Message-ID: <21497asstr$943643401@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: "stewartwarmling" Subject: {ASSM} Story. Batgirl & Dirk Thrustbox. Lines: 122 X-Original-Message-ID: <81m1vk$fob$1@lure.pipex.net> NNTP-Posting-Date: 26 Nov 1999 13:29:24 GMT X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V4.72.3612.1700 Date: Fri, 26 Nov 1999 14:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, newsman, gill-bates As usual, all the normal rules apply, you can visit the site shown at the end, e-mail this to your friends, read it and weep, read it and polish your rocket. BUT! I wrote it, it is my copyright, if you put this on a pay site without my permission in writing I will personally come round and shag your throat. You have been warned. Oh, if you are not aold enough to go into a bar and buy a drink, vote, or die for your country, then bugger off and look at Buffy the Vampire Slayer or something similar. Batgirl and Dirk Thrustbox [ Following our break we return to find Batgirl still fastened by steel ropes to boating winches, spread-eagled, with Dr. Strangetrousers' seminal emissions chilling her inner thigh. Now, in her own words, she continues the story. ] And so a stood there, or hung there, depending on whether I could stand the pressure on my wrists or toes at the time. Dr. Strangetrousers had left the room some time earlier. I strained, pulling alternately at each winch holding my wrists, knowing that if I could just get one to release its ratchet, then I would be free. With each pull the cable resonated but the ratchet stayed firmly in place. My efforts became more desperate until the noise of my straining was heard by another in the house. The door to the room opened quietly as the figure crept in. His build was familiar, his shape also, yet his hair and moustache threw me. If I was not more switched on I might have doubted whether this really was a moustache and not a poor quality prosthesis sold at the local joke shop. This was obviously the evil Dr. Strangetrousers' assistant. I knew from my observations over the past few weeks that Dirk Thrustbox, a pervert of the highest order, was now working for the doctor. I was still, in spite of my expectations, somewhat shocked when Dirk Thrustbox knelt in front of me and started to lick my thigh. His tongue moved steadily, lapping from side to side in snake style until it reached the now cooled and gelatinous streak halfway to my knee. His tongue, with devilish efficiency, gathered up his evil master's emission and balanced it, glistening on the tip, then whipping his tongue into his mouth he leant back and stood up. Unable to defend myself, I was powerless to stop him when he gripped the sides of my head in his hands and covered my mouth with his. His tongue, with power never seen in a mere device of cunnilingus, forced my lips apart and thrust deep into my mouth. I could taste the salty tang of the seed of his evil employer as he transferred the semen to my mouth. Holy Snowballs! And that is exactly what was happening to me. And, well, I had little option but to swallow; after all, I was in no position to get a tissue out and I'm a well brought up girl and not likely to reject a present, no matter how it is delivered. It is bad manners to refuse a gift. Dirk Thrustbox then stood back, an evil leer on his face. He stepped to the side and gripped a lever. As he pulled it I felt the frame holding me release and start to fall. Were it not for my Batsenses, I swear I would have been terrified at this time, however, I balanced myself perfectly as the frame revolved about a central point. I steadily inverted until the frame had turned through 180 degrees. I was now upside done and locked in place. Dirk Thrustbox reached down to my tool-belt and unclipped the sonic screwdriver (a little device I had been given by my old friend Dr. Who at a superheroes convention). The interesting thing about the sonic screwdriver, for those of you who have never seen one, is that it has batteries for power, a tip about half an inch wide in a tear drop shape, and a narrow tapering handle. In fact it looks a bit like an electric toothbrush without the bristles. So, back to the story from my diversion into sonic toys. Oh! By the way, the vibrations from the sonic screwdriver are a bit annoying at times, but tolerable if you keep it in your pocket. So, again, I digress: the story. No sooner had I been locked in an upside down position then Dirk Thrustbox stepped straight up to me, unzipped his trousers and slipped his wicked weapon straight into my mouth. Holy Helmets! Has this man no manners? He didn't even buy me some flowers and a drink first. I did of course consider objecting, but it's impolite to speak with your mouth full. I was debating what to do when the evil Thrustbox started to push in and out of my mouth in a steady rhythm. I noticed that he seemed pretty excited by this as he was already leaking. Mmmm, interestingly, it was a familiar taste but I couldn't remember where from. Was my Battaste letting me down? As I pondered, I felt his tongue tickle my fancy, so to speak. It seemed that the evil assistant was after all, more considerate toward a girl's needs than his master. Steadily for minute after minute he lapped away, my head underneath, his higher up. So this is what they mean by getting a laptop. I could get into this computer thing; it seemed quite pleasant really. I was starting to get a little tired of his constant thrusting; my head was filling with blood and he was certainly getting quite vigorous. Mind you he was not slacking in his attempts to make me forget about his despicable actions. I heard a buzzing sound. My first thought of course was that it was the sonic screwdriver. Now if he was using the sonic screwdriver he would soon be freeing me from my shackles; after all, what other use is there for the slim, smooth, streamlined buzzer? I soon found out his dastardly intent as the tip of the buzzing tool touched my bottom. I began to realise that this place was even more depraved than I thought. His master, Dr. Strangetrousers, had inserted the thick torpedo of my buzzing Batcommunicator deep into my cuntal cavity, and now, the even more warped assistant, Dirk Thrustbox, was thrusting another tool at my dirtbox, so to speak. Now I know that kind of language is not polite but, hey, at least I've worked out how he got his name: Thrustbox by name, Thrustbox by nature. With the sonic screwdriver pulsing away, doing its worst in my rear end, and his tongue working away at my clit, I had little time to do anything else but relax and try and go with the flow, which was not too difficult as my Battraining had taught me to tolerate any torture. Even when I could take it no longer and felt my muscles spasm and contract, I managed not to cry out. As I reached the peak of sensation of this torture, with his tongue probing my front and my sonic screwdriver torpedoing my rear, he seemed as pained as I. I felt him shudder in time as he thrust deeply into my throat. I swear, had I not been taught to relax my throat muscles I would have got a right mouthful. Thank God again for Battraining. Now, if he had had the decency to remove my sonic screwdriver from where the sun doesn't shine, I would have been in a position to set about putting my escape plan into effect. Visit the Lair of The Fanged One for Batgirl and other perverse scribbling http://pages.whowhere.lycos.com/arts/paulinusfang/index.html -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | ASSM Archive site +-----------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | | --- | +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | This newsgroup is moderated by ASSTR, an entity supported by donations. | | If you enjoy this newsgroup, please consider making a donation to help | | Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository keep providing this free service for you.| | Donations: | \_________________________________________________________________________/