Chapter 7

Millionaire Bruce Wayne was enjoying his morning paper when an item in the financial section caught his attention. EtherGen, one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the world and one of Wayne Enterprises competitors, had fired its entire board of directors. Board president and CEO, Simone Vanderbilt had resigned and a Dr. Morpheus was taking over as Chairman with Lady Fiona Fogg as president.

This news by itself was troubling; coupled with the disappearance of Dr. Chambers from the Wayne Enterprises laboratories along with all her research, the situation took on a much more sinister edge.

Bruce was about to call his ward Tim Drake into the study when the phone rang. It wasn’t the regular house phone, but a more important private line – the Batphone!

“Yes Commissioner Gordon, what can I do for you?” he said answering it.

“A meeting? With government agents? I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

He hung up just as Tim walked into the room. He was ready to leave for school.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to miss your classes this morning,” Bruce told him. “The Commissioner needs us at important meeting. To the Bat-poles!”

Batman and Robin arrived outside of City Hall shortly after. They sprinted up the steps and were soon entering the Police Commissioner’s office. There was already quite a crowd.

Batman of course recognized Gordon and Police Chief O’Hara. Batwoman was there with her sidekick Flamebird, as well as Batgirl and her protégés Bluebird and Sparrow. Nightwing, not surprisingly, had made an appearance along with Silver Shadow, but Batman was alarmed to see that the Huntress, Black Canary, and Dark Angel, some of Gotham’s more reclusive crime-fighters were there as well.

There were also several men that he didn’t recognize, plus an attractive but reserved female stranger as well.

“Batman, thank goodness you’re here,” declared Gordon as the Dynamic Duo entered the room. “And you too of course, Boy Wonder. We need all the help we can get to deal with the dire circumstances that we find ourselves in!”

“Aye, saints preserve us, tis’ dire indeed,” agreed Chief O’Hara.

“What exactly are the circumstances, Commissioner?” Batman asked.

“Perhaps I should fill you in,” offered the pretty brunette woman in a British accent as she stood and offered her hand to the caped crusader. “I’m Vanessa Kensington, from Her Majesty’s Secret Service. This is my associate Mr. James Bond,” she continued, indicating one of the other gentlemen.

“And I’m Rouge Masters,” interjected the other man self-importantly. “Secret agent for the Phoenix group, here representing the good ol’ US of A!”

Batman greeted them all, and asked Ms. Kensington to fill him in on the situation.

“As I’m sure you heard from Interpol, the European super-criminal that you know as the Sandman is thought to be in the U.S., most likely right here in Gotham City.”

“Yes, we’ve heard. And believe me, I’ve dealt with him before and will again if need be.”

“I don’t doubt your abilities Batman,” she assured him, “but the man you know as Sandman, is known to us as Dr. Morpheus. He is quite dangerous and we believe that it was he who was responsible for the abduction of our Prince William several months previous. I have been tasked with apprehending him at all costs.”

“In addition,” she went on, “he has been building a criminal organization the likes of which the world as never seen; an army of beautiful women who live to do his evil bidding.”

“Holy harems!” exclaimed Nightwing.

“I think we can handle the women if they frighten you Nightwing,” remarked Batgirl coyly.

“Don’t be so sure,” agent Kensington shot back, “these aren’t your typical women. We are talking about some of the most evil females on the planet. And the worst is that we believe he is on the verge of developing a new drug that will cause someone to go into a coma indefinitely, a never-ending sleep.”

“Holy Rip Van Winkle!” This time it was Robin who beat his predecessor to the punch.

“Precisely Robin,” agreed Batman. “And I believe that may not be the only new drug he has. Dr. Alison Chambers recently disappeared from her laboratory at Wayne Enterprises and has not been seen since. I fear she may have been kidnapped by Sandman. And worse still, a Dr. Morpheus was just named as Chairman of the Board of the EtherGen Corporation, the largest pharmaceuticals firm in Gotham.”

“That would give him a vehicle through which to mass-produce these drugs!” commented Batwoman in alarm.

“Which is why he must be stopped,” finished Vanessa Kensington. “Mr. Bond and I intend to do just that.”

“And how pray tell will you do that Lassie?” inquired a loud voice with a booming Scottish brogue.

All eyes turned towards the door to see a tall man in tights, cape and mask come striding into the room. Even with his white hair, he cut an impressive figure. Behind him was a less-commanding, slightly overweight gentleman in a drab brown suit, a crumpled hat perched precariously on his balding head.

“Holy childhood heroes,” exclaimed Nightwing. “It’s the Grey Fox!”

“Aye lad, and my faithful partner, the Hound,” agreed the famed crime-fighting Scotsman. “Now what’s this I hear about you stopping Morpheus?”

Vanessa flashed an annoyed look at the newcomers. She had been afraid that they might try to meddle, but they very rarely left the UK.

“Hello Sir Fox, Sir Hound, what brings you here?” the pretty agent inquired politely of the two national heroes.

“To stop you from doing something foolish Lass,” declared the Grey Fox.

“I am an agent of Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” she reminded him impatiently. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” he shot back. “Then by all means, tell us your plan.”

The Gotham crime-fighters were watching the scene in fascination. It wasn’t everyday that you saw a British secret-agent arguing with the Father of modern-day super-heroes.

“My plan,” Vanessa said icily, “is to infiltrate his organization and find out his objectives in Gotham. Then…”

She was cut off by the Grey Fox’s laughter.

“You’re going to infiltrate him are you?” he chuckled.

Ms. Kensington began turning red, but her partner came to her aid, speaking up for the first time.

“With all due respect Sir, we have our orders,” Bond told him. “The Crown wants Morpheus stopped, so stop him we shall. Now if you don’t mind, we have some preparations to make. I’ll let all you masked persons get back to your meeting.”

Bond left with Ms. Kensington and Rouge Masters, the American agent who would be their contact while in the States. Vanessa was furious and Masters simply confused at what took place in the meeting.

The Brits ditched their Yank counterpart as quickly as possible and started to head back to their hotel.

“Vanessa, would you mind terribly if we made a quick stop at this coffee shop? I’m famished and could do with a bite.”

“I suppose James,” she agreed.

They were soon seated at a secluded booth in the sparsely decorated and nearly empty little shop. James was eating a scone while Vanessa sipped at her tea, which was overly sweet like it had too much honey. She made a face and looked around for the waitress who was nowhere to be found.

“Problem with the tea?” James asked casually.

“It’s horribly sweet,” Vanessa told him.

He shrugged and changed the subject.

“The old man was right you know,” he said.

“What?” responded the female agent distractedly. She still couldn’t see their server and was getting a bit annoyed.

“The Grey Fox, he was right. Morpheus is a very dangerous individual. It was foolish of you to think that you could infiltrate our organization.”

Vanessa turned back to her partner and blinked. Had he just said our organization? For some reason she was having trouble concentrating. She put the teacup back to her lips and stopped suddenly. Slowly she lowered the cup, shock registering on her face.

“Really Vanessa, falling for the drugged tea again is really quite unprofessional,” he teased as her eyes began to droop.

“Why?” she managed to moan as her head slid towards the tabletop.

“Because Lord Morpheus commands it,” a female voice answered for him.

“Lady Shadow, a pleasure as always,” James said rising and kissing her hand.

“Thank you James,” she cooed softly. “But I’m sure the pleasure is just beginning.”

The femme, wrapped in a sensuous black satin gown, approached the table. Vanessa looked up at her through half-open eyes. Lady Shadow, the infamous white-slaver, pulled a small jeweled box from her purse and put it in front of the compromised agent. She opened the lid and a black smoke began to drift out.

“You are about to enter the world of shadows my dear,” the femme fatale hissed.

She blew the smoke gently towards Vanessa’s face. She sighed as the velvety vapors caressed her senses. When the gas cleared the Brits eyes were closed, a peaceful look on her sleeping face. Lady Shadow snapped the lid of the box shut and placed it back in her purse.

She turned to James and he went to her, pulling his lover into a tight embrace. She could feel his hard-on through his trousers.

“I’ve been dreaming about this ass,” he whispered in her ear as his hands roamed freely over her gown. “It’s been torture not having you.”

“There will be time for that later Mr. Bond,” the temptress promised stepping away. “First we need to get your little friend back to our lair. Morpheus is eager to meet her.”

James turned away, knowing that argument was useless when Morpheus was waiting.

“Completely out,” commented 007 as he gently raised one of Vanessa’s eyelids. “She almost looks dead.”

“Not quite dead lover, just fast asleep,” the Royal Smuggler told him. “Like you will be.”

He felt a sharp pain in his neck and whirled around. The woman who had shared his bed so many times was standing there, a small pistol in her hand and a smug smile on her face. It turned to a grin when he collapsed unconscious to the floor.

“The Duchess gives her regards darling,” she said fondly as she knelt and removed the drugged dart from his neck. “She wants to watch us later lover. You see she promised that I could have my way with you, since I’ve been such a faithful slut. I’ve been dreaming about your ass as well. I have a strap-on picked out just for you.”

Her smile had turned decidedly evil and she clapped her hands sharply. A gang of blank-faced goons filled the room and wordlessly picked up the fallen agents and took them from the room. With a last, satisfied nod Lady Shadow followed.


Chapter 8

Lady Midnight arrived at Lord Morpheus’ mansion high in the fashionable Gotham Heights section outside of the city. She had personally scouted and leased the property that would serve as her Master’s residence and lair while he was in Gotham. She had also overseen the renovations, tailoring the building and grounds exactly to Sandman’s specifications. Anyone attempting to infiltrate the compound would find more than one sleepy surprise awaiting them.

She passed gracefully through the ornate front entrance and made her way to the huge formal dining room where tonight’s meeting was to take place. She, more than anyone in the Court, was intimate with every detail of the enormous manor, a situation that she felt she would be able to use to her advantage.

She was last to arrive she noted to herself upon arriving at the dining room. This bothered her a little, but she also knew that her duties were more time consuming than any of the others. In addition to all of the preparation for the arrival of Morpheus and his Court, she was also establishing her presence in Gotham in the business community as a legitimate merchant as owner of her eponymously named lingerie shop, as well as situating herself within the intricately dangerous underground crime scene.

She took her seat between the Baroness, who gave her a rather cold and haughty nod of greeting, and Lady Shadow who greeted her with a warmer smile. Lady Midnight’s position in the Court was an awkward one. She was The Next – the highest of the Lower Ladies and the one who would take the place of any of the High Ladies should they fall from Morpheus’ grace.

This led to resentment from the Ladies beneath her, combined with threats from the High Ladies, none of whom wanted to lose their status. As a result, she was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Her lot was a difficult one, but she ignored it all focused on fulfilling her Master’s wishes, the only thing that really mattered.

Lady Midnight gazed around the table at the gathered beauties, for all of Sandman’s Ladies were nothing short of exceptionally gorgeous. The High Ladies of course were all there – the Duchess looking as elegant as ever in black veil and fur; the Baroness, a stern faced woman whose fashion-model beginnings were obvious in her angular features; and the Countess, perhaps one of the most sensual and sexually voracious creatures on the planet.

The Lower Ladies were well-represented as well. She knew most of them, but there were a few that she didn’t recognize. She was aware that Sandman had some agents in place in the U.S. even before she herself had arrived and she assumed that these women must be they. Of the ones she did know, there was Lady Shadow the Royal Procurer of course and Lady Satin the Royal Costumer; she had once been a famous fashion designer, but now clothed the entire Royal entourage.

Lady Gold the Royal Treasurer occupied a seat towards the end of the table next to Lady Venus the Royal Muse. She had lived the jet-set life of a world-famous supermodel before falling prey to Lord Morpheus and his world of dreams. Her purpose now was to look pretty and keep her mouth shut, unless it was wrapped around his dick. She was the lowest of the Court and the rest of the Ladies treated her as such.

Lastly was Lady Lympet, former moll of a well-known Gotham criminal. The buxom brunette was Morpheus’ Royal Biographer and was documenting his rise to power. She also had an encyclopedic knowledge of Gotham’s criminal elite which would no doubt come in handy.

Her midnight-blue eyes moved over to the Ladies that she hadn’t been formerly introduced to. The blonde wrapped in the sumptuous lynx coat was lithe and athletic looking. She had cold, blue eyes and a chilly demeanor; obviously this was Jacqueline Frost, known in her Aspen home as the Ice Queen.

Ms. Frost grew up filthy rich and beautiful, a former Olympic-level skier who now spent her days pursuing that sport during the day and pursuing wealthy young boys and girls to fill her bed at night. She served the Court as the Princess’ personal ski coach and, famous party-gal that she was, also gave Morpheus an insider in the country’s upper-crust. Already she had made suggestions on potential recruits for his growing harem.

Across from her sat the woman who was known simply as the Diva. The ravishing, raven-tressed beauty ran the hottest discotheque in the city, Studio 69. The stunning seductress, shiny in her silver sequined gown, was making a fortune selling designer drugs to the trendy young Gothamites who packed her club. Of course those drugs left these impressionable youngsters vulnerable to Cassandra Circe’s dazzling disco-ball, which she used to hypnotize the unsuspecting revelers.

Lady Midnight was a little more familiar with Cassandra since it was she who had introduced Olivia to Gina Santangelo. Angel spent a lot of time at Studio 69, pushing drugs and whores for her dastardly daddy. She would now perform that service for Morpheus instead.

Finally, there was Delilah Davenport, the notorious madam who ran a glamorous brothel in New Orleans’ famous French Quarter. The southern belle was fanning herself with an elaborate fan of feathers and lace. The wafting motion brought the scent of her honeysuckle perfume to Lady Midnight’s nostrils. The overly sweet aroma matched the blonde’s sly, saccharine smile and seductive southern drawl.

The jewel thief immediately disliked her for some reason, but the tobacco-heiress turned flesh peddler was one of Sandman’s favorites. He had dubbed her the Dream Lady, both for her dreamy good looks and her penchant for sending unwary victims to Dreamland. Morpheus had summoned her to Gotham to assist her friend the Countess in running the high-class whorehouse he planned on opening.

None of the three Americans had been given an official title yet as they had not participated in the naming ceremony, but there were plans to do that soon since the whole Court was here. There were also rumors that Morpheus would be adding more Ladies to the lists. She wondered who the lucky gals would be; perhaps one of the skimpily dressed superheroines like Batgirl, who flounced around the city in their masks and capes. He had Lady Midnight obsessively tracking their every move for when he launched Operation Sandbag. More than likely they would be kept as slaves. The Princess was said to be fascinated by them and even more so by their male counterparts such as Robin the Boy Wonder.

It was also possible that some of Gotham’s colorful villainesses were his target. She knew for certain that he had plans for Catwoman. Seeing as the feline felon had betrayed him during his last trip here those plans were probably unpleasant.

Sandman was ruthless about eliminating competition, as master-criminals like the Riddler and Joker were soon to find out. He planned to seduce their molls and have them do his dirty work. Many plans to make, she thought.

Lady Midnight’s musings were interrupted when Morpheus entered the room, Princess Beauty on his arm. They took the two seats at the head of the table. Lady Winter heeled him as always, with a pack of her wolves. They fanned out and lined the walls. His two bodyguards came in as well and stood to either side of the doors, menacing sentinels guarding their master. Finally came Beauty’s ladies in waiting who settled into chairs behind her against the wall, ready to fulfill her any whim.

Sandman gazed around the silent room at the twelve Ladies who comprised his Royal Court; a delectable dozen to be sure. All of them, in addition to stunning beauty, had unique qualities that he would use to his advantage.

“I’ll keep this short and sweet,” he announced. “One of Lady Shadow’s spies has found out that my presence here is no longer a secret. There was a meeting this morning attended by almost all of Gotham’s masked meddlers, as well as representatives of the Gotham Police Dept., and secret agents from the U.S. and Great Britain. Luckily one of those British agents is actually an impostor who works for me. So, I am officially declaring Operation Sandbag as underway. It is now open season on Gotham City. You all have your assignments. Good hunting ladies.”

And with that the meeting was over. Sandman left the room followed by the Princess and her entourage. He knew that things weren’t quite ready, but he really had no choice. If Batman knew he was there then he would soon be sticking his cowled nose where it didn’t belong. Unfortunately for the Bat, he would find that nose covered in sleep-sand.

“What are your plans for this evening my sweet?” he asked the Princess. He knew that she was dying to begin adding to her pretties.

“I think I’ll take a bath and go to bed early tonight,” she replied disinterestedly.

“Really? I thought you might want to put somebody to sleep. I will be seducing Madison Sinclair this evening – the makeup heiress. Why don’t you join me?”

“Not tonight darling,” she insisted, stifling a yawn, “perhaps some other time. But you have fun fucking your heiress.”

She swept away up the stairs to her chamber, followed by Lady Gwendolyn, Anastasia du Sommeil, and the Fogg twins, Campbell and Camilla. The girls exchanged looks, surprised by their Mistress’ bored attitude.

“Are we really going to bed early tonight Milady?” Camilla inquired tentatively.

“Don’t be such a silly twat Cami,” her sister chided, “the Princess will tell us her plans when she is good and ready.”

Beauty turned and stared at her ladies-in-waiting as if seeing them for the first time. A small smile touched the corner of her ruby lips. She didn’t trust the girls, not any of them. The Foggs would tell their aunt everything, as Anastasia would do with her mother, the Countess. Even her faithful handmaiden Gwendolyn was not so faithful. The Princess knew full well that the girl had gotten her start at the Duchess’ charm school and filled her in on everything that Beauty did. That would have to stop if her plans were to be successful.

“How selfish of me,” she said sweetly. “You girls deserve a night on the town. Why don’t we go to Studio 69, just us girls? Go to your rooms and get changed, we’ll leave in half an hour. Gwen, I’ll need you to help me dress.”

The girls excitedly hurried to their rooms as the Princess closed the door to her own. Gwendolyn regarded her warily as she moved to her makeup table. Beauty’s moods were legendarily fickle, but even so the sudden change in plans had caught her off guard.

“I want you to wear something sexy Gwen. Something that will have all the boys cumming in their pants. I have just the thing.”

She got up and moved to the closet, her handmaiden following. She stepped aside and let the little blonde pass. The tiny girl hadn’t noticed Beauty pick up the silk scarf from the table which she was now running through her hands.

Once the girl’s back was to her the Princess she shook the scarf out to its full length.

“Something white perhaps Princess?” Gwen started to ask. “I know you think I look so sweet and innocent in whuuuhh...”

Beauty stepped forward and flung the scarf over her follower’s head and quickly wrapped it around her face. The gauzy material had been soaking in liquid ether for several hours and Gwen immediately began to choke. Trying to breathe through the drug-drenched cloth was about as easy as breathing underwater.

The tiny blonde struggled but the Princess was surprisingly strong for being rather small herself. She had no problem forcing her victim to her knees.

“Sssh, just relax Gwendolyn, I’m not going to hurt you,” she assured the girl softly. “I just need to be sure of your loyalty.”

She pulled the filmy scarf tighter and young Gwen’s movements began to slow. The girl whom the Duchess had set to spy on the Princess felt like her lungs would burst. Her spinning head ached as she fought futilely for air. She wondered briefly if she was going to die as her vision darkened. Sleep took her mercifully.

Beauty felt her go limp in her arms and released her grip. She watched impassively as her comely companion tumbled to the floor. A simple hand signal brought several slaves who had witnessed the attack as they wordlessly knelt along the wall.

“Keep her asleep until I return,” she ordered her submissives as she selected as skimpy top and black leather skirt from her closet. “I guess I’ll be dressing myself after all.”


Chapter 9

Madison ‘Maddie’ Sinclair - makeup heiress, society-page princess and party-girl extraordinaire, was standing at the end of the bar at !, a swank new eatery on Gotham’s ritzy upper-east side. The twenty year-old, ebony-haired beauty had ordered her customary martini (with vodka of course), and was casually scanning the fashionable crowd when she saw him.

“Him” was a tall, handsome older man with distinguished-looking silver hair and an impeccably tailored suit. He was sitting not far away at one of the bar-side tables with a willowy blonde in a black cocktail dress. She looked like one of the many high-fashion models that infested the bars and clubs of Gotham like a plague these days; her hair casually perfect and her expression a mask of studied boredom as she smoked an expensive imported cigarette. Probably one of those insufferable Europeans, she thought.

Still, the gentleman was very good looking and Maddie had always had a thing for more ‘mature’ men. And he was smoking a cigar; she simply adored the smell of cigars.

“Here you are Miss,” the bartender said from behind her.

She turned and took the drink. She didn’t have a tab here yet, so she paid him in cash. He went to make change for the hundred dollar bill. The stunning socialite took a sip of her drink while she waited; it was very dry, just as she liked. A curious odor tickled her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. It was cigar smoke, tinged with something else, a sweet smell she couldn’t quite identify.

She turned to her left and there he was, standing next to her at the bar. He was waiting patiently for the bartender to return, didn’t even give her a glance. The cigar was in his right hand and she examined it closely. It was long and expensive looking, though not a brand she readily recognized. She noted his hands as well, strong yet delicate at the same time, like a surgeon’s.

“You like cigars?”

His question caught her off guard. She realized that he’d caught her staring at his hand.

“And what if I don’t,” she responded coldly, embarrassed by the situation. “A gentleman would ask first before smoking a cigar in a lady’s presence.”

“But you do like it I think,” he replied in his cultured, subtly accented voice. “I think you enjoy the aroma of my cigar very much Miss Sinclair.”

Madison was now feeling rather confused and somewhat drowsy. She really did enjoy the smell of the cigar and truth be told she was becoming quite aroused as well.

“How do you know my name?” she demanded.

“I know many things Maddie,” he told her cryptically bringing the cigar to his lips. The tip glowed orange for a moment and then her face was engulfed in a sweet-smelling cloud as he exhaled.

When the smoke had cleared her eyelids were nearly closed and she was obviously perilously close to falling asleep. He stepped back to admire her outfit, a fashionably slutty ensemble that consisted of a ridiculously short white skirt and a rather skimpy black top that left rather little to the imagination. The bartender returned with her change, interrupting Morpheus’ lewd thoughts. No matter, he would soon have her all to himself.

“Keep it,” the gentleman told the barkeep graciously. He took the dazed debutant by the arm and led her over to his table. The blonde was standing and holding a full-length black mink coat.

“ Paris,” he said to the fashionable femme, “I’d like you to meet Miss Madison Sinclair, heiress to the Fabulous Face Makeup fortune. Maddie my dear, this is my friend Paris.”

The blonde blew a cloud of smoke into her face and sneered. “She’ll make a fine slut for you my Lord,” she commented to him in a French-tinted accent. “Such a nice, young body just waiting to be enjoyed.”

“Who are you?” asked the young socialite dazedly as she started to come out of her trance.

“Oh yes, where are my manners? I neglected to introduce myself. I am Dr. Morpheus, premier sleep specialist, at your service. And I can see that you need a nice long rest. Let’s get you somewhere more private so that I can give you a more complete examination.”

He nonchalantly blew another thick cloud of smoke into the young lady’s face and she relaxed even further under the effects of the narcotic vapors. The bar was very crowded but nobody seemed to notice the kidnapping happening right in their midst.

He took her purse and handed it to Paris, who in turn gave him the mink which he wrapped around Madison’s shoulders.

“Why don’t you retrieve Miss Sinclair’s coat?” he suggested. “I will take our sleepy friend out the back way and we’ll pick you up out front.”

The debonair villain, known the world over to law-enforcement agencies as the Sandman, steered his sleeping victim towards the rear of the establishment. As he neared the back door a man in a blue suit approached them.

“I’m sorry sir, but that’s an emergency exit only,” he began politely.

“Really?” Sandman asked as he turned to face him. He gently waved his cigar back and forth in the manager’s face, letting his fragrantly fiendish sleep smoke take affect. It didn’t take long before a dreamy expression came over the man’s face.

“You need a nap my friend,” the Dream Doctor told him as he reached into the pocket of his coat. He held up a midnight-blue, velvet pouch adorned with shiny gold stars. He reached into the sack and brought out a handful of shimmering powder which he flung at the fool who had interrupted him. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes and the Dr. and his damsel stepped over him and left the building.

A black limo was waiting in the alley behind the bar. A tall, bald black man in a chauffeur’s uniform was waiting to open the door. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses despite the fact that it was nighttime.

“How did it go boss?” he asked as he pulled the rear door open.

“Like a dream, Mr. Dark, like a dream. Operation Sandbag will soon be well under way.”

The black man smiled and closed the door behind his master and the rich bitch he had just abducted. With any luck he’d get to fuck her later. He got behind the wheel and pulled out front. Paris, one of the Countess’ whores, was waiting by the door. He didn’t bother getting out, and she climbed into the back. The car sped away.


Chapter 10

The Huntress prowled Gotham’s streets at night like an angry alley cat. She despised criminals who preyed on the weak even more than those who preyed on the wealthy. She was proud that she had helped clean up the city’s once ultra-violent streets, so that people would be safe. But there were still dangers everywhere; she had to remain vigilant. There was still plenty of crime in Gotham, although it seemed that her crime-fighting colleagues only cared about catching the more colorful criminals like the Riddler and the Joker. Or their new obsession that had everyone so worked up – the Sandman. She herself had decided to worry about the more mundane, yet still prolific, crime problems in Gotham and not some guy in a fur coat who went around putting people to sleep.

Under-aged drinking and designer drug use were commonplace in the city’s clubs and there was a growing “red-light district” of sex shops and Gentleman’s clubs. But the Huntress reserved her worst wrath for the crime of prostitution. Whether it was high-priced call girl rings or back alley street hookers, the former schoolteacher turned masked vigilante sought to eradicate it completely. It was this hatred for those who sold young women’s bodies, as well as those that purchased them, that brought her to one of Gotham City’s poorer neighborhoods tonight. One of her informants had tipped her off that several young girls had been seen selling themselves to anyone willing to help finance their no doubt expensive drug habits.

Dressed in her purple spandex jumpsuit, with black gloves, boots, and face mask, the brunette bombshell looked like an avenging angel as she walked softly through the dark alley, unaware that her every move was being watched. She came to the mouth of the alleyway and peeked around the corner. Sure enough, on the corner of Market and Hades, two young ladies were plying their “wares”. The women, one a brunette and one a redhead, were both rather tall and looked to be in their twenties. Each was dressed provocatively, with short latex skirts, glittery sequined tube tops, fishnet stockings and heels.

It was obvious what the girls were here for and yet the Huntress couldn’t help notice how quiet the street was. Not a lot of street traffic, which meant not many potential customers. Unless the johns new exactly where to find the girls. That must be it she decided. Their pimp must arrange for their customers to pick them up here. The girls did seem to be waiting for someone, as they casually smoked cigarettes, not attempting to flag down any of the few passing cars.

The purple paragon’s hunch was proved correct shortly when a long white limousine turned onto Hades Street and glided to a stop several feet from the would-be ladies of the evening. The back window slid down and the redhead leaned down to speak to the person inside. The Huntress had seen enough and boldly exited the alley.

“Well, well what have we here,” she said loudly as she approached the limo.

The brunette turned toward her and continued to smoke casually and the redhead didn’t even bother to stop her conversation with the vehicle’s occupant.

“Excuse me miss, but I’m talking to you,” she continued, addressing the redhead.

The black clad temptress turned away from the window and stared at the masked heroine with contempt.

“Da?” she asked in a thick Russian accent.

The Huntress was furious, but also somewhat surprised. The two women were gorgeous, the type that she would expect to see in one of the cities expensive brothels, not on a street corner. The Russian was less surprising as many young women came from other countries looking for fame and fortune, only to find Gotham’s dark underbelly instead.

“I don’t suppose you ladies are just out for a nice evening stroll?” she asked sarcastically.

The two girls offered no response they just continued to stare at her. The Huntress approached the open window and the redheaded Russian stepped aside. She leaned down and was somewhat surprised to see two very beautiful blonde women draped in luxurious mink coats in the back.

“And I suppose you were just being kind enough to offer them a lift?” the Huntress taunted the limo’s occupants.

“No sweet thing, we are here to give you a lift,” replied one of the women in a sultry southern accent.

The Huntress was about to retort when her world exploded in pain. She had not noticed when the redheaded hooker had taken a heavy lead sap out of her large leather purse and calmly approached the heroine from behind. The vixen hefted the weapon and brought it crashing down on the Huntress’ unprotected head. Her vision turned black for several seconds and she fell to the pavement.

She was trying to clear the cobwebs from her brain when the limo door opened and the honey-haired beauty stepped out. She nonchalantly pulled a gold cigarette case from the pocket of her mink and extracted a long, black cigarillo. The brunette hooker held up a lighter for her and she lit her pencil-thin cigar. The Huntress had managed to get up on all fours and was slowly shaking her head. Her attacker prepared to give her a knockout blow.

“Nyet Sasha,” instructed the other mink clad villainess as she climbed from the limo, “We don’t want to accidentally kill her do we? That would make the Master quite upset. Hold her. Nadia, give her the cloth.”

Clad from head to toe in white mink, she was an incredibly tall blonde, with the regal bearing of a czarina and the wanton sensuality of a porn-star. This resulted in a femme whose manner said ‘obey’ while her eyes said ‘fuck me’! And what eyes they were; surprisingly large pools of azure blue that were mesmerizing to behold. The Huntress looked into those seductive, hypnotic orbs and could see nothing else.

“It is bedtime for you my little babushka,” she told the heroine as she motioned for her hench-gals to continue.

The redhead dropped her weapon and grabbed the Huntress under her arms and pulled her up to a sitting position. She was surprisingly strong. The brunette had removed a white towel and a small brown bottle from her purse and proceeded to pour the contents into the towel. Even from several feet away the odor was unmistakable to the Huntress – Chloroform!

She began to struggle, but in her condition she was no match for her abductors. Nadia pressed the cloth into her face, covering her mouth and nose but making sure that her Mistress could still see the girl’s eyes. She loved to watch the eyes when her victims went to sleep, and the Huntress didn’t disappoint her. They flew wide open in panic as the first whiff of chloroform entered her lungs. She tried to hold her breath, but her attackers were well trained in their duties. The redhead, Sasha, pinched one of the heroine’s nipples and she gasped in pain. The involuntary breath was enough to send the girl on a downward spiral of dizziness, descending into a soporific induced slumber.

“Da, darling breath,” encouraged the Russian blonde softly. She was thoroughly enjoying the site of her prey falling slowly towards sleep. Her soft brown eyes fluttered wildly, then more slowly as the devious drugs took effect. Finally they closed for the last time and her body slumped limply in her attacker’s arms. Morpheus’ superheroine harem was begun.

“Your little wolves sure know what they’re doin’ sugar,” the Dream Lady complimented toying with her cigar. “And they make fine lookin' hookers too. They could work in my brothel any time.”

“Da darling,” Lady Winter, the White Wolf agreed, “my girls are very well-rounded. They may have to fuck a man one minute and kill him the next.”

“Well at Maison Rouge there’s plenty of fuckin, but not much killin,” the Southern Madam commented as the Huntress’ limp body was loaded into the limo.

“To each their own Dream Lady. Now let’s get this little one back to Morpheus.”


Ch. 11

Dick stood self-consciously at the bar, feeling distinctly that he
was NOT one of the beautiful people. Scores of scantily attired
females cavorted about, being stalked by equal hordes of horny,
trendily-dressed males. The twenty-two year-old clad in an expensive
yet conservative business suit was definitely out of place amidst the
fashion-conscious revelers. Hell, Dick thought, if it wasn't for Todd
I probably wouldn't even have gotten in to Studio 69.

The young man was thinking about calling it a night, when a girl
caught his eye. Of course the term `girl' didn't do this exquisite
creature justice. Even in a club full of hotties the leather-swathed
brunette stood out. Her face was that of an absolute angel, if an
angel would ever have such a devilish expression. He wasn't sure why,
but he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Perhaps it was the short black leather skirt, or the matching knee-
high boots. Or maybe the sheer, revealing top or the dramatic opera-
length leather gloves that had Dick so entranced. No he had to admit
to himself, it was what she was holding in one of those gloved hands.

It was a cigarette holder - stylishly short and black, a long all-
white cigarette smoldering at the end. The brunette looked so natural
using it, sophisticated despite her obvious youth. Dick sat and
watched as she spoke to her friend, a tall redhead in leather pants.
She moved her hands as she talked, gesturing with the holder as if to
draw attention to it. Occasionally she would bring it to her lips, a
casual movement that caused his pulse to quicken.

He stood transfixed as her perfectly painted, burgundy lips pursed
around the tip. Her smooth cheeks hollowed slightly as she inhaled
slowly, obviously savoring the flavor of the smoke. He paid close
attention as she pulled the holder away, tiny wisps of smoke trailing
from the mouthpiece. She tilted her head up and exhaled leisurely– a
long, smooth, deliberate stream of white smoke that rose softly
towards the ceiling.

Dick couldn't really say when he became attracted to the sight of a
woman smoking with a cigarette holder. He remembered the famous movie
starlet, Dawn Robbins, had used one at a party at Wayne Manor. He had
thought that she was very beautiful and elegant. But the first time
he had become sexually excited by it was when False Face's moll Blaze
had used a trick holder to knock out a guard at the bank note
printer's office. That was back when his secret identity was still
Robin the Boy Wonder, before he had left Batman's side to strike out
on his own as Nightwing. Now there was a new boy, Tim Drake, who
filled the role of Robin.

Dick thought back to the night that they had captured Blaze. The
vixen had approached the defenseless guard brandishing her holder and
asked for a light. He had said no and questioned her presence there.
His reply had been a face-full of knockout powder, delivered from the
end of the purple-haired femme's holder.

The young man had replayed the scene in his mind many times. Blaze
casually removing the cigarette from the red holder; bringing it
smoothly back to her lips; those lips pursing sexily as she blew into
it; and finally the man collapsing as the green powder covered his

Batman and he had surprised her then and she had tried the same trick
on them, but Batman was too clever. He had blown the dust right back
at her, knocking her out. And Robin's first emotion was…
disappointment. For a moment he had longed to feel the smooth powder
on his face, finding the prospect somehow arousing.

As coincidence would have it he would get his wish soon enough.
Batman had not been as clever as he thought and Blaze had led them
both into a trap. They had let their guards down and she had
exploited it, distracting Batman before pulling Robin into a grateful
embrace. He had let her hug him, not realizing her cunning until it
was too late - She had gassed him with her hairpiece.

It had happened so quickly that Robin barely remembered anything
afterward. One moment she was telling him what a gentleman he was and
giving him a nice embrace, and the next a warm gas was spraying into
his face, sending him to sleepy-land. There was just one detail that
had stuck with him for all these years – the look on her face. Her
expression when she gassed him was singular to the female criminal;
the look of a woman who knows that she has out-witted another foolish
male, pure feminine superiority.

He hadn't admitted it at the time, he was quite repressed in his
youth, but Blaze had unwittingly awakened two fetishes that night.
Since then Dick had become aroused more than once in the presence of
a beautiful villainess. They had their way with him in his fantasies
even if they hadn't yet done so in real life. It was his secret
torment, a crime-fighter who deep inside longed to be captured and
ravaged by his gorgeous adversaries.
It certainly helped him understand Bruce's obsession with Catwoman.

Lost in thought as he was, Dick didn't even realize that he had been
staring at the holder-girl. That is until she fixed him with a stare
of her own and took a long, deliberate drag on her holder and exhaled
in his direction. A small smile crossed her lips, the familiar
mocking expression of his dreams. He started to move toward her,
almost against his will, being drawn as if by a magnet or the call of
a siren's song.

"Earth to Grayson, come in Dick Grayson!"

Dick jumped startled and whirled around. It was his friend Todd
Wilcox. Todd's family was big in banking and investments and he was a
typical spoiled playboy. This suited Dick fine as that is what he
wanted people to think of him as well. Bruce had played the
millionaire playboy role for years and nobody had ever suspected that
he was Batman. He hoped it would work equally well for his Nightwing

"What's up Todd?"

"Boy you were spacing out, I've been talking to you for five minutes.
What were you thinking about anyway?"

"Nothing, just bored I guess."

He turned back to where the goddess had been standing, but she was
gone. He scanned the immediate area but she was nowhere to be seen.
He sighed and turned back to his friend who was still babbling away.

"So what do you think?" Todd finished.


"Geez you really are spacey tonight. What do you think about going
someplace else?"

"I don't know Todd, it's getting pretty late. I might just call it a

"No way Dick, you are coming with me. We're going to Cabaret; it's a
new place that just opened; very classy and sophisticated. Trust me
you'll love it."

Dick could tell that he wasn't going to take no for an answer so he
shrugged his acceptance. The two young men walked towards the exit.
As he did so, Dick cast one last, longing glance back over his
shoulder but his dream-girl had obviously disappeared. I'll never see
her again, he thought. He couldn't have been more wrong.


Ch. 12

Beauty was talking to Anastasia, who was looking yummy in white
leather pants and a pink satin top. She would have preferred it if
the French tart had been wearing a skirt, easier access after all,
but decided that peeling her out of her pants would be worth the
effort. She was getting ready to go find the twins and introduce all
of the girls to The Diva when she noticed the young man staring at

He was handsome enough, in a boyish sort of way, though a little
short for her tastes. Still there was something about him that she
was attracted to. For his part he seemed fascinated with her, not
that it was a surprise. She tended to have that affect on men. After
watching him from the corner of her eye for a few minutes she soon
learned the cause of his fascination.

It was her holder. She could tell by the way his eyes followed it,
staring as she moved it slowly to her mouth. She decided to test her
theory by camping it up and began to use the holder to gesture with
before dragging on it sexily.

Sure enough his eyes stayed glued on the holder, following it as she
traced lazy smoke circles in the air. He was positively riveted. Once
again she wasn't shocked. She had found quite a few men who were
turned on by women smoking, particularly with a holder. She never
quite understood it, perhaps it was the elegance and femininity it
portrayed, but she definitely knew how to capitalize on the feelings
it engendered.

She decided to play with him, fixed him with a cool stare and sent a
cloudy exhale in his direction. He started to move towards her and
she smiled triumphantly. But then another man was there next to him,
shouting in his ear. The young man jumped and turned to his friend.
Beauty was slightly disappointment that her seductive spell had been
broken. There was something intriguing about the young man watching
her. Still, she had business to take care of, the reason she was here.

"Come," she instructed Anastasia as she turned away. "We need to find
the twins; it's time to meet the Diva."

The French femme followed her mistress through the crowd. Campbell
and Camilla were dancing and the Princess pulled them along without
stopping. She led them up the stairs and into the balcony area. There
was a private section roped off, a large bouncer-type guarding the

He let the ladies pass without a word and they entered a luxuriously
appointed lounge area with a spectacular view over-looking the dance-
floor. A pair of enticing brunette's in black satin gowns and gloves
approached them.

"Princess Beauty," exclaimed one as they both curtsied
elegantly, "what an honor. The Diva is expecting you."

"Thank you Opera and Aria," she replied regally with a slight nod of
her head to the Diva's molls.

It was a little known fact that it had not been Sandman who had
recruited Cassandra Circe, but the Princess herself. She was running
a successful discothèque in Rome when Beauty discovered her.
Cassandra had a knack for attracting the wealthiest and most
beautiful patrons to her establishment, exactly the kind of people
she and Morpheus were hoping to ensnare in their sleepy web.

Under Beauty's tutelage the lovely Miss Circe was well on her way to
becoming a villainess of enviable quality. Already in the few months
since arriving in Gotham she had opened Studio 69 and made it into
the hottest spot in the city, while at the same time building an
impressive gang of henchmen and molls, of whom Opera and Aria were
her pride and joy.

The self-styled Diva was developing into a talented hypnotist, aided
by her dazzle-dust (a shimmering powder that temporarily dazed her
victims) and a sparkling disco-ball which she used to deeply entrance
anyone that she wished. Tonight the Princess had brought her three
lovely young ladies who were to be put under her spell.

The sexy brunette was lounging lazily on a leather sofa in a corner
of the private room. The femme, sheathed in a shiny silver slip-
dress, was sipping outrageously expensive champagne and smoking an
exotic cocktail cigarette while a gaggle of studs in silver hot-pants
saw to her every whim.

"Welcome Princess, ladies" she purred without rising. "Please make
yourselves comfortable."

Beauty slid onto the sofa next to her hostess and leaned over to give
her a slow wet kiss while her companions found seats of their own.

"Champagne darling?" the Diva suggested.

She snapped her fingers imperiously and a silver-bikinied waitress
materialized as if from thin air bearing a tray of elegant champagne
flutes. Once her guests had all been served and were comfortably
situated she turned her attention to the new-comers.

"Now what have we here your Highness?" she asked surveying the lovely
teens. "These two fetching young ladies could only be the Fogg
twins," she said indicating the cute, bob-haired brunettes. "And this
sensual creature must be Anastasia, the Countess' daughter. Welcome
my dears to Studio 69."

The girls were obviously pleased with the attention they were
receiving and the electric atmosphere of Gotham's hottest club. They
sat sipping their champagne and soaking in the funky ambiance of the
VIP section while the Princess conversed quietly with the Diva.

Campbell, eyes bright with excitement, watched as throngs of partiers
boogied on the dance-floor below. She stood and walked over to the
railing to be closer to the action. Her sister was busy flirting with
several of Ms. Circe's scantily clad boy-toys, no doubt planning on
getting laid and soon. Anastasia had been joined by Opera and Aria,
the two satin-gowned gals flanking her on the sofa.

The air was thick with sexual tension and Campbell could smell it
like perfume. She breathed deeply, closing her eyes, and thought that
she did smell perfume; a rich, spicy aroma that made her think of an
Arabian harem. She opened her eyes and was startled to find the
source of the exotic scent standing next to her – a young blonde in a
shimmering, flapper-style cocktail dress of silver sequins.

"Hi, I hope I didn't frighten you," the blonde said smiling. "I'm
Angel, I work for Cassandra."

Campbell took the hand that was offered and shook it. It was slim and
feminine and she felt an electric shock course through her body at
the touch. She stammered out her own name, not knowing why the girl
made her feel so… inferior. Sure she was a little older and was
obviously very glamorous, but Campbell was a very confident young
woman who was always in control. Right now her knees were practically
shaking with lust for the aptly named girl at her side.

"Let's go dance," the sparkling spectacle suggested, and Campbell
found herself wordlessly following the girl back downstairs.

The club was packed with gorgeous girls and hunky guys. The throbbing
music and dazzling lights created an absolutely dizzying atmosphere
as Gina Santangelo led her out to the dance floor. The mobster's
daughter smiled to herself as she began to slowly grind up against
the British girl. She really was hot and obviously the mickey that
the Diva's hunks had placed in the champagne was doing its job. She
was looking very horny which is exactly how Angel was feeling.

The blonde moved behind the teen hotty and let her hands roam over
her tight little body. Campbell moaned as her pink, round nipples
were rubbed into hard little nubs by the temptress' fingers. Angel
licked the back of ear, her tongue lingering on the lobe for a second
and then darting inside. Campbell closed her eyes and positively
melted. She was feeling so dreamy that she didn't even realize that
the song had ended and her dance-partner had moved away.

She opened her eyes and saw Angel staring at her with a `cat just got
the cream' expression.

"I need to go powder my nose," she said and started to walk
away. "Are you coming?" she asked turning back, and Campbell nodded
dumbly and hurried after.

They walked down a dark hallway to a secluded door. Angel pushed the
door open and stepped aside. "After you darling."

Campbell nodded and stepped through the door and plummeted into
darkness. She was so surprised that she hardly noticed that she was
falling before she landed softly on huge cushy mattress. The stunned
teen heard soft footsteps approach though it was too dark to see
anything. The unseen intruder stopped close by and the Brit heard a
loud hiss. A blast of cool air gusted into her face. The cool mist
quickly turned cold; ice cold. Her skin felt like it was on fire.

Unseen hands reached out to grab her, lifting her easily and carrying
her away. She wanted to scream but her protests were frozen in her
throat. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Her silent abductors
brought her into another room. She could tell by the distinct drop in
air-temperature. It was frigid, like a meat-locker, and she was soon

Campbell was stood up and her hands were locked into cold metal
shackles. The terrified teen heard another hiss and this time a
strange odor filled her nostrils. She began to feel light-headed and
knew that it must be some kind of gas. At this point she was to numb
to care. She was so cold; so cold. She drifted off to sleep.