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By all accounts, dinner should’ve been nice. Amazing, even. Honestly, when was the last time she wasn’t peeling cheap pizza off greasy cardboard? Stephanie’s spine thanked her for sitting in a real chair for once. Not the hunks of cheap plastic at university or a bulky leather slab with bat logos all over it. It also came with a mahogany table topped with a dish of seared salmon and a tall glass of deep crimson wine. All overlooking the dazzling city of Metropolis at twilight.
But all she saw was Tim’s salad.
A kale salad with slices of fresh fruit and cranberries.
Steph never would’ve considered Drake a carnivore, but the young man liked his red meat. But tonight, he ate light. He passed on dessert and asked for a third cup of water instead. She knew why he was watching his diet. Naturally sweet foods, organic leafy greens, no alcohol; she’d read the same pseudo-educational articles he did.
Tim wanted his cum to taste sweet for her.
Which, in itself, should’ve been sweet. But it wasn’t. It was unsettling like giving a Heffer finer feed before slaughter. Back when they were dating, it would’ve been appreciated, but this was everything she didn’t like about Tim. The side closest to being like Bruce. Calculating and manipulative even when he had no intention of being that way. Tonight wasn’t about her; it was about solving his problem.
A little over a week ago, Poison Ivy drugged Red Robin and edged him half to death. He didn’t even last two hours before she’d milked the information out of him with her tongue and one finger. Tim later confided he’d been pent-up since the beginning of the month. It would’ve been funny if Bruce hadn’t taken the ordeal so seriously. Sure, Batman took everything seriously, but it would’ve been nice if he’d approached Steph with a gentle request instead of a command. Or rather, an accusation that she wasn’t holding up her end as Tim’s girlfriend.
She wanted to impress Bruce so badly. Maybe it was her weird hangup about her father, or perhaps it was to make up for past mistakes. It could’ve been because graduation was only months away, and this might be her last big moment to make him proud before this phase of her life was over. Hell, maybe it was something else entirely. But it didn’t matter. All it took was an order, and Stephanie was to ‘relieve’ Tim whenever he asked.
God. Was she a whore now? Was Bruce her pimp? What the hell had she agreed to?
But Bruce’s words echoed in her head: “Don’t disappoint me.”
It was a nice hotel. Like the restaurant, it was above the clouds. Tim was doing everything right; it was the circumstances that were wrong. This wasn’t passion or even fun; it felt cold and transactional.
Stephanie, still in her black evening gown, tilted her head back as she knelt between Tim’s legs. He looked as awkward as he had the first time they had been together. Fidgety, while also overanalyzing every little detail with subtle but lingering glances. However, he couldn’t even look at her as she slowly unzipped his fly.
“Steph,” he repeated, “you don’t need to do this.”
Sure, he says that now. After she’d fished his semihard cock from his boxers. It smelled washed, as did his underwear. Like they’d been sprayed with air freshener. The lengths he took bordered on creepy.
“I know,” she brushed a strand of golden hair from her face, wetting her soft lips with her softer tongue. “But it’s clear I haven’t been the most attentive girlfriend. Consider this as me being more present.”
“But you told me you don’t like oral.”
“Say blowjob, Tim,” she said. The cock in her hand twitched at such a dirty word to a straitlaced boy detective. “This isn’t a lecture. And yeah, I don’t like blowjobs.” Again, he pulsed. “I don’t like having a cock in my mouth.” This time, she slid her palm up and down his shaft when he twitched at her language. “I don’t like the taste of cum when you shoot it down my throat.” She jerked faster, silently hoping he’d shoot before she needed to blow him. “But I’m telling you now that you can use me. My hands, my mouth, my cunt, everything. It’s all yours whenever you want.”
“Then, um, mouth. Please.” Tim breathed softly. “Put it in your mouth, I mean.”
Up until now, she’d been so cavalier, but it evaporated once she’d focused on his bulbous cock head. Up close, she caught a whiff of tartness with the barest hint of meat. Seeping from his piss slit leaked a pearly dewdrop of precum. Her eyes darted up to Tim; he was holding his breath, wide-eyed, and she did as was expected of her.
The tip of her tongue stuck past her pink lips, and she gingerly slipped it along the leathery head of his cock. Clamping her eyelids shut, she continued until she touched warm wetness. The second she felt his slit, her tongue retreated into her mouth. Instinctively, she licked her lips, dampening them with his tanginess.
Peeking up at him, she witnessed his wonder. She’d never ‘gone down’ on him before, so she’d never seen his reverent lust either. It spurred her onward, that and knowing she couldn’t last forever. Parting her lips, she inched closer until his warm flesh was safely in her mouth.
Everything was wrong. Letting Tim’s member into this side of her. So close to her mind and her thoughts, silencing her voice. Shuddering, her lips accidentally sealed around his cock. Her boyfriend's guttural groan rumbled through his chest, and she tried to take solace knowing she’d made her man feel good.
Carefully, she began bobbing her head, letting more of him into her head. He invaded her mind, penetrating her personality and liberally leaking precum all over her voice. He was smooth, rubbery even, but it only added to the alien-like sensation, like his cock was probing her.
She didn’t let his tip down her throat; instead, she suckled softly. Her lips puckered as she did. Her little slurps were soft, but to her, they were deafening. Her tongue ran along the underside, feeling the weird differences of his cock.
“Steph…”
She knew what that meant. He was going to cum. Spew his filth down her throat and effectively silence her. Maybe her mind would’ve demanded she pull away, but this was what she’d agreed to. And it wasn’t as though her mind was her own any longer; Tim’s cock had infiltrated it.
He twitched. His balls retracted into him. And hot sludge shot from his tip.
All the fruit in the world couldn’t disguise the filth on her tongue. It was thick, weighing down her pink digit, and pooled in her jaw. Her throat rebelled the moment it began to slip down, but she fought back. Swallowing noisily. It went down warm and soupy, slopping into her belly. All the while, Tim leaked more of his dirty seed into her.
She swallowed, sealing her lips around his already softening shaft. It wasn’t too bad, she told herself, even as she wanted to vomit. But she downed it, kept it there, and knew it was swimming around with the salmon from earlier.
Tim popped from her mouth, his cock falling between his legs. She didn’t even notice her boyfriend was panting. She’d been too busy fighting back the sick.
“Thank you,“ he breathed, as though he’d aired a dark secret. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Stephanie rubbed her throat, as if working his filth down her gullet. He was sated, right? He didn’t want anything else. She’d bought herself another week at least.
“And—and I can do this whenever?”
Steph stiffened, only managing a curt twitch of a nod.
“Alright,” Tim whispered. “Good to know.”
She was about to list stipulations when the voice echoed in her head: “Don’t disappoint me.”
Steph brushed her teeth several times. But the savory sweetness remained. As did a pit in her stomach.
Tim came back to her the following weekend, taking her to a concert before they returned to Wayne Manor, and she serviced him again in his bedroom. It was just as disgusting as before, but she swallowed like the good free use girlfriend. He thanked her, and they spooned on his bed for hours.
He took her out to dinner again a few days later. Another night, this time in her apartment, another salty meal, and then they watched YouTube. It wasn’t until after he left that she’d realized he hadn’t tasted sweet. It was to be expected he couldn’t eat greens and fruit forever, but still…
As the weeks went by, Steph noticed small things. The expensive dinners and concerts turned into mundane study sessions for her final exams. The healthy dinners became steak and wine. The spooning and long talks gave way to sharing clips on their devices.
One day in her room, after milking out an especially bitter and lumpy load, she looked up to see Tim on his phone. Stung didn’t cover how she felt. It seared, burning her from within. The shame, the humiliation. Had she done enough? Or was this on him?
“Dhim?” She asked, his load was still heavy on her tongue.
“You did good,” he said, standing up. He scratched his balls, pulled up his pants, and said, “See you tomorrow.” Before leaving.
Still kneeling, she heard her front door open, close, and his footsteps travel down the hall. All before she’d even swallowed.
What was that?
And why didn’t she say anything?
The class trip before graduation should’ve done her good. It was Japan. How often had she been to Japan without fighting someone with a sword? A soak in the hot springs, browsing the shops, a stroll through the park, it should’ve been the break she needed.
But all she could think of was how pent-up Tim would be when she came home. Her mind wandered to what he’d been eating, how much he’d spew into her belly, and whether he’d give her proper warning or just assume she was free.
Hauling her duffel bag up a flight of stairs to her apartment, she saw that her door was already ajar. Before things with Tim had changed, she would’ve been on guard. But she already knew who and what was waiting for her.
At least she thought she did.
Rubbing the sides of her jaw, she prepared herself for a quick blowie. But when she entered her room, her nose was assaulted by the sour and murky stench of stale cum. Her stomach lurched, her nostrils flared, and she braced herself on her dresser.
Lying around her room were her panties. All of them. They’d been casually tossed across the floor, on her furniture, and strewn on her bed. She approached one of her favorite striped cheekies, draped over her headboard. A flaky gray stain was worked into the gusset. The filth was thickest at the center, which was still tacky. Her thumb pressed against it, rubbing in small circles. She didn’t need to be a detective to know what it was.
All of her underwear was covered in crusty or semi-damp seed. She was so stunned by the atrocity and assault on her home that she didn’t notice the footsteps behind her.
“You’re back.”
Steph spun, dropping the panties, arm raised, but lowered them immediately when Tim strolled across her living room. Her boyfriend had a bundle of yellow, green, and red tucked beneath his arm. She recognized her original Robin uniform before he tossed it on her sofa. Similar gray, white, and yellowed stains covered her memorabilia. Some were dried and flaky, but the slop seeping from inside the gloves and boots looked fresh.
“Tim…”
This was it. This was the moment she’d stand up for herself. Screw what Bruce wanted. Screw what this fucked up relationship had become. She wouldn’t have her intimates soiled by her so-called boyfriend like some horned up—
“I hope you had a good trip.” Tim's smile was warm, inviting; a long-missed memory returned. He wrapped his arms around her; his touch was firm but warm. She hated how weak she was to melt into him. “I missed you.”
She nuzzled into his chest, embracing him back.
“I missed you, too.”
They held one another, and for a fleeting moment she felt like how they’d been before. Then his hands slid up to her shoulders, and she felt pressure as he began pushing her down.
The moment was over.
“Tim,” she whispered, “I’m tired.”
“Then make it quick.”
Fight back. Say something. Anything.
“Don’t disappoint me.”
She wet her lips.
The first morning she’d woken to dried and flaky jizz on her face, it’d been alarming. Despite being a light sleeper, she didn’t even register Tim sneaking into her room at night. But as she peeled her eyelids open, crusted cum literally crunching as she did, she knew he’d been there. A brief touch of her face confirmed it. Her nails scraped a layer of seed from her cheek and forehead. There was even some in her ear.
As time went on, she grew used to it. It wasn’t like Tim ever brought it up. In public, he talked as he usually did. As though she didn’t have flakes of semen still stuck in her hair. God. She kept finding it there. It almost wasn’t worth washing it all out.
She’d long given up on washing her sheets and pillows. They’d be a wet, sticky mess at the end of the day. The stamina and time Tim had was unbelievable. He’d need to schedule time to jack off around her apartment. Her panties were always crusty, her apartment reeked of stale seed, and every surface of her home would’ve lit up beneath a black light.
She’d been ready to confront Tim dozens of times. But every second she worked up the nerve, she remembered that phone call from Bruce. The disappointment. The more than usual frigidity. It brought back worse memories. Moments she didn’t want to relive. The more she thought about it, the more she’d talk herself out of it.
Tim was her boyfriend.
Her panties were just things.
And it was just cum.
The night was brisk, but quiet. Being with Tim on rooftops used to be romantic. The city spread out beneath them, the moon high in the night sky; it was their own little hideaway. But all that’d changed since their agreement.
Spoiler sat on one corner of the rooftop while Red Robin stayed at the center. His cape fluttered in the wind, and his eyes looked over Gotham. At one point, they might’ve watched her. But he didn’t seem to see her anymore. He looked through her.
Meanwhile, she’d never felt more vulnerable in her uniform. It’d once been a source of power, but even it had been defiled. Beneath it, she felt the rough crustiness of her panties rubbing against her sex. All it took was a suggestion from Tim, and she solely wore soiled underwear from then on. An ever-present reminder of who she belonged to.
“Spoiler.”
Like a dog, she straightened at attention.
“I need to piss.”
She paused. Not knowing what he meant. But as he undid his belt, she understood. He wanted her mouth again. How her mind put two and two together so easily should’ve chilled her, but she was numb now. Even though anyone could’ve been watching, she slipped her mask down to her chin.
He didn’t come to her. He didn’t even meet her halfway. She went all the way to him, got down on her knees, and took him in her mouth. He wasn’t even hard. He barely ever was now. She needed to work to get him aroused. He was becoming desensitized to her.
He slipped into her mouth, soft. She closed her eyes, waiting obediently. The first spurt was quick, almost violent, and the acidic swill sprayed the back of her throat. The bitter waste burned, but she didn’t cough. She didn’t even choke. She swallowed. Again and again. The hot amber mess doused her gullet. It painted her insides, staining her with its burning ammonia. The heat seeped through her nostrils as his stream grew stronger.
Barely keeping up, she sealed her lips around his shaft. Her cheeks swelled as her mouth filled with piss. It worked between her teeth and along her gum line, soiling the mint she’d chewed earlier. Gulping loudly, she took it. She took his waste like a urinal. It was what was expected.
When he was done, he wiped himself off on her hood before zipping back up. He then turned back to the city, leaving her kneeling on the rooftop. She could practically see the piss steam wafting from her mouth. She felt so used. So worthless. This was too much. It had to be. This was crossing a line.
“Don’t disappoint me.”
Steph pulled her mask back up. The smell of piss worked into her cowl.
She didn’t question him when he beckoned her from the auditorium. She followed him through the halls of her university, into the nearest men’s room, until he finally directed her in front of the rows of urinals.
The tile floor was hard on her knees, but her graduation gown helped cushion them somewhat. He batted the square cap off her head, and she heard it flop into one of the urinals behind her. No doubt soaking in another man’s waste. It wasn’t out of cruelty; he just wanted to have a decent view as she unzipped him.
His meaty cock was earthy and sour after being trapped with dribbles of dried piss. Bits of lint stuck to the head, and even a splotch of milky dried precum was smeared on the underside of the shaft. She’d gotten used to the tingle in her burning nostrils, the bitter scent of a day’s worth of sweat and dribbles of waste. The head was already greasy, with a messy strand of precum trailing down his boxers. But he wasn’t hard yet. That was her job.
Steph spat in her hands to get them nice and slippery. She didn’t care if it got on her gown; she just wanted to get her diploma before her name was called. By now, the auditorium would’ve been empty as her peers took their seats in the garden. Tim’s stamina had improved greatly since they began months ago. He could last an hour if he wanted to; he seemed to take delight in making her work.
Gently grasping his cock in one hand, she worked her fingers up and down his shaft. Her other hand fondled his balls, petting and stroking them to stimulate the cum inside. Her tongue worked his tip, alternating between flicking his frenulum and suckling the blunt head. The salty sweat was like water now, barely noticeable.
As he hardened, her other hand got to work. They both stroked his shaft, milking him. Her lips encompassed his head, and her tongue swirled over his tip. She lavished his cock and sucked hard, creating a tight seal around his member. She made the little noises she knew he liked, moans and grunts, anything to get back to the ceremony before—
Tim’s fingers grasped the back of her head. He drove into her mouth with a mighty thrust. Stephanie’s gag reflex was all but gone now. He easily slipped down her throat as her lips tightened around him. He was fast, rough. There was nothing left of the man who’d been so timid in the hotel room. He pummeled her, used her like she’d told him he could.
His blunt head battered her uvula. This was more than silencing her. This was a deliberate denial of her voice. Battering her thoughts and words away with each hard slam. Did he even see her as a person anymore?
His balls smacked against her chin, the sticky sweat smeared along her skin. Rivulets of spit seeped out of the corners of her mouth, dropping on her gown. They’d stain the dark fabric and become white stains; she was sure of it. But Tim didn’t care, and she wasn’t sure she did either.
He fucked her face hard. So hard, she felt herself driven backwards. The gown allowed her to slide with each thrust until the porcelain urinal bumped into her spine. But he kept fucking. Her head craned back as her blonde bun was pinned to a sticky urinal cake. Its sickly sweet scent and the bitter ammonia overpowered Tim’s sour body odor. Everyone would be able to smell it on her hair now.
Her mouth made sloppy slurping noises, and bubbles formed at the corners of her mouth. The remnants of whatever air was left in her lungs. She scarcely noticed the ache in her chest as oxygen fled her system. Before, she might’ve panicked. But screaming lungs, scraped-up throat, disgusting musk, it was all too normal. As tears stung her eyes, she stared up into Tim’s. She couldn’t tell if he was smiling from this angle, but she hoped he was. She hoped he was enjoying himself. It meant he would cum sooner.
There it was. The twitch. The strong and familiar twitch.
Steph prepared to swallow, but Tim had other ideas. The man yanked out of her throat with a soaking wet slurp. She pulled the back of her head out of the urinal just in time for the first rope of sludge to spatter her left eye. Sure, it stung. It was little more than salt now. But the pain didn’t bother her anymore; she let it droop down her face and slop to her chin. The rest of his load went to her hair, her open mouth, her other eye, up her nose, and on her gown.
When Tim was done, he puffed out a short breath before plucking her cap from the urinal. He placed it back atop her head, not bothering to straighten it. It reeked of stale piss, but then again, that was normal. But at least she’d be able to—
Even from across campus, she heard her peers cheer and the band play.
She’d missed it.
He never said one word to her. Not an apology or even half-hearted congratulations. The most she earned was a dry chuckle when he pulled her tassel from one side to the other. He was the only one to witness her achievement. And she was welcome to the next phase of her life with a jet of steaming hot piss.
He bathed her in the filth. Dousing her big day with his essence. It was hot, wet, and soaked through the garments. It washed strands of cum away, but only down the front of her gown where they collected in her lap. There was no way she could even join her peers for parties or photos now. There would be no pictures, no shaking hands, nothing. She would spend her big day reeking of amber swill and scrubbing her face clean.
But she felt nothing. Emptiness. Sure, there had been anger before. Frustration. But all of that was gone now. She was tapped out, too exhausted to throw a fit. And she waited obediently for Tim to finish on her face.
“Open,” he said.
She did.
She took it, her mouth making the same noise as a cup quickly filling with liquid. It spattered around her mouth, burbled as she swallowed. The stream died slowly as her belly filled fast—her new wine.
When the man was done, he tucked himself in and started toward the door.
“Wait.”
Tim stopped. By the slight tilt of his head, she could tell he was surprised.
“Why…” she felt stupid asking now. But it’d always bothered her. “Why don’t we have sex anymore?”
Tim blinked, his eyebrows narrowed in confusion, and said, “Because this isn’t about you.”
Then he left.
That was it. She was done.
Steph stormed down the steps of the Batcave, her shoes clapping against each piece of stone. Even after discarding her robe, she still reeked of Tim’s piss. She stomped like a petulant child, but she was beyond caring at this point. Screw disappointing Bruce.
Not about her? This was all about her! She was doing everything! Her apartment was ruined, her body was soiled, and now she’d missed her graduation day! She wasn’t about to spend another second being that spoiled brat’s plaything. Free use her ass. Tim wasn’t who she thought he was, and she deserved so much better.
“Bruce!” She barked, her cry upsetting the bats above. They fluttered and chirped angrily, but she didn’t give a damn. She stormed through the cave, passing through the endless aisles of a rich man’s trinkets.
Behind her: “Spoiler.”
She jumped. How the hell did he keep doing that?
No. Recover. Rebound. Get back into it.
“I…” Was he always so tall? And large? Her neck craned back, staring into those cold eyes. No. Keep at it. “We’re talking about my arrangement with Tim, and you’re going to listen.”
“Of course,” Bruce’s expression didn’t change. Nearly unmoving. “He’s just returned. We can discuss it together.”
“He’s here?” Steph’s heart sped up. “I mean, yeah. He should hear this, too.”
“Before that,” a strong hand rested on her shoulder. It was firm, but somehow tender. She turned her head, witnessing it, trying to ascertain if it was real. “I wanted to thank you.”
Stephanie swallowed dryly. “What?”
“Poison Ivy has been returned to Arkham. She attempted the same tactic with Tim, but he wasn’t fazed. Your sessions were a success.” Then he said, “I’m proud of you.”
Proud? Bruce was proud of her.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“Now, you have something you wanted to discuss?”
He was proud of her.
“Nothing,” Stephanie whispered. “It’s nothing.”