Catwoman's Anonymous Gangbang

The bag between Adriana's knees still held the receipt. She was thirty-eight, a respected head teacher, and the only thing louder than the engine was her own pulse. Warrick, forty, drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting warm on her thigh. They had talked about this fantasy for years, always after the house went quiet: an anonymous gangbang, no names, no faces that could follow her into Monday morning. He had never mocked it. He had only asked what she needed so she could want it without fear.

What she needed was in the bag. An enema kit, already used at home so she would be clean. A bottle of thick anal lubricant. A small can of throat anesthetic spray that would numb her throat just enough to let her swallow men deep. Warrick had stood in the pharmacy aisle beside her, reading labels, treating the purchase like any other care he gave his wife.

The private house sat at the end of a gravel drive, a paper bat on the door. A bachelor party, Batman themed, and she was the sole female entertainment. In the back seat she had already changed into the Catwoman suit, glossy black and tight, a heavy zipper between her breasts and another at the crotch lying against bare skin. No panties. The cowl hid her hair and the upper half of her face. Only her mouth showed. Tonight nobody would connect her to the woman who held a respected post. Tonight she was just the cat. When she walked, the crotch zipper shifted, a private reminder that nothing under the suit would stay covered for long. Warrick's hand stayed at the small of her back, steady and proud.

Warrick parked. "I'll stay in the room. You say stop, I stop them. Still sure?"

"I'm sure." She kissed him. "I want all of them."

He walked her in. More than a dozen men waited, every one between twenty-five and forty-five, every one costumed. A broad Batman by the fireplace. A lean Robin. Nightwing near the speakers. A Joker with green hair. A Penguin, a Riddler, a second Batman, others whose real names she would never ask. Magnus, the groom, forty-two and dressed as Two-Face, straightened when he saw her.

"Catwoman," he said. "We've been waiting."

They circled her before anyone touched. Magnus told her the suit looked painted on. The Joker, thirty-six and grinning, asked if the zippers worked. She answered by dragging the breast zipper down an inch, slow, until the inner curves of her tits showed and the room went quiet.

"Closer," she said.

Hands found her. A Batman, twenty-nine, broad through the chest, palmed one breast through the opening and groaned when her nipple hardened against his glove. Robin, thirty-one, slid a palm over her ass and squeezed. She let the crotch zipper kiss the heel of a stranger's hand. Warrick had taken a chair against the wall. His eyes never left her. When she looked over, he nodded once. That nod settled something deep in her belly. This was wanted. This was theirs.

She unzipped her breasts the rest of the way. The suit peeled off her chest and her tits spilled free, full and flushed, nipples tight. Mouths replaced hands. Someone sucked her left nipple hard enough to make her gasp. Someone else licked the right, slow and filthy. She reached down and opened the crotch zipper herself. Cool air hit her shaved pussy. She was already wet. A gloved finger traced her slit and came away shining, and the man held it up so the others could see.

"She's soaked," Nightwing said. He was thirty-four, voice low. "She came here to be used."

"I did," Adriana said. "All of me. Mouth, pussy, ass. That's the deal. You tie me, you take turns, you don't stop until you've all finished inside me more than once. My husband stays. If I say the word, you stop. Otherwise you don't ask. You just fuck me."

A low sound moved through the room, more than a dozen men shifting, cocks already hard under capes and tights. Magnus looked at Warrick. Warrick said, "You heard her."

They led her to a large padded platform in the center of the room, low and wide, built for exactly this. Soft ropes waited at each corner. She lay back and spread herself without being told, arms up, legs open, the Catwoman suit peeled to her waist and the crotch panel hanging open so her pussy and the cleft of her ass were bare. They tied her wrists first, then her ankles, snug but not cruel, spreadeagled and unable to close her thighs. The ropes held. She tested them and felt the restraint lock her open, and a shiver ran straight to her cunt.

They stood around the platform and freed their cocks. Thick, curved, long, cut and uncut, every one hard, every one pointed at her. Hands stroked. Precum shone at the tips. The Joker dragged the head of his cock along her lower lip and did not push in yet. Batman knelt between her thighs and breathed on her wet pussy without licking. She was displayed, dripping, masked, and every man in the room was stroking himself while he looked at the holes he was about to fill.

"Please," she said.

Magnus smiled with half his face painted. "Now we start."

They started with her mouth. The Joker fed her his cock while two others steadied her head between their hands, not forcing, just guiding, and she opened for him the way she had practiced in her mind for years. The anesthetic spray dulled the gag at the back of her throat. She took him deep, lips stretched, tongue working the underside, and he fucked her mouth in short greedy strokes until he swore and came. The first load hit her tongue thick and salty. She swallowed. He pulled out shining, and Robin was already there, pushing in before she could catch a full breath.

They rotated. One cock after another. Batman, then Nightwing, then a Penguin in his forties who held her cowl and praised how pretty her throat looked when it was full. She swallowed the second load, the third, the fourth. Cum leaked at the corner of her mouth and a gloved thumb wiped it back onto her tongue. "Don't waste it," someone said, and she did not. She sucked and swallowed until her jaw ached and her stomach felt warm and heavy with them. Warrick's voice came from the chair, low and proud. "That's it, Adriana. Take every drop. You're doing so well."

While her mouth stayed busy they opened her below. Magnus knelt between her spread thighs, slicked his cock in her wetness, and pushed into her pussy in one long stroke. She moaned around the shaft in her throat. He fucked her hard, the platform creaking, her tied legs unable to wrap him, only able to take him. A second man, thirty-three and dressed as the Riddler, waited with lube already on his fingers. He worked two fingers into her ass, slow and thorough, coating her with the lubricant Warrick had bought, opening her while Magnus pounded her cunt. The stretch burned sweet. She pushed back as much as the ropes allowed, and the fingers became the blunt head of a cock.

They filled her together. Magnus in her pussy, the Riddler in her ass, a third cock sliding back into her mouth. Triple penetration, and the shock of it lit her from the inside. She came the first time with all three holes stuffed, clenching, crying out around the shaft on her tongue, and the man in her mouth cursed and spilled down her throat. She swallowed that one too. Magnus followed, hips jammed tight, flooding her pussy with a hot creampie that leaked around his cock and ran toward her ass. He pulled out, and another Batman took his place before the cum could escape, fucking it deeper and adding his own. The Riddler came in her ass with a broken groan, and the next man in line lubed up and pushed into the mess, chasing the creampie with a fresh thrust that made her see white.

They did not slow down. Fourteen of them, more than a dozen, rotating in a continuous line. Mouth, pussy, ass. Mouth, pussy, ass. Sometimes two in her at once, sometimes all three. A man of twenty-six, costumed as a second Nightwing, held her jaw and fucked her throat until he came, and she gulped him down while a man of forty-five hammered her cunt and painted her insides again. Every man who took her ass added more lube and more seed. She lost count of the loads she swallowed. Her belly felt full of them. Her pussy gaped and clenched and gaped again, creampied so many times the next cock slid in on nothing but spend. Her ass took them the same way, tight at first, then greedy, each anal creampie forced deeper by the man who followed.

Warrick had moved closer. He did not join the line. He touched her hair above the cowl, stroked her cheek, and talked her through it. "Another one. Swallow. Good. Let them have your ass. You wanted this. Look how many are still hard for you." She looked. Cocks waiting, shining, some already recovering, some still dripping from her mouth. Magnus came back for a second turn in her pussy while another man pushed into her ass at the same time, and she came again, shaking in the ropes, sobbing with pleasure, not asking anyone to stop.

They used her until every man had finished inside her more than once. Vaginal creampies from all fourteen. Anal creampies from all fourteen. Load after load down her throat, more than she could count, the anesthetic letting her take them to the root and swallow what she wanted to keep. Some spilled anyway, striping her tits, her mask, the open suit, and someone fed that back to her mouth with two fingers. She sucked the last of them while two cocks plugged her lower holes and pumped thick final pulses into her, pussy and ass both overflowing, tied open so nothing stayed in except what her body chose to hold.

Double, then triple again for the last round. Three men, grunting, the room thick with the sound of skin and her muffled moans. One cock filled her pussy, one her ass, and the third flooded her mouth while she swallowed. She came a final time as they did, a long rolling climax that left her limp in the ropes, mask damp, mouth open, cum on her tongue and leaking from both holes onto the pad beneath her.

The ropes came off gently. Magnus untied one wrist, Robin the other, careful with the faint marks the soft cords had left. Warrick was there before her arms had fully dropped, helping her sit, wiping her mouth, her chest, and the mess between her thighs with warm cloths someone had brought. Nobody laughed at her. The suit was peeled the rest of the way off. Warrick wrapped her in a robe he had carried from the car, soft and dark, and zipped the cowl into a bag so the woman walking out would not match the cat who had been tied open on the platform.

In the car she glowed. Exhausted, sore in the best way, thighs sticky under the robe, stomach full, the fantasy burned clean out of the place where it had lived for years. Warrick drove with her hand in his.

"You were incredible," he said.

She watched the headlights cut the night and felt a smile pull at her swollen lips. Monday she would be the head teacher again. Tonight she had been used by fourteen men exactly as she had asked, and her husband had stayed proud of her the entire time. He glanced over, thumb stroking her knuckles.

"Any regrets?"

"Only one," she said. "When can we do it again?"