Between Hell and Perdition

“What the hell is going on here!?” Nora Clavicle demanded. Batgirl could hear Clavicle futilely shaking a pole.

Like Batgirl, Clavicle was blindfolded and tied standing up to a vertical metal bar. The escaped criminal had just regained consciousness.

Batgirl guessed Catwoman was still out cold somewhere nearby. Clavicle’s voice had seemed to come from a short distance in front and a little to the right of Batgirl.

“You were knocked out by one of La Esclavage Reine’s henchwomen,” Batgirl explained.

“Batgirl!? Is that you? GET ME OUT OF THIS!” Nora raged.

“I’m afraid I can’t, even if I wanted to,” Batgirl admitted. “I’m bound and blindfolded, just like I’m guessing you are.”

There was silence for a moment. “Then, you and I are prisoners of that ridiculous Frenchwoman?” Nora asked.

“So it would seem,” Batgirl said absently as she tested the ropes around her wrists for the umpteenth time. They held fast. In addition, her hands and fingers were so thoroughly restrained she held out little hope of ever being able to reach any of the blades she had hidden in her costume.

“What do you think she wants?” the wayward women’s rights activist inquired in a soft, uncertain voice.

Batgirl couldn’t help but be struck by the irony of the situation. The shoe was now truly on the other foot. Nora Clavicle, who delighted in tying people up and torturing them, was now at the mercy of someone perhaps as sadistic as Nora herself. Batgirl decided on the perfect response. “Probably the same thing you wanted all those times you captured me.”

Batgirl heard Nora take in a quick breath. Immediately thereafter, she caught notice of a stirring to her left.

“Meowwwww! My head!” Catwoman moaned. “What–?”

“Catwoman?” Clavicle asked.

“Nora?” the black-clad blonde responded. “I’m tied up and blindfolded! You were knocked out. That Esclavage Reine drugged me! What happened to Batgirl?”

“I’m right here, Catwoman,” Batgirl announced. “Apparently, we’re all in the same boat.”

There was the sound of a sliding door opening. “Not un bateau, Batgirl,” La Esclavage Reine said enigmatically. “Mais zat will become clear tout a l’heure.”

Batgirl heard the sounds of feet shuffling across the wooden floor, interspersed with high heels clicking. Between the loud and ignored protestations of Clavicle and Catwoman, Batgirl thought she detected six prisoners being brought into the room, led by La Esclavage Reine and two others. From the soft noises and sharp breaths, she guessed the other prisoners were being bound like she was.

Finally, someone in heels stepped between her and Catwoman. “Maintenant, remove leur blindfolds!” La Esclavage Reine commanded.

The cloth was pulled in back and fell away from in front of Batgirl’s eyes. Her attention was immediately drawn to her right.

Batgirl had seen many bizarre and twisted sights in her five years of fighting crime. She honestly couldn’t think, however, of a stranger scene than the one she now beheld.

They were in an old subway car. Nora, Catwoman, five other women and she had all been bound to bars running from floor to ceiling, that passengers had held when all the seats were filled.

A sixth prisoner stood with her back to Batgirl. With a black-gloved left hand, La Esclavage Reine held her by the ropes that Batgirl guessed were crossed across her chest.

Batgirl was both relieved and horrified to realize she didn’t see Jenny, Delisha or the security guard. In fact, she didn’t recognize any of the other prisoners. ‘How many people did La Esclavage Reine kidnap?!’ Batgirl wondered.

As Batgirl continued to analyze the situation, more grotesque details became obvious. The six prisoners were wearing very little clothing. What there was to their scant outfits were in the bondage fetish style. All had been forced into uncomfortable very high heels. Most were gagged and/or blindfolded. At least three of the women’s butts were completely exposed. There was stark evidence their backsides had felt La Esclavage Reine’s riding crop.

La Esclavage Reine spread her arms as if to encompass everything around her. “J’aime ze metro!"

Batgirl could no longer contain herself. “You’re mad! Completely, totally, absolutely, 100% insane! Perverted doesn’t begin to describe you!”

La Esclavage Reine waved Mimet and Yvette away from their completed un-blindfolding duties. They took charge of the last prisoner and started the process of tying her to a vacant pole.

Then La Esclavage Reine walked over to Batgirl. She ran her riding crop along the outline of Batgirl’s shapely, tightly bound body.

Catwoman kept her cool. “I’d say this French bimbo has forfeited the competition, wouldn’t you, Batgirl?”

“Au contraire, ma amie,” La Esclavage Reine cooed. “Je am ze winner!”

“We all agreed Batgirl would be the judge of that!” Nora pointed out.

La Esclavage Reine smiled. “Je am going to win quelque chose far beyond Batgirl’s capacite to give mois.”

“What do you mean?” Batgirl asked.

“Merci to vous, je will become beaucoup riche!”

“How?” Catwoman asked with professional interest.

“Once je have broken vous – entrainez vous to be propre submissives, mes clientele will pay une fortune to spend just un heure avec any un of vous.”

“That will never happen!” Clavicle declared.

“Nous will see,” La Esclavage Reine responded. “Votre attitude may begin to change apres several jours in ici.”

Mimet and Yvette had finished their task and walked out of the car. La Esclavage Reine followed. Once outside, she turned and reached back in the car, releasing what looked like a hand brake.

“A propos, zis metro wagon is maintenant perfectly balanced. If vous should escape et mouvez, it will tip, releasing gaz toxique!”

Batgirl knew enough French to understand the double jeopardy in which La Esclavage Reine had placed them. Not only were they to be left in their stringent bondage for days, presumably without food or water, but even if they escaped, the subway car was balanced so that if they moved, the car would tip and toxic gas would be released!

La Esclavage Reine favored them with a wave of her riding crop. She then pushed a button on the outside of the subway car and the doors slid closed.

Batgirl analyzed the situation. La Esclavage Reine and her minions had taken great care in immobilizing the masked heroine. ‘Had they been so careful, though, in binding the villainesses?’

Batgirl strained to look at Catwoman out of the left corners of her eyes. As far as she could tell, the Feline Felon was still in full Catwoman regalia. If so, that meant–

‘Yes!’ Apparently, La Esclavage Reine, Mimet and Yvette were used to people who really didn’t want to escape.

“Selina! I can see your fingers. If--”

“What?” Catwoman interrupted Batgirl. “We’re on a first-name basis now? Just because we’re in a trap together? You may call me Selina only if you tell me your first name.”

Batgirl let out an exasperated sigh, as large as her restrictive bondage would allow. “Alright, Catwoman, if you move your right index finger up and down, you might just be able to saw through the rope with your cat claw!”

As Catwoman started to follow Batgirl’s directions, Nora Clavicle spoke, “What if she does, Batgirl? She still can’t move without flooding this car with poison gas!”

“I bet Batgirl has an answer to that already figured out,” Catwoman remarked as she continued her tedious task.

Batgirl remained silent, letting Catwoman concentrate on one thing at a time. After a few minutes, Catwoman had picked several strands of her rope apart. Before long, the statuesque Princess of Plunder was free of her bonds, but she still dared not move a step.

“Now, Catwoman,” Batgirl instructed, “make a loop in that rope. From what I know about your prowess with your cat-o’-nine-tails, I’m betting you can lasso that brake!”

“Mmm,” Catwoman purred. “It won’t be easy, having to keep my feet immobile, but I’m sure I can catch it.”

Batgirl doubted the car was so sensitively balanced that an errant attempt would tip the balance, but she prayed her theory wouldn’t be put to the test. She hoped Catwoman would be successful on the first try.

Catwoman tied off a loop. She then began to twirl it over her head. Finally, she let it fly . . . .

“You did it!” Nora cheered.

“Ha!” Catwoman exalted. “I doubt Calamity Jan could have done any better!” The Queen of Crime pulled on the rope. The brake wrenched into place, holding the car fast.

Catwoman walked over to the brake, making sure it was secure. Then she walked up to Batgirl, baring the claws on her right hand next to Batgirl’s face.

The Crimefightress flinched.

Catwoman dropped her hand, moved quickly behind Batgirl and began untying her foe.

“Wait, Selina!” Nora protested. “Why are you letting her loose?”

“Because,” Catwoman explained, “One: we don’t know how many assistants that French bitch has running around here. Batgirl would be of much more use in a fight than you, Nora. Two: This Bondage Queen needs to be taught how things are done here in Gotham City. I’m sure Batgirl will take care of that for us.”

The ropes fell away from the Caped Cutie. The two women clad in skin-tight costumes looked at each other as if to say, ‘Now what?’

Catwoman could almost read Batgirl’s mind. Catwoman posed the question aloud, waving a claw at the other bound women, “You could stop me and La Esclavage Reine, but can you defeat all her henchgirls and protect these women and the other hostages?”

Batgirl knew what her adversary was thinking. “Okay, Catwoman, I’ll let you go this time – if you release these other women.”

“Agreed.”

“Hey! What about me?!” Nora complained.

Batgirl smiled wickedly at Catwoman. “I’ll leave that up to you.” Batgirl moved to the doors and pried them open.

Before she went through them, however, Catwoman called, “Batgirl?”

Batgirl stopped and turned. “What, Catwoman?”

Catwoman grinned at Batgirl. “Who would have won the bondage competition?”

Batgirl smiled back. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She ran off without another word.

It didn’t take long for Batgirl to locate Mimet’s and Yvette’s quarters. They both were fast asleep. With all the bondage paraphernalia lying around, it was an easy matter to bind and muzzle them both.

Down the corridor, Batgirl found La Esclavage Reine’s bedroom. She, too, was on her bed, sound asleep.

Batgirl checked out the rest of the warehouse. Although she did find several lockers full of women’s clothes, there were no other henchpeople to be found. Satisfied, Batgirl returned to La Esclavage Reine’s room.

Batgirl crept in and then jumped on top of the sleeping villainess. Gotham’s Dark Angel straddled La Esclavage Reine with her knees, sitting on the Frenchwoman’s belly. Before her quarry was half-awake, Batgirl had slapped a pair of handcuffs on The Bondage Queen.

“Sacre Bleu!” La Esclavage Reine exclaimed. “Batgirl! How did vous escape?”

“That would be telling.”

“Ah, well. Felicitations,” La Esclavage Reine complimented. She grinned. The Frenchwoman seemed to be enjoying her position.

“You’re awfully happy for someone about to go to jail,” Batgirl observed.

“Am je going to prison?” La Esclavage Reine questioned. “On what charge?”

Batgirl was stunned by the question. “Why, kidnaping, of course!”

“Oh? Who did je kidnap? Je confined deux wanted criminals. Et je have noticed ze penalty doesn’t seem to be to tres severe for trapping une Gotham masked vigilante.”

Batgirl had to admit La Esclavage Reine had a point there. Since there were so many problems of proof in a court of law regarding crimes against anonymous super-heroes, villains were almost never charged with assault, battery, unlawful restraint or attempted murder of them. There were always plenty of other charges to bring against the arch-criminals, though.

“What about those six other women tied up in the subway car?” Batgirl objected.

La Esclavage Reine burst out laughing. “Them? They are mes clientes! They paid mois for ze privilege of being tied in ze trap avec vous! Je am certain they are disappointed vous escaped so rapidement, mais je made non garantie.”

La Esclavage Reine was enjoying the look on Batgirl’s face. “Je made bien ze profit! No where near ze amount je would have avec vous en mon power, mais c’est la vie!”

Batgirl stared incredulously at the woman under her. “Well, what about the college students . . . and the guard?”

“Je gave dix mille dollars to each of them. They were quite happy. Deux even asked about working for moi!”

“What about Jenny Akasofu and Delisha Davis?” Batgirl demanded. She couldn’t believe they could be bought off for ten thousand dollars.

La Esclavage Reine had a confused look on her face for a moment. Then the clouds parted. “Ah, ze Asian jeune fille et la negresse. Oui, they were difficile, mais they will have a hard time explaining ze cinq mille dollars je put in their banque accounts!”

La Esclavage Reine had been right. Prosecuting Attorney Harvey Dent decided the best he could do was to have the Frenchwoman deported. Catwoman and Nora escaped. La Esclavage Reine’s clients were let go with a stern lecture. Batgirl could only console herself with the thought that at least the college students and guard had been safely released.

With Christmas approaching, Batgirl was definitely in a Grinch-like mood . . .

. . . and her simmering anger would have risen to geothermal temperatures had she been aware of the evil events that were soon to transpire at the loading docks of Charles "Big Daddy" Towser's company.

The detective from Martin Ingerbek’s agency was relieved when the armored car he was riding in pulled into the garage at “Big Daddy” Towser’s company. “Nice work, Bill,” he said to the driver. “I think we’re home free.”

“I’m glad your along anyway, sir. There’s a lot of money in the back,” Bill replied. “What did Mr. Towser say it was for again?”

“Call me George. We’re friends, after all. Aren’t we?”

“Sure, George.”

“The money is for executive Christmas bonuses.”

“I wish I got a Christmas bonus,” Bill griped.

“In a way you did, Bill. Mr. Towser could have just wired the money into his executives’ bank accounts. Instead, he wanted to present the money in cash at the company’s annual executive Christmas party. His decision let you earn some money by delivering it. Right?”

“Well, yes. Maybe you’re right,” Bill said after a moment of thought. “Maybe Big Daddy isn’t such a bad guy after all. You’re working overtime, too, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” the detective said cheerfully.

“It looks like our contact is coming. Wow!” Bill marveled at the sight of the blonde woman approaching them as he rolled down the driver’s side window. She wore a short forest green dress belted with red leather at the waist. Her bare legs were long and half covered by boots which matched her belt. The dress clung snugly to her figure and contrasted with her hair as it cascaded to her shoulders in golden waves.

“Good evening,” she said.

“Ma’am,” the detective said, nodding to acknowledge her politely. “May I see your authorization?”

“Certainly,” she said. “I have it right here.” As she reached toward him, he realized she held a small clown head. George stared and realized the head was a toy. With a flick of her wrist, the woman tossed the tiny toy head to Bill. He caught it.

Both men could distinctly hear the clown head ticking.

“It’s a bomb!” George shouted. “Throw it!”

“Right!” Bill said. He moved to fling the bomb away just as it exploded, filling the truck’s cab with colored smoke. Truck doors opened as Bill and George nearly fell to the ground. “Some days you just can’t get rid of a bomb,” Bill muttered.

A lavender convertible with the top down backed to a stop behind the truck. As suspicious as one may have become at the sight of an open convertible on such a cold night in Gotham City, the trio of temptresses traveling in the car could easily have turned almost any observer’s thoughts to other things. The woman behind the wheel let the engine idle as she began to examine her reflection in the rearview mirror. She moved her hand from the wheel to the ignition key, which hung from a chain of other keys she wore in place of a belt. Beneath the chain, her body was encased from shoulders to calves in purple fabric tucked into her knee high silver boots. Her outfit clung to her every comely curve, covering everything while concealing nothing. Changing her mind about killing the engine, she reached to turn off the headlights and returned to her examination of her revealing reflection. Her companions, meanwhile, stepped from the back seat and went to work.

One passenger wore a royal blue, belted dress and forest green boots which matched the belt. She dragged the detective forward to join the woman in green, who had taken charge of the driver. Both men reached for guns to defend themselves, but their captors’ shapely silhouettes parted to expose the men to the truck’s dazzling headlights. The hapless men shielded their eyes with their gun hands, thus allowing their attackers to disarmed them easily. The other woman who had emerged from the car took charge of the victims’ guns, dropping them into the pockets of her white, leather trench coat.

Meantime, the driver shifted her attention from her reflection to the car’s controls. “I’ll pop the trunk,” she offered, as the woman in blue opened the truck with a key she had taken from George, the detective.

“Okay. I’ll get the money,” the blue clad beauty said, climbing into the truck.

The woman in green turned to the woman to whom they had given the guns and ordered, “Cover them.”

“You got it,” the armed woman replied. Instead of drawing the guns she had been given, she pulled a machine gun from beneath her coat and trained it on the men from the truck. As she drew back the bolt, her coat opened a little, offering the men a glimpse of the white, figure hugging bikini she wore beneath. “Don’t move a muscle, boys, or I’ll perforate you.”

“Hey, George, is it my imagination or is that gunwoman naked?”

“No, Bill. She’s dressed-barely. Let’s try and focus on staying alive. We may have to defend ourselves. Stay ready.”

“Don’t be paranoid, George. Those robbers are hot. Look at the way they divert those funds.”

The detective rolled his eyes and frowned at the driver as the gunwoman let her coat fall open to reveal her bikini in all of its considerable glory. Her breasts filled out the upper portion nicely, giving it the appearance of an inverted heart with the tip bitten off so her head could emerge. Her coat had a thick fur lining which matched the fleece emerging from the tops of her white boots. “Shut up, both of you!” she ordered, letting her coat fall back into place without effecting her aim.

Bill had been correct about the transfer of wealth. The perfidious pair performing the robbery quickly moved bundle after bundle of bills from the truck to the smaller car trunk. When the trunk was full, it was closed and the remainder of the money was bagged and tossed to the waiting driver. She returned her attention to her reflection.

“All right, boys,” the gunwoman said, gesturing with her weapon when the truck was empty. “In you go.” The hapless prisoners were compelled to clamber aboard the empty truck just before the doors slammed behind them.

Seconds later, the convertible left the company parking garage with its four passengers inside, the top up, and the stolen money carefully concealed. The robbery had taken less than ten minutes.

Back to the Batgirl Bat-Trap Homepage!

You are visitor number to read this week's story.