Detective Mooney arrived home at her empty apartment after completing another long night on duty. The attractive young cop was currently working on the vice squad assigned to cracking down on the rampant prostitution in Chinatown. This had become a big political issue lately after several exposés in the papers and as often happens this had led to a call for action from the Mayor’s office.
Which is why it was now nearly noon and Diana was just getting home. The exhausted police-gal headed right for her bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. All she wanted was a hot shower and about twelve hours of sleep. She opened the door to her room, which she always kept locked, and walked into what seemed to be a completely different world.
Whereas the rest of the apartment was decorated in a simple yet feminine style, the bedroom looked like a jungle playroom. Everywhere one looked there were sumptuous fabrics in exotic animal prints. The enormous bed was covered by a leopard-skin comforter and black nylon ropes hung from the bed-posts, an indication that far more interesting actions had occurred here than just sleeping. In fact, Miss Mooney’s colleagues would have been shocked to learn exactly what had been transpiring inside of that room.
It had all started innocently enough. The pretty policewoman, having recently been captured by the Catwoman while undercover as one of her kittens, had decided to do a little redecorating. It had begun with some gauzy, pink curtains and a few animal-inspired pillows but had quickly escalated into sexy leopard-print lingerie and a growing fascination with bondage. Unable to admit that her captivity at the hands of the curvaceous cat-burglar had awakened a dark obsession, the newly promoted detective continued her downward spiral of kinky, fetish-fueled masturbation sessions.
Finally a chance visit to a bondage site while surfing the web had sealed her fate. Mistress Talon, whose webpage at www.kinkycatwomen.com <http://www.kinkycatwomen.com> had advertised her outcall services for fantasy role-play, had sounded intrigued by Diana’s Catwoman fascination. The dom-for-hire had promised her the time of her life in the privacy of her own home, all with the guarantee of complete discretion. The poorly paid officer had nearly choked when she heard the price, but found herself agreeing to it anyway. It would only be the one time, she had reasoned. Just once to get it out of her system. If she had only known.
Mistress Talon had appeared at her apartment at the appointed time and Diana was instantly enthralled. A tall, statuesque beauty with piercing green eyes and wild red hair, she was an almost dead ringer for Catwoman in her black cat-costume complete with ears, mask, and gloves.
The nervous policewoman had hurried her into the apartment, casting furtive glances into the hall that the woman hadn’t been scene. After some small talk Mistress Talon, or Catwoman as she wanted to be called tonight, had begun questioning Diana about her fantasies. Not much later the policewoman had found herself bound to her bed while ‘Catwoman’ tormented her with a large, rubber dildo.
“Ummmm, what a purrrfectly wet pussy you have Katarina,” Talon had enthused, using the name that Diana had requested she be called for the role-playing.
It was the nickname she had used when in Catwoman’s employ, coincidentally the same name as Selina Kyle’s niece. It had been the name that had piqued the feline felon’s interest in the undercover cop. Her niece was then still just a teen-ager and several years from becoming Pussycat, her aunt’s heir-apparent to Gotham’s crime throne.
After toying with her bound prey for awhile, Mistress Talon had abruptly gotten up and left the room. It took a moment for Diana to realize that the delicious feeling in her cunt had ceased, but then she looked up to see what had happened.
“Mistress Talon? Catwoman? Are you there?” she called.
“Indeed I am Katarina,” purred a new voice from just outside the doorway; a voice that filled Diana with dread, while exciting her to new heights all at once.
Her worst fears and darkest fantasies were quickly realized when the princess of plunder herself stepped into the room. She was dressed in her trademark Lurex cat-suit, golden belt slung low over her shapely hips. Her shiny auburn hair was swept back behind a pair of black cat-ears and her dark eyes flashed with amusement behind the cat-mask that she always wore in public. Even through the mask, Diana knew that it was indeed that catty criminal - the Catwoman!
“Don’t get up,” the sexy sneak-thief said. “I can see that Talon has made you comfortably uncomfortable.”
“Catwoman, you won’t get away with this! I’m a police officer.”
“And a purrrfectly purrrverted one at that,” the cat-burglar agreed. “I don’t think you’d want the department to hear about your extra-curricular activities, now would you.”
“What do you want Catwoman?”
“Why I just want the same thing you want Katarina,” she purred as she sat down next to the bound policewoman on the bed. “For you to be one of my sex kittens, purrrmanently.”
“You’re crazy! I’ll never work for you!”
“No? I’ll soon have you singing a different tune, my little caged canary. You’ll see that I can be very purrrsuasive. Meow.”
She ran a gold claw gently over Diana’s belly, moving slowly down to her bush.
“Don’t touch me!” policewoman Mooney insisted even though Catwoman’s caresses were driving her nearly mad with lust.
“Ssssss!” the feline felon hissed baring her claws. “Nobody rejects the Catwoman’s advances! A little cataphrenic will make you see things my way.”
She scratched Diana’s leg, causing the captive cutie to gasp. In moments her expression began to change, her eyes taking on a much more mischievous gleam.
“Hi Cat-baby,” she cooed as her attractive assailants personality-altering drug kicked in. “What brings you here? How about you give my pussy a nice tongue-bath?”
“Purrrhaps later,” Catwoman told her. “For now you need a catnap.”
The curvy criminal placed an extended talon in front of the tied cop’s face and a stream of yellow gas shot into her face. Policewoman Diana Mooney went limp in her bonds, overcome by Catwoman’s catatonic gas.
“Get her to the kitty-car,” she told Talon. “I will see to Miss Mooney’s conditioning purrrsonally, back at the cat-lair.”
Thus had begun a new existence for the policewoman turned Catwoman’s personal pet. Once she was certain that the repeated doses of cataphrenic had turned her into a sex kitten purrrmanently, the princess of plunder had set her to work. At first she didn’t ask for much, occasional bits of info about police investigations. That didn’t last long as Catwoman had quickly set about compiling purrrsonal dossiers on politicians, fellow criminals, and even the city’s caped crime-fighters.
Diana had complied with her boss’ wishes eagerly, anxious to become a trusted member of the gang and a full-fledged sex kitten. Right now she was more like a servant, running errands for even the newest of Catwoman’s tomcats and kittens. Even her name had been changed as Pussycat didn’t wish to share her given name with a cop. Instead they called her Mousey, because as Vixen had noted, she was more like a rat than a cat.
And it was that unwanted appellation that she heard spoken as she locked the bedroom door behind her.
“Where have you been Mousey? We’ve been waiting here all morning.”
The detective spun around, reaching for her holster before remembering it was on the floor of the living room with her blue uniform skirt and blouse. As it turned out she didn’t need it. Sitting in the chair in the corner was a tall redhead in red leather skirt and matching silk turtleneck. A pretty Oriental girl in leopard silk stood next to her. They were unexpected, but not all-together unwelcome guests.
“Talon,” she said. “What are you doing here? And who’s your friend, she’s cute.”
“I’ll ask the questions,” the self-important sex kitten informed her. “Now I want to know where you’ve been. Your shift was supposed to end hours ago.”
“Well you know how that goes,” Mousey told her. “Sometimes I have to stay late. My shift ends when it ends. Now if you don’t mind, why don’t you tell me why you’re here? I’m exhausted and I need to get some sleep.”
“You’ll sleep when I tell you to,” Talon spat. “Get over here!”
Mousey reluctantly moved over and stood in front of the angered sex kitten. She was feeling a little vulnerable in just her bra and panties and was regretting talking to the cranky kitty in such an abrupt tone.
“Hmmm those are a pretty pair of panties,” the redhead purred as she reached out to stroke the satiny tiger-striped undies. “I’ll bet your partner doesn’t know that you wear such sexy panties does he?”
Mousey didn’t reply, she just watched warily as the kitten reached into her bag. She heard a whirring noise and an instant later Talon was rubbing a vibrator over the front of her satin-covered pussy. She groaned as the pleasure spread through her body.
“Why our little mouse purrs like a kitten!” Talon teased as she pushed the fabric out of the way and eased the tip of the vibrating dildo into her cunt. “Now that I have your attention, the Boss has an assignment for you.”
“What, what is it?” the policewoman/pussycat gasped as her visitor pushed the dildo deeper.
“She needs some information on a couple of people. The files are on your dresser,” she continued with a nod towards the indicated piece of furniture.
“Who are they?”
“Rebecca Chan and Rose Lee,” Talon told her. “It goes without saying that your inquiries will be discreet.”
Mousey nodded numbly. This was obviously going to be a big operation if it involved a city councilwoman and a well-known reporter. Maybe this would be her chance to really earn her stripes in Catwoman’s eyes.
“Oh and if you have time, she wants you to check on a new crime-fighter that’s been making waves in Chinatown.”
“The Phantom?” the squirming policewoman supplied helpfully. “There isn’t much known about her.”
“Which is precisely why she wants you to look into it. Now,” she went on with a glance to the Asian girl standing quietly next to her. “This lovely young piece of pussy is Catwoman’s newest kitten. Her name is Ming Meow and she’ll be acting as your contact.”
Mousey nodded to her new co-worker, but the almond-eyed cutie just stared at her sleepily, barely managing to stifle a yawn.
“And how will I find her?” the cop-gone-bad inquired.
“You won’t, she’ll find you.”
Talon plunged the vibrator to it’s maximum depth and turned it on to full power. Mousey’s knees buckled under the force of the resulting orgasm.
“Now we have places to be and you wanted a catnap,” the senior sex kitten said to the unsteady spy. “Ming - see to her wishes.”
The newest of Catwoman’s kittens stepped closer and raised a clenched hand. She opened it, palm up, and blew a quick kiss into Mousey’s face. A cloud of green dust obscured her for a moment and the two-timing detective swooned. Talon and Miss Meow made their exit, leaving a sleeping Diana Mooney behind. The only sounds were the whirring of the vibrator still buried in her pussy and the would-be sex kitten’s somnambulant sighs.
Katarina Kyle walked out of the Pussycat Lounge gentleman’s club that she owned and which served as a front for Catwoman’s secret underground lair. The twenty-year old entrepreneur and sex kitten walked briskly down the street anxious to get back to her own apartment. Between Studio 69 and her near-dawn fling with Ming Meow, the sexy redhead had barely gotten any sleep at all.
Her path took her through a busy shopping district and she stopped to look in a store window at a hot-looking leather coat. As she was standing there contemplating whether she was more interested in sleep or the coat, a familiar odor tickled her nostrils. It took her a moment to identify the aroma of cigar smoke; uniquely sweet cigar smoke. It was a scent that she had experienced very recently.
Looking around she saw a tall, older gentleman watching her from several feet away. The handsome, silver-haired man was leaning against a long black limousine and smoking a large cigar. He took an extravagant puff and smiled at her. It seemed a friendly enough gaze, but for some reason the guy gave Katarina the creeps. She turned and started to walk away and out of the corner of her eye saw him stand up straight and begin to follow.
The street-smart kitten quickened her pace, hoping to lose him in the thickening crowd. She took a glance backward to see if he was still there and… wham! She bumped hard into another pedestrian; the blow was enough to mask, but not entirely camouflage, a sudden sharp pinch on her thigh.
“Oh!” she gasped and turned back around.
She found herself face to face with a very attractive young woman with wavy black hair spilling over the collar of a luxurious white mink coat. The obviously wealthy femme held a cigar in one of her white leather-gloved hands.
“I’m so sorry,” the brunette babe cooed apologetically. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“It’s ok,” Katarina responded. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Yes, you really should be more careful kitten,” the young lady agreed. “It can be very dangerous walking around by yourself.”
She smiled knowingly and took a drag on her cigar. Sudden recognition flooded into Katarina’s brain.
“You’re the girl from the club!” she gasped. “Cassandra called you princess.”
“Quite right my dear; and she called you Pussycat. What she neglected to mention was that you were one of the Catwoman’s girls. I’ll need to discuss that with her later. Luckily I managed to slip a bug on you so that I could find you at my leisure. And here you are.”
While the beautiful brunette was speaking, a strange feeling began to overwhelm Pussycat's body. Her limbs began to feel as if they weighed a thousand pounds. She wasn't sure how long she would be able to remain standing.
"I'll scream," she croaked as she looked around at the passersby, hoping that somebody would notice that something was wrong.
"I don't think you will," Beauty smiled as she held up a small hypodermic needle.
Pussycat gasped in horror. The sting in her thigh when the girl bumped her! She had been drugged! Panic gripped her and she did indeed now scream. Or rather she tried to; all that she could manage was a strangled squeak. Her vocal cords were now just as useless as her arms and legs. She would have swooned had not a strong arm encircled her waist from behind.
The redhead nearly cried with relief; she was being rescued! Her euphoria proved to be short-lived however. The smell of the too-sweet cigar smoke told the damsel that the man behind her would be no knight in shining armor, but no doubt a henchman of the villainous vixen. Her heart sank.
"So this is the little slut you were telling me about," Morpheus said to the Princess as he pulled the kitten closer to him in a friendly embrace.
"Her name is Pussycat; she is one of Catwoman's favorites."
"And how is my dear friend Catwoman?" he asked the paralyzed girl at his side. "She and I are old friends."
"Ah but you don't know who I am," he continued when he saw the girl's look of confusion. "Allow me to introduce myself; I am Lord Morpheus, the world's pre-eminent specialist in the field of sleep. Perhaps you would recognize my old name better though. When last I was in Gotham City I was called... The Sandman."
Pussycat groaned and tried uselessly to squirm from his grip. Catwoman had warned her that the European super-criminal was in town. It was the very reason that the Siren wanted to meet her aunt and discuss an alliance against him. It seemed that such a pact would be too late to help her.
"Let's get our little pet into the car," Morpheus suggested. "Then we'll get better acquainted in private."
The two villains each took an arm and half dragged the girl the ten or so feet to the waiting limo. Mr. Knight opened the back door for them and helped put the helpless sex kitten into the car. Beauty climbed in next to her and immediately began to feel the girl up over her blouse.
"You are going to play a very important roll in 'Operation Sandbag'," she told the terrified captive. "You are going to bring the Catwoman into the arms of Morpheus."
The ravishing Royal smiled and took a deep drag on her cigar. "But that will be later, after you wake up."
She blew her sweet smelling smoke into Pussycat's face. "Nightie-night sweetie."
"Excellent work my dear," Morpheus congratulated his paramour as Pussycat fell into a dreamless sleep. "I want to pay back that Cat-slut as much as you want to get your hands on the Boy Wonder."
"And we will both get our wish darling," Beauty promised.
"Yes, I suppose we shall. But what about the Diva? It seems that she has been conspiring against us."
"Leave that back-stabbing bitch to me milord. I have just the thing to take care of her..."
Vanessa Sinclair, the elderly but elegant Grande Dame of the Fabulous Face Cosmetics empire, was taking her usual weeknight bubble-bath. The makeup maven was luxuriating in the sensationally-scented suds and enjoying a glass of fine, red wine. The usually bitchy, old woman was in an exceptionally good mood this evening as her new line of high-gloss lipstick had recently debuted to critical and commercial acclaim.
Usually a moderate drinker, the widow Sinclair drained her first glass of wine and decided to celebrate with a second.
“Oh Anita!” she called to her Hispanic maid. “I shall have a another glass of the merlot.”
There was no answer and she didn’t even here her domestic servant moving around outside of the bathroom.
“Anita, I require assistance!” she shouted again, but to no avail.
“Where is that lazy bitch?” she wondered aloud.
Finally she heard footsteps approaching her boudoir so she leaned back on her comfortable bath pillow and closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to let her maid’s incompetence ruin the evening for her.
“Well don’t just stand there, refill my glass,” she ordered when the footsteps had halted at the bathroom door.
After a moment she realized that her maid had not yet moved. She sat up, splashing water over the side of the huge marble tub, and looked towards the door. Instead of her maid, she saw a woman dressed all in black latex, her face hidden beneath an impenetrable veil.
“Who are you?” the old woman demanded. “Where is Anita?”
The shadowy figure stepped a little closer and began to raise her veil. The aged lady was suddenly thrilled with dread and got ready to scream if necessary. The intruder finished removing her disguise and lifted her head up. Vanessa Sinclair nearly fainted in relief.
“ Madison? What are you doing here?” she fairly screeched at her granddaughter. “And what is that ridiculous get-up that you’re wearing? You scared me half to death!”
“I’m sorry grandmother,” the young brunette apologized unconvincingly. “Anita is… unavailable at the moment. I brought your wine.”
She held up the bold of red and strolled over to the tub. The peeved millionairess let her beautiful young heir fill her glass and took a quick swig. Madison put the bottle down and sat on the edge of the tub.
“Do you mind telling me why you are interrupting my bath Madison?” the white-haired woman asked.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll take good care of the company. After you’re gone I mean.”
“Oh?” the elder replied questioningly, arching her eyebrow. “And what makes you think I’m going anywhere.”
“Why everybody has to go sometime Vanessa,” her granddaughter replied mysteriously. “Tell me, how is your wine?”
“My wine is just fine thank you! Now I demand to what you mean by barging into my bathroom and acting like this…”
She trailed off as the young woman smiled at her. It was most certainly not a warm smile and the old woman felt a shiver run up her back. She had no idea that she wasn’t dealing with her granddaughter Madison, but was instead in the presence of Lady Blush, villainess extraordinaire. She felt a little woozy and for a moment she was staring at two Madisons as her vision wavered. A sudden thought struck her.
“ Madison, did you put something in my wine?” she asked a little drunkenly.
“Just a little sleeping draught Vanessa. It will make this all much easier.”
The wine glass dropped to the floor and shattered. Water washed over the side of the tub as the old woman tried to push herself up to a sitting position. Unfortunately her limbs felt as if they were made of water as well and she sank back against her pillow. She tried to scream for her maid but Madison stuffed a silk hanky into her mouth.
“Shhh, don’t fight it Vanessa,” Lady Blush whispered. “Just go to sleep.”
She reached out and put her latex-gloved hands on the helpless woman’s shoulders. The woman moaned into her gag and thrashed helplessly as her assailant began to push her under.
“That won’t be necessary Lady Blush,” said another female voice from the doorway.
The budding bad girl looked up; her Mistress was standing just inside the room looking as lovely as ever in white mink and diaphanous veil. Another woman stood just behind her, unrecognizable in her own dark shroud and clothing.
“Mistress! What are you doing here?”
“I am here because I wish to be here,” Beauty responded severely. “Your purpose is not to question me. Now run along, your presence is not required for this.”
“But the Master ordered me,” the young woman insisted. “Have a displeased him?”
“Not at all,” the Princess said her voice softening. “I just don’t want you to have to do this. Why don’t you wait in the car?”
“As you wish Princess…”
She rose and left the room, peering at Beauty’s motionless companion as she passed. She couldn’t tell who it was beneath the veil as it was completely opaque. One of the Princess’ slaves perhaps? She was dying to know.
The femme fatale stepped over the unconscious body of Anita on the way to the elevator. The sleeping gas had obviously been effective as the middle-aged Hispanic showed no signs of stirring. Before getting into the elevator, Madison carefully replaced her veil. There were cameras inside and it wouldn’t do to be seen. She pressed the button for the lobby and the lift began to descend. She wondered what was happening back in the room…
Beauty waited until Lady Blush had left and then approached the tub. The old woman was completely motionless now and just watched the young woman in terror. Smiling sweetly behind her veil the Princess reached out and pulled the gag out of the woman’s mouth. Her breathe exhaled in a rasping gas but she was to weak to speak.
“Your granddaughter is an extraordinary young woman,” Beauty commented as she ran the cloth through her gloved hands. “She was quite willing to do anything to please the Master, including killing you. But, I didn’t want her to have to deal with any possible guilt. I’m quite fond of the little minx really. And yet you do need to be killed.”
The woman shook her head, the barest movement that she could manage and tears began to stream down her cheek.
“Oh don’t cry,” the teen temptress encouraged. “I’ll make sure that you’re as comfortable as can be. You’ll never feel a thing.”
She stepped back and snapped her fingers. “Kill the old bag, slave.”
The silent figure by the door stepped forward and bent down next to the tub. She started to reach out for the woman but Beauty’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Wait a moment slave. I told her that I would make it comfortable for her. And it’s only fair that she sees her killer’s face.”
She reached out and pulled off her companion’s veil and the woman in the tub gasped.
“You!” she managed to whisper, with no small bit of venom in her voice.
Crouched before her was one of her most hated enemies in the world, the woman she blamed for the death of her son. The woman she had sworn would never see a penny of her fortune. Sydney Simpson-Sinclair, her estranged daughter in-law was here to kill her.
Beauty had to smile at the emotion on the woman’s face. She looked like she might kill the blonde socialite if she had the chance. But alas, she would not get that chance. And they had spent too much time here already. She reached into the pocket of her fur and surreptitiously sprayed some liquid into the handkerchief in her hand.
Bending over, she gently wiped the tears off of Vanessa’s cheek. The woman’s eyes met her own and she could see the unspoken plea in them. An instant later they turned glassy as the drug on the cloth took affect. The woman’s raspy breathe quieted with a sigh.
“Finish her,” Morpheus’ child bride-to-be ordered as she stood up and turned away.
Sydney, still hypnotized by the Sandman’s sleep-sand, grasped her mother in-law by the shoulders and pushed her underneath the soapy water. Her face showed neither joy nor remorse as she held her hated enemy under the bubbles; it was a mask of mindless obedience.
“That will do,” the Princess declared after several minutes. “Come.”
The blonde automaton followed her Mistress from the room. In the hallway, a groggy Anita was climbing slowly from to her feet. Beauty never even slowed as she passed by, just raised her small aerosol and sprayed a stream of red gas into her face. The maid collapsed back to the floor.
“Keep your veil off,” the Princess ordered as they got into the elevator. “You’re going to be on candid camera.”
They rode down in silence as the security cameras recorded their every move. Beauty’s foot tapped furiously with impatience. She was angry; angry at Morpheus for ordering Madison to murder her own grandmother and angry at herself for even caring. She wanted it to be over, for the lies and deception to end. But there was work still to do before her final plans would be complete. It would be worth it she told herself. It had better be.
“Well well well. You are a lazy little kitty aren’t you?” Beauty accused her young redheaded captive as she opened the door to the small cage she was being kept in.
A disheveled Pussycat yawned and stretched, confused by her surroundings. Before she could gather herself, the Princess yanked roughly on her leash and pulled her into the room.
“What’s going on here?” the sexy sex kitten demanded. “Where am I?”
“You are in my slave quarters kitty,” the ravishing Royal told her.
The young femme was dressed in a slick black latex skirt which laced up the back, with matching elbow-length gloves. Her filmy white top was see through enough for her black latex bra to be clearly visible and matched her white, seamed stockings nicely.
“Do you know who I am?” Pussycat fumed. “My aunt is one of the most powerful women in this city. If she finds out…”
“Catwoman will find out nothing,” Beauty snapped, cracking the riding crop she held against her thigh. “But I have just found out that you are the Cat-slut’s niece, which will be very useful information indeed.”
Pussycat cursed silently to herself. She couldn’t be giving away secrets that easily; she would have to keep her wits about her if she was to get out of this.
“Listen,” she tried. “Catwoman is rich, I’m sure she’ll be willing to pay plenty for my safe return.”
“It isn’t her money that I’m after little one,” Morpheus declared as he waltzed into the room. “I want to see that two-timing cunt pay for betraying me.”
“At your service my dear. Now what is this about that back-stabbing bitch being your aunt?”
“The way I heard it, it was you that betrayed her,” Pussycat spat.
“An interesting point of view,” he considered. “But of no interest to me. What I am interested in is you delivering your aunt into my sleepy embrace.”
“Catwoman is too smart to fall into one of your traps,” the leashed kitten hissed.
“Really? You weren’t. And in this case I will have to assume that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. It is inconsequential in any case; I expect you to be quite convincing when you betray her.”
“You expect me to betray my own blood?” she snorted. “Fat chance!”
“We’ll see about that,” he smiled. “Beauty my dear, let’s see if we can’t make her a little more cooperative.”
The brunette femme returned his smile and stroked the girl’s cheek, causing her to flinch away.
“Some sleepy smoke might make you feel better,” she decided and walked over to a nearby table.
She took a cigarette from the case on the table and Morpheus gallantly provided a light. She nodded her thanks and exhaled into the air.
“Mmmmm, that tastes good,” she said to the girl who watching her warily.
“It smells wonderful too,” she continued as she circled the girl in her black patent pumps. “The Dream Lady wanted it to be enjoyable for all involved.”
She stopped in front of her and the redhead met her gaze defiantly.
“Such spirit,” Beauty cooed as she lifted the girl’s chin using her riding crop. She brought the cigarette to her lips and inhaled. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”
She exhaled, blowing the yummy smoke into the captive kitten’s face. The silken cloud caressed the young moll’s nose and she sighed sleepily.
“That’s right, sleepy time for kitty,” she purred as she blew more of the soporific smoke into her already heavy eyes.
“I never get tired of watching you work Princess,” Morpheus told her as he came closer. “You are a true artiste.”
“Why thank you kind sir,” she teased as she turned to nuzzle against him. “I can think of a suitable reward you might give me.”
Without another word he carried her off to bed, a forgotten Pussycat lying asleep on the floor. There would be plenty of time to deal with her later. Much later.
Wonder Girl, the younger sister of Amazon heroine Wonder Woman, was signing autographs for the few remaining youngsters at the Law Enforcement Day Rally in the park. The teen titan looked very cute in her star-spangled tights and was the center of attention for the junior-high boys in attendance. The buxom brunette was used to the attention, but was still embarrassed by the looks she received from members of the opposite sex. At the moment, several members of her own gender were unwittingly observing her. How a park full of police officers failed to notice the black van with darkened windows parked just half a block away is a mystery. But fail they did and Wonder Girl would pay the price.
After signing her name for seemingly the thousandth time, the crowd of adoring pre-teens finally melted away. Donna Prince, aka Wonder Girl, moved to the secluded area behind the temporary stage where she had given her lecture about the danger of drugs. Everyone else had gone except for a few folks who were still cleaning up. She was gathering her belongings when the black mystery van pulled up behind the stage. The driver, a large blonde man in dark sunglasses, waved to the cleaning people who waved back. Wonder Girl assumed that the van must belong to the cleaners so she gave it no mind.
After gathering her belongings, the young Amazon grabbed her blue Schwinn ten-speed and began walking it towards the street. This took her right past the black van. The driver smiled at her as she walked past, almost a leer. Wonder Girl turned her head and watched him warily as she went by. She had half a mind to upbraid him for his insolent grin. She was so absorbed in her anger that she didn’t hear the rear doors of the van swing open. Nor did she see the enormously tall blonde woman jump out of the vehicle and step into her way.
Donna Prince strode right into the statuesque maiden. The towering blonde was encased in a wicked-looking cat-suit of shiny black latex. Before she knew what happened, the muscular femme had twisted her around and enveloped the younger girl in a headlock. The teen cried out and tried to throw off her attacker, but the gal had a grip like steel.
Slowly and cruelly the woman tightened the hold. Wonder Girl’s air was being cut off and she started to become frantic. Her fingers scrambled uselessly over the femme’s slick latex gloves. She was being subjected to Birgitte’s inescapable sleeper hold, a maneuver that never failed to produce the desired result for the German valkyrie.
The side door of the van slid open and a woman in an expensive gold gown and jewelry. She looked quite out of place in the park, particularly with her elegantly long cigarette holder. The femme smoothed her slicked-back brown hair and moved around to the rear of the van. Her capable bodyguard Birgitte had the buxom teen known as Wonder Girl in an affectionate embrace. At least it was considered affectionate by the blonde Aryan goddess.
“If she is too strong for you I could have some of the boys help you,” Baroness von Schlaf taunted her powerful hench-gal.
“That will not be necessary Fraulein Baroness,” the huge, six-foot-two blonde responded. “I will have her in Traumland in just a moment.”
“Did you here that freundin? You will be in Dreamland shortly.”
Wonder Girl gasped and reached pleadingly for the Baroness. The German supermodel-turned-anesthesia specialist regarded her as one would a colorful bug; interesting but not worthy of compassion. She blew a cloud of sweet-scented smoke from her black, gold-filtered cigarette into the teen’s face. Her muscles quickly went limp and she collapsed into Birgitte’s arms.
“You did not have to smoke her Baroness,” her bodyguard complained. “She would have been out in another minute.”
“I am sorry mein Schätzchen,” the fashionable femme told her loyal aide. “But I can’t risk any permanent damage to her. Herr Morpheus wants her in one piece.”
The towering blonde grunted grudgingly and threw the girl over her shoulder like a rag-doll. Her Mistress watched as she loaded the girl into the van as easily as one would a sack of groceries.
“You will have your fun later Birgitte, when Wonder Woman comes to Gotham. But first we must add Kapitan Amerika to our little party.”
“And you will use the American Major to get to him?”
“Ja Birgitte, I have not been fucking the American for the size of his schwanz.”
The giantess laughed and climbed into the van. The Baroness stood and surveyed the park. The only people around were the immigrant cleaners and they had been paid off nicely. None of them would remember seeing a thing. Nodding to herself she got into the van and ordered the driver to proceed to the Pentagon. She would see how well her powers of seduction had worked on the American officer.
Captain America hurried down the hall of the Pentagon towards General Gage’s office. He had gotten an urgent call from Major Steve Trevor, the General’s staff officer and a man that he trusted. Trevor had informed him that there was a problem with the General that only he could help with and that it needed to remain Top Secret. He only hoped that he would be able to be of service…
Major Steve Trevor meanwhile was being of service - to the Baroness. The handsome young officer was on his knees worshipping the gorgeous German’s feet with his tongue while she smoked from her impressively long gold holder. His superior, General Gage, lay unconscious not far away on the couch in his office.
“Oh Ilsa, you have such beautiful feet,” the Major sighed.
“Do you not think I know that fool?” the femme replied contemptuously. “Your mouth will be put to better use sucking my toes than making inane observations.”
His apologetic reply was muffled by the sleep-doctor shoving her stocking-clad foot into the Major’s mouth which he immediately began to suckle. One good thing about the American military she thought was that they certainly knew how to follow orders. Not as well as a German of course but that was to be expected.
And this one was a particularly good find. He was young and good-looking and, despite what she had told Birgitte, he was an exceptionally good lay. At least when he was under the influence of her mind-bending drugs. She could make him think that he was a porn start when she wanted to.
She had met him at a party of D.C. movers and shakers. Her intended target had been an insomniac General named Henry Gage, but the charismatic Major had caught her attention. And when she found out that he was on General Gage’s staff she had immediately decided that she had to have him. He of course was no match for her feminine charms. Seducing him had been a routine matter.
She had flirted with him from afar for most of the evening. A coldly casual glance here, a come-hither look there; all calculated to confuse and entice. Finally she had managed to extricate herself from a conversation and wander over to the fireplace by herself; making sure that the young Major had taken notice of course. He did indeed notice and made his way casually over and made a show of warming his hands by the fireplace. Ilsa had no doubt that he was plenty warm already and she was going to turn up the heat.
She knew that she looked irresistible in her revealing, gun-metal gray backless gown. Her makeup was model-perfect and her honey-brown hair hung down to her bare shoulders, bangs combed down to just above her sensuously smoky eyes. She made a show of fitting one of her stylish cigarettes into a six-inch black onyx holder and sure enough he took the bait.
“Allow me,” he had said smiling confidently as he produced a lighter.
She took his hand and pulled the flame up to the tip of her cigarette, bringing it to life. His hands were indeed warm she noted, and strong as well. She would not mind having those hands remove her clothes, or more accurately tear them off; she liked it rough. The lovely lady gave him a curt nod of thanks and turned her head away to politely exhale. There was no need to rush things.
“Thank you Mister…”
“Trevor,” he supplied. “Major Trevor. But please call me Steve. And you are?”
“Dr. Ilsa von Schlaf,” she told him.
“I love you accent Dr.; is it German?”
“Ja,” she confirmed shortly and took another drag on her cigarette holder. This time she exhaled straight up into the air above her head. She knew that the powdery smoke was heavier than air and would slowly drift down onto them.
They stood there in awkward silence for a moment while she toyed with her holder. He had no idea that she was positioning it so that the smoke rising from the tip would drift softly into his face.
“So tell me Dr. what field are you in?” he asked finally to try and break the ice.
“I am a sleep specialist,” she responded.
“Oh? What is that exactly?”
“I help people who have trouble falling asleep. I am here in Washington to see a rather high-ranking officer who has insomnia.”
“And how do you treat it? Drugs?”
“Exactly Herr Major,” she smiled, bringing her holder up to her painted lips. “Allow me to demonstrate.”
She knew that the ambient smoke in the air around them would have him nicely relaxed. He was completely unprepared and defenseless against the smooth cloud that she now blew directly into his face. He gasped in surprise as the dusty gas streamed into his eyes, instantly paralyzing him. He attempted to rub the sleep-sand out of his eyes but the beautiful Baroness pulled him into an embrace.
“Just relax darling,” the femme fatale whispered to him, leaning close.
She pulled his arms down and wrapped them around her waist, the sleepy officer putting up no struggle. It was easy to see why - the flecks of sleep-sand sparkling on his face like tiny snowflakes. Impetuously she kissed him, letting her tongue explore his mouth. She could feel his cock hardening against her leg.
“We are going to leave, you and I. Like a pair of lovers stealing away into the night.”
She led him away, arm in arm, their heads bowed close together as if sharing a conspiratorial secret. In reality his head was bowed in sleep and she was using her own to support it as she steered the somnambulant stud towards the door. As luck would have it they managed to make it to the elevator with nobody interrupting them. There that luck ran out.
The Baroness pushed the button for the underground parking garage and let out a sigh of relief when the doors began to close…
“Hold the elevator!” a woman yelled, just as a hand reached in and blocked the door.
The German gal tensed as the doors slid back open, ready to be accosted for kidnapping, but it was just a somewhat inebriated couple leaving the party.
“Thanks!” said the giggling blonde in a black cocktail dress. “I hate waiting for the elevator.”
“You hate waiting for anything,” her escort joked, earning himself a punch on the arm.
“Say, aren’t you on General Gage’s staff?” he continued, addressing the zombie-like officer. “Major Trevor right? I work for Congressman Fellows.”
The officer continued to stare straight ahead, not responding. The nosy fellow in the suit looked a little closer and noticed the strange, far-away look in his eyes.
“Hey buddy, are you ok?” he asked with concern.
“Major Trevor will be fine after he gets some sleep,” the Baroness told him, as she raised her hand. “You should do the same.”
She pressed the button on the atomizer that she had quietly slid out of her purse. A stream of liquid shot into his eyes and he fell to the floor his hands over his face.
“Oh my god, David! Are you alright?” the blonde exclaimed. “What did you do to him?”
Her question went unanswered as the elevator had reached its destination. The doors slid open and the blonde darted out into the garage. Unfortunately for her, she ran right into the arms of the six-foot-two Aryan Amazon Birgitte.
“Hold her,” the Baroness ordered as the tall goddess enveloped the much smaller blonde in a bear hug.
“Don’t worry, when you wake up you will remember nothing,” the German told the struggling gal as she raised the atomizer.
The icy liquid blasted into her face, shocking the woman into instant inactivity. Within nano-seconds the anesthetic took affect and she went limp in her attacker’s arms.
“Put her and the one in the suit over in a dark corner,” the elegant femme fatale said, placing the atomizer back in her purse and removing her cigarette holder. If she hadn’t stubbed out her cigarette before getting on the elevator she could have saved herself some aggravation by simply smoking them to sleep. “The Major is coming with us.”
The towering hench-gal nodded and quickly went to work while her Mistress readied a cigarette in the holder. Her plans were progressing very smoothly. Her next target would be the General…
The Baroness glanced over to the couch where General Gage was “resting”. He had the distinction of being one of the very first victims of her new “perma-sleep”; it would be a very long nap. Her original plans had called for him to be enslaved to her, much as she had done with the Major, but she had grown impatient. Plus she was under no illusions that the old man could satisfy her needs nearly as well as the well-hung Trevor had demonstrated. His only use was as bait for Captain America and he could perform those duties perfectly while in a coma.
“Captain America will be here shortly Mistress,” the General’s attractive young assistant, a corporal Gretchen Halladay, informed the German.
She had been a nice find as well and looked like a proper Nazi she-wolf in her black leather skirt and white blouse. It was ever so much sexier than her normal navy blue uniform.
“Excellent,” Ilsa replied standing up and slipping her shoes back on. “You had better make yourself scarce for the moment. I don’t think that Herr Kapitan will appreciate your new look as much as I do.”
The brunette nodded efficiently and left the room while Dr. von Schlaf rested her holder in an ashtray on the General’s desk and covered her gown with a long, white lab coat.
“On your feet Major,” she ordered. “And don’t forget what I told you.”
“You are here to help the General with a rare sleeping sickness,” Steve Trevor replied eagerly.
“Very good, but you seem much too happy. Let’s calm you down a bit.”
She raised the stethoscope that was hanging from around her neck and pressed a button lightly. The faintest wisp of sleep sand drifted into his face instantly relaxing him. The Major was still awake, but his nervous energy was now nicely subdued.
“That is just a taste of what your Kapitan Amerika can expect,” she said smiling. There was a knock on the door. “And here he is now. Answer it.”
The uniformed officer moved over to the door and opened it while his Mistress pretended to be examining his sleeping superior.
“Captain, thank goodness you’re here,” he exclaimed with somewhat of a slur in his speech. Perhaps she had dusted him too much after all.
“You said it was urgent Major so I came as quickly as I could,” the true American hero in the red, white, and blue outfit replied.
If he saw that anything was odd about his friend he certainly didn’t say anything. However his demeanor changed immediately when he saw the General lying unconscious.
“General Gage! What has happened to him?”
“I am afraid that the General is ill Kapitan,” the woman at the man’s side replied.
Captain America regarded the stranger warily, suspicious of her foreign accent. She was very beautiful, dangerously so, and he was immediately on his guard.
“And may I ask who you are Miss?" he inquired a bit rudely.
The brunette femme stood and regarded him coolly.
"I am in charge of the General's care my dear Captain. In fact I may be the only chance he has of ever waking up again."
"You still haven't answered my question," he said challengingly.
"And I don't intend to if you continue to use that tone," she responded coldly. "Perhaps you should introduce us Major."
Trevor had been watching the exchange raptly, but now gathered his wits and hastily intervened.
"I'm sorry, how rude of me! I had forgotten that you had not met. Captain America this is Dr. Ilsa von Schlaf of the Institute for Sleep Research in Gotham City. She is the foremost specialist in her field and has graciously agreed to examine the General.
"And I am beginning to regret that decision already," she declared archly. "Are you always so rude to people who are trying to help your friends Captain?"
"My apologies Dr.," the super-soldier insisted. "I do appreciate your efforts, I was just concerned about the General's well-being."
"As well you should be; his condition is quite grave."
"What is it Dr.? Is it a disease?"
"A very rare disease in fact; a form of African sleeping sickness if my preliminary diagnosis proves correct."
"That sounds serious!"
"Oh it is quite serious Kapitan," she agreed picking up her cigarette holder from the ashtray. She tapped the ash from the still smoldering cigarette and took a drag, exhaling in the courageous Captain's direction. "And quite contagious as well."
"You shouldn't be smoking in here," he informed her crossly. "It is illegal in government buildings."
"And you are being rude once again," she retorted. "Perhaps some sleepy smoke will help your manners."
She exhaled again, this time directly into the white star on his chest. The glittering smoke bounced off of his steely pecs and reflected into his surprised face.
"What did you do?" he gasped, staggering forward towards the Baroness.
"I've drugged you fool," she responded, backing away from the advancing hero. "But it obviously wasn't enough; you are stronger than I thought. Major restrain the Captain. Ladies!"
The office door opened just as Steve Trevor grabbed the super-strong Captain from behind. Birgitte strode into the room followed by Corporal Halladay. They both immediately fell on the struggling soldier as well, helping the Major drag him to the floor.
"Hold his head," the Baroness ordered as she readied her stethoscope. "This nap is compliments of Lord Morpheus, you will meet him soon.
She pressed the button, holding it in, and a thick stream of white powder shot into his face. Instead of the normal short whiff of sleep sand, the Dr. emptied the entire contents of the canister into his eyes. His attempts to break free abruptly ceased.
"That's better, I didn't think that you'd ever go to sleep." She stood and stubbed out the remains of her cigarette. "Get the Kapitan into the wheelchair. Birgitte, I trust the guards have been dealt with?"
"I saw to them personally Baroness."
"Good then we shouldn't have any problems."
The captured Captain was strapped into the chair and made ready for transport in short order.
"Birgitte, Gretchen - take him and wait outside. I will be along shortly."
"Are we going to Gotham then?" the Major asked excitedly.
His Mistress had promised that he would return with her and be allowed to serve. However, she knew how much Morpheus disliked his Ladies having too many men around the Castle. Trevor would have to be left behind.
"Ah my dear Major," she sighed pulling him close. "It has indeed been a pleasure and you have served me well. But I'm afraid I need you to perform one more task before you join me in Gotham."
She smiled at him and surreptitiously placed her hand inside the pocket of her lab-coat. Running her free hand through his hair she grabbed him roughly and kissed him. She pulled away just in time to see his eyes roll back and then he collapsed to the floor.
"Sleep well Major," she said, holding up the syringe that she had used to inject the perma-sleep. "I'm afraid it will be a long one."
She started towards the door before stopping abruptly and turning back.
"I nearly forgot your final task," she remarked as she took an envelope out of her pocket. "This message is for Wonder Woman, see that she gets it hmmm?"
She knelt and placed the envelope on his chest and gave him one last kiss on the cheek.
"Gutenachtkuss lover," she purred, and left the room.
Her hench-girls were waiting in the hall as expected and they moved
quickly towards the planned exit. The two United States Marine guards
were still lying slumped on the floor and the Baroness didn't even
glance down as she stepped over them. The women passed unchallenged
through the door and the van was waiting exactly where it was
supposed to be.
Birgitte wheeled the captive Captain over to the side door and the
comely Corporal slid it open. She laughed when she saw who was
waiting inside. A thoroughly exhausted-looking Wonder Girl was
shackled to the wall of the van. The Amazonian teen looked up and
moaned pitifully into her cleave-gag. The only other sound that could
be heard was the muted whirr of the vibrators that the Baroness had
left in her ass and pussy. The constant state of arousal that they
were keeping her in had left the girl weak and utterly unable to
"Ah wunderbar, I was hoping that you would be awake," Ilsa said to
the trussed teen. "I have some company for you. Birgitte, make Herr
Kapitan comfortable next to the Wunder-slut."
The blonde giantess easily hefted Captain America into the van and
dragged him over to Wonder Girl's side. She shackled him to the wall
as well while the young Amazon looked on in misery.
"Why so sad?" Birgitte mocked her. "When the Kapitan awakes, we are
going to replace those dildos with his super-cock. I think you will
enjoy that ja?"
"Nonetheless, I'm afraid the little hure will have to wait," the
Baroness noted as she climbed into the van with a freshly lit
cigarette in her holder. "They won't be waking up any time soon."
She exhaled into Wonder Girl's face and she went limp in her bonds.
Corporal Halladay shut the door and the vehicle immediately drove
off. She turned to her Mistress just in time to be engulfed in a
cloud of sleepy smoke as well.
"You will not sleep yet fraulein," the glamorous German gal told her
newest follower. "Not until my pussy as been licked and licked well."
She shrugged off her lab coat and hiked up the hem of her gown
exposing her sheer black panties.
"Remove them with your teeth," she encouraged the sleepy girl while
she continued to fill the back of the van with her fragrant
smoke. "Now, you have until we get to Gotham City to impress me. I
would get to work if I were you."
She settled back onto a cushion while Gretchen lapped noisily between
her legs. The buzz from the phalluses buried in Wonder Girl's
orifices provided a relaxing hum in the background. The trip had
proven to be highly profitable, yielding Wonder Woman's little
sister, Captain America, and possibly a new hench-gal. It was a shame
that she couldn't have taken the Major as well, but there really
wasn't room in the van. And besides he would make an excellent
messenger to the Wunder-Bitch; a sleeping warning that the Baroness
was not to be trifled with.
Not that she would heed the warning of course. The buxom wench would
be on her way to Gotham as soon as she read the letter. Which is
exactly what Morpheus wanted. He no doubt had some excellent plans
for the Amazon's demise. She hoped that she would have a roll in
those plans. The former fashion model closed her eyes and imagined
the mighty Wonder Woman on her knees before her. The star-spangled
slut would make an excellent hench-woman. With her and Birgitte
behind her, nobody would be able to stop her. Nobody.