Babsy's Boobies on the Barbie

After rounding him up and bringing him back over to their captive, she gave him a playful noogie. "Can't have a good barbeque without tenderizing the meat, can we?" She poked the nearest of Barbara's breasts at the same time that she tapped the henchman's wide belt. "So I saved the best for my widdle ball-busted baby boy."

Sam's demeanor seemed to perk up once he figured out what the boss had said. The fact that Harley was willing to leave the tit torture job to Sam worried Barbara a bit. The woman's infatuation with her breasts was an important part of Barbara's somewhat poorly-formed plan for being more their temporary sex-slave and less their main course. Harleen's pawning it off on an underling wasn't the best of signs no matter how rough Barbara might like her boobs played with.

Despite that, the sight of Sam's wide leather belt snapping from his belt loops made Barbara's lower belly tighten, and not in a bad way. She expected him to take a bit of time. He had two tits to choose from, after all. He'd have to pick a target and aim. But Dean barely had time to yank the razor back from Barbara's pussy before Sam lashed up and around from the hip. The brutal smack landed squarely across both of Barbara's chilled nipples, making her full tits bounce wildly.

Barbara cried out in surprise and then struggled like an animated puppet connected at the wrists and ankles to rope-sized strings. Panting past the pain, she couldn't help but glance at Dean, hoping he'd get back to her pussy. This kind of punishment was far more tolerable when it came with benefits.

Instead, Dean glared at Sam. "Hold on, you son of a bitch! If I cut her cunt because of you, I'll take this goddam razor to your throat."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, moron. After we fuck her into a goddamn coma, you're gonna go to town on the damn thing anyway, what does a little razor cut matter?"

Harley ran her fingers back through her long blonde ponytails and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "I see a little silhouetto of a man. Scaramouch, scaramouch will you do the fandango?"

As she worked through thunderbolts and lightning, Harley grabbed one of Barbara's oily breasts and sunk her fingernails in hard enough to maintain her grip. Ignoring their captive's muffled groans, the smaller woman ground the cooking oil into the bare nipple and areola. Grinning broadly, she nodded from side to side as if listening to music inside her head while obviously enjoying the feel of Barbara's tight, rubbery flesh sliding and squeezing between her fingers.

"Boys! Play nice. It matters 'cause Babsy's pretty snatch is his when we're all done playin' with it. So he can save it however he wants. You agreed. Her pretty titties are mine, her pretty pussy is his, and her pretty tushie is yours. It's not our fault you can't have yours until later." She slapped Barbara's right breast. "That's why I'm sharin' my playtime with you."

Sam frowned and nodded. "Yeah...okay."

Harley grinned again and then looked a little confused. "Now, where was I?" She looked back at Barbara. "Oh, yeah..."

Harley switched from mauling just Barbara's nipples to her entire breasts, kneading and crushing them in her hands. "I'm just a poor boy. Nobody loves me..."

Barbara closed her eyes, gritting her teeth against the dull pain. She wished Dean would stop bitching and get back to work.

"He's just a poor boy from a poor family..."

While Harley watched the oiled mound bulge and shift between her fingers, Dean re-wetted Barbara's snatch with oil and started shaving again.

Once Harley had thoroughly kneaded Barbara's tits, she tossed Dean a half-full teddy bear-shaped bottle of honey. "Here, you keep Babsy happy. Make sure she moans a lot. Moaning is good for the soul."

She took the belt from Sam's hand. "Now, girlfriend, we're about ta get real close. An', like I told Ivy once, 'There's a price for gettin' close ta someone.'"

As Dean squished a dollop of honey over Barbara's pussy, Harley raised the belt high.

"It's a great feelin', but sometimes it gives ya a bad bellyache."

Barbara watched, eyes wide, her nipples getting harder and her pussy clenching in anticipation, as the muscles beneath Harley's chalk-white skin tensed.

"Ya just gotta hope the good feelin's win over the bellyache, right? Or, in your case, the boobyache."

When Dean dove in, Harley snapped the belt across the underside of her captive's left breast. The leather strap wrapped around the plump mound and drove it almost to Barbara's chin. Since Dean had wasted no time indulging himself in honey-covered pussy pie, Barbara's squeal was only partially from pain.

When Harley drew back, tiny red droplets welled down two parallel lines where the belt's edges had buried. Harley drew a fingertip over one of the lines and licked it. "'19 Batgirl Cabernet, what a great year!"

Once Barbara's moan faded and she'd settled into a desperate pant, Harley handed the belt back to its owner. "Let's make some more vino! If you bruised either of those pretty berries, though, Momma Harley's gonna have some calf fries, but they won't be from a calf..." Her gaze trailed down to Sam's crotch. "If ya know what I mean."

Breathing hard, Barbara watched Sam raise the belt. Just as she readied herself for the blow, Dean's teeth raked across her labia and closed on her clit, pinching hard. Distracted by an intense combination of pain and pleasure rolling back through her belly, she was caught completely off guard when the belt struck just below her areola.

Her breast's white flesh rolled around the belt's edges, as if trying to swallow the strap, then it rippled away from the blow. He followed through by dragging the belt across her tit to make sure it made more "Batgirl Cabernet."

Barbara bucked, acting as if it was pain that made her roll her pussy against Dean's face. She rolled in a wave, pulling her hips back down on his gaping mouth and thrusting her tits out for the next blow. Dean sucked honey from her inner lips as the next belting landed across the top of her breasts, just above the nipples.

Instead of watching the show, Harley walked back to the fire. Since Barbara's plan -- what there was of it -- involved keeping Harley interested enough in playing with Batgirl's goods that she might slip up, Barbara knew she had to find a way to keep the unstable gang leader's attention. Since the gag kept her from being able to cry out, "Oh, God, please whip me some more," Barbara moaned and did her best to convey pure sex in the sound. Distracted by the effort, she didn't see Sam targeting her nipples.

He lashed the belt down, driving the excited nubs down into her breasts. She hissed and then bucked violently against Dean's mouth. Having already latched onto a fat outer labia, the sudden jerk made him bite harder than he'd planned. His teeth gouged into the left side of her pussy and made her moan even more. She was still gasping for breath as Sam glanced back at Harley. When he was sure she wasn't watching, he deliberately belted Barbara's nipples again.

To his credit, Dean redoubled his efforts, devouring flesh with his lips and tongue. Since the "devouring" was figurative for the time being, it did the trick. Combined with a now rhythmic tit whipping that let her find a focus, the tingling in her pussy quickly grew, and her inner belly began to clench. By the time either of them realized Dean had drawn blood, another nipple-buckling lash set off her orgasm.

Realizing their playtoy was coming, both men doubled down. Dean indulged in some of the best cunnilingus Barbara had enjoyed from a henchman, and Sam beat her breasts a bruised but fiery red. She was still gasping and writhing in a blend of anguish and pleasure when Dean's loud, "Well, mother-fucker!" resounded across the roof. Apparently, even his own bite drawing blood from Barbara's pristine labia pissed him off.

Having stoked the fire into a crackling blaze, Harley grabbed a long, steel two-pronged barbeque fork and walked back to their "meal." By then, Barbara's orgasm was tapering down, though the pain was still as fresh as ever. She barely managed to focus through her tears to see Sam had thoroughly decorated her tits with an impressive criss-cross of welts, some bleeding, others not quite.

When Harley got a good look at Barbara's abused breasts, she did a sudden snap to and saluted with the long fork in her hand. "Oh say can you see!" She licked her lips. "Talk about making a gal feel patriotic."

Barbara had no clue what Harley was talking about until she took another look. They did look vaguely patriotic, with a mix of mottled blue bruises and parallel lines of glistening red droplets adorning her white flesh.

"But they could use a little more blue right there..." She prodded the underside of Barbara's left breast with the fork and then jabbed the same place on the right. "...and there!" Harley watched Sam get off a final lash that buckled Barbara's boobs exactly as ordered. She waited until they settled before she edged him aside.

"So, Babsy. Now that the girl bits have been tenderized, I bet you're really ready ta get the prepped."

Barbara shook her head and tried to talk around the gag, but the movement and garbled noise only spurred her captor on.

"Ya want us ta really prep ya good? Yeah, me too! We're like mind-readin' sisters!" She glanced at Dean. "Ready, Freddie?"

Dean raised a horsehair whip and waited until Harley was ready. Barbara steeled herself for the lash when Harley snagged the base of her left nipple with her fingernails.

"On your mark..."

She leaned so close to Barbara's face that her sweet smelling breath felt warm on her cheek. "Get set..."

Without warning, she dug her nails in so hard they carved slivers from of the thick flesh. "Go!"

Dean slung the whip around in an overhand arc.

Barbara grabbed the ropes that stretched her wrists to the crane and pulled, arching her hips up. She spread her thighs wider and exposed more of the moist folds between them to the fine horsehair. The wet slap stung, and the long hair found its way between her swollen folds. But the stinging blow just made her gasp and her swollen clit tingle more. By the time the long bundle of hair came around a third time, she met each lash with a forward pussy thrust and a groan. With as much pain-control training as she had, the whip-burning was more than offset by another wave of growing desire.

Struggling to make every lash count, Barbara only noticed Harley snag her left nipple in as much as the pain added to the pleasure. She paid little attention to the plastic zip tie closing around the tip of her tit at her thick areola's outer edge. It wasn't until the deceptively strong woman yanked the tie tight, tugging until she couldn't get it to click any more, that Barbara's bound flesh vied for more attention than her whipped pussy.

By then, Dean had spanked Barbara's crotch to a swollen, beet-red. A couple lashes later, Harley finished zip-tying the other side. Barbara had no idea what Harley planned to do with the balls of bound nipple and areola, but she had no doubt Harley could make a couple of zip ties entertaining.

Barbara was on the verge of another orgasm when Dean stopped to admire his handiwork. She screamed in frustration then whimpered and rolled her hips, all but begging him to finish. She stopped in mid-rotation when she saw the pretty gang leader with a big grilling fork in her hand. By then, both choked tips had become dark red, throbbing, balls.

"Wow, Babs! Look... they're not raspberries anymore, they're strawberries! Nice ones! Hell, these'd win a blue ribbon at the county fair."

Barbara supposed she was lucky Harley didn't have larger ties or she'd be squealing about the prize-winning melons.

"Where's that honey?!"

Getting blank looks from her henchmen, Harley ran off to find the bear bottle while Dean went back to work. After quickly toweling Barb's pussy off, he went after it with an oil-soaked basting brush. Barbara's 'strawberries' were turning more of a purple color. They were beginning to feel cooler than normal -- and a little numb.

The only thing that let her know they were still pre-gangrene was the mad pinging burn where the plastic tourniquets choked them. Even so, she knew even that would deaden to a stinging tingle, and then to numbness soon enough. How they'd feel beyond that...well, she really didn't think her captors planned on a "beyond that."

Even so, it wasn't long before the henchman between her legs had her horny enough to start grinding her crotch against the brush. She tried to control her panting and moaning so it looked as if he wasn't doing as good a job as he really was. If he knew how close she was coming, she was afraid he'd stop again, just to be cruel.

It wasn't much longer before Harley came back. Giggling and licking her lips, she dolloped honey over both of Barbara's bound nipples. "Dessert should always go first." With that, she bent over Barbara's right breast and sucked the entire ball between her lips. Barbara couldn't help but close her eyes at the delicious combination of soothing relief and erotic delight Harley's mouth provided.

After she'd sucked and licked most of the honey from between the wrinkles, Harley winked at Barbara and then took a wicked bite. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it sent a thrill of pain through Barbara's breast that let her know she'd severely over-estimated just how numb she was. Combined with Dean's deliberately clit bristling, Barbara's orgasm exploded like a volcano. She panted like a woman in labor as he worked her pussy with the buttered brush. She wanted to scream at Harley to use her damned teeth while she could take it, but she needn't have worried. After grabbing Barbara's left breast in a brutal squeeze, the smaller woman did an exaggerated lip-licking and then bit into the very center of the ball.

Sharp pain lanced straight through Barbara's breast to her butter-basted pussy, making her womb clench even harder. She rolled herself against the brush, which Dean pressed obligingly. Harley sucked and tongued Barbara's throbbing nipple long enough for the pain to ebb. Just as Barbara was starting to relax into the enthusiastic suckling, Harley bit her again, this time almost hard enough to draw blood. Barbara bit back a scream even as she pushed her chest into Harley's face and thrust her pussy against the brush, letting the pain flow and mingle with the contractions and tingling.

By the time Harley had left both nipple balls throbbing and well-chewed, Barbara was hanging limp, her long orgasm finally played out. She gasped for air, and her shoulders and hips were almost as sore from hanging and writhing as her pussy and nipples were from Harley's and Dean's attention.

She could barely focus her eyes on the tips of her breasts, now a choked, deep purple that hid whatever bruises Harley's biting was certain to have caused. She should have been bothered that they didn't hurt worse than they did -- a sure sign that the lost circulation was taking a toll -- but she was much too numbed by the overall result to care.

Once she stopped inspecting her breasts, she saw Dean rubbing his crotch, obviously ready for some action. Harley, on the other hand, eyed Barbara's breasts as if all they needed was a coat of barbeque sauce.

The gang leader clapped her hands. "Okay, everybody, playtime!"

It didn't take half a minute before Harley and the henchmen were undressed and circling Barbara like sharks. Barbara took a deep breath as hard cocks and Harley's inviting, ruby-tipped, chalk-colored breasts bounced closer. It was show time. If Barbara played it well, she might be able to convince them to take her off the menu and just use her as a dessert until the cavalry arrived -- if the cavalry arrived.

Dean was first up. Given his technique, it only made sense. Instead of having sex with her, he grabbed his penis with one hand and started licking her pussy. He'd obviously been waiting for the chance all day. At first, he just toyed with her labia, making the swollen flesh ripple beneath the tip of his tongue. Eventually, he started digging deeper, probing her oyster-like folds. Within a couple of minutes, she was in a constant state of moaning as she rolled her hips and pressed herself against his face. She was surprised at how quickly she had recovered.

No one really paid much attention to the fact that Dean wacked off while he snacked. The hornier she got, the more enthusiastic he became, until it looked more like he was attacking her pussy -- sucking in mouthfuls that he tongued and bit as if it were his first meal in week.

Dean's being more painfully aggressively than her usual lovers delayed Barbara's orgasm a good five minutes. Still, she eventually did what she always did when she succumbed to a good eating out -- bucked against him like a horse and screamed, coming hard while he shot his wad up across her ass.

Three orgasms into hanging by her limbs, Barbara's head was spinning. She was beginning to wonder if Harley wasn't trying to make her come to death. Breathing hard and whimpering quietly, she imagined what her pussy looked like -- swollen, aching, bruised, red, and decorated with several throbbing bite marks. While she hung limply, Dean grabbed his pants with one hand and wiped his mouth with the back of the other. He looked at her limp body with something of a smug, satisfied smile. He'd earned it.

Harley fingered one of Barbara's numb nipple balls and toyed with a filet knife. Her eyes danced with excitement. "Now that was an orgasm! Who's next? Step right up!"

Sam moved Barbara's way, though he seemed pissed that Dean had done such a masterful job. He stepped between their catch's legs and grab his boner. Already rock hard, he wiped the pearls of cum from Barbara's ass with the remnants of her costume he'd kept. Once it was dry, he slapped it once and then dug his fingers into it.

"Time to see how a pro does it!" After nestling his massive cock's head between her sore pussy lips, he wasted no time slamming his shaft to the hilt into her.

The wet slap of his first thrust still echoed off the roofs when the second cracked through the air. It wasn't as if Barbara heard either sound, however, since her loud -- and surprised -- groan masked them both. She'd never been fucked so hard. And, while the former librarian in her tended not to use that term, "fucked" is exactly what she was getting.

There was nothing gentle or gallant about Sam's actions. He meant to pound her into submission. Though Barbara Gordon had long since thought herself beyond being pounded into submission, the angle he pounded her from made his veiny cock rub hard across her clit. Brutal fucking or not, she could learn to enjoy being pounded this way.

Forgetting all about the implied threat behind Harley's sharp blade hovering over a bound nipple, Barbara met Sam's third grinding thrust with one of her own. The wet crack and dual moan could probably be heard a half-block away.

Most everyone watched Sam bone her as if it was a spectator sport, cheering him on when he spanked and groped her ass. With every thrust, Barbara's breasts bounced up and down, slapping in quiet accompaniment to the noise from their pounding sex.

Just as they'd worked up a steady rhythm of echoing liquid thuds, impassioned feminine moans and masculine groans, Sam let out a frustrated, "Son of a bitch!" He sped up to the point that a constant slap...moan reverberated off the walls. Then he crushed Barbara's bottom in his hands and shot his wad, triggering another, somewhat less climactic, orgasm in his "partner." Still, it took her a couple of minutes before it faded, and it still left her limbs numb.