Robing Gets Cat Scrath Fever Chapter Two By Evan Andrews
The following story is a work of fan fiction. All characters depicted in it belong to and are trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the characters. The story depicts males in sexual situations, mostly with other males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
The story is set in the New Teen Titans era, shortly before Dick Grayson becomes Nightwing in a continuity long since superseded.
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Chapter Two: Welcome to the Cat House
The Siamese twins showed unexpected expertise in taking command of Robin's body once he was in the van. Manx claimed the driver's seat, Sphinx shotgun. Robin was surprised that Catwoman and Russian Blue climbed into the back with him and the twins. There was something wrong about this whole caper, and he wasn't sure what. But his wondering was relegated to second place when Russian Blue dropped onto his back and the twins put cuffs on his wrists. These cuffs were attached those to leather bands they buckled around his muscular thighs, and they kept him from using his hands for anything. A blindfold was forced over his head and rubber ball gag into his mouth. A few blocks later, the van stopped and the side door opened.
"I'll see you boys back at the real lair," Catwoman said, stressing the `real' for Robin's benefit.
She had played the Dynamic Duo and wanted him to know she had, and that she'd won this encounter.
"Blue, you're with me."
The Siamese twins took over from Russian Blue sitting on Robin's body, to keep him from thrashing around. The door slid shut again, and the van took off. Manx was driving carefully, like any law-abiding citizen in fact. They were playing this abduction smart, Robin realized. They weren't giving Gotham's Finest the least reason to pull them over which was also why he was immobilized and gagged. They had made it impossible for him to telegraph any hint that the van held a most dainty cargo. Helpless as he was, Robin expected to be man-handled, but again Catwoman's henchmen surprised him. Other than binding him, they kept their paws to themselves. He didn't realize that Catwoman had claimed him as her own Boy Toy Wonder and that any minion that laid a hand on him would end up "fixed".
Since he was no longer fighting to keep himself upright, Robin was now able to apply his highly trained senses.
"Left," he thought, "We're turning left and accelerating to 35 mph."
He counted and figured out how long they held that course before they changed direction again. Other pertinent details like the smell of the sea and the sound of kids in a playground added to the picture, and under normal circumstances he would have had a good idea where he'd been taken. But whatever had been on Catwoman's claws had completely ballocksed that up. He could still analyze the situation like nobody's business, but nothing he noticed or deduced downloaded into his long term memory. He couldn't even remember what they'd been doing before that last turn (a traffic circle he thought, but he wasn't certain about that 30 seconds later). It was infuriating, and worse than that, his balls were working overtime for some reason, distracting him even further. The tight grasp of spandex on his scrotum was encouraging the production of a fine reserve of semen, and his cock, realizing that there was cum to fire off, was at slightly more than half mast and getting harder. Apparently it liked the constrictive grasp of his trunks as well. He wondered if the toxin on the claws held some aphrodisiac qualities or if a suppressed and previously unrecognized penchant for being overpowered and tied up was kicking in. He'd never felt that before, or at least not this strongly. Being sidekick to a major superhero involved a lot of getting abducted and tied up. Even if he had felt anything like this, though, it was nothing he could admit to Batman, nor confide to Alfred or Wonder Girl, nor share with Speedy, and never ever could he mention it to Starfire. He stuffed the pleasure he was experiencing away in a dark corner of his mind and fought to ignore it as it begged to be let out.
The van finally came to a stop, jarring Robin out of his reverie. He had no idea where he was or even how long they'd been driving. Hell, for all he knew he might even be back at the warehouse where they'd captured him. The back door of the van opened, and henchmen hands hauled him out onto the cold concrete floor of a loading dock. The blindfold and gag, now superfluous, were both removed, and Robin found himself simultaneously blinking and working the stiffness out of his jaw.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"Your new home," said Manx, "And now we'll get you settled in."
"Beg pardon, sir," one of the minor henchmen (British Shorthair) said, "But she says she wants him in her boudoir ASAP."
"She's the boss," Manx said, "Okay, boy, after we get you ready then you have a hot date like you won't believe."
They hauled Robin to his feet and, as his senses reeled again, walked the epitome of sexy sidekick, tented trunks and all, off into Catwoman's criminal HQ. Under normal circumstance he'd have put up a fight, but given his inability to balance, let alone focus, it was all he could do to struggle against his cock's attempt to find a way out of his confining green trunks—a struggle he was not sure he'd win in the long run. He stumbled down what felt like miles of ill-lit corridors, past closed door after closed door. He heard the grumble of machinery behind several and, intriguingly, at one door (labeled Stable') the sound of a man moaning in ecstasy. It made no sense. Finally they stopped at a door labeled Grooming' which Sphinx opened. The twins pushed on Robin's shoulders, and he stumbled inside to fall flat on his face.
Robin struggled to lift his head. It was a weird room he found himself in. Not a prison, though three empty free-standing cages stood close to the back wall (but not up against it). The cages had nothing in them, n;ot even a pot to piss in, and they were large enough to stand in, nothing more. They were for temporary holding, Robin deduced, not long-term incarceration. The rest of the room was a bizarre mixture of kinky gentleman's dressing room and professional bondage lab. One wardrobe held a wide selection of provocative costumes and had a full-length mirror so the person dressed up could appreciate himself. More leather clothing than Robin had ever imagined hung in a second wardrobe. There were harnesses, jocks, boots, gloves, braces, hats, and masks with and without matching gags in another wardrobe. A third was the same sort of stuff but in tight latex.
Robin's cock leapt when he thought about what that gear would feel like gripping his sex. In the middle of the room, a massage table and barber chair, complete with stirrups, grabbed his attention. And beyond that he saw a walk-in shower with room for several men. The scene was made complete by the presence of two more hunky henchmen, Persian and Turkish Van according to their tank-tops. If your dog's groomer were a kink master on the side, he'd look exactly like these two. Their calf-high boots, latex trunks much like Robin's own, the aforementioned tank-tops, and long latex gloves riveted Robin's attention.
"She says she wants him ASAP," Manx said, "But don't cut too many corners. She still has her standards."
"Right," Persian said, "Put him on the table. We'll take it from there."
The henchmen lifted Robin and lay him face down on the massage table before withdrawing. The groomers then took up positions on either side of the Boy Wonder and got to work. First they removed the cuffs keeping his hands from trying anything clever. He was clearly deep in the drug by now and wasn't going to give them any trouble. They pulled off his boots and spent a few minutes admiring his fine legs and running their hands up and down their length from his feet up to where his trunks began. When they came up the inside of this thighs, though, he almost flopped off the table. The groomers laughed at his ticklishness, and then Turkish Van began to unfasted the Boy Wonder's canary-yellow cape. His fingers brushed against Robin's throat which set off second a cascade of overwhelming feelings.
"Ah!" Robin cried out as he thrashed under their ministrations.
Whatever was coursing through Robin's blood not only kept him from resisting their man-handling, it made him enjoy it more than was decent. Then he felt a hand on his ass.
"Bast, how I wish now I hadn't pissed Her Nibs off and gotten myself fixed," Persian said, "An ass like this begs for a good..."
"Hey, even fixed we should still be able to have some fun," Van reminded him, "But first things first. He'll be coming back this way in good time."
Reaching underneath Robin's torso, they grabbed hold of his vest and pulled apart the last of the fastenings before slipping it off him. The feel of cold metal against his hard nipples made the Boy Wonder shudder a third time.
"None of that now," Van said, and with that the pair of groomers flipped the stud-muffin over onto his back.
"Oh, yeah," Persian said, "She got him good."
The henchman's fingers trace the scratches on Robin left pec, casually brushing past the hard nipple.
"Oh!" Robin moaned.
He'd never realized he could be turned on by such a thing.
"I'd say so," Van snickered as he ran his fingers along the raging hard-on that pressed against the Boy Wonder's trunks. "Look at that monster! Nine inches at least! I'm surprised it hasn't torn through the fabric."
"Mmm," Persian hummed with approval, "And it's so sad about being caged up that it's crying. Look at that pre-cum stain."
"Well, monsters have to hang together," Van said, "We can't in good conscience leave his monster trapped like that."
They grabbed the waist of Robin's tight green trunks and peeled them down over the muscular legs they had previously been appreciating. His cock sprang out hard and proud.
"Look at that!" Persian, "You were right about the nine inches."
"Bast, she's going have herself some fun with this one," Van opined.
"This one?" Robin said.
Did Catwoman have more men captive in her dungeons? Then he remembered the ecstatic groan from the one room, the Stable. Apparently she did. What were her evil plans for him? For them?
"Oh, don't you worry about that—at least not yet," said Van.
Then the groomers were on him again, massaging his body, oiling him up with some unguent. It made him feel warm all over, not fever warm but professional rub-down warm. While the groomers left to get the next apparatus ready Robin lay basking.
"Uppsy daisey, stud boy," Persian said as the now returned groomers lifted the naked Robin off the table.
They supported him over to the barber chair. Clippers appeared and the henchmen trimmed the hero's hair to something stylish but with a bad boy feel to it. Moving down his body they trimmed his pubic bush so close that it was almost shaved. If anything it made the Boy Wonder's cock look even larger. Finally they lathered him up and shaved his underarms and chest--even his treasure trail.
"What about this stubble?" Persian asked as he ran a hand over Robin's jaw.
"I think she likes beards," Van said.
"Today she likes beards," Persian replied, and Van laughed.
"Today," Van conceded, "Anyway if she wants him smooth as a baby's bottom all over she can tell us. And speaking of baby's bottoms."
They twisted Robin around so that he was kneeling bent over on the chair instead of sitting and his butt was at the proper height for the groomers to attend to it. Persian ran a finger through the sidekick's ass crack.
"This we've definitely got to shave," the groomer said.
Van nodded and they proceeded to lather Robin's crack up and apply the razors to scrape away all the hair he had growing there. Robin writhed erotically under their touch, and since for the first time since his capture his cock was free, he tried to see if he could get it to make any contact with the henchmen's hands.
"No," Van said, and he slapped the Boy Wonder's ass, "Bad Robin. Bad bad Robin. "
"He can't help it, Van," Persian said, "You saw the scratches."
"Please, please scratch me," Robin begged, and he waggled his butt.
"No!" Van said, "I don't care if she marked him or not. He's not in charge, and he's got to learn that pronto. After all, it'd never do to rob her of her treat."
Once Robin was properly groomed, they lifted him out of chair and helped him to shower. Inside the tiled sanctum, a sawhorse commanded center stage. Carefully, they draped Robin over it and left him hanging there, naked and with his legs spread, as they went and got the apparatus necessary for the next part of his cleansing. The Boy Wonder hung, unresisting, until he felt a metallic nozzle touch his anal sphincter.
"What the fuck?!" he cried, but then he gave a groan.
A virgin's `Ah!' escaped him as the nozzle slid just inside him. Even this violation he couldn't fight off, and the next moment when the water started to flow he didn't want to. The mounting pressure of the water in his guts was both exciting and excruciating. Robin couldn't decide which was dominant. And it didn't matter because his cock loved it. He looked up to thank the groomers and saw that while he filled up they had stripped to just their bulging latex trunks. In a moment he knew why. When he felt he was a full as he could be, Persian removed the nozzle.
"Let it all out, boy toy," the henchman ordered.
Robin's guts exploded, and a jet of smelly brown water emerged. They hosed him off and chased the shit-water down the drain before repeating the cleansing. Then again and again until the sidekick's guts ran clean.
"Good boy," Van said.
He held Robin upright while Persian removed sawhorse. The shower came on and the groomers joined their charge under the stream. They grabbed hold of soap and began to wash his hair and body. The feel of soapy hands running over his skin was striking a chord with Robin's newly sensitized hormones.
"Oh, fuck!" he cried, "Yeah, just like that! Right there! Yeah, I'm gonna..."
And then he was hit with a stream of ice cold water.
"What did we tell you, boy," Van growled, "No cumming! You save that for her."
"Oh god," Robin was desperate, "I can't. I mean I have to..."
Gloved hands grabbed his low-hanging nuts and squeezed hard.
"Ow!" Robin cried, "That hurts!"
"That's right. It does, and let me tell you that things will hurt worse if you don't get with the program NOW! No Cumming! Got it?"
Robin nodded, tears streaming from his eyes. Consummate professionals that they were, the groomers finished Robin's shower quickly after that and carefully toweled him off before strapping him spread-eagled to a `drying rack'. Fans were turned on him, and the groomers wandered off to the wardrobes. Even the gentle touch of the air from the fans was enough to keep Robin stewing. The touch was the most seductive thing yet, and Robin's cock was reading him the Riot Act over certain reasonable requests it had made, none of which he was in any position to address.
The Siamese twins returned and helped the groomers get Robin properly `dressed' for his meeting with Catwoman. Siamese One, snickering, fastened a belled collar around the hapless hero's neck. Then they released him from the drying rack and helped him into the provocative garment the groomers had chosen for him—a kinky version of the green trunks that were part of his usual costume. In the back of these new trunks, where the fabric usually hugged his firm ass, there was a hole that allowed access to his now-cleaned-out asshole. A stray finger slid up the crack of his ass, making him shudder again.
"Dammit, Siamese Two," Persian chided, "If we aren't allowed to, neither are you!"
In the front, another strategic hole let the Boy Wonder's not-so-boy-like cock and balls hang out. Well, the word `hang' was only appropriate to his cum-heavy balls in their dangling sack. An elastic ring around the hole functioned as a cock-ring, so Robin's normally dusky pink staff, rigid as hell and already weeping pre-cum, was rapidly taking on purple tints. It was erotic as all fuck.
"He's all ready for her," Van said at last, "Get him out of here, and have someone bring in the others.
Robin was cock-addled, wondering if he actually going to be called on to fuck someone? Catwoman maybe? So he didn't hear Van's last comment. Even if he had, it wouldn't have meant a damn thing to him. Robin needed to cum and needed to cum badly. Nothing else mattered. Manx opened the door and the Siamese twins escorted their captive out into the corridor.
"So long, boy toy," Persian hooted after him, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"