Side Pieces // Tanya Fox, Vicki Vale

"Ahh~♡!"

His first day back at work and he was already getting his dick sucked by Tanya Fox. The black lady was supposed to be a Christian with strong values for loyalty and charity yet here she came today dragging him to the bathroom for a private blowjob. After the incident at the Iceberg Lounge, he had been hoping for something to pull him back to normalcy. Having his dick sucked was one hell of a way to do it.

He could almost see the hotness of her breath. His big white cock eclipsed her head and her eyes nearly rolled back as she stared at its length. Her face hid its tiny wrinkles and imperfections with more makeup than usual. Her tongue stuck to the underside of his cock, addicted to its taste as her nose drank in its stench.

"Lucius's dick barely touches my nose."

That was quite the comparison to make, Aaron thought, because it meant he was easily twice as big as her husband. Once again, he apologized to Lucius in advance for the undignified insult he was about to hurl at him.

"Guess billionaires can't have everything," Aaron commented. Sitting on the edge of the toilet seat, balls hanging and cock extending, Tanya licked up his balls, shifted back, and then grabbed his cock to suck on. Despite her slurping, her cheeks couldn't even narrow due to how thick Aaron was.

"Mmmph!" Tanya guzzled down four inches of his cock while pressing her clit through the thin fabric of her skirt. Aaron was amused as he watched her please herself.

He put a hand on her head and shoved her deeper into his cock. Throat squirming around his girth, tears forming in her eyes, she struggled and struggled. He made sure to make the bitch know who she was messing and why she couldn't just up and grab him for a quick fuck. It was the afternoon and two days had passed since his venture at the Iceberg Lounge. His balls were ready to explode.

"Take it, you fucking whore," Aaron growled. His cock throbbed inside her. Her eyes went wide and pleaded for mercy. "You should have thought twice. You can't just come here and expect me to serve you because your husband can't or won't. So take it. Swallow my seed. Don't let a single drop out."

He dumped his load deep in her stomach. Her neck made lewd, depraved noises as she swallowed and swallowed but as anticipated she couldn't handle it. Many trails fell onto her fancy blouse and skirt and he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"Fuck," he muttered before shoving three more inches of his cock. Nearly seven inches, too many for the poor woman and she nearly choked on the damn thing. Listening to her gag was amusing but unfortunately they couldn't risk being too late. If they stirred suspicion of any kind, it would mean the end to their careers and social life. Situated in a bathroom stall of an office building, anybody could come in at any moment. Hundreds of men and women roamed the floors. The risk factor was too high for Aaron's liking.

He pulled back just enough for her to continue gulping down his seed. His tasty white essence capable of fertilizing a hundred women. When he was done, Tanya was on the floor coughing and gagging, spitting some of the cum she was forced to drink. Aaron looked down at her with pity.

"I don't mind fucking you but not at my workplace. I have things to do," Aaron said, cleaning himself up. He felt a weak hand grab his pants as he tried to leave.

"W-wait," Tanya gasped out. "Wait. I'll…I'll pay you."

Aaron raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Seven figures a week," she said. "That will be enough for your cock, right? I'll…I'll give you my number. I'll give you any amount of money. Please…please just fuck me," Tanya whimpered.

"Seven figures? How about seven million per session?" Aaron suggested. To act as a meat stick, that sounded fair. Tanya glowered and nodded excitedly.

"Yes, yes! Seven million! We have a deal!?"

"Sure. You already have my number. Text me whenever your husband doesn't pay you enough attention. I'll be there."

Aaron maintained a neutral, satisfied façade but on the inside he was elated. Absolutely brimming with ideas and joy.

'Seven million per session!? That might be a drop of a bucket for Wayne and Fox but for me that's life changing! I can help the Robins, I can get whatever the hell I want!' Aaron strolled through the halls of the building with a skip in his step. 'Obviously I'll have to be careful. Create a separate deposit account for her to put the money in. That way, nobody can trace our affair.'

Aaron wasn't a materialistic person. He was fine with his small apartment, his games, his television, and his small collection of plushies, but that didn't mean he didn't want more. With seven million, he could buy whatever plushies he wanted, pay for whatever fancy dinner and food he desired, and so much more.

If it wasn't for a certain voice, he might have gotten lost in the halls simply thinking of the possibilities.

"You look like you're in a good mood."

Aaron stopped. Her green eyes, calm voice, and professionalism couldn't be missed. "Iman. Good to see you."

'I wondered when I'd see you. It felt like you were avoiding me,' Aaron said in his head. Time had passed since the elevator incident yet they hadn't exchanged a word about it. He and Iman didn't work in the same department or area, yes, but right now the building was in a state of chaos. People flowing in and out of departments, being assigned work far removed from their usual stuff. Aaron was meeting new people with every passing day or talking to faces he'd encountered in the halls.

"Yes, well," Iman pursed her lips, "things have been hectic."

"I'm sure it has been for the Director of Human Relations and Analytics," Aaron said. "But you've been doing a great job so far. The public outcry isn't too crazy. I know we have journalists outside but the new security team is doing a great job holding them back."

It had been tough simply trying to get to work. There was a small crowd of reporters at the base of the building fishing for statements and wisps of evidence. Aaron and his coworkers had been told not to engage with the frenzied journalists, not just for the company but for their own sanities too. Reporters were a relentless bunch, annoyingly so.

Iman sighed wearily and shook her head. "From the outside, yes, but inside, well…nobody is happy. The board of directors and the chief of security have been wailing on us about the situation. Even Mr. Wayne's son has been ragging on us."

"Damian Wayne, yes?" Bruce Wayne's son who was brought into the public eye nearly a year ago. The truth of his origins weren't known and there was an unfathomable amount of gossip regarding the identity of his mother. No matter how much the reports dug and rival companies investigated, they couldn't find a speck of dirt on his record. Zero evidence linking to a mother or an orphanage. Besides those in the Bat Family, nobody knew who Damian Wayne really was.

Luckily, after eloping with Cassandra, Aaron was told the truth. Damian was the son of Talia al Ghul, the leader of the League of Assassins, bred through an artificial womb and trained from the moment he could walk. He was handed the best possible training and the highest level of education. The ultimate genes for the ultimate warrior. Cassandra herself was unsure if she would be able to beat him once he grew up. His potential was terrifying and seemingly endless.

"Mhm." Iman's opinion, however, seemed much more tame. "So young but much more…spoken than his father."

Aaron tilted his head and smiled. "What do you mean? Mr. Wayne is the biggest loudmouth in Gotham."

Iman stiffened. He caught her there. Now he could say for certain that she knew more than she was letting on. Bruce Wayne was a bumbling buffoon and for his son to be the same or identically outrageous was expected. Unless, of course, she knew who he really was. The personality he donned behind closed doors.

"Yes, well…Damian Wayne is a different kind of loudmouth. Less playful, more serious."

"I see." There was no taking it back, unfortunately. Aaron had figured it out. He had more or less solved the mystery of Iman Avesta.

"Anyway…" Iman cleared her throat, realizing she was too flustered. "I have to go. See you later, Aaron."

She walked past him, brushing shoulders. Aaron could tell their little session in the elevator was largely forgotten. She likely had an inkling or a suspicion. Maybe a lapse in memory. However, she couldn't confirm it and she was too uptight to ask him if he fucked her brains out.

Aaron glanced back at her ass wrapped in those tight grey pants. 'I'm glad I got to hit it at least once.'

He returned to his cube wearing a small smile. Nobody noticed, especially because nobody was really working. Although this was their first day back, due to the attack, they were allowed to take it easy. In other words, the supervisor didn't feel like doing work either. Wearing a cast on his arm and using a cane to support his back, Aaron had never seen a thirty-year old man more grumpy to be at work.

'Why didn't they just give us a day off? If the supervisor is out of it, then the rest of us are out of it too.' Most of the time, their floor supervisor was a little too chill about things. Oftentimes, they'd be behind quotas because he refused to step it up. But now Aaron understood where he was coming from. The executives and big names of the company gave no fucks about them. He put in the bare minimum because that was what they gave him.

He wished he could text Cassandra right about now. She could always uplift his spirits. Being with her was better than sex; better than Tanya or the White Rabbit or Iman. Alas, it was not meant to be. Neither of them had exchanged numbers since Cassandra literally did not have the ability to text.

He spent the day half-heartedly doing his work, flipping from his computer to the phone in his lap. Tanya texted him the details of their agreement: she was willing to pay for hotel reservations, food, and anything else to feed his powerful body as long as she got to pick the locations. Aaron agreed to her terms. This was an affair involving a billionaire, she was probably more equipped to deal with the logistics.

> Tanya: Remember to come to the charity. It is on Monday now.

His brows furrowed. "That's still happening?" he asked himself in a low murmur.

> Aaron: i thought it was cancelled?

> Tanya: No, it was moved. My husband planned to invite important figures there. He couldn't afford to have it cancelled.

> Aaron: k

> Tanya: December 13, Monday, at 9:30pm. Please be there.

Aaron couldn't resist the urge to sigh. Now he had to go to a rich people's charity event. Great.

> Aaron: sure.

Hours passed. Aaron left work carrying enough annoyance to show on his face. He sighed as he waited on the roadway, the blaring orange palm of the traffic light stopping him from proceeding. Cars honked and stopped as they came and went for work. It was the time of day where the city was most busy and occupied.

He adjusted his necktie, glanced at his fellow pedestrians, and walked the way when the walking signal flashed. On the other end of the street were fast food restaurants and tea shops, intentionally placed for those returning to work. It was five o'clock and Gotham was beginning to form its evil shadows, the familiar sun gently falling. Aaron's gaze sweeped the shops without interest as his legs moved uniformly as if he had done this thousands of times. A routine with no change or inconsistencies and his brain absorbed by what he would do at home.

He suddenly stopped in his constructed path as he smelled roses.

Aaron turned. Inside the bubble tea shop was a black-haired woman with dark shades and a youthful, gloomy demeanour. She was looking out the store window and sipping on an extra-large drink with the familiar purple bubbles at the bottom. His lips twitched upwards.

'Well, well, well. Look who we have here.'

He took two steps back, entered the humble shop, and approached the two-chair window table with a wide smile. The woman immediately sensed his presence and beamed at him, radiating with gleeful recognition and kiddish excitement.

"Hey, Cass. Mind if I join you?"

Cassandra nodded and gestured at the chair with her bubble tea. She took a nice, long sip as he sat down. A waitress came along and he asked for a large-sized passion fruit tea. Meanwhile, he scanned Cassandra's incognito-esque wardrobe. A brown coat a little too long for her and a green sweatshirt. Then there was her hair, curled and parted in the middle, presenting her as a mature-type.

"You look good," Aaron said, "I like the hair especially. Experimenting?"

A small bob of the head and a tiny sip from her straw. "Mhm." She hid her blush behind the big plastic cup.

Cassandra wasn't the type to care about her appearance. She was jumbled and dishevelled and regularly said she would rather focus on important things. Said important things were either training or fighting crime and not much else. The fresh hair style was welcomed.

The waitress arrived with the bubble tea. Aaron took a small sip and his tongue melted in explosive flavour. The soft mushy tapioca balls and the passion fruit flavour was ravishing.

"Trade?" Aaron offered. Cassandra nodded and the two eagerly switched. Her drink was a basic brown sugar latte and half empty. The taste was what he expected but nevertheless tasty and he chewed on the pearls warmly. On the other end he heard a low moan.

"You like it?"

She responded with a series of quick nods and a long, hulking sip. She must have swallowed over a dozen tapioca pearls with how fast they were running up her straw. Judging by Cassandra's relaxed features, she didn't want to switch again either. He was stuck with the half empty latte.

Aaron's shoulders shook as he laughed. He didn't mind. He wasn't much of a bubble tea fanatic anyway.

"S-sorry," Cassandra muttered, having the decency to apologize over the unfairness of their trade. Aaron waved it off.

"You're fine. Drink up. I like lattes anyway."

She looked relieved. Like always, she could never see through his half-truths. Well, it was more akin to a white lie. Regardless, they sat there conversing and drinking, naturally taking in the shop's ambient atmosphere and the shrinking light of the city.

"His boyfriend sounded very nice," Cassandra said enthusiastically. "I told him to go further. Tim didn't."

"He's a detective, so he's likely overthinking things. Keep at it though, let him know that he can't stay still forever. He has to act on his feelings before it's too late. If he knows he'll regret it in the future, then Tim should do it."

Cassandra beamed at him. Tim Drake, currently Red Robin, had a boyfriend. Being who he was, one of the best detectives on the planet and the third Robin, he was afraid of committing to the relationship. Cassandra and Dick Grayson were urging him for something deeper. He didn't have to tell his boyfriend about their secret identity but he could at the very least invite him to Wayne Manor.

"Agreed," Cassandra said. She paused and looked out the window. There were still plenty of people coming from work. Her gaze locked onto the passing figure, close and far, analyzing their general state.

"Anything I can do to help?" Aaron asked as he joined her sight-seeing. He noticed she had a small black piece in her left ear. "I see you're specifically watching my building. It's because of the Ivy and Harley stuff, right?"

Another nod. "Didn't know you worked there. If I had, I would have asked–" Cassandra froze. She slowly put her drink down and her gaze shifted from out the window to him. "You were there. At the attack. That was why you were at the hospital." She latched onto his hand, filled with emotion. "Are you hurt? Did they hurt you? Did Ivy do something to you? Did Harley hit you with her hammer?" Her brows narrowed. "Wait. Sex pheromones. In the report, Ivy spread her pheromones throughout the building. Did you get–"

"No, no, I'm alright. Nothing happened. I was in the elevator by myself. I felt a little hot at first but then fell asleep." Aaron squeezed her hand and she took his pulse. "Nothing happened. I'm not hurt. See?"

He leaned back, breaking from her grip, and raised his hands in the air. Cassandra scanned him like her life depended on it and she nearly jumped out of her seat. Much to Aaron's relief, she found nothing and she retreated into her seat satisfied and nodding.

"Told to investigate by Tim," Cassandra said in a low whisper. "Lots of mysteries. Too many. All hands are on deck."

Aaron was taken aback. He took side-way glances, double-checking if anyone was listening. "Everyone? The entire Bat Family? That's not good..."

"Bruce is nervous. The League is active. We heard from Lucius that my mother and father are with the Penguin."

Lucius Fox was able to discover Cassandra's parents' involvement? From what he gathered, that was a well-guarded secret. The Penguin didn't just walk out with the two legendary mercenaries at his shoulders. No, he kept them at a safe, manageable distance. We Are Robin wouldn't leak the information either. They simply couldn't risk it due to the fragility of their organization and Aaron had already confirmed they operated separately from the Bat Family. It didn't make sense unless Lucius was somehow a part of the Robins. Unless he was–

'The Nest. The individual the Robins take orders from. It must be Lucius Fox.'

Everything made sense. How their operation worked despite their inexperience and adolescence. How they got their missions and funds. It was Lucius. As a side job, or perhaps a cog in his network, he likely founded and guided We Are Robin.

'No wonder he's ignoring his wife. He's so busy helping We Are Robin and Batman that he doesn't have time for his wife.'

He couldn't mull over this newfound knowledge for long. There were pressing issues to attend to: Cassandra.

He put his hand over Cassandra's and comforted her with a smile. "Hey. You are not your parents. And your parents…they're complicated. They must have their reasons."

Aaron sensed something was off with Cassandra from the start. First, she was talking. A lot. She never did that unless she was anxious, excited or both.

"Mm." Cassandra stared at the table, empty and unfocused. He couldn't stand to see her wallow in her misery so he put his hand on the top of her head and stroked her scalp with his fingers. She bit the bottom of her lip, enjoying the sensation but not wanting to voice it.

"Better?"

"Better."

He petted her for a few minutes, silent but snug and cozy. Bubble tea in hand, she started drinking and slurping. She was acting like a spoiled kitten–what, with her lazy, content attitude and her need for pats. It was always difficult for Aaron to believe such a docile young woman could be Batgirl.

"Alright, that's enough of that." Aaron chuckled and pulled back to Cassandra's dismay. She reached for his hands and begged to be caressed a little while longer. Aaron rolled his eyes, smiled, and did as she wanted.

The comfort, the gentle movement of his digits through her hair, his warmth. She sighed and gained peace in herself. For a moment, with his hand on her, she could let loose

"I fought my mother before. My father too," Cassandra began. "They are strong and they do bad things. Terrible things. I hate it. I defeated them so many times yet they still keep coming. They taught me so much when I was young, the things that make me strong today, and I…I shouldn't kill them, but…"

"It's hard not to consider it." Life and death. Murder and fighting. Aspects of life Aaron had never truly, deeply thought of until now. "Do you think they can change?"

Cassandra chewed on the possibility. "Mother…maybe. Father…" she trailed off. Aaron understood. David Cain struck him as a hard-head, someone with a steely mentality, who never looked back at the road he was walking, who never once questioned if it was the correct path. Cassandra did and she hoped her mother was the same.

"You have friends. Family," Aaron stressed. "Stephanie Brown, your best friend. Barbara, your mentor and confidant. With her and the others, I'm sure you could do something." Cassandra shook her head, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. Aaron exhaled. "You won't kill anyone. I know you won't," he muttered.

"How?" she asked dryly.

"I can read you just like you can read me. I know you'll never do anything out of line. Even if you, I don't know, miraculously do, even if you make a mistake or make a tough choice, always remember that I'm here. I'll always be here."

His words gave her reassurance and she looked up into his eyes with a bright light. Her brown pupils were mesmerising as they came to a conclusion: Aaron truly would be there for her no matter what she did. If she chose to kill her parents, if she chose to spare them or rehabilitate them, he would stand by her.

There was a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach but it was distinctly pleasant. The moment was pleasant. However, something buzzed and Cassandra put a finger on her earpiece.

"Nothing, Tim," Cassandra responded. "No one suspicious. I scanned."

Aaron stayed quiet while still holding her hand. His ears perked up as he listened.

"Alright, Orphan. Just, uh…come back. Yeah, I think I have an idea as to what's happening. Nightwing and Batgirl got vital information. Red Robin out."

Sometimes, Aaron hated having good ears. He eavesdropped conversations he had no business being invested in. Heard whispers no human could logically hear. Phones, ear pieces, headphones, bluetooth, it didn't matter, he could unconsciously hear it all. Regardless, he squeezed Cassandra's hand one last time.

"Gotta go?"

"Yes," Cassandra replied sadly.

"Have fun. Kick some ass." He sent an awkward thumbs-up and she grinned. The shop bell rang and she was gone. Aaron decided to stay and order dessert. He was feeling hungry and waited patiently as they brought him a slice of cake and made him pancakes.

Left with his own thoughts, Aaron wondered what he was going to do from now on. Continuing sponsoring the Robins? Did they really even need him? Lucius was watching over them, right? Not to mention the Penguin who was likely hopelessly searching for him. The situation was beginning to take shape into something ugly. Aaron didn't like it. He needed more information if he was going to manoeuvre in the underworld of Gotham.

Or not. He could just…not do anything. Nothing would come of him anyway. The Penguin lacked the resources to find a cog like him, an insignificant office worker. He could just…chill. He wasn't a hero and he never in a million years wanted to be one. He was just a guy who, if the opportunity arose, wanted to make the world a better place. If not, if things got too dangerous, he would back out.

A dash of orange crossed his peripheral. The shop bell rang again and a shadow casted over his table. Visible relief elated his eyes.

'Speak of the devil and she shall appear.'

"Vicki Vale," Aaron greeted, stabbing his spoon inside his red velvet cake. "You look great."

Sarcasm. He could see she had a slight limp. It had been a week yet she was still trying to recover from the thorough thrashing he gave her.

"I still can't walk properly," Vicki said, huffing. She had the gall to sit down before he could even respond. "Wayne Technologies. Do you know anything?"

"Straight to the point," Aaron remarked.

"I know you work there. I was at the bar, remember? Your coworkers were quite loud. Next time, you should tell them to be a little quieter."

Aaron tilted his head. "So?"

"So," Vicki said, drawing out the word. "You must know something. Anything."

"Have you been searching for me?" Aaron asked, realigning his head.

"As if. Coincidence and luck are concepts that exist, you know."

Her voice was straight and to the point with zero discourse. Vicki was telling the truth.

"No offence but if I did know something important I'd tell the police–"

She cut him off, "This is Gotham, nobody goes to the GCPD. When someone sees something odd, they keep it to themselves. I've seen it thousands of times, it's just how it is." Her voice turned husky and low. "Something you keep in the back of your mind and never tell the police. Maybe a whisper you caught in the halls. Here's the kicker though: it's not just you. There will always be another. I bet at some point I'll meet someone with the very same information as you and they will be much more willing. It's really only a matter of time or a matter of conscience–if you wish to be a good Gotham citizen. To be the few who chooses to make a difference."

Aaron squinted. Vicki was dead serious. "Is this the legendary spirit of Gotham's most famous reporter?"

"It's the intuition of Gotham's most famous reporter." Vicki's gaze flickered from his face, then down. A mist drowned her pupils. "How about this? I will give you the time of your life tonight and you tell me what I want to know."

"Even though I don't know anything," Aaron replied blankly.

Vicki smirked and leaned back cockily. "Then we'll both still get what we want."

'I fuck her and tell her nothing, we both win. I fuck her and tell her something, it's win-win for her and a win for me.' Aaron met her longing stare. He thought about it at length and weighed his options. Although the win conditions were superficial and based on sex, they were still wins. He needed something extra. Something that perhaps Vicki herself couldn't offer...

"Fine. Buy me two cups of extra-large coffee and we have a deal."

***

The vulgar, lewd sound of sex and moans compelled the streets to sigh, just as they did last week. The crass, depraved commotion was not just loud but deep from the heart and soul, enough to fry vocal cords. It had been nearly two hours of the shrill noise echoing from her house. The walls were thick in the attached housing zone yet no matter what they did they could not avoid it. As if grabbed by the ear, they were forced to listen to ear-splitting moan after ear-splitting moan.

"W-wait! Wait! Ah! Ah~! Ohhh~!"

Aaron stood staunchly, arms hooked over pale thighs, pink pussy spread wide to accommodate his girthy cock. Vicki Vale could see her reflection, her vulnerability, the massive thing shoved inside her almost comically. Saliva secreted from the corner of her lips as she stared at her room's window, vaguely understanding that there were people walking the streets in front of her, either ignoring or not caring for her shrieks and cries.

"The entire world can see Vicki Vale getting fucked," Aaron whispered in her ear. She whimpered and trembled, arms and legs dangling uselessly, cunt filled up to the brim. Her complexion was flushed, her nipples were bright and perky, and her face. God, simply looking at her face gave her swirling mind pause.

How could she, who had bed so many men, be reduced to such a state? Hair dishevelled, eyes red, throat dry, sweating and smelling of pure, raw, and vulgar sex. She felt depraved and impure because she wanted more. She wanted so much fucking more it drove her crazy. Her gaze went down to those hefty balls dangling between her legs. She wanted them to quench her thirst. To crush her womb with everything they had.

She tried using her core strength to move. To get this big fat rod of steel to fuck her insides even more. Aaron smirked upon feeling her efforts.

"That's not how you fuck," Aaron remarked, refastening his hold on her. He raised her up, deliberately steady, then dropped her back down. "This is how you do it!"

"Yes, yes! Yes, it is! You're riiiight~!" Vicki squealed. "It's sooo goood! This is how you fuck! This is how you-! Unh! Fuck! Mmph! A pussy! This is how you fuuuuck! My pussy! My cunt! My hole! You destroy it~! You fuck iiiiittt~!"

Up, down, up, down. Aaron's leg muscles strained as they heaved her weight repeatedly and without waste of movement. With the reflection, both of them could see how her pussylips clenched around his girth. Aaron's breath warmly engulfed her ear as he felt just how tight she was.

"Don't you have your pride? Quiet down," Aaron hissed.

"I don't fucking care! Just keep fucking meeee!"

Aaron snorted. "Tell them then! Tell the world that Vicki Vale is a basic whore!"

"I'm a whore! I'm a fucking whore!"

"Tell them you're my cum dumpster!"

"I'm your cum dumpster! I'm Aaron Reigner's cum dumpster! CUM DUMPSTER!"

Aaron grunted and went harder. His fingers curled around her soft thighs and edged close to her labia.

"Say it again!"

"Vicki Vale is your cum dumpster! Vicki Vale is a cum dumpster! I'm a whore! I'M YOUR WHORE! I'M YOUR LITTLE WHORE! YOU OWN MEEEEE~!"

While continuing to thrust upwards, deep into her nether regions, he carried her to the bed. After a nasty, squelching shove of his hips, Vicki moaned and lost herself to an intense orgasm. Her fingers bending from the sensations tingling her pussy and mind, nearly going limp in his arms.

Aaron gave no fucks as he pulled her from his long, hard thirteen inch cock and threw onto the bed. Vicki's hair flew and her body landed as she spasmed and crazed over her climax. Aaron waited and stroked his cock, letting it throb and pulsate as she recovered. It took a while, six whole minutes, where it looked like everything in her existence was shaken from the experience. But eventually, she came up, arms and knees bringing her to a doggy position.

Aaron climbed onto the bed, his ridiculously long phallus protruding from his crotch and touching her entrance. His entire dick was covered in moss–a mix of his own essence and her natural honey. Her hole was stretched but drenched, leaking as if it were a broken pipe. Given the raging state of his cock, however, it was more accurate to call Aaron the pipe and Vicki the water.

He plunged right back in and Vicki howled. The countless inches disappeared in fell swoop, as if they didn't exist, yet Vicki could feel it in her core. Nothing could come so deep. Nothing except his cock, which seemed to go deeper and deeper everytime he fucked her.

"Fucking bitch," Aaron growled. His hand met with her bright red ass cheek and caused a meaty clap! He bucked his hips back, unveiling the fat log inside her, pulsating with veins and sheening with pre-cum. There was a moment of stillness where only the tip was inside, where the orange-haired woman shuddered and exhaled, where Aaron readied himself. His palms slapped her booty and pulled her sopping wet towards himself in a hard. Wet juices flew. Vicki Vale lost her breath.

On her hands and knees, getting shots to her womb was an experience the reporter couldn't help but vocalize. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck! Keep fucking me! Oh! Oh! Right there! Right theeeere!"

Her shrill screams and clamping cunt did wonders to Aaron's confidence. Like last time, the moment he stepped inside, she ripped his clothes off and started fucking. She was aching for his cock. Needing it to fill her holes.

"You damn–" Clap! "Fucking!" Clap! "Whore!"

Her spine curved and she swooned. His fingers digging into her flesh, his cock spearing into her deepest parts, going so, so, so deep she could feel stimulating her stomach. Aaron wasn't wilding out of control, however, he was calculated and fast. He noticed her toes curling, an extra effect from his last thrust, and proceeded to blow that specific region.

"Oooooooh~!" Tears ran down her face as her throat began to dry out. "P-please! Please! Pleeeeeeeeease! I love it! I love it! Too! Much! Love too muuuch!"

Aaron grunted without answering, without stopping. He simply overwrote all the cocks she ever had. Vicki Vale, legendary reporter, somebody who had climbed up the social ladder through her wits and body, was helpless from the relentless taps to her deepest regions. Every sensitive spot in her pussy was steamrolled, feeling his veiny phallus fill her up. She felt so, so full. She felt like she couldn't possible experience anything better.

The claps continued. The orgasms struck her mind and bended it. She felt crazy. She sounded insane, blabbering on about cock and dick. His balls swung back and beated her rump alongside his pelvis, making for a steady rhythm.

Her cunt was tightening. Her limbs shook and trembled, and her palms and knees nearly slipped from all the sweat.

Then the time came.

He creampied her for the third time today. Her walls were already painted white but he wanted more. He spent a good while making sure her womb was flooded with his sperm and then pulled out. Her hole was stretched in an O-shape and poured out his creamy white cum almost endlessly. He let his cock flop onto her back and Aaron ruined her hair as well, shooting powerful cables of his seed. His balls churned and he groaned with relief.

When everything was all set and done, when his balls emptied themselves, he peered down with a smile. Vicki had collapsed like a puppet cut from its string. Cum oozed out of her and her facial expression swirled like she was in an overdone hentai. Tongue out, the upper half of her pupils rolled back, hands and legs twitching, breathing hysterically.

Aaron took a few minutes to cool down. The heat had gotten to him and he ended up going harder than necessary.

'Deep breaths, deep breaths.' Aaron really felt that Ivy did something to him. With Cassandra, sure, he could sometimes be rough but not like this. Degrading women, calling them whores and cum dumpsters, those things had never been in his vocabulary. 'I need to calm down. Tanya already gave me oral, I should control my libido.'

In spite of his rational side, Aaron's dick couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Vicki was fragile and weak. Three rounds was her limit, it seemed. It was the same with Tanya. One creampie and they were finished. Ordinary women just didn't cut it for him. 'Man, I'd love to fuck Harley and Cass again…they can go for so many rounds...'

The former was impossible, unfortunately, and the latter wasn't in the right state of mind. He wasn't going to ask Cassandra to fuck when she was having a crisis regarding her parents and her life's work. That would be weird. His eyes were too acute not to notice the potential reluctance and sorrow, even in the middle of fucking–especially in the middle of fucking. Overall, blowing Cassandra's mind while Gotham City was in jeopardy wasn't a smart idea.

Once he was fully flaccid, he retreated from the bed and approached her desk. His cock was glistening and made a hearty thwack as it swung onto his thigh. Aaron winced and reflexively glanced back. Vicki wouldn't be waking for at least another two hours. Relaxing, he opened the top drawer of her office desk and started searching.

'Nothing.' Aaron pushed his bangs back. 'Old newspapers regarding Batman…Batman…Robin…Bruce Wayne…his wards…Batman again…'

He paused. He looked back at the creampied woman again and a particularly large glob of cum imploded out of her pussy. Despite her current state, despite how thirsty and horny she was, Vicki was an exemplary journalist. Judging by the red circles and arrows, she had already figured out that Batman was Bruce Wayne.

For an ordinary Gotham citizen, it sounded ridiculous. Wayne was an idiot. That was all he was. A playboy who slept with journalists and acted to the detriment of his company. Many excused his behaviour due to the tragic deaths of his parents but even so everybody agreed he was innocent and harmless. Never in a million years would they believe that in his spare time he dressed up as a bat and beat criminals to a bloody pulp..

Vicki did. The newspapers were old and clearly done with. In other words, she had made her conclusion: Bruce Wayne was Batman.

'Good work,' he complimented in his head. It was thorough and decisive, connecting Bruce Wayne's various wards to the sudden changes in Robin's costume and physical features. 'But that also increases the chances that you know something. You're an excellent investigator with a keen intuition and a great reputation. You must know something even if you don't know it.'

Aaron carefully put everything back. He recalled seeing a laptop in the living room and headed over there. It was a generic Wayne tech laptop but upon turning it on he saw it was password protected. To his annoyance, it wasn't a four-digit code.

There was a small camera too. If he got the password wrong, it would capture his face and save the photo on her online drive while also sending it to her phone. Given her current state in the bedroom, she wouldn't be looking at her phone for at least a few hours. Still, Aaron didn't want the headache of having to unlock her phone as well.

The living room area was small with a TV, a wide table, and its accompanying black couch. When Aaron sat down on the couch, he could feel the wear and tear. She was a reporter so of course she laid on her couch often. She probably used it more than her laptop. It didn't make his bare butt feel better though.

Aaron took his time. Obviously, he didn't know Vicki outside of sex. Her hobbies, her interests, her background, her dislikes, they were unknown to him. He largely identified her as the sexy reporter on TV. Superficial, sure, but accurate seeing how dedicated she was to her craft.

He mulled over his options. 'Maybe the password has something to do with Batman and Bruce Wayne? They did date after all and since she knows about his secret identity…just maybe…'

He searched the house again, trying to find something–anything. No dice. The themes of Batman and Bruce Wayne were there but nothing materialized into a single phrase or word. It was all jumbled and vague.

He decided to switch his attention to her phone. An old model but protected by a four-digit code. Luckily for him, he could bypass it with a fingerprint.

Vicki was beside him, still reeling over their session. He grabbed her index finger and pressed it to the bottom of the screen.

'Voila.' The phone dived to the home screen with all the familiar applications right there. The background was a picture of Vicki with who he assumed were her parents.

Immediately, in her downloads, he found something that piqued his interest. Located in a poorly hidden folder were nudes and sextapes–and not just any sextapes either. No, no, no, the faces plastered in the videos belonged to Gotham politicians and millionaires. Moreover, the photos snapped were snapped by the males involved, likely in a moment of high arousal. Perfect blackmail material for Vicki.

Sheesh. It was like watching her grow from a naive journalist to a professional whore. Her iconic orange hair and voluptuous curves were a constant yet her expressions and skills evolved. The tapes were short and sweet and somehow spoke volumes on her rapidly increasing flexibility and whoring.

For example, near the bottom of the collection, there was a video where the phone was situated behind her as she went up and down a slender white cock. The face of the male was cut off but there were groans and orders to tell her to go faster. She panted and moaned and begged him that she couldn't. The fingers gripped her ass cheeks tightly and he let out a groan. A few seconds later, his red balls were covered in white. The audio of Vicki panting was pathetic. The male was satisfied but he wasn't blown away. Vicki was just another ordinary fuck for him.

Fast forward a year, and she was sucking a swarthy cock whilst rubbing it between her large breasts. It was easily the largest shaft she had encountered so far but she did not lose face this time. No, she was servicing the big black cock in stride and with unimaginable endurance and ability. Vicki Vale was officially a whore.

He checked the date. 'Six years ago, huh?'

Aaron was impressed. He scrolled down and up but this video right here was unquestionably her crowning moment. The dick was as thick as a coke can and probably seven or eight inches long. Extremely dark, veiny, and hard, it pistoned in and out of her folds from behind. Aaron wasn't threatened by the display at all. Glancing down, he noted his flaccid dong was larger still. Not surprising, if he was being honest with himself. He recognized he was an anomaly. One man's hardest erection was Aaron's most shrivelled up flaccid shape. Interestingly enough, the prime difference was in their scrotums. The broad man in question was huge in length and especially girth, but not in the sack. It was tight and rubbery and not at all hanging like his.

Moving on to the next video, the angle shifted and the broad man's face was exposed. Aaron blinked. He wasn't ugly and neither was he young enough to be considered handsome. In other words, the star of the tape was a normal male specimen in his forties or fifties.

For a man in his late ages, his performance was phenomenal. Aaron wasn't the type to get pissy over a woman's past or the penis size of another male. Sex was sex, after all, and the right woman would enjoy it with her man no matter the size. To him, it wasn't a big deal and he refused to let porn tell him otherwise. The black male continued to fuck Vicki and eventually brought her to a long climax in the video.

Like a volcanic eruption, moans blasted through the audio madly, and the ebony man grunted and howled seven decibels too loud. Aaron cringed. He turned the volume down and swiped left. The moans and sounds repeated in a lower tone. There were quite a few videos with this man…

'Wait a minute,' Aaron's thoughts began to move like clockwork. Memories and images paralleled what he was seeing on the phone screen.

Sid Bunderslaw, the Director of Physical Operations in Wayne Enterprises. He often swung by the top executives' office to check their progress. Well, that was what Aaron assumed he did. He saw the director in the halls and acknowledged his presence like any good lowly grunt. However, could there be more to him…?

A loud moan erupted from the phone. On the playing video, Vicki was getting destroyed by his thick cock. Aaron acknowledged his efforts. He was fast, his cum shots were long, and he was pretty thick. In the moment, Vicki was likely experiencing true pleasure as he stretched her pussy out.

Unfortunately, after what Aaron did with her, there was no way Sid would be able to do that ever again. While Aaron was the sun, a star capable of lighting up several hundred emotions and reactions inside Vicki Vale, Sid Bunderslaw was a mere lightbulb. An insignificant light to be turned on and off at a given moment. A momentary fleck of pleasure. His girth and volume was less than half of Aaron's. It was ridiculous. It was hilarious. It was why Aaron could watch the videos without the insecurities of most men, because he knew he was better.

No offence, of course. A dick of that size could for sure satisfy a woman. Just not Vicki Vale. Not anymore.

He did a fast search on Sid Bunderdlaw. Besides his thick cock, his health, appearance, and background were normal. A long time Wayne employee, he worked his way up the corporate ladder and made a name for himself. Loyal, hard working, divorced, educated with a bachelors and a doctorate, yada yada yada.

And Sid was just one of many. There were hundreds of men in this hidden file, their penises and fetishes recorded and saved alongside the advent of her long, slutty career. He didn't know whether to be impressed by Vicki's commitment. Again, there were so many familiar faces and voices that Aaron genuinely began to worry over the level of hornyness these important men were exhibiting.

'Don't half of you guys have wives…? Have some self respect. If you're going to fuck around, then just divorce your wife instead of stringing her along.'

God, he hated politicians. And cheaters. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to calm down. When the fuck did he become a moral arbiter?

As he finished scrolling, an intriguing tidbit came to him. An observation, if you will. In her decade-long career, Vicki had slept with many, many men. Yet the most infamous of her partners, the man who propelled her to stardom, was missing.

'Huh. I don't see Bruce Wayne anywhere here. There's thousands of videos but…nothing. He's not here.'

Aaron double-checked but no dice There wasn't a single sex tape of Bruce Wayne and Vicki Vale–the legendary billionaire playboy and reporter duo were seemingly amiss from the collection. No selfie, no dick pic, no nudes, no screenshots, nothing. Thinking about it, it shouldn't have been surprising given that Bruce Wayne was Batman. If there was a mark or scar that could identify him as the controversial vigilante, the media would hound him and the Batman would be rendered obsolete. Even so, Aaron was slightly disappointed he didn't get to see the Dark Knight in action. He was the goddamn Batman. Who didn't want to see what he could do in bed?

He switched to her emails and proceeded to scour every bit of information he could find. Every sent message, every received email, every rough and incomplete draft.

That was where Aaron found it–in the drafts. Something potentially big. Vicki had compiled several versions of the email and was seemingly contemplating on sending it to her boss. Several properties were being brought under a company deftly titled as Angel. Legally and with a majority of the properties being empty warehouses and storage areas. Vicki's final thoughts and analysis were cut and to the point: there was a new crime boss in Gotham. Wealthier and more discreet compared to the supervillains of previous years.

'So she went to that party because she thought one of the rich assholes knew something about this Angel,' Aaron thought. 'And when she didn't find information regarding Angel, she came to the bar looking for a good fuck. That answers a lot of things.'

Aaron got his phone and took pictures of her emails. He spent close to an hour reading and snapping photos of whatever he deemed important. He wasn't a hero or a civilian. He wasn't super interested in justice or truth, but it wouldn't sit right with him if he ignored this.

By the time Vicki awoke, his sweaty, pungent member was on top of her face, laying languidly.

"Eh?"

Vicki blinked back into reality and the stench pressing her nose rejuvenated her. Aaron's flaccid member demanded it be served and her tongue licked a humble vein as if it had a mind of its own. Her breathing was shaky as her cunt became drenched. The last remnants of Aaron's seed flowed out of her stretched hole but there was no doubt it was about to be replaced.

Sid Bunderslaw, Bruce Wayne, they were amateurs compared to Aaron Reigner. Vicki had investigated that fact thoroughly, which was why she eloping with him in the first place. She craved this higher degree of pleasure–this heavenly, exhilarating realm of untapped potential. The Gotham reporter gulped in anticipation.

This was the deal, after all.