. If last night was any indication, time will accelerate soon, now that I’m returning from my last orgasm.
It feels hopeless until I realize that my fingertips can reach the knot of the whip that binds me. The knot feels loose. My captors are confident that I can't escape even without the leather handcuffs. So if I can figure out what parts of the whip to pull, the knot should simply collapse.
I pull on each part of the knot in turn, carefully testing for any give in the structure. The rough texture of the whip resists my efforts, but once I sense the weak link, I work on it as fast as I can, because time is already speeding up.
Finally, my hands are free, and I pull away from Barbara’s probing fingers.
She reaches to grab me, but I roll around the stool away from her grasp.
I reach down to pull up my pants, and then I see Tabitha swinging her whip towards my face. I turn away and let the whip strike me on my arm, while I pull my pants up. The snap of the whip doesn’t even hurt. In fact, it excites me a little, as though someone nibbled on my nipple, and thus time again slows down for a moment.
Tabitha tries to lunge at me again, but I see her muscles flex before she can even get started. I duck and spin and manage to trip her before she can regain her balance.
It occurs to me that I could totally have her at my mercy, as she had me at hers several minutes ago, but I won’t have this advantage for long, and I’d still have Barbara and Selina to deal with, so instead, I sprint for the nearest EXIT sign.
I find an emergency exit, which does not need a key but sets off an alarm as soon as I press it open.
I glance behind me, see nobody, but I run as fast as I can anyway through the dark alley, not slowing down until I reach the main street. Somehow I feel safer now, even though it’s almost 2 AM and the street is empty except for two homeless people sleeping.
I’m breathing more calmly now, and my heartbeat doesn’t feel so stressed. Time is back to normal. My feelings are back to normal. My ass and pussy should feel on fire after being worked over by Selina and Barbara. I should be in shock from all that has happened. Instead, I feel fine. Invigorated, even.
But I don’t know where to go next.
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Zoey in Distress