Other Fan Fiction ❯ Batgirl learns Prudence ❯ Chapter 1

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A typical cloudy day in Londinium, a fine time to enjoy the venerable halls of Fogg Place! Indeed, the interior decorating of Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup is a match even for that of stately Wayne Manor, beyond reproach… even if its owners are not!

  At this very moment, Barbara Gordon, surreptitiously enjoying a well-earned vacation from the Gotham Library, is partaking a tour of the manor thanks to Lady Prudence, Lord Fogg’s daughter. Having invited her to interview for a faculty position at their girl’s finishing school, the sinister aristocrats believe young Barbara is unaware of their true treacherous tendencies. They assume she’s merely the daughter of the commissioner, someone they can use as leverage if things go awry.

But turnabout is fair play! And while Barbara is unaware of their plans for her, the pilfering patricians are unaware that their intended pawn is none other than the dynamic dare-doll, Batgirl!

Walking alongside Lady Prudence down the echoing halls of Fogg Place, Barbara had to admit the mansion had quite the collection of historical curios. It seemed Lord Fogg and his ancestors had been gathering them for some time; she’d noticed an intact skull of a sabertoothed iguana, one of the actual tea bags from the Boston Tea Party, and even one of Genghis Khan’s night slippers! She’d worked in museums with less fertile lineups of displays!

But the real question, and the reason she’d pretended to consider the faculty position at the finishing school, was where it all had come from.

Even if Batman hadn’t shared his suspicions with her, Barbara would have thought something was amiss about this place. She had serious misgivings that the so-called finishing school was actually a school that taught young women how to be thieves. She also had a shrewd idea that Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup were the ones behind the rash of robberies plaguing Londinium. She just needed to figure out the how and find proof.

                So far, the tour with Lady Prudence had proved interesting, but not enlightening on the crime fighting front. The young lady was sometimes difficult to understand with her thick accent, had a tendency to tease, and had no interest in any of the artifacts they passed. She also had no idea where they’d come from. When asked where her father found them, she grinned mysteriously and said ‘from where he finds everything else…’.

                At that, Barbara decided to press.

                “What do you mean, where he finds everything else?” she asked.

                Prudence gave her a wan smile, looking her up and down. She looked amused by the question, and by the questioner, considering her before responding. When she eventually did, it was with her usual lazy British lilt.

                “Father has loads of stuff like this,” Prudence purred, “It’s so difficult to keep track. An heirloom here, an old statue there, and the staff are always moving things around, often as you please. Sometimes…”

                At that, she simply trailed off. She continued smiling wryly, but looked away, as if something else had caught her eye.

                Barbara waited for her guide to respond. After a few seconds, she pressed.

“Sometimes what?”

                Prudence looked back at her through lowered lashes, still grinning slyly.

                “Sometimes… I’m jolly sure bits and bobs turn up here that I haven’t seen before,” she said, “There’s so many it’s hard to tell, you know, and Lady Peasoup assures me it’s my imagination. But sometimes I’m quite sure they’re entirely new.”

                Barbara’s eyes narrowed as she listened. If it wasn’t already evident, there was definitely something strange going on around Fogg Place, and Prudence noticed as well.

                “That IS strange,” she pressed, “And you’re sure you’ve never seen them before?”

                “Almost certainly.”

                Tilting her head, Prudence considered this for a moment, then shook off her worries with a shrug. So relieved, she sighed, as if she’d immediately put it all behind her.

                “Ah, well, much ado about nothing,” she winked, “Father’s alllllllways going on about his trophies. All the… historical significance and that pish posh. Perfectly boring, I think.”

                Barbara smiled, “Well, I suppose if I lived here, it might get a little old to me too.”

                The British girl give her a wry look. She stared, eyes glinting mischievously, before tittering to herself.

                “Oh, no, not likely,” she grinned, “Not your sort.”

Barbara blinked, “My sort?”

                “Hm.” Prudence’s grin broadened, “You know. The cute little bookish sort, that is all about work and never has any fun....”

                She reached out to pluck gently at her guest’s hair, as if moving aside a loose strand.

                Barbara drew back and frowned at the girl for a moment.

                Prudence irked her. The noble girl was clearly intelligent, a trait Barbara usually admired, but it showed itself in a detached amusement with most things around her. She wasn’t precisely rude, in fact quite the opposite, but she looked at everything and everyone with boredom and a dry smirk, like they were all silly things playing silly games of which she was far too sophisticated to partake.

                She was also quite pretty. She had pouty lips, dark curled eyelashes that made her sultry blue eyes pop, elegant features, and golden blonde hair that spilled down to her shoulders in effortless waves. Dressed in a jumper and a fashionably short skirt, she clearly took pride in her curves and how they allowed her to control the men around her.

                Earnest and humble, Barbara thought girls like Prudence gave women a bad name. She herself was more than capable of turning heads, with her delicate features and baby-doll blue eyes. Her cheeks seemed almost sunken between her high cheek bones and well-shaped jaw line, adding to her long, slender throat to give her a dove-like quality. Despite the fragile beauty of her face, she also had graceful, powerful legs, with the hips of a dancer, but though her orange dress still displayed her hourglass figure, it stopped well below her knees. She would never use her looks to take advantage of someone, much less take pride in it.

                But beyond the girl’s attitude, and Barbara’s shrewd suspicion that her father and aunt were behind Londinium’s recent spree of robberies, something else bothered her about Prudence. It was a palpable feeling, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It nagged, but then eluded her, growing continuously more irritating.

                She set her jaw and lifted her chin, meeting the British lady’s aloof stare in kind.

                “Where I come from, Lady Prudence,” she raised her eyebrows, “People don’t come in ‘sorts’.”

                Prudence’s grin broadened at the challenge.

                The pair came to a stop in front of a pair of lacquered wooden doors and Prudence looked Barbara over again, as if reassessing her. Her lips quirked up to one side and she stared into the deceptively confident American’s eyes.

                “Or perhaps I got it wrong, hm?” she replied smoothly.

                She stepped forward and pushed the door open, leading her into another room.

                “Shall we?” the young lady smiled.

                Through the doorway was a large room with elaborate furniture and decorations that were clearly more for display than use. It looked like a stop during a tour of Buckingham Palace, with so much fine wood and gold inlaid into the furnishings. Historical artifacts abounded, including a 14th-century suit of armor and part of a mural that looked like it might have been ancient Roman.

                Prudence sniffed, dismissing it all with a wave.

                “More dreary things in here,” she pointed out a few adjoining hallways and doors, “That hall leads to the library. That one’s the third guest sitting room and that one… that one is, of course, the FOURTH guest sitting room.”

                Barbara perked up at the mention of the library. Even if she was here to gather intelligence on a possible crime spree, it would be a rare treat to see Lord Fogg’s private library. If it was anything like the rest of Fogg Place, it was probably filled with a collection of tomes you wouldn’t find anywhere else in the world.

                However, before she could ask about the library, her sharp eyes noticed another door, one that Prudence hadn’t mentioned.

                She tilted her head curiously, “What about that door? Where does that lead?”

                Prudence paused just before saying something. Turning, she followed Barbara’s gaze to the door, then stared at it, as if surprised to find it there. She blinked at it for a moment, before turning back a bit too quickly and smiling.

                “Oh, I forgot that one, didn’t I?” she laughed, “Just a rory o’more for the staff, you know.”

                Barbara blinked at her, not comprehending.

                “A service door,” Prudence translated, “Doesn’t go anywhere interesting.”

                She strode closer, as if to distract her guest from said doorway.

                Barbara wrinkled her nose, continuing to stare.

                The door certainly did not look like a service entrance. It was too big and had too prominent a position in the room, for one thing, but it also had a strange, lime green doorframe, almost like primer paint. It stood out in the otherwise conservative room, so much so that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it right away.

                “That’s a service door?”

                Curious, she began making her way toward the door. It was big but from where she was, she couldn’t tell if it was locked. She might be able to merely turn the knob and go in.

                Before she got close, Prudence caught her gently by the arm.

                “Ah, actually,” the noble girl stepped in front of her, “I just recalled. That’s the door to the Cricket Pavilion.”

                Barbara frowned down at the hand on her arm. The touch was gentle, even friendly, but something about it made her uncomfortable. She shifted her feet, before turning her frown on Prudence.

                “The Cricket Pavilion?” she asked.

                Prudence nodded slowly, her fingers slipping deftly down to Barbara’s forearm.

                “It’s my blunder,” she said softly, “I got just a bit turned around. The Cricket Pavilion is his lordship’s and Lady Peasoup’s private sanctuary. No one’s allowed in there, I’m afraid.” She smiled, “Forgive me?”

                Surprised at the question and the tone behind it, Barbara was momentarily at a loss for words. Prudence hadn’t said anything particularly important, but the kitten-soft way she’d said it, and the touch on her arm that was slowly drifting downward made it seem very significant. She began to notice how close the girl was standing to her, the intent way she was staring above her playful grin.

                Barbara’s eyelashes fluttered, her big blue eyes staring back with sudden self-consciousness.

                “I… I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose?” she replied, “I don’t think… I really need to forgive anything…”

                The uncertainty in Barbara’s voice made Prudence’s grin quirk slightly up at one side. Her eyes didn’t narrow precisely, but their stare became more deliberate, as if noticing something interesting in the other girl’s gaze.

                Her hand slipped down to Barbara’s, barely touching it, like it was something fragile and precious.

                “Good, then,” she replied in that same soft tone.

                Frowning, not sure what her host was doing nor why it was making her so uncomfortable, Barbara found herself drawing back. Almost always being underestimated, feeling vulnerable rankled her and she began to flush, her heart fluttering.

                What was she staring at?

                Finally, with an annoyed crinkle of her nose, Barbara turned her gaze and thoughts away from Prudence and put them on the door.

                She’d seen most of Fogg Place at this point and this was the only area where she hadn’t been allowed. There were only so many places someone could hide the amount of goods that had been stolen over the past months, but an entire pavilion would fit the bill nicely. Even if the loot wasn’t behind that door, the fact that Prudence had been so desperate to keep her out made it at the very least worthy of investigation.

                Prudence tilted her head, continuing to watch her with sly interest.

                “Would you like to see the library next? Or perhaps the dormitories?” her voice was light and wistful, “It’s where all the girls stay, including myself. I could even show you my room, if you like…”

                Barbara took a step back, a small retreat in the face of her guide’s attention. Needing an excuse to leave, she searched the room until she found an old grandfather clock that was still ticking away. She noted the time, then turned back to offer an apologetic smile.

                “Actually,” She said, “I have a friend that is picking me up soon. They’re driving all the way from town, and I don’t want them to be waiting on me. You understand.”

                If Prudence was disappointed, she didn’t show it. She did pause, watching her guest for another moment, but her smile never wavered. She merely considered the words, then replied.

                “Why, of course,” she bowed her head in acknowledgement, her eyes still shining with mischief, “It has been a good while, hasn’t it? Time flies, as they say.”

                Barbara began walking slowly backwards, the girl’s gaze still making her a bit nervous.

                “Yes, it really does,” she laughed politely, “I, um… I’m sure I’ll be back, for the interview with Lady Peasoup.”

                Prudence watched her retreat, “I’m sure. Would you like me to show you out?”

                “No, no,” Barbara insisted, “I remember the way. But thank you.”

                Feeling ungainly and awkward with the young lady’s eyes on her, she continued to fall back, glancing once over her shoulder. She was almost to the door to the hallway.

                Prudence hadn’t moved. She was still watching with a knowing grin.

                “Oh, and thank you for the tour, of course!” Barbara called, “It was very… enlightening!”

                “My pleasure,” the young noblewoman replied, giving her a lazy wave, “Ta, then!”

                “Ta, ta!”

                Thus dismissed, Barbara turned on her heel and marched away at a brisker pace, relieved to be free of that strange interaction. Listening to her own shoes clicking away on the hardwood floor, she kept her chin raised, maintaining her poise, but chewed on her lip. She had to fight the urge to look over her shoulder to see if Prudence was still watching her.

                Once she’d reached the end of the hall and turned the corner, she frowned and shook herself.

                A strange mansion, with a strange tour, by an even stranger guide…

                One thing was for sure, there was certainly something afoot in Fogg Place. Unless she missed her guess, Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup were indeed behind the robberies that had brought the dynamic duo, and herself, to Londinium. She was unsure about Lady Prudence, but she WAS sure that whatever was in the Cricket Pavilion was well worth checking out.

                Pressing her lips, Barbara’s mission solidified in her mind. She’d called Alfred to come along and bring her crime fighting equipment. Anyone watching would see her meet the car, then see the car leave, never expecting that she wasn’t inside it.

                Then she’d find out what Prudence was really trying to hide behind that door.



                *                             *                             *



                And so, after her rendezvous with Bruce Wayne’s loyal butler, a quick clothing change in a thicket transforms a meek librarian into a dazzling dame of do-right! With ease, the law-enforcing lass traverses the famed aftergrass lawn of Fogg Place and retraces her steps to the setting of her uncomfortable encounter with Lady Prudence!

                Coming to the outside of the Cricket Pavilion, a quick jimmying of the lock allows her inside—a locked door might be a bar to Barbara Gordon, but no battened barricade can rebuff Batgirl!

                But what’s this? Do playful, predatory eyes watch our dynamic damsel with evil intent? Has Batgirl arrived at the Cricket Pavilion as a surprise or is SHE the one to be caught unawares?!





                Putting her lockpicks back into her utility belt, Barbara—now Batgirl—eased the window open, just enough so she could get inside. She wasn’t afraid of the criminals the manor might house, but it would be simpler if she could get in and out without being noticed. Not to mention that if by some chance it turned out she was wrong about Lord Fogg and this finishing school for girls, it would be very awkward if she was caught breaking and entering.

                The windows into the Cricket Pavilion were oval-shaped and opened left to right, their size and hinges making them appear more like slightly elevated doors. She had to lift her leg clear the bottom of the window, and turn sideways, but was able to slip inside with the same ease as stepping into a bathtub. Once she was inside, she turned back to gently close the window behind her, relatching it without a sound, then surveyed the room.

                The interior of the pavilion was garish in comparison to the distinguished stylings of the rest of Fogg Place. The walls were painted a lime green, the same color as the doorframe in the interior and the windows were trimmed with elaborate decorations, almost like fancy mirrors. The floors were marble and other than a singular dartboard hanging on the wall, the only furniture in the room were several glass display cases, set in a ring.

                Eyes narrowing behind the eye holes of her purple cowl, Batgirl strode to the nearest display case.

                In her tour of the estates, Barbara had seen numerous trophies and displays. If she hadn’t made herself familiar with the items stolen in this Londinium crime spree, she would not have thought twice about the rows of old coins, arranged in plastic cases beneath the glass. But having studied pictures of all the loot carefully, she recognized them right away.

                Plus, there was a placard set on top of the display case that told her exactly what they were.

                “Count of Claremont’s Coin Collection?”

                She peered down at the coins for a moment, then turned to the next one. It was filled with glittering necklaces and was likewise labelled.

                “The Duchess of Desborough’s Diamonds!”

                Leaning over the case, she stared down at them, making sure they were the genuine article. She was almost baffled to see that they were. Blinking, she stared in amazement at the sheer arrogance of leaving the evidence of robbery out in the open. And labelled no less!

                Turning, her cape swishing behind her, she advanced towards the next case.

                “Her Majesty’s Priceless Snuffboxes…”

                Striding past that one, she came to the last of the four, peering in at two dozen lacquered, glittering eggs.

                “And Lady Easterland’s Jeweled Easter Eggs!”

                Placing a fist on her rounded hip, Batgirl chewed on her lip as she examined the eggs in their individual marble stands.

                In striking the manors of Londinium’s nobles, the thieves had gone after only the rarest and most valuable treasures. This was all of them, everything that had been purloined in the last few months, all displayed and labelled in this one room. It was almost difficult to believe how deftly she’d just blown this case open.

                However, as big a windfall as this was (and how pleased she was that she’d solved the case before the dynamic duo), what was she going to do about it? She couldn’t simply gather up all the loot in her cape and carry it to venerable Ireland Yard! Even if she took a few items as proof, Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup could easily move all of this to another location if they suspected they’d been found out. Then it would be her word against two of Londinium’s most respected aristocrats!

                She scrunched her mouth up to one side as she considered, a plan beginning to percolate.

                But before she could begin to implement it, she was interrupted by a familiar voice.

                “Hullo there.”

                Batgirl whirled, tossing the locks of her wig over her shoulder.

                In the window, opposite of the one Barbara had climbed through, Lady Prudence crossed her arms, her hips tilted to one side. The young noblewoman watched the startled vigilante with an arched eyebrow and a wry grin, her eyes twinkling. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised to find a costumed crimefighter snooping around her home, in fact she looked playfully stern, like she’d caught a puppy rooting around in the trash.

                So surprised was Batgirl by the appearance of the smug blonde, that she was momentarily tongue tied. She stared with her mouth open, blue eyes blinking wide.

                Prudence stepped closer to the window, looking the curvy superheroine up and down.

                Regardless of the setting, Batgirl cut a striking figure. Her costume was a shining, glittering purple that made the canary yellow bat symbol on her breast stand out like a spotlight. A satin cape draped over her shoulders, the lining the same shining, cheery yellow as the symbol on her chest. A cowl with the distinct bat ears allowed the hair of her redheaded wig to spill down her shoulders, violet gloves with a row of three fins adorning each hand. Colorful and vibrant, she was all superhero, a symbol of wholesomeness and justice.

                But what drew the eye was not just the costume itself, but the figure it encased. The bat symbol was pressed out by her pert breasts, the snugness of the costume making their round shapes glossy, as if freshly polished. The seams of the suit ran over their tips, making them seem slightly pointed, the grooves of her firm abdominals ever so slightly indenting the fabric.

                Most of all, and what made her clearly a bat GIRL, was the prominent, bell-like shape of her hips. A yellow belt, with squared pouches and a round bat-buckle hung rakishly across them and would have fallen to the floor if they weren’t so flared. Her legs likewise strained the fabric, stretching the purple until it shined off her thighs. The fit was so snug that her knees were clearly visible, a pair of small, heeled boots revealing the curves of her calves, all the way down to her ankles.

                Prudence drew closer to the window, raking her eyes over the heroine’s costumed frame.

                “I’ve heard of you, Batgirl,” she said, “Never seen you, though. There’s not as many pictures of you as Batman and Robin, are there?”

                It took the dynamic dare-doll a second to collect herself. Facing someone she knew as one alter ego, but not the other, was tricky. She had to remind herself that as Batgirl, she’d never met Prudence before and would have little clue who she was.

                Thus prepared, she stood up straighter, staring back with suspicious eyes.

                “And who are you?” she asked coolly.

                “I’m Lady Prudence, only daughter of Lord Fogg,” Prudence smiled, offering a curtsy, “These are my estates, or will be some day. How do you do.”

                After the introductions, the noble girl tilted her head, noticing a slight offense.

                “Dreadfully sorry, you know,” she fluttered her lashes, “But I’m afraid you’re not allowed in that room.”

                At that, Barbara’s eyes narrowed. If she’d had any doubt of Prudence’s allegiance, it was gone now. The girl clearly knew what the room held and even if she hadn’t helped in the robberies themselves, she was at least an accomplice.

                Knowing that, the fact that she was accusing Batgirl of intrusion was a bit rich.

                Putting her hands on her wide hips, the heroine squared up with the blonde criminal. She lifted her chin, pressed out her chest, and spoke with clear moral superiority.

                “That’s funny,” she replied, “Because I don’t think what’s in these display cases should be in this room either.”

                Lips pursed into a small pout, she stared flatly, waiting for the girl in the window to explain herself.

                Prudence smiled innocently, “Oh my. Whatever are you talking about?”

                Batgirl glared, “You can’t fool me, Lady Prudence. Barbara Gordon told me everything. She wasn’t sure about you, but from where I’m standing, I think you know exactly what your father and aunt have been up to.”

                Still smiling, Prudence moved closer to the window, until she was right outside.

                “Batman and Robin are already hot on their trail!” the dominoed dare-doll continued her lecture with a teasing smirk, “And once I tell Ireland Yard about this display, the game will be up! Once they see all the loot stored brazenly stored in this pavilion, the only jewelry Lord Fogg will be enjoying will be steel bracelets!”

                Prudence fluttered her lashes once more, “Blimey. My, but does that sound like you’ve got it all sorted! And what will happen to me, I wonder?”

                Batgirl watched the noble girl carefully. She suspected something was afoot, but she couldn’t yet see what.

                “That depends on you, Lady Prudence,” she replied, “Cooperate and they’ll show leniency. You’ll be fairly treated under the laws of your country, as it should be!”

                With the sly schoolgirl standing so close to the window, it was impossible for Batgirl to see Prudence reaching for something on the wall outside. She saw the girl’s shoulder move slightly, then heard the gentle squeaking of a valve being turned.

                “Hmm,” Prudence pursed her lips, as if in consideration, “It’s an interesting offer. If the governor and auntie were put away, I’d have the run of the manor, wouldn’t I?”

                The squeaking continued, barely audible to the crimefighter inside the pavilion.

                Hands still on her hips, Batgirl squinted at the other girl, growing increasingly suspicious. The sound of the valve was so faint, she wasn’t sure if she was hearing it at all, but something about Prudence’s manner made her think the girl was up to something.

                She took a step closer to the window, about to point out the young noblewoman was stalling, when a clear hissing began to fill the room. There was no mistaking that sound, pipes being opened to release some sort of gas.

                Startled, Barbara stopped to look around the room for the source of the sound, eyes widening in alarm.

                “I’m afraid I’ve never been fond of the laws of my country, though,” Prudence’s grin grew crooked, “Much too stuffy. But I do have a counter proposal.”

                To Batgirl’s shock, as the hissing continued, a white, misty cloud of fog began to rise from the floor. It was slow moving, only creeping upwards, but even so it had overtaken her calves in a pair of seconds, rising to her knees shortly after.

                 The fog left a faint tingling sensation. Barbara covered her mouth with her glove, but she wasn’t in danger of coughing. In fact, she wasn’t sure what the mist was doing at all, other than making her skin feel slightly cool and numb.

                “There’s no reason at all for us to be at loggerheads, Batgirl,” Prudence said with deceptive sweetness, “Promise to cooperate with me. I’ll take you somewhere comfortable and we can have a nice chat while we wait for the governor and everyone else to return.”

                Batgirl’s head snapped up towards the other girl, glaring incredulously.

                She started to advance towards the window, intent on throwing it wide and showing the smug Brit exactly what she thought about that idea.

                “I would never—”

                But rather than taking a step, she wavered in place, almost losing her balance. Mouth falling open, she blinked down at her legs in surprise.

                Her feet weren’t responding. They were cool and tingled like they’d fallen asleep, but while she could feel them, they wouldn’t move. They held her up, but stayed planted on the floor, keeping her right where she was.

                More alarming was that feeling was rising to her calves. And the mist was starting to reach her hips.

                Prudence’s eyes shone with glee.

                “My father and aunt are out getting rid of the dynamic duo as we speak,” she teased, “But if you behave yourself, I’m sure they’ll show you leniency. I’ll put in a good word for you as well!”

                In desperation, Batgirl bent down to pull at one leg, trying to get it moving, but all she succeeded in doing was almost losing her balance again. Not only that, but as the fog continued to rise, her hands and arms were growing inoperable as well, steadily clumsier, noncompliant.

                Breasts heaving in distress, she stood back upright and glared with all her defiance at the sinister schoolgirl watching her through the window.

                “Your felonious family is no match for Batman and Robin, Lady Prudence!” she raised her chin, “And if you think you… y-you…”

                She blinked, finding it harder and harder to speak, the numbness reaching her lips.

                “You’ve… g-gotten the better… of me…”

                Her eyes began to widen, her arms hanging at her side. She stood upright like a toy soldier but couldn’t move. She continued to flutter her eyelashes at the encroaching paralysis, but she could no longer find words. All she could manage was a few soft sounds.

                “th… n… y-y… unh…”

                Sighing, Prudence leaned forward to rest her arm on the window, staring in with smug satisfaction. Though the interior of the room was quickly clouding over, she could still see Batgirl’s curving, colorful form through the fog, standing upright and still.

                “I suppose I’ll take that as a no, then,” she purred, “Bother… but just as well. You never had much choice in the matter, I’m afraid.”

                Batgirl could no longer even make a sound. She tried to move her eyes, but even they remained still, incapable of blinking. She was facing the window and could somewhat see Lady Prudence staring in at her, but the white mist was beginning to make even that impossible. The fog was so thick, she could no longer see the floor or hand in front of her face.

                If she could have lifted her hand, that is…

                “You needn’t worry,” Prudence told her, “You’ll have other opportunities to cooperate. For now, just relax and enjoy your steam bath.”

                Batgirl stared at her helplessly, her entire body cool, that tingle flowing through her from head to toe. She might as well have been a statue.

“I think I’ll have a spot of tea,” Prudence wagged a finger at the immobilized heroine, “If you had been better behaved, you could have joined me. Instead, you’ll have to wait there until I’m ready for you.”

                She bobbed a quick curtsy.

                “Ta, ta, Batgirl,” she winked, “I look forward to rekindling our acquaintance soon…”

                Giving the crimefightress a teasing wave, wiggling her fingers, she then turned and strode away, humming ‘god save the queen’.

                Heart thumping, Batgirl could only stare blankly out the window once the girl had gone, privy to nothing but the immaculately groomed lawn outside.

                But soon, even that was taken away from her. Within a few seconds, the fog enveloped her entirely, and all she could see was white.



                Standing paralyzed by Fogg Place’s paralyzing fog, Batgirl can only helplessly await the return of Lady Prudence from her tea-time. A demoralizing display of defeat for our dynamic damsel detective!

                And what of Batman and Robin? Are Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup truly putting paid to that public-protecting pair? Will anyone notice that Barbara Gordon never returned from Fogg Place? Will Alfred, the secret keeper of all their identities, come to their rescue? What will happen when Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup return?

                All of these questions can only percolate in the captive Batgirl’s mind as she stands involuntary vigil in the Cricket Pavilion.

                But for better or worse, her wait is over before she knows it. Soon her condescending captor returns for her—but what are Lady Prudence’s plans for her paralyzed prisoner?!



                

                Unable to even move her eyes and surrounded by smokey white mist, in time Batgirl’s mind faded into something like a doze. For a while there was panic, but the paralysis was fairly comfortable, the gentle tingling almost like a massage. She lost track of time and there was none of the usual pains one suffered from standing in one place for too long. Perhaps it was a side effect of the gas, but with nothing stimulate her, she gradually began to blank out.

                She only started to return to herself when the air around her began to clear.

                To anyone looking on, it wouldn’t appear as if she did anything other than stare blankly, but in the depths of Batgirl’s mind, she started, her eyes coming back into focus.

                The constant hissing of the gas valve was gone and in fact it had been replaced by the whirring sound of a vacuum. The paralyzing fog was being sucked out of the room, making the white cloud surrounding the heroine disperse and sink. As she was unable to move her eyes, she couldn’t see exactly where the gas was going, only that it was disappearing in the same way it had appeared.

                As the room cleared, Batgirl was left as still as a statue, like another decoration of the lime green pavilion. She appeared upright and relaxed, arms at her sides, with a surprised look on her face. It looked like she was merely looking out the window, transfixed by something outside that was slightly alarming.

                Instinctively, the young crimefighter tried to move, but couldn’t even twitch an eyelid. Though the gas had vanished, its effects lingered, that cool tingling flowing through her, leaving her feeling slightly detached from herself. It was like she was a spirit dwelling inside someone else’s body, witness to all its strange sensations but unable to do anything but watch.

                Worry swelled once more in her breast.

                Was this permanent?

                No, it couldn’t be! She was on the side of justice! This would NOT be her fate! She would free herself, break whatever trance she was under through sheer force of will or, failing that, Alfred, Batman, or Robin would find her and reverse this! She was Batgirl and she would NOT give in to fear and despair!

                As soon as she finished that thought, the door to the pavilion opened with a click. It was directly behind her so she couldn’t see, but she heard it creak open, then footsteps strode in, light and graceful.

                Batgirl’s heart began to flutter with both nervousness and hope. She doubted it was someone friendly, and she was reminded of how completely defenseless she was, but a tiny part of her dared to consider that perhaps Alfred had found her. Perhaps her rescue was already at hand!

                The door was gently closed, clicking as it shut, then the footsteps continued, striding towards her.

                “And there you are,” came Prudence’s soft voice, “Just as I left you.”

                Batgirl’s hope faded, while her worry blossomed. She hadn’t really expected anyone other than Lord Fogg’s treacherous daughter would have found her so quickly, but knowing the girl was coming towards her set her nerves on edge. Simply hearing her voice made Barbara uncomfortable, doubly so when she couldn’t even move.

                The footsteps drew ever closer, clicking lightly on the marble floor. Prudence was strolling towards her, making a meal of each step, as if she was trying to draw out her approach as long as possible.

                “I hope you weren’t too bored,” she purred, “You deserved a bit of punishment, but it’s not entirely your fault you came here. After all, I did lure you.”

                With a final few strides, she finally reached the transfixed vigilante. She strode past the purple-clad heroine, as if she was more interested in something outside, then turned elegantly on her heel to face her frozen prisoner.

                Lady Prudence approached slowly, looking Batgirl’s curvy figure up and down. Her chin was tucked as she came, a small, coy grin pulling at her lips. Shoulders raised, she fiddled with the end of her scarf, twisting it fretfully with the fingers of both hands. She looked almost shy.

                “A few hints to little Miss Gordon,” she said, “And I knew she’d go right to her father. And bob’s your uncle… here you are.”

                She stopped in front of her paralyzed captive, eyes lowered to admire the shapely legs.

                “Well…” she all but whispered, “Actually, I thought it would be Batman and Robin…”

                Her gaze slowly rose back to her prisoner’s face, blue eyes shining with cruel amusement.

                “But, I must say,” a wicked grin curled her mouth, “I’m quite delighted that you’re the one who accepted my invitation...”

                Batgirl continued to stare off at nothing with a look of innocent surprise, but in her mind she was cringing. Prudence being so close to her, speaking in that cool, even voice, was making her chest burn with irritation. Her tone was just so… feathery soft, with the faintest hint of teasing, that it infuriated her, with her grin just on the verge of gloating without becoming mocking.

                She found herself wishing the smug schoolgirl would just outright laugh at her or tell her she was done for. She was at least used to that.

                Instead, Prudence said nothing. Silence reigned in the Cricket Pavilion as the nefarious noblewoman continued to look the caped crusader over, pouting her lips thoughtfully. She stepped to the side, circling to Batgirl’s left and the click of her shoes rang out on the marble floor.

                Click… click… clack…

                “A BatGIRL…” Prudence mused, “Much more interesting than a BatMAN… or a Robin… I do like the purple as well…”

                She plucked playfully at the satin cape as she continued her circle, examining like she would a sculpture.

                Click… click…

                “Quite a fetching thing… pretty face, from what I can see… very… fit…”

                She traced a finger just along the caped shoulder, coming around to the heroine’s right side.

                Barbara had never wanted to grit her teeth so much in her life.

                What was this girl’s problem?! What was she looking at?! Why was she being so bizarre?!

                And what was it about her that made Batgirl so frustrated?!

                “So very wholesome, aren’t you?” Prudence cooed, “Forthright, earnest… It’s all so unbearably cute.”

                Then her hand slipped lower, fingertips running down Batgirl’s waist.

                “And of course…” her hand rounded her captive’s hip, “Your legs are just… smashing…”

                The girl’s palm finally pressed on the heroine’s thigh, feeling its way down the side.

                The instant the hand felt over her leg, Barbara’s heart jumped so violently she was sure it would lift her off the ground.

                Although the young heroine enjoyed the freedom of the close-fitting costume, as well as the looks it garnered, she was also chaste and inexperienced when it came to hands on her body. As Prudence felt over the groove that ran along the side of her thigh, then over the front, exploring its every tone angle, she wanted to squeal and slap the hand away. But she couldn’t move an inch and couldn’t make a sound.

                As if sensing her captive’s discomfort, Prudence looked up into Batgirl’s eyes as she continued feeling. The sparkly costume gave the shape beneath a smooth, almost slippery texture, and even relaxed, the heroine’s strong legs were firm and girlishly spry. Drawing half a step closer, she continued letting her hand roam, groping around to the tighter back of the leg, where the hamstrings stretched.

                “Father will be ever so pleased to see that I’ve captured you,” she cooed to Batgirl’s stunned features, “And I can only imagine how the girls will react. They’ll be ever so jealous…”

                She drew closer to whisper into her prisoner’s ear.

                “But finders keepers, as they say…”

                Her hand drifted higher, until it rounded over a pert, protuberant swell. As full as the thigh was, this swelled even more obtrusively, a bubbled, tight package beneath the stretchy fabric.

                “Oh my…” Prudence tittered, “And it appears I’ve found a bat-bottom, haven’t I?”

                 While the sinister schoolgirl grinned, her touch grew firmer and more intimate as it explored Batgirl’s flanks. The shapes were relaxed, giving as her hand pressed, but were held tightly by the shining seat of the costume. When she groped along the heart-shaped underside, then pressed from one side to the other, the perky globes gave but sprang back to their shape an instant later. She didn’t do anything so crass as pinching or squeezing, only feeling, her touch gliding slowly over every facet, as if trying to memorize the heroine’s rump by feel.

                Despite her apathetic posture, Batgirl’s heart was in her throat and pounding frantically. She was still partially in disbelief that the girl was touching her this way, or that anyone would be so evil as to take advantage of her in this state. So inexperienced was she in such things, that she hadn’t imagined how much it would trouble her to have someone feeling her body, exploring her in ways that were so very… improper.

                The costume fit snugly over the dual moons of her bottom, stretched across them with a shallow valley than ran along the gap where they met. Prudence traced a finger just along that groove, tickling in a manner that made the innocent heroine want to squirm.

                Though she was paralyzed, Batgirl felt every stroke and grope. In fact, the tingling sensation the gas had infused into her body made the feeling even more noticeable, deepening to a healthy throb everywhere the hand roamed. It was all so… terribly wrong.

                But what was most wrong about it was that the sensation of being groped was actually pleasant.

                While one hand continued to smooth around on Batgirl’s butt in slow circles, the other came up to feel over her stomach. It ran upwards, feeling the toned abs beneath the suit, the fingers spreading out to seek every nook and groove on the way.

                Prudence looked up at the heroine’s face for a moment, as if considering what must have been going on behind her blank, amazed expression, then turned her gaze back down to her work.

                “I hope you don’t think me too wicked,” she said softly, “You are trying to ruin my family, after all. I couldn’t allow for that.”

                Her hand glided up to Batgirl’s chest. She placed a finger just under the round shape of the heroine’s breast then traced it around, smiling coyly into her wide, blue eyes.

                “There was no personal enmity,” the noble girl continued to explain, “And I hope, now that you’ve lost, that I can make your… imprisonment as pleasant as possible. No need to be nasty, I should think.”

                She drew her fingertip all the way around the heroine’s breast, then came to the yellow Batgirl symbol in the center. She traced along its edges, over the little bat ears then followed the wings. As she did this, she drew yet closer, until her hip pressed into her captive’s.

                The touching and closeness brought sudden heat to Barbara’s face. She could feel the schoolgirl’s soft breasts against her shoulder, her hip nudging gently. Even paralyzed, she began to blush beneath her mask and inwardly squealed in embarrassment. Out of wanting to shout at her captor, to pull away, punch her, or even glare at her, the only reaction she could manage was a blush, of all things.

                She dearly hoped the other girl wouldn’t notice.

                “I actually quite fancy you,” Prudence purred, still looking shyly at her prisoner’s chest, “Lovely legs, healthy bosom, perky bum…”

                Her eyes rose to Batgirl’s above lips that were spread in a delighted grin.

                She immediately saw the crimefightress’ blush and tittered softly.

                “Adorable…” she leaned closer, “I think you are precisely my type…”

                Her lips pressed to the helpless heroine’s cheek, just beside her lips, and gave her a warm, gentle kiss.

                At the soft, slightly wet pressure to her cheek, Batgirl’s heart skipped several troubling beats. She felt her hair stand up, a sudden chill bringing goosebumps, and she had the uncomfortable certainty that her cheeks had turned from pink to a faint red.

                Prudence held the kiss, her hand taking a firmer grip on the heroine’s backside, then drew slowly back with a faint ‘smeck’. She had left a small mark of pink lip gloss; this pleased her, and she grinned.

                “I didn’t expect the famous Batgirl to be so shy,” she cooed, “Or perhaps you’re more experienced fighting criminals than the… gentler struggles…”

                Barbara cringed at the accuracy of the statement. Her pulse tripped in an uncomfortable, but not unpleasant manner; she had no idea how to respond to the confusion sensations.

                Prudence raised her hand from the heroine’s chest to stroke a pouty lip with her thumb.

                “I shall have to tutor you, then,” her eyes narrowed, “I’m well-learned in such pursuits. And we have oodles of time…”

                With another soft giggle, she tickled Batgirl under the chin, wrinkling her nose in girlish delight.

                Barbara felt like she was standing on pins and needles. She wanted to pull away from the other girl with every fiber of her being… well, almost every fiber, which was part of the problem. Part of her enjoyed the gentle touches, particularly in the state she was in, and that made her even more uncomfortable. Her emotions were confused and roiling, leaving her in almost a panic.

                But with a sigh, Prudence gave the heroine’s bum a gentle pat, then turned away. Her heels clicked across the marble floor, leaving Batgirl alone in silence.

                There was a frightening swell of disappointment when the girl left Barbara by herself. As much as it maddened her to be groped and teased, she felt suddenly cold with no one nearby, still transfixed like a statue. Part of her hoped Prudence wasn’t leaving her again, and another part hoped the girl would never come back.

                However, soon the teasing temptress returned, approaching Batgirl from behind where her captive couldn’t see her.

                “You needn’t worry about the gas,” Prudence said, “The effects aren’t permanent at all. You’ll be right as rain in a few hours, I should think.”

                This news gave Batgirl a sense of relief, but only a small one. She didn’t doubt that if the gas wore off, Prudence and her clan had other, perhaps more uncomfortable means to keep her prisoner.

                Her suspicions were proven correct when the blonde noblewoman took her hands and drew them behind her back. Her arms were limp, offering no resistance when Prudence crossed her wrists, then began winding a rope around them.

                “There we are,” the girl cooed as she worked, “Can’t have you flailing about once your paralysis wears off, can we?”

                Batgirl could do nothing but stare blankly out the window as her hands were bound. If she’d been able to move, she could have been tensing in order to create slack in the ropes she could use to wiggle free later. In this state, however, she could only feel the girl tying her firmly and with a distressing amount of expertise. They clearly taught many things at this school for criminal girls beyond picking pockets.

                Finally, Prudence finished her work, crisply yanking a knot tight to secure the ropes.

                “Tidy and tight.” she chirped with satisfaction.

                She let go of her captive’s hands and they dropped to bounce against her bottom.

                “I think that’ll do for now,” the young villainess strode up beside her, “Once the governor and the others return, I’m certain you’ll be settled in much more snugly. It shouldn’t be long.”

                Smiling, Prudence looped her arm through Batgirl’s girls and held it with the crook of her elbow.

                “But I think we’ve both been in here long enough,” she said, “Neither of us are allowed in here, you know. Come now. I’ll show you a more comfortable place you can rest.”

                Arm in arm with Batgirl, the girl turned and began leading the heroine away.

                At first, Barbara’s heart leapt, thinking she would simply fall over. To her surprise, her legs began to move of their own accord, like they remembered the motion of walking and simply needed to be guided. They were a bit stiff at first, but they quickly began to take even steps, one after the other.

                Hoping this meant she had regained some kind of control, the heroine immediately tried to move, but it was no good. Her legs were moving on autopilot, no more voluntary than the beating of her heart.

                “Come, come, Batgirl,” Prudence turned her around, “Let us rest in the third guest sitting room. It’s my favorite of the first five guest sitting rooms, you know.”

                The two girls walked almost in step back across the marble floor towards the far door, Prudence smiling fondly at her blankly staring companion. They didn’t appear in any hurry, moving calmly and daintily. From a distance it would have looked like two good friends, enjoying one another’s company.

                For Batgirl, it was a bizarre sensation. Her view changed from out the window of the Cricket Pavilion to the door to the hallway, bouncing slightly with her own footsteps, over which she had no control. She felt her legs moving, the gentle impact of her boots on the floor, and Prudence’s arm squeezing her own, but she was merely a passenger within her own body. And her body seemed to want to go exactly where the girl wanted her, obediently and without fuss.

                The sensations were all so disorienting that it began to feel like a dream, her thought fog-bound and light-headed.

                Maybe this really was a dream. Maybe she was still in her apartment in Gotham, asleep, and would soon awaken to the sound of her parakeet Charlie chirping for food. It was far-fetched, but not much more bizarre than what had happened to her over the past few hours.

                Such thoughts swirled in Barbara’s mind as Prudence led her to the door and opened it. Smiling, she patted her captive’s arm and guided her through it, closing it behind them before taking her down the halls of Fogg Place to the third guest sitting room.



                Criminy! A cold comfort indeed to be coddled by this corrupt contessa! But bound and beguiled, there’s little Batgirl can do other than play along with Lady Prudence’s perverse plans. Canny as she may be, the clever crime fightress continues to cringe with the knowledge that soon the rest of Fogg Place’s insidious inhabitants will return from their evil errands, further compounding the complications of her escape!

                But time is often a cruel conductor, speeding by when one dreads an approaching appointment. Though it was hours in waiting, long enough for Batgirl to recover from her paralysis, it seemed all too soon that Lord Fogg and the others enters the doors of Fogg Place, full of frustration at plans only partially punctuated.



                *                             *                             *



                Striding into the main living room, followed by the butler, cook, and others of his criminal staff, Lord Marmaduke Fogg puffed proudly on his famous pipe. Tall and lean, wearing a deer-stalker hat and enjoying his pipe, he cut a Sherlock Holmesish figure, though his allegiance was ironically to the opposite side of the law than that of the famous detective.

                He was gone to an early, distinguished gray, his cheeks flushed with the excitement of his outing, and his excitement only grew when he saw his sister already waiting for him, joined by the girls of their criminal finishing school.

                “Ah, Penelope! A most fortuitous outing!” Lord Fogg declared.

                Stopping in front of the more diminutive Lady Peasoup, the venerable aristocrat puffed out his chest, his pipe tilting upwards with his grin.

                “Oh, indeed, Marmaduke?” the round-faced Lady replied, “Do tell! The girls and I would love a good hunting story!”

                Lord Fogg quickly scanned the handful of finishing girls positioned behind his lady sister. They were all roughly the same age, pretty, wearing the high socks and pleated skirts of schoolgirls, though not uniformed as one might expect. Grinning politely, they watched the “governor” with careful eyes, being well-educated in the sly arts of criminal subterfuge.

                But the criminal lord noticed one was missing. The head girl, in fact, his flesh and blood heir.

                “In a moment, Penelope, dear,” he peered around for his daughter, “There’s little point in exposition without everyone present and accounted for! Where is Prudence?”

                Lady Penelope Peasoup blinked owlishly up at him. Although quite cunning herself, she hid it well behind a doddering persona and a slow, airy accent, as if speaking too quickly was a chore.

                “I don’t know for certain, Marmaduke,” she continued to slowly blink, “She said she would stay behind to entertain Barbara Gordon, the American Police Commissioner’s daughter, but I haven’t seen her since we arrived. Surely, she can’t have gone far, in any case!”

                “Prudence?” Lord Fogg called out, “Prudence, where are you, my dear?”

                Once the lord of the manor called out, it was only a moment before the gathered inhabitants of Fogg Place heard his daughter reply.

                “Coming, father!”

                From a nearby hallway, a door opened. There was a short, muffled cry of protest, a shuffling as if someone was being dragged along, but after a moment there came the distinct sound of two different sets of footsteps. They marched along the hardwood floor towards the living room.

                After a few moments, Lady Prudence strode into the living room from an adjoining hallway. Beside her, pouting furiously and being led by her arm, was Batgirl.

                “And I have a guest.” Prudence announced with a smile

                The costumed crimefightress looked quickly around the room upon entering, taking note of all the players. A yellow scarf had been pulled between her teeth, then tied behind her head as a gag, and she chewed on it fretfully. She submitted to where her captor wanted to take her, not trying to pull away, and her head was lowered, abashed at her predicament.

                The schoolgirls immediately erupted in squeals of excitement and delight.

                “Batgirl! She has Batgirl!”

                “I told you there was a Batgirl! Look at her!”

                “I’m out of my skin! She’s a right bobby dazzler!”

                As Prudence crossed the room with her chagrined captive, Lord Fogg chortled merrily.

                “Hahaha! A guest indeed!” he said, “Well done, Prudence, well done! A captive Batgirl is most welcome in our abode!”

                “Yes, well done, Lady Prudence!” Lady Peasoup joined in, “She fits beautifully with the décor!”

                The girls swarmed Batgirl when she reached them, surrounding her with coos and giggles of delight. In an instant, their hands were all over her, feeling over her shining suit, stroking the hair of her wig, as well as just running their hands over her body.

                “These threads are SMASHING!” one of them giggled.

                “Her hips are round as a bell! And her pretty eyes!”

                So surprised was she by the sudden torrent of attention, Batgirl could only look around at them in alarm as they crowded her. She squeaked in surprise when a hand palmed over her breast, but at the same time another felt over her bottom, and she yelped again almost immediately. Eyes wide with shock, she tried to twist away from their groping hands, head whipping back and forward from one invader to the next.

                But there was nowhere to turn. They were pressing in from all sides, smothering her.

                “HHMFF!” she cried out helplessly through her gag, only able to squirm while almost a dozen hands explored her.

                Prudence didn’t help in the slightest. She watched with a grin and a hint of pride, like she was showing off a new puppy to her adoring friends.

                “I’ll look after her while she’s here! Wouldn’t you like that, Batgirl?”

                “No, you shan’t, I shall! Ooh, her legs are right fit!”

                “You little slammer jammer! I saw her first!”

                Lady Peasoup was the one to finally calm them down. She clapped her hands for attention.

                “Ladies!” she chided, “Quiet, please.”

                After a few seconds, the swarming schoolgirls subsided, their bubbling chatter turning to silence. They obediently turned towards their headmistress, smiling expectantly, but they all remained very close to Batgirl, a fact which the young crime fighter was all too aware. There were two different arms around her waist, another across her shoulder, a hand gently stroking her tummy, and another playing with her cape. They all pressed close to her, still touching, refusing to give up their claim on her.

                Her heart hammering, blushing pink, Batgirl looked around at them with the wide eyes of a startled kitten. She’d thought Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup were her biggest concern, but now she was much more concerned about this pack of gushing schoolgirls. Being led in as a bound and gagged captive had been embarrassing enough.

                With the room under control, Lord Fogg took the floor once more. He puffed out his chest and hooked his thumbs into his front pockets.

                “Yes, indeed!” he pronounced, “And while Lady Prudence was dealing with the BatGIRL, the lads and I were dealing with the BatMAN!”

                Batgirl turned to him at that, frowning behind her cowl, while Lady Peasoup’s face lit up with delight.

                “Oh, Markaduke, really?” the noblewoman gasped, “Did you really see to Batman?”

                “Quite so, Penelope!” Lord Fogg replied, “The ambush at the Three Bells went swimmingly! Batman’s mind is now the most fog-bound in Britain, his memories wiped completely by our brain-fog device!”

                Batgirl stiffened. She didn’t believe for a moment that Lord Fogg and his men had really put paid to Batman, but it did make things more complicated. These Londinium larceners clearly had them on the back foot, which meant she probably couldn’t count on an immediate rescue. She would have to free herself… if she could.

                However, the Londinium lord’s sister was less than excited. Her smile dimmed, even looking a bit disappointed.

                “Ah…” she cleared her throat, “You know I don’t like to be a, uh, a wet blanket, Marmaduke. But I’m not certain Batman has been entirely dealt with.”

                “Nonsense!” Lord Fogg scoffed, “We left him in the Three Bells without a thought in his head, didn’t we, lads?”

                He turned to his staff, including the butler, his driver, and cook, who were all dressed up as ruffians. They heartily agreed with cockney accents and half a dozen ‘guvnah’’s.

                “There, you see?” the proud aristocrat grinned, “Now how did you come out, my dear? Did you get your hands on that ship-full of mod textiles?”

                Lady Peasoup pursed her lips before answering, giving her brother a distressed upturn of her eyebrows.

                “I’m sorry to say, Marmaduke, but the girls and I are empty handed,” she sadly replied, “Just as we arrived, Robin cut the line on the cargo ship and it drifted away!”

                Heartened by this, Batgirl perked up slightly. At least Robin was still out there.

Lord Fogg frowned at the news.

“Ah, most unfortunate,” he replied, “But never mind, we’ll take care of him soon enough. One Boy Wonder is no match for us. Without Batman, he’ll never be able to stop our greatest crime yet! The Crown Jewels!”

“THH KRMHH MHHH!?” Batgirl exclaimed through her gag.

The Crown Jewels?! The young crime fighter would never have imagined Lord Fogg would be so bold or ambitious!

However, Lady Peasoup winced and paused again. She was reluctant to speak, but did so anyway, fretting with her purse as she did so.

“But Marmaduke, that’s what I intended to tell you when I began!” she complained, “As we tried to catch the ship, we saw Robin and an older man help Batman out of his stupor! They must have had some sort of device to reverse his condition!”

“What?!” Lord Fogg exclaimed.

“Yes!” Lady Peasoup nodded, joining in his outrage, “And then they all got into their Batmobile and drove away! On the wrong side of the street, even, without so much as a farewell!”

Though she was gagged, bound, and in the hands of more than enough girls to keep her helpless, Batgirl stood up a bit straighter, some of her confidence returning. She’d known that there was no way this crew could take care of Batman so easily! Now the caped crusader would figure out their plan and beat them to the punch like he always did, and she would be there to land a kick or two of her own!

“Drat!” Lord Fogg slapped his thigh, “This Batman is a cannier opponent than I realized!”

Snatching his pipe, he bent down and knocked the end angrily against his shoe, dislodging the used-up tobacco.

“We shall have to finish him for good, next time!” he said, “Him and that Boy Wonder as well!”

With the pipe now empty, but nothing else to do with it, the lord jammed it back between his teeth and scowled. He chewed on the stem, his bottom lip jutting out, and stared into the distance, considering the best way to see his previous statement done.

“Hmph!” Batgirl nodded, pleased to see the villain so stymied.

Lady Peasoup and the girls were too busy fretting to notice, but Lady Prudence heard the heroine’s satisfied grunt and turned to her. She fixed her captive with her usual knowing grin.

“Hmm,” her eyes lidded, “My lord, unless I’m amiss, I think Batgirl would like to say something…”

Still frowning, annoyed at being disturbed from his reverie, the larcenous lord turned towards his daughter. He stared at her, then at their purple-clad captive, then brightened as he remembered that he hadn’t me failure on all fronts.

“Ah, yes!” he stroked his chin, “We do have the Batgirl, don’t we? Well, if she’d like to make a statement, then by all means! Let’s hear from the girl!”

Prudence was already untying the gag as her father spoke.

Batgirl felt a bit unsettled as everyone in the room turned their attention to her, waiting for her to speak. Although she was partly glad of the opportunity to give them all a piece of her mid, she didn’t exactly have a speech prepared. She suspected Prudence’s intention was to put her on the spot and embarrass her, like a chatty girl being called out in class, and she admitted she did feel that way for a moment. All in all, she was grateful of the time it took to untie the scarf and slip it from her mouth.

                “Mmhh…” she narrowed her eyes at Prudence as the girl wiggled the gag free of her mouth.

                Prudence merely smiled innocently back, fluttering her lashes.

                “You’ve found yourself in quite the predicament, eh, Batgirl?” Lord Fogg grinned, strutting towards her, “If you wish to plead your case, fire away! I’m all ears, as they say! As a gentleman, I’m ever willing to listen to the pleas of the fairer sex, intruder or not!”

                Batgirl turned toward him, fixing him with a stern pout. His patronizing manner was enough to bring heat to her cheeks and she momentarily considered yelling at him.

                Instead, she decided not to give him the satisfaction. The best way to handle this was to not appear afraid. Though he was a head taller than her, she lifted her nose haughtily, standing up to her full height.

                “It will be a hot day in Londinium before I plead for anything from you, Lord Fogg!” she snapped.

                Her response drew gasps from a few of the girls.

                Lord Fogg raised his eyebrows.

                “Well, now!” he chuckled.

                Narrowing her eyes, Batgirl continued her diatribe.

                “If you think you’ve gotten the better of Batman and Robin, you’re the one who’s fog bound!” she pronounced, “I figured out your scam! And if I did, so will they! It’s only a matter of time before they foil your plans, and you wind up locked in the tower of Londinium!”

                The girls’ shock turned to cries out outrage.

Batgirl had barely finished her statement, before one of them pinched her on the arm, drawing a yelp. Startled, she looked around to find herself surrounded by stern schoolgirls, all wagging their fingers and scowling.

                “Why you little gibber gabber!”

                Another gave her a smack on the rump, “Plenty of mouth on this one! We ought to give her a good hiding for speaking to his lordship that way!”

                “Wash her mouth with soap, is what we should do!” another grabbed her chin, “Give her a good tongue scrub!”

                Batgirl winced and shrunk back, eyes growing wide with alarm. As she was overwhelmed by all the shrill voices shouting her down, Lady Prudence watched with dry grin. She kept a hand on her captive’s arm, but neither protected her or joined in, simply enjoying the show as the girls gave her more pinches and smacks, one even giving her hair a yank.

                “OW!” Batgirl flushed as one of the girls gave her a stringing smack on the backside.

                “Take a cane to this bottom, we will!” the girl snapped.

                “Right good rogering will set her straight!”

                After several seconds of collective scolding, Lord Fogg finally raised his hand for attention.

                “Now, now, girls!” he chided.

                The chatter from the schoolgirls immediately went silent. They turned dutifully towards the lord; they were thieves, but well-mannered thieves.

                “Our guest is merely speaking her mind as directed,” he waggled an instructive finger in the air, “As mistaken as Batgirl is, we cannot blame her for speaking when spoken to,” he then turned his attention to Batgirl herself, “But I am afraid we shall have to do SOMETHING with you, my dear. We can’t simply have you skipping along to Ireland Yard with the location of our criminal collection!”

                “Oh, Marmaduke, we do have oodles of room in the dungeon!” Lady Peasoup chimed in, “Perhaps we should put her there for the time being, while we decide what should be done with her?”

                “Right-ho, Penelope!” Fogg pointed to his sister, “I was thinking the very same! Batgirl shall go to the dungeon and there she shall stay, a pretty prisoner while we move forward with our plans!”

                Striding up to the restrained heroine, he cupped her jaw, tilting it up to look at him.

                Still flushed, her hands bound, surrounded by schoolgirl guards, Batgirl could only scrunch up her lips and give him a dirty look.

                “But never to worry, my dear,” Lord Fogg’s eyes twinkled, “You shan’t have to wait for long! We shall see to all the bats in our belfry soon enough!”

                Batgirl kept her dirty look in place, but her jaw tightened and her brow knitted beneath her mask. As brave as she was, the idea of being ‘seen to’ was discomforting to say the least. She would have to find a way out of here soon, if Batman and Robin weren’t already on their way.

                It was Lady Peasoup that ended the moment of reflection. She stood up, clapping her hands for attention, and when she spoke her voice was crisp and business-like.

                “Yes, well, you heard him, ladies!” she called, “It’s down to the dungeon with Batgirl! Come now! Lively, please!”

                At the order, the hands of the girls already touching Batgirl gripped more firmly, while a few others were added to group, all holding her tightly.

                “That’s right, Batgirl!” one of the girls giggled, “Down to the dungeon you go!”

                “You’ll be held nice and tight down there!” another grinned at her, “You’re not getting away from us!”

                Batgirl blinked wide-eyed at them, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of playful attention. She’d been plenty helpless before, but now the group of girls were all but piling on her, holding her so tightly and from so many directions she felt like she was on the verge of being torn apart. She tried to glare at them, but only managed a wan pout, her cheeks flushing beneath her cowl.

                As the others smothered her, Lady Prudence actually took a small step back, watching Batgirl with a pleased smirk.

                Cackling, enjoying themselves, the girls turned their overwhelmed captive toward the dungeon, but their numbers, as well as how they were all clinging to her, made it an awkward proposition. Unable to walk in step, bumping into each other, the gaggle of girls marched at a stumbling pace, and found it difficult to maneuver around the furniture. This didn’t dim their fun in the slightest, even making them squeal and laugh as they tripped over each other.

                They didn’t get far before Lady Peasoup was fed up with their playing.

                “Oh, honestly, girls!” she rolled her eyes, “Stop giggling and get on with it! Elizabeth, you take her left arm, Margarete, you take her right! The rest of you can follow along if you like but stay out of the way and keep an eye on her! Make sure she doesn’t attempt anything untoward!”

                The girls’ giggling died down as they obeyed their matron, but their eager grins were unaffected. Two of them quickly took Batgirl by the biceps and elbows, with the precision of having practiced such things, and the others drifted away, staying close but of each other’s way. Prudence marched around before them to lead the way, with a grin over her shoulder at their captive, then the formation began moving in a more coordinated fashion.

                Still blushing, Batgirl glared at Lady Prudence. Even with the other girls tittering and teasing her, the blonde heiress was the one that bothered her the most.

                As they made their way toward the gate that led to the dungeon, the girls began giggling softly once more, covering their mouths and whispering conspiratorially. One of them brushed aside her cape, and the others tittered, playfully swatting at each other.

                Realizing they were watching her bottom shift the glittery seat of her costume, Batgirl blushed, hunching her shoulders up.

                Lady Peasoup noticed this as well.

                “You are to take Batgirl to the dungeon, secure her, then come back straight away,” the larcenous lady put her hands on her hips, “She is a prisoner, not a toy for you to play with. Lady Prudence, if you would supervise?”

                Reaching the gate, Prudence turned and curtsied, eyes lidded with mischief and irony.

                “Of course, Auntie,” she replied in a silky voice, “I’ll see to it Batgirl is well taken care of.”

                Staying low in her curtsy for just a moment, the girl stood upright and took the handle of the gate in the same elegant motion. With polished ease, she then turned the handle and floated out of the way, even as she gestured towards the steps that led into Fogg Place’s darkened holding cells.

                “After you.” She smiled demurely.

                Some of the girls giggled and curtsied in return before marching Batgirl down the steps.

                Batgirl allowed herself to be led, knowing it was pointless to try to fight back while she was so firmly held. But though she didn’t appear reluctant, she swallowed as the girls took her down into the bowels beneath the manor, their footsteps echoing off of cavernous walls.

                She would have to escape this place and soon. She didn’t savor the idea of being an object of entertainment for these sinister schoolgirls. And she definitely didn’t want to find out how Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup intended to deal with her.

                However, there was little she could do right then. She was led down into darkness, to chambers of stone and iron, where she would be held to await her captors’ pleasures.



                *                             *                             *



                While Batman and Robin continue their battle against Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup, their mysterious ally Batgirl remains bound in the dungeon beneath Fogg Place. All attempts at escape have been for naught, the old shackles and chains of that subterranean prison as effective as they when they were first forged. 

                Trapped but with her spirit undimmed, the dynamic dare-doll waits for her opportunity, either of rescue or escape. With little but stone walls for company, she can only wonder at how the caped crusaders are faring and at the plans of her captors, resisting the worry swelling in her heart. It does look dire indeed for our young heroine!

                But it appears a familiar face is on her way to pay our brave bibliophile a visit! Will this be a welcome interruption of the monotony of captivity or is it the herald of straits even more perilous?

                

                For the umpteenth time, Batgirl rattled the chains of her manacles but found them uncompromising. She gave them a few hard yanks, more out of frustration than a hope that she’d loosen them from the stone walls, then gave up with a sigh. Letting herself hang from them, she peered around her prison for a way to escape or alleviate her boredom, her expression profoundly displeased.

                The dungeon was just how one would imagine such a place. Lit only by torches, the rough-hewn, cobble stoned walls glowed orange, but were juxtaposed with dark shadows wherever the light didn’t touch. The place had a dank, earthy smell, many of the stones still shining from where water leaked in through the topsoil, an ever-present dripping sound ringing out from somewhere Batgirl hadn’t been able to pinpoint. It was cold, hard, and uncomfortable, never mind being shackled to the wall.

                After bringing her down, the girls of the finishing school had placed her against two pillars of cobbled stone in almost the very center of the dungeon. Her manacles were attached to chains short enough that her hands were held level with her head, leaving her unable to sit and, as she was between the two pillars, unable to lean. The most she could do to rest was kneel and dangle from her restraints, which the uneven stone floor made painful if done for very long. Most of the time she was forced to stand, presented like a virgin sacrifice, and though she hadn’t been there for long, her position was wearing on her.

                The constant drip grating on her nerves, Batgirl gave her chains another quick jerk, then settled in to contemplate her fate.

                She didn’t have long to ponder before the creak of the dungeon’s gate made the heroine’s head pop up, suddenly alert. If she had any doubt that she was about to have a visitor, it was dispelled when she heard the clicking of shoes coming down the steps, their echoes resounding the closer they came.

                Batgirl stood up straighter, her chains rattling as she tensed. She couldn’t see who was coming and had no idea what they intended, whether they had come to taunt her or to… dispose of her. Either way, she gathered her courage, fixing a glare on the dungeon’s worn, oaken doorway. Whoever it was, and whatever they wanted, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her afraid.

                The footsteps grew louder, ringing off the wooden doorway, their pace languid and unhurried. It was as if their owner knew Barbara was listening and that each echoing step swelled her apprehension, making her shift nervously in her bonds. The clops of shoes to stone filled the dungeon, almost like the steady tolling of a bell, announcing the hour of execution.

                Batgirl drew in a deep breath. She reminded herself that no matter what happened, good would triumph in the end. She and the dynamic duo had been in peril before, but they had always come out on top. This time would be no different.

                She told herself these things, but they were a small comfort in the darkness of the dungeon, with her helpless and chained to the wall.

                The footsteps finally reached the door and there was a loud clack as it was unlocked. There was silence for a moment, as if the person on the other side of it was putting away the key, then the door slowly creaked open.

                Lady Prudence strode daintily through it, then closed it behind her. The door shut and she turned to lock it behind her with another clack. Only after she’d brushed her blonde hair back and straightened out her nightgown, did she turn toward the restrained crimefighter.

                Upon seeing her, the young heiress fluttered her lashes, as if surprised to find her there.

                “Why, hello, Batgirl,” she smiled, “Still up and about, then?”

                Batgirl wrinkled her nose, squinting darkly at her playful captor.

                The noble girl was so… irritating! Seeing that cool grin of hers made Barbara want to shriek!

                “I don’t know how you do things in Londinium,” she replied archly, “But in Gotham, we usually don’t sleep as well when we’re chained to a wall.”

                Batgirl’s irritation only grew when her rival wasn’t put off by her comment in the slightest. Eyes twinkling, she gave the heroine a quick look up and down, enjoying the view once more, then advanced towards her, strolling in no real hurry.

                Prudence’s clothing and appearance made it clear that it was not only nighttime, but that she’d either been in bed or just about to go to bed when she’d decided to visit. Her platinum hair was let out of its coif and had been brushed until it shone, allowed to spill down over one side of her face. She was dressed in a silk nightgown that was folded over her chest, the thin garment shimmering as her hips swayed. It came all the way to her ankles, swishing around her feet, which were clad in delicate slippers.

                Judging by how closely it hugged her figure, she was wearing very little beneath it, if anything at all.

                Although the girl’s silence further irritated her, Batgirl bit her tongue and kept her cool stare in place. She could play the silent game too and remain aloof as long as anyone. If her criminal captor was going to forego replying, then so would she.

                But as Prudence came closer, Batgirl noticed the girl was holding a small package in her arms. It was a velvet case, about the size of a shoe box, and the young heiress cradled it against her chest, deliberately careful.

                “I hope you don’t mind, I thought you might enjoy some company,” Prudence said as she approached, “I assume it gets quite boring down here.”

                “You’ll find out soon enough,” Batgirl replied, “If you don’t turn over a new leaf, you’re going to be the one in chains, Lady Prudence!”

                Unstymied, the young heiress paused to consider this, pursing her lips thoughtfully. She tilted her head to one side, looking away, almost as if troubled, but the merry twinkle in her eyes belied that notion.

                “Mmm…” she considered for another moment, then smiled, “I’m afraid neither of those premises are very likely to occur. Not unless there’s a drastic change in events.”

                Diverging from her original path, she set the package carefully on a nearby pillory, making sure it was stationary and not in danger of falling. Once she was certain it was safe, she continued towards Batgirl.

                “I’m afraid the governor and my auntie are already planning on doing away with you, you see,” she offered a sad shrug.

                Batgirl forced herself not to swallow. She kept her jaw set, her pouting lips hollowing the sides of her mouth, making her cheekbones even more prominent in comparison. The girl could be lying, and even if she wasn’t, the manipulative thief was clearly only saying this to upset her.

                “If they were going to do it, why haven’t they done it already?” Batgirl lectured, “That’s the problem with being a liar, Prudence. No one believes you, even if you’re telling the truth!”

                “They’ve discussed it at great length, to be sure,” Prudence admitted, continuing to approach, “They’re inclined to spare a pretty, charming girl such as yourself, but…”

                She stopped directly in front of Barbara, almost chest to chest.

                “I’m afraid since you’ve seen the collection the Cricket Pavilion, they have little choice,” the girl sighed, “You can’t be allowed to tell everyone, after all. It would spoil everything.”

                Batgirl blinked, frowning as she regarded how close the other girl was standing to her. It was well within her personal space, annoyingly so, but Prudence didn’t seem to notice at all. The blonde heiress merely stared at her captive with nonchalant interest, like they were having a polite conversation, only a few inches apart.

                “They’ll see to you even before they’ve seen to Batman and Robin,” Prudence reached up to flip the red locks resting on the heroine’s shoulder, “And I think that would be perfectly dreadful.”

                Although she fought to keep her glare in place, to appear unmoved by the other girl’s teasing, Batgirl found herself drawing back slightly.

                “If you’re so upset about it,” she swallowed, her heart fluttering nervously, “Then you should let me go this instant!”

                Prudence laughed gently at this. Her hands slipped around Batgirl’s narrow waist.

                “Oh, I can’t do that!” she grinned, drawing closer still, “That would get me in awful trouble with the governor…”

                Her breasts pressed to her captive’s. She was so close she could lace her fingers together at the very base of Batgirl’s lower back.

                “But you needn’t worry,” Prudence grinned into the troubled heroine’s eyes, “I’ll make sure my auntie and his lordship don’t destroy you. I already have a plan.”

                With Prudence pressed to her, gentle voice tickling at her ears, Batgirl was becoming jittery to the point of distraction. She tried to remain unflappable, but her glare was faltering, becoming more worried than angry, and she was fidgeting like a little girl at the doctor’s office. She remembered how the heiress had touched her previously and it still bothered her, made it hard to catch her breath, a lump forming in her throat.

                She managed to maintain eye contact with her captor for another moment, then looked away.

                “I would trust a f-fox in the henhouse,” the crime fighter tried to sound stern, “Before I’d accept a favor f-from you, Lady Prudence.”

                “You wound me, Batgirl,” Prudence giggled in reply, “You’re not still mardy about being captured, are you? Did you expect otherwise after breaking into our manor?”

                Reaching up, she cupped the heroine’s cheek and guided the masked face back towards her.

                “I’ve been completely honest, haven’t I?” the heiress raised an eyebrow, “Have I ever lied to you?”

                Batgirl’s eyes were wider than they had been, her breath coming quick. Something about the way Prudence was looking at her made her feel small, vulnerable, like a mouse cornered by a hungry cat. Fear and something else similar to fear was twisting in her stomach, making her shrink.

                When she spoke, her voice no longer contained her usual moral superiority.

                “You… don’t have to lie…” she blinked her wide eyes, “To be dishonest…”

                Prudence didn’t miss the growing doe-eyedness of the heroine’s expression. Her own grin grew crooked and smug, her eyes narrowing in a way that only made Batgirl feel more vulnerable. She gently stroked her captive’s cheek, staring into the big blue eyes.

                “My plan is quite honest,” she purred, “I think you’ll agree.”

                Her opposite hand began painting slow circles on Batgirl’s lower back.

                “My father and aunt only want to dispose of you because they’re afraid you’ll tattle,” Prudence told her, “If that wasn’t a worry, I suspect they’d be more than happy to let things lie.”

                Batgirl listened somewhat warily, watching her captor’s gleaming eyes. Their stare was penetrating, even as the voice that accompanied them was soft and almost whimsical. The continued stroking made her relax slightly, the touch gentle and familiar, coaxing its way into her troubled mind.

                “That’s why I’ll take you in as a personal servant,” the heiress smiled, “My personal companion. And… pet has a nice sound, doesn’t it?”

                Thinking she’d misheard, the befuddled crimefighter blinked, her mouth falling open. She stared blankly, her captor’s words running through her head.

                “Wh-what?!” she finally squeaked.

                Grinning, Prudence merely continued her explanation, her thumb stroking just beneath the heroine’s cheek bone.

                “You’ll have to give me your unconditional surrender, of course,” she said matter-of-factly, “As well as your word that you’ll obey me. I think with that, the governor won’t be bothered at all if I keep you around the house. There’s any number of other servants and they won’t worry about one more.”

                Batgirl couldn’t find words. She was already so distracted by the closeness and touching, that the brazenness of Prudence’s suggestion actually left her feeling lightheaded.

                “Knowing who you really are would be jolly helpful,” the blonde cooed, “You can tell me now, if you like. Or perhaps I should take this mask off first…”

                Her hand stroked a bit higher, just enough to trace a finger along her captive’s cheek, just beneath the purple cowl.

                The touch to her mask, feeling the immeasurably important disguise shifting on her face, sent a jolt through the dumbfounded heroine. She recoiled with a gasp, jerking free of Prudence’s grasp, backpedaling until her chains would let her go no further. The links clanked against each other, pulled taut, the heroine’s arms held out almost straight in front of her.

                “No!” Batgirl shouted, “Never!”

                Now it was Prudence’s turn to blink in surprise. Her eyebrows raised, she watched the heroine with an amused grin.

                “Oh, dear,” she said mildly, “It seems I’ve struck a nerve.”

                Her blush adding more fire to her glare, Batgirl jerked at her chains, yearning to free herself so she could punch her captor in the nose.

                “It may be beyond YOUR understanding, Lady Prudence,” the heroine snapped, “But we who fight for justice don’t just give up when the odds are against us!” she raised her head high, “No matter how bad things look, or what you promise me, I will never surrender to the likes of you OR your fog-bound family!”

                At Batgirl’s defiance, Prudence took a few quick steps back. Her amused grin remained in place, but her demeanor became more upright, her eyebrows raised as if to say “oh, is that how it is?”. She watched her captive rail against her in this fashion for a moment, then reached for the package she’d left on the pillory.

                “You may be used to getting everything you want, but you can’t control me!” Batgirl snapped once more, “And no matter what you do to me, you can’t frighten away my will to resist you! To the bitter end, if I have to! And that’s all there is to it!”

                She finished her statement with a firm nod of her head, then turned to turn her haughty glare on the wall. As far as she was concerned, she’d said the last word on the matter. If the heiress decided to continue the discussion, she fully intended to say nothing, showing the other girl just how little power she truly had.

                However, Prudence remained unbothered by the heroine’s defiance. She tucked the box into the crook of her arm, then turned a small key that allowed her to open it. The interior of the box was lined with white silk, a bed for a shining, silver clock on the end of an equally shiny chain.The villainess carefully scooped up the clock, holding it against her breast while she set the box aside. She was much less delicate with the box, the time piece being the true treasure, and with its packaging out of the way, she cupped it in both hands and smiled fondly at its polished face.

                Only after a few playful strokes of the crystal that protected the clock’s delicate arms, did the girl reply.

                “Jolly well said, Batgirl,” she said, “A right smashing speech, I thought. Brava!”

                Still cradling the clock, Prudence advanced towards her once more.

                Although she tried to maintain her dismissive stance towards her captor, Batgirl’s eyes darted suspiciously to the clock. It seemed like almost like an oversized watch with its large chain, seemingly benign, but as Prudence drew closer, the canny crimefighter drew back slightly. She didn’t want to appear intimidated by the fancy timepiece, but her instincts warned her that its purpose was sinister.

                However, Prudence didn’t give her captive long to wonder about it. She strode up to Batgirl, lifted the chain over the heroine’s head, like she was presenting the costumed crusader with a medal, then set it gently down on her neck. The clock rested on Batgirl’s breast, hiding the yellow bat-symbol beneath it.

                With the clock in place, Prudence reached back to draw her captive’s hair out from beneath the chain. Not knowing the red locks were a wig, she freed them and laid them on top of the shining links, so they wouldn’t be tugged if the girl moved her head.

                “Unfortunately, quite misinformed,” the heiress gave Batgirl a slow, sultry blink, “I’m afraid I can do precisely that.”

                Still standing dangerously close, Prudence cupped the clock and lifted it from the increasingly bemused heroine’s chest. The clock’s face was clearly an old design, yellowed with time and hand-made, intricately designed hands and roman numerals counting the hours. A small drawing of a ship rested just above the axis of the arms, while beneath was the symbol of the English crown, a royal lion, golden and roaring.

                Without further explanation, the blonde villainess turned a key at the top of the clock and began to wind it. Despite its age, the mechanics of the clock ratcheted neatly as they were wound.

                Frowning, Batgirl found herself watching the arms of the timepiece turn with greater trepidation. After several seconds with no further elucidation, she finally spoke up.

                “Do precisely what, Prudence?” she demanded.

                Prudence looked up at her and fluttered her lashes in surprise, as if she thought the answer obvious. Even then, she continued winding the clock.

                “Why, take away your will to resist,” she smiled, “Naturally.”

                Blinking in surprise, Batgirl stared down at the clock, then back up at her captor. Her first thought was that the girl was lying, but a frown drew on her face despite this. Something told her that Prudence wouldn’t make up a

                “This is the Timepiece of Timidity,” Prudence continued to turn the key, “Isn’t it a pretty thing? For generations, it’s allowed my family to ensure the obedience of even the most untrustworthy servants. That’s why we’re able to employ so many criminals, you see.”

                She finished winding the clock with both hands at the top, then a quick push of the key made it click into place and began a steady ticking. There was no third hand, but the clock ticked on a second’s timing regardless.

                “With the chain around your neck,” Prudence laid the clock back onto Batgirl’s chest, “Each little tick will wear away your defiance and courage, especially in regards to myself and my family line. One second at a time, you will become more tractable, willing to cooperate.”

                Batgirl squirmed at this, the other girl’s demeanor leaving her unsettled. Her expression remained sharp, but her eyes were darting down to the clock, more regularly and with growing concern.

                Prudence remedied this by taking Batgirl by the chin and leaning closer, ensuring the heroine was looking into her eyes.

                “A few hours is enough to make even the sorts from the rookeries quite loyal,” she cooed, “But for such a feisty creature as yourself, I think a good day will sort you out quite nicely.”

                As Barbara’s concern grew, her mouth began to fall open, her eyes widening. Staring at her captor’s smug surety, she couldn’t help but doubt her own certainty that such a thing was impossible. Her heart was beginning to pound, fear fluttering in her chest.

                Realizing she was starting to gape, Batgirl quickly sucked in her bottom lip and tried to put on a brave face.

                “Wh-what you’re saying…” she swallowed, “I don’t believe you. A simple clock can’t do something like that!”

                The fear that made the heroine’s voice squeak and strain made Prudence grin. She plucked playfully the bottom lip Batgirl had tried to hide.

                “Well,” she said brightly, “I suppose we can broach this topic again in twenty-four hours. No point arguing about it now, is there?”

                With that, she gave Batgirl a tap on the tip of her nose, then turned and strode away.

                Somewhat surprised by her captor’s sudden departure, Batgirl stared after the girl for a moment, then down at the Timepiece of Timidity. It continued its patient clicking, the minute hand shakily turning.

                Her nerves getting the better of her, the heroine gave her bonds a jerk, rattling the chains. When they still refused to budge, she jerked again in sheer frustration, the old iron clanking and digging into her wrists.

                Prudence continued to stride towards the dungeons exit, glancing once over her shoulder.

                “I’ll send someone later to feed you,” she cooed, “But the next time we speak, you shall be a meek, obedient little doxy.” She grinned, “I quite look forward to that.”

                The clock continued to tick, the sound ringing in Batgirl’s ears.

                In frustration that was quickly becoming panic, her struggles grew ever more violent. She tossed her head, flipping her red hair about her shoulders while she arched and kicked. Crying out, twisted to and fro, trying to find some way to turn in which she could throw the clock off her.

                But the timepiece and its chain were too heavy. No matter how she twisted or strained, she couldn’t get it off her neck.

                The door to the dungeon creaked, Prudence opening it wide. She paused in the doorway to look back one more time.

                “Good night, Batgirl,” she said, sly grin still in place, “Don’t hurt yourself struggling. I shall see you again all too soon!”

                Turning, she stepped through and closed the door behind her. The sounds of her footsteps faded as she marched back up the steps.

                Batgirl was left alone, struggling in her bonds to no avail.

                And the clock continued to tick, counting down every second until Prudence would return.



                Truly terrible tribulations indeed! Trapped in the dungeon beneath Fogg Place, with her very will to resist imperiled by the cunning Lady Prudence, it seems there’s no way out for Batgirl!

                Can this be the end of our favorite fair female felony-fighter? Can Batman and Robin find her in time? Can anyone stop these aristocratic antagonists to all law-abiding arbiters of justice? 

                Find out soon!



                *                             *                             *



                Another twenty-four hours have passed over the land of Londinium and in the dungeons beneath Fogg Place, our dominoed dare-doll Batgirl still lingers. Hanging wearily in her fetters, our gallant young heroine is a wilted shade of her former glory.

                The diabolical Timepiece of Timidity seems to have done its work. Second by sinister second, it has chipped away at the courage of our brave battler, wearing it down like waves against the English shore. After so much time under this clock of calamity, can there be any of her fighting spirit left?

                Time will tell, for as the clock ticks its last, familiar footsteps begin their descent into the dungeon, where our dynamic defender dwells…



                Batgirl awoke with a start. Off-guard and alarmed, she stumbled back to her feet, her chains rattling, arms tingling from being in chains for so long.

                While she’d slept, the clock had stopped ticking and she just now noticed its absence by the utter silence of her prison. That thought filled her with dread, which was only made worse when she realized she had been awoken by the sounds of approaching footsteps. Clicking off the stone, they rang echoed down the stairwell and against the dungeon’s door. Each made her wince.

                They were coming for her.

                With a frightened gasp, Batgirl retreated until her bonds would let her go no further. She tried her best to hide, pressing against one of the cobbled columns, but remained hopelessly exposed. In an attempt to free herself and find a better hiding place, she wiggled at her chains, but quickly stopped when their rattling grew too loud; too much noise would only attract more attention to her.

                The footsteps drew closer, now right outside the door.

                With no other option, the tamed heroine simply froze, staying as still as she could in the hopes of being overlooked. She hoped she’d misheard, hoped that maybe they were just coming to fix something, hoped if not that they weren’t there to hurt her, and also wished her heart would stop pounding so loudly. It was all very upsetting, and she’d like it much more if she was just left alone in the chains so as not to bother anyone! She very much didn’t want to cause anyone problems!

                The door slowly began to open.

                Batgirl stared at the opening, stiff and wide eyed. Her vibrant costume and confident figure were belied by the way she cowered, drawn inwards with her knees clamped together, head lowered and eyes glistening. She looked and felt like a little girl at her first spelling bee.

                It seemed like it took ages for the door to open. When it finally did, Batgirl whimpered and looked at the floor, her cheeks flushing pink.

                It was Prudence.

                As promised, the blonde heiress had returned. After opening the door, she paused, leaning against the frame with her usual sly grin. Rather than speaking, she eyed her captive for several moments, giving the timidity-stricken crime fighter a thoughtful once-over.

                What the other girl was thinking, Batgirl had no idea. The young Londinium Lady was dressed in a pleated skirt in the mod style that was so popular, complete with knee-high socks. She’d clearly been out-and-about recently, and she was also holding both hands behind her back, hiding something, shy and playful.

                Batgirl was unable to take the suspense. She squirmed in misery, looking up at the other girl, then quickly down again, swallowing loudly. Being stared at by the heiress made her heart pound and her cheeks burned hotter, her mouth growing dry. She was afraid of what her captor might say or do, but her doing and saying nothing was torture. Part of her wished something would just happen so it would be over with.

                Though it felt like eons to the discomfited superheroine, it really didn’t take long before Prudence saw what she was looking for. The girl’s smile grew wicked, her eyes narrowing to slits, sinister and triumphant. She looked the heroine over for another moment or two, just to make her squirm, then approached her with a smug sway of her hips.

                Batgirl shrank further back as Prudence’s footfalls rang out in the dungeon, drawing closer. Whimpering, she bowed and turned away at the same time, cringing like a frightened puppy. When the heiress stopped in front of her, she actually trembled, accosted by several emotions. Fear was certainly one of them, but also a strange nervousness, an uncomfortable prickling between her legs, and the bizarre worry that the criminal would disapprove of her. It was all simply too much for the young librarian to handle and wished with all her might that she could flee, though her knees felt too weak to run.

                When Prudence stopped in front of her captive, she paused for another moment before speaking.

                “Hello, Batgirl.” She simply said.

                Batgirl flinched at the voice. Too frightened to move, she sank a bit lower in her chains, her legs giving out.

                Giggling gently, immensely pleased, Prudence reached out to cup the heroine’s chin. Gently, she turned the crumpled girl back towards her, Batgirl being too scared to resist.

                In a moment, Barbara was staring with wide blue eyes at her smug captor, while Prudence grinned back.

                “I would say the Timepiece of Timidity has done quite the bang-up job on you,” the criminal aristocrat cooed, “Wouldn’t you say?”

                Her chest heaving, Batgirl stared transfixed, her bottom lip faintly trembling. Her features already innocent and delicate, now she was all but a frightened child, lip pouted out, and eyes glistening. Too nervous to speak, she tucked her chin a bit, meekly lowering her head, like she was afraid her captor might strike her.

                Still holding the girl’s chin, Prudence drew it back, holding it high, giving her nowhere to hide.

                “While being seen and not heard is a valuable trait,” she arched an eyebrow, “You WILL speak when spoken to, Batgirl. Particularly when I ask a question.”

                The sternness of Prudence’s tone made Barbara want to sink into the ground. Her head bounced in a trembling nod, barely blinking as she stared at the other girl.

                “Y-y-y-yes…” she squeaked, then added, “M-ma’am… y-yes, ma’am…”

                Gone was her confident, even lecturing tone. Everyone was wont to underestimate the cute little librarian she was, but now she sounded exactly like one might expect. Her voice was a mousey squeak, soft and furtive, afraid if she spoke too loudly or with too much conviction, she might upset someone. And she couldn’t bear to upset anyone; she simply couldn’t handle things like that.

                Prudence nodded once, an instructor approving a correct answer.

                “That’s much better,” she said warmly, “Although, I would prefer ‘my lady’ or ‘mistress’ Prudence. Is that clear?”

                Batgirl’s head rattled in another frightened nod.

                “Yes, miss lay--m-my—m-mistress Prudence!”

                “Very good, then!”

                Releasing the heroine’s chin, Prudence took the chain of the timepiece and lifted it up.

                “I think you’ll be much more agreeable now,” she drew the device over Batgirl’s head, “And not a moment too soon…”

                Holding the sinister timepiece by its chain, the young woman looked for a place to put it. Finally, she hung the chain over a nearby torch holder.

                “Father and auntie would be coming for you, I suspect,” Prudence said as she worked, “Now that Batman and Robin are done for…”

                At those words, Batgirl gasped sharply. Her mouth fell open, her body going rigid, feeling like she’d been in the heart by a blade of ice.

                Prudence pretended not to notice. She made sure the timepiece was secure, that it wouldn’t swing once she let it go. Only once it was still and steady, hanging from the pillar like a decoration, did she turn back to her captive.

                “Yes,” she smiled, “I’m afraid so. Beaten soundly by my father and his men.”

                She slithered her arms around Batgirl’s waist, resting her hands at the small of the heroine’s back. Pressing close, she pouted her lips in sympathy.

                “Poor things,” she said in a comforting tone, “Mad as lorries now. A good dose of the governor’s insanity fog did for both of them. Maybe if you’d been there… but, no point fretting over what’s done, hm?”

                Batgirl stared at the other girl in horror, unable to breathe.

                It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t be. Batman and Robin would save the day, come to her rescue like they’d always done, and then she would save them in return. It was an unquestionable truth, and no matter how bad things looked, it would always be true.

                Batgirl slowly shook her head, her eyes as wide as saucers.

                “N-no…” she breathed, “That’s…”

                “That’s precisely what happened,” Prudence said, “Father is mounting their masks in his trophy room at this very moment. Did you know they were Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson? Funny thing, that. I’d never have thought they were the type!”

                Batgirl shook her head more vigorously.

                “B-but…” she whimpered, “I-it… it… can’t…”

                “Their butler was helping them as well,” the heiress continued, “But father saw to him, made him right off his rocker. All three of them. Quite fortunate Mr. Wayne recently signed his holdings to our family, so we could see to their care in a sanitorium…”

                Unable to control herself, Batgirl finally shouted in growing panic.

                “No!” she tried to pull away from her captor, “That’s not—i-it didn’t happen! It’s—AAH!”

                The young heroine was silence with a yelp when Prudence gave her a firm slap across the cheek. The blow made her turn away, but she slowly turned back, her eyes welling with tears. Her bottom lip was pouty and trembling with emotion even while she gaped, staring at the other girl in abject shock.

                Her brow lowered, Prudence took Batgirl’s chin in a firm grip, squeezing until it hurt.

                “The next time you contradict me, it will be twenty more of those upon your bottom!” she scolded, “I’ve told you what happened and that should be good enough for you! We shan’t be wasting time with any tantrums or denials, but simply face facts: Batman and Robin have been disposed of. Now is that clear?”

                Batgirl continued to gape, her cheek still stinging from the slap.

                It felt like she would faint or simply begin screaming hysterically. Part of her wanted to use whatever resources she had to hit Prudence back, yell at her, both for the slap and for telling such outrageous lies. It was simply not true and she wanted to say so, or tell the other girl that it didn’t matter, that the forces of good would find a way to triumph regardless. If no one else would, then she would escape and find a way to save Batman and Robin herself!

                Perhaps if not for the Timepiece of Timidity she would have. Despite the fact that her only allies had been beaten and unmasked, despite that Alfred, the one who had been the last-ditch savior of all of them, was also done for, she could have resisted to the bitter end. Now she simply didn’t have that courage inside her any longer.

                As her shock faded, Batgirl’s shoulders slumped, her expression crumpling into tears.

                She was alone. She couldn’t escape and there was no one coming to rescue her. All her allies were defeated, she was trapped, and there was no hope of victory. No one but she and the dynamic duo had even suspected Lord Fogg and now she was far from home and anyone she knew, held in a dungeon where no one would find her, even if they were looking.

                It was over. Justice had been defeated by crime and the caped crusaders had met their match.

                Thus, rather than making a defiant declaration and lecturing the evil heiress about the inevitable victory of truth and right, Batgirl let her head drop and offered soft, squeaky sobs of heartbreak. Crumpling, she wept like a little girl, tears streaming from her eyes only to be caught by her mask.

                Prudence softened immediately.

                “Oh, Batgirl,” she hugged her captive to her chest, “There, there…”

                While one hand massaged the sobbing heroine’s back, the other cupped the back of the cowled head and guided it towards her shoulder. She nestled it there and petted, curling her fingers in the red locks.

                Barbara meekly accepted, sniffling and squeaking into Prudence’s shoulder.

                “This is what happens when the lower born try to resist their betters,” Prudence explained in gentle whispers, “It’s always been this way. It’s not unexpected, is it?”

                Sobbing pitifully, Batgirl nestled her face deeper into the offered shoulder, letting out all her grief and worry. The dam had broken and she couldn’t stop, nor could she resist being comforted by her enemy’s warm body and comforting touch. Safe, being held, she let everything go.

                “Shhh… there, there…” Prudence sang gently, “You were always outmatched… no more tears, now… shhh…”

                She nuzzled into her captive and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, then another just beside her ear.

                “Shhh… it’s all right now…” the girl whispered, still kissing her captive’s tears away, “It’s quite all right…”

                As hard as she was crying, it wasn’t long before Batgirl had no more tears to shed. Being cooed to and consoled by Prudence, gradually her sobbing dwindled, trailing off into faint whimpers intermixed with the occasional hiccup. She didn’t mind at all being petted or the warm, wet kisses.

                In fact, the beleaguered superheroine would have been content to stay in Prudence’s arms for a while longer, but soon the villainess decided enough was enough. She took Batgirl by the shoulder and guided her out to arms-length.

                “Chin up now, Batgirl,” Prudence grinned, “We must keep a tight upper lip!”

                To emphasize her statement, she tipped the heroine’s chin up with the tip of her finger.

                “You’ve had your cry,” the villainess cooed, her eyes twinkling, “And now it’s time to face facts. I won’t allow you to spend the evening feeling sorry for yourself.”

                Still sniffling, cheeks flushed, Batgirl chewed on her bottom lip and felt very, very small. Embarrassment both at her tears, and her captor’s scolding, made her try to lower her head, her eyes darting away.

                Prudence didn’t allow it. She tilted her captive’s chin right back up and held it more firmly, and the heroine looked back, her gaze shining and wet.

                “Now we shan’t waste time with anymore silly rubbish,” the heiress said in a crisp tone, “You will surrender to me now, unconditionally, admit your defeat, and pledge your loyalty, so that my father won’t destroy you.”

                There was a pause. Batgirl stared blankly, shocked by how simply the other girl had stated something to cataclysmic to herself.

                Prudence smiled and drew a step closer, pressing herself to her captive’s chest.

                “Well?” she purred, smiling expectantly, “Go on. Say it properly. No reason to dawdle.”

                Barbara swallowed, fretting with her bottom lip. As timid as the clock had made her, the very closeness and insistence of the other girl made it impossible to stand up to her. With no way out, and no one coming to rescue her, any tiny bit of resolve she still had crumpled almost immediately.

                Sniffing, she began to speak in a soft, frightened voice, hoping she didn’t make Prudence angry.

                “I… I surrender uncon-conditionally,” she whimpered, “I… pledge my loyalty… forever…”

                “And you admit defeat, yes?” the heiress raised an eyebrow.

                Batgirl nodded quickly, “Yes. Y-you win, L-lady—M-My Lady—Prudence!”

                The words made Prudence’s eyes narrow with satisfaction. Looking into the eyes of her meek captive, the evil aristocrat let her arms slip down, hugging them around Batgirl’s back.

                Heart fluttering, Barbara lowered her head, other girl stare augmenting her feeling of vulnerability. She’d seen cats look at cornered birds in that way, just before they pounced. The distance between them was no longer intimidating, it was intimate, very, very close.

                When Prudence spoke again, it was playful, a throaty crooning.

                “There. Was that so hard?”

                Batgirl quickly shook her head, her bottom lip trembling.

                “Of course, not,” Prudence whispered, “Now there’s just one more little thing…”

                Drawing closer yet, almost nose to nose with her captive, the captivating criminal slipped her hands downward. Her grip formed around both sides of Batgirl’s rounded backside, clasping the peachy halves both warmly and possessively.

                “You must tell me who you really are,” Prudence cooed, “The true identity of Batgirl. Quiet as you like… but you will tell me now…”

                The soft voice resounded in Batgirl’s ears, the hands cupping her bottom feeling like they belonged there. The other girl’s touch was claiming what it owned and she couldn’t dispute it, even found it to be a comfort. Part of her wanted to be owned and now she had nothing left to resist.

                Prudence’s very closeness was a pressure in itself, intimidating and comforting. Barbara couldn’t look away from her eyes, couldn’t pull away from the hands. Even if she weren’t in such dire straits, she knew at that moment that she was simply too weak and small to deny the girl anything or fail to give her everything. Her eyes stared wide as a puppy’s, both meek and hopeful.

                At that moment, she truly became a servant.

                Bowing her head, the once outspoken Batgirl now timidly replied to her mistress’ question.

                She said exactly what Prudence wanted to hear.



                *                             *                             *



                And so, a victorious Lady Prudence marches her capitulated captive through the halls of Fogg Place, with a pernicious pep in her step. Every ounce of assertiveness stolen by the Timepiece of Timidity, Batgirl is a model prisoner for the sinister schoolgirl, offering neither resistance nor even a pause before obeying every command. The darkknight dame is now nothing more than a submissive servant, a cowering creature craving the care of her captor.

                 Soon captor and captive stand before Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup, who are more than pleased by their junior aristocrat’s work. 

                

                “Why, she really DOES seem quite tractable, doesn’t she, Marmaduke?”

                “Quite tractable indeed, sister dear! It seems this so-called dominoed daredoll is now merely a domesticated damsel!”

                “Haha, quite right, Marmaduke! Domesticated damsel Very good!!”

                With Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup looming on either side, Batgirl kept her head dutifully lowered, eyes on her feet. Her hands were bound in front of her by a silk scarf, more a symbol of her captivity than anything that would actually hold her, but she didn’t struggle against it. She was entirely concerned with the nobles’ attitudes towards her, hoping she was pleasing them and not being upsetting; escape wasn’t even something she considered.

Prudence stood just beside her, a proud owner displaying her show pet for the judges. Pleased with Batgirl’s behavior, she looked to the timid former crimefighter and smiled, stroking the hair that spilled from the back of the purple cowl. She was still very close, always touching, occasionally cooing a soft word of approval.

Batgirl was grateful for that. The elder criminals had been looking her over for a few minutes now, which, as nervous as she was, felt like forever. The constant touching, reminders that she was doing well, were all that kept her from cowering.

“Using the Timepiece of Timidity was an excellent notion, Prudence!” Lord Fogg beamed, “It’s sorted out Batgirl’s stubborn defiance in no time at all!”

He cupped the masked heroine’s chin, tilting it up towards him.

“I’d say it’s sorted you out quite well,” the villain said, “Don’t you think so, Batgirl?”

Batgirl hardly paused before responding. Her blue eyes were wide, shining up at him in earnest desire for approval.

“Y-yes, sir--my lord!” she replied in a mousey, almost plaintive voice, “I’m sorry! Yes, it’s sorted me out quite well, my lord! I promise, it’s sorted me out very well!”

Ever an enjoyer of flattery, Lord Fogg held his head a bit higher, chewing happily on the stem of his pipe.

                “And all that business about myself being fog-bound, was it?” he raised an eyebrow, “Never pleading me for anything, I believe you said?”

                Batgirl’s eyes grew wider at that. She hurried to reassure him.

                “I—I’m so sorry, my lord!” she squeaked, “I didn’t—I didn’t understand anything! I was wrong! I could plead now, if you want? My lord?”

                Lady Peasoup gasped at that, glancing quickly at her brother.

                “Oh, Marmaduke, she sounds so demure and respectful!” she gushed, “With a bit more finishing, we could make her into such a proper, young lady!”

                “I daresay you have a point!” Lord Fogg agreed, “And with the caped crusaders—that is to say Mister Wayne and Mister Grayson—laid low, I wager a BATtgirl would make quite an excellent SERVING girl! Prudence would find a use for her, wouldn’t you, my dear?”

                Sweet and dutiful in the presence of her father, Prudence bobbed a quick curtsy and smiled.

                “Oh, yes, father,” she said, “Thank you ever so much, father!”

                The larcenous lord chuckled, delighted to gift his daughter something she so clearly wanted. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of her gratitude, then turned his gaze back to Batgirl.

                Batgirl herself glanced at Prudence and received an approving nod.

                It was a relief. The other girl had coached her on how best to behave with her father and aunt and now she knew she was doing well. Which meant everything would be fine, just like mistress Prudence had said.

                “But before we put the carriage before the horse,” Fogg’s eyes twinkled, “I believe there is an unmasking to be had!”

                “Oh, how smashing! Another!” Lady Peasoup clapped eagerly, “I did so enjoy the others! So exciting!”

                “Indeed!” Lord Fogg agreed once again, “We already have the mask and cowl of Batman and Robin! Now with our young Batgirl’s, we shall have dealt with all the bats in our belfry! They will look very fine in my trophy room and soon be joined by our magnum opus: the crown jewels!”

                “Huzzah!” Lady Peasoup continued applauding, “All’s well that ends well!”

                Savoring a moment of victory, sister and brother chuckled merrily, her bouncing with delight while he withdrew the fancy pipe from his mouth. He held it up as if in a toast, then placed it back into his mouth, still chortling. If ever there was villainous laughter, it was the sound those two made, and this time it was truly in victory. There would be no turnabout; they’d inarguably won over the forces of justice.

                After finishing his haughty laugh, Lord Fogg turned to Batgirl once again, still grinning broadly around his pipe.

                “Shall we see to your decowling then, my dear?” he asked with faux gallantry, “I think it’s well past time reveal your true identity and cease this silly subterfuge, don’t you?”

                Batgirl swallowed, glancing quickly at Prudence once more, then back to Lord Fogg.

                “Yes, my lord!” she bobbed her head in an eager nod, “I-I’m very—I would be grateful for you to unmask me! Please d-do! I would consider it an honor, my lord!”

                Lord Fogg chuckled once more. He crooked a finger under her chin and gave it a patronizing waggle.

                “There’s a lass!” he told her, “So much more pleasant, now that you’ve been taught your place!”

                But before he could reach for her mask, Lady Peasoup took a quick step forward.

                “Oh, Marmaduke, may I have this one?” she batted her lashes at her brother, “It was ever so much fun watching you unmask Batman and Robin, and I would be delighted if I had a turn! It would be such a lark! And we may never have another chance to unmask a costumed crimefighter, may we?”

                Lord Fogg paused, smacking his lips thoughtfully, but quickly agreed.

                “But, of course, sister dear!” he stepped gallantly aside, “How remiss of me! Please! Batgirl’s pretty face is yours to uncover!”

                With a nod of gratitude to her brother, Lady Peasoup stepped in front of their humbled captive and faced her with an authoritative tilt of her chin. Eyebrows raised, she judged Batgirl with an up and down look, her manner abruptly strict.

                “Back straight, Batgirl.” she lectured, “A proper servant should show obedience in manner, but not slouch.”

                Batgirl did as she was told, watching the mistress of the house with worry in her eyes.

                “Head lowered!” Lady Peasoup continued to scold, “You’re not a high-born lady on her way to market! But don’t droop either! Shoulders forward! DO look at me, silly girl, not at my feet! Show me you’re attentive without facing me as an equal! And stop chewing on your lip like a newborn calf!”

                Shifting in place, Batgirl followed every direction with growing nervousness. She was scolded twice for fretting at her bottom lip, a habit she had when she was worried, and Lady Peasoup had almost a dozen other corrections to make. Her head was bowed too low or not enough, she was pressing her chest out like a doxy, but then she was crumpling over like a weeping willow. The directions were so minute that she honestly couldn’t tell the difference, but she followed them regardless, blushing with embarrassment.

                Finally, the evil aristocrat went silent and simply looked the petrified heroine up and down once more.

                Afraid to move, all but holding her breath, Batgirl stayed stock still in the meek position Lady Peasoup had put her in. She watched the lady with shining blue eyes, hoping dearly that she wasn’t being a problem.

                To her relief, Lady Peasoup nodded once in approval.

                “There now!” she smiled, “Proper finished, I’d say!”

                She paused, waiting for a response.

                “… y-yes, my lady,” Batgirl said quickly, “Thank you, my lady.”

                “Spoken like a true maid in waiting!” Lady Peasoup nodded in approval, “Now, shall we remove this bat-shaped veil?”

                Batgirl swallowed, but replied, “Yes, please, my lady.”

                Nodding once more, the smug villainess reached for the purple cowl with both hands. With a hand on either side of the heroine’s face, like she was cupping her cheeks, she hooked her thumbs beneath the eyeline of the mask, clasped it, then carefully drew it up. Slowly, almost reverently, she slipped the mask up and back over Batgirl’s head, almost like she was drawing up a visor.

                “And now at last we unmask the mysterious Batgirl!” Lady Peasoup proclaimed, “To find that she is…”

                Batgirl shivered and couldn’t help biting her lip as she felt her cowl being drawn away. She’d had nightmares about a moment like this, where her enemies unmasked her and laughed when they saw who she was, just a pathetic little librarian trying to be a crime fighter. Now that the moment had come, it wasn’t as horrific as it was in the dream, partly because she was emotionally spent after the events of the last few days. Still, it felt like she was having her skirt yanked up in front of a crowd.

                The mask peeled back over rich, dark hair, kept in a snug, almost boyish bun, the bouncing red curls coming off with the cowl. She blinked wide eyes, feeling the air on her face. She was no longer protected by her secret identity, exposed, and felt even smaller than before.

                Stiff and still as a frightened squirrel, it was in that moment Batgirl realized this was the end of her adventures. If she wasn’t before, she was certainly “proper finished” now.

                Lady Peasoup took the cowl and wig off altogether and squinted at the pretty features beneath the mask, seemingly oblivious to the fear in the girl’s eyes. She stared, it taking her a moment to remember the face, then when she did he eyes brightened with delight.

                “Why, it’s Miss Barbara Gordon, isn’t it?” the villainess exclaimed.

                She pinched the exposed librarian’s chin, looking closer.

                “It is!” she cried, “The American police superintendent’s daughter!”

                “Haha!” Lord Fogg drew closer as well, “By jove, you’re right! Miss Gordon!”

                “She must have been using our employment offer to spy on us!” Peasoup laughed, “Why you little minx!”

                “Cheeky little thing!” the lord wagged a good-natured finger, “Naughty, naughty, naughty!”

                Barbara looked back and forward between them, failing to keep her bottom lip from trembling. With her new timidity, they were both so intimidating to her she could barely keep from whimpering, never mind the direness of her circumstances. She lowered her head in shame and fright, blushing pink, staring up at her captors with eyes as wide as saucers.

                Only Prudence kept her from sinking to the floor into a quivering ball.

 Although the elders relished exposing Batgirl at last, in reality the heir apparent had done it first and knew well who the masked girl was. As her father and aunt playfully taunted, she looped her arm around Barbara’s slim waist, then her hand slipped down to the purple-clad bottom. She cupped it firmly, reminding the trembling girl her mistress was there.

Barbara tensed slightly, her heart fluttering. But at the same time, she was grateful.

“Well, I should think the offer of joining our faculty is no longer suitable,” Fogg chuckled, “Not with circumstances as they are. But perhaps Miss Gordon would be suitable for another position in the employ of our family?”

“Oh, I should think so!” Lady Peasoup pinched Barbara’s cheek, “Pleasant, submissive little thing she is now. Imagine what a delight she’d be as a house servant!”

“Indeed!” the larcenous lord agreed, “Lady Prudence will see to her and our little American guest, with her impressive degree from university, will wait upon us hand and foot! The fact that she was once Batgirl will be kept a family secret… so long as she behaves herself.”

Barbara swallowed at the implication, her eyebrows pinching a small crinkle in her brow.

“Yes, a most suitable offer!” Fogg nodded, still looking at their frightened captive, “What do you say then, Miss Gordon? Do you accept?”

It didn’t take her long to decide. She knew she was willingly submitting to something akin to slavery, but she didn’t have any other option. And even if there had been, she no longer had the spine to tell them ‘no.’

“Y-yes, my lord,” she nodded solemnly, “Thank you… so much.”

At her agreement, Lady Peasoup applauded politely, and Lord Fogg’s grin broadened.

“Well, that’s that, then!” he puffed out his chest, “She shall start right away! Miss Gordon shall remain here, with free room and board, as the newest addition to our pool of servants! You needn’t worry about your possessions, we will send someone to collect everything from your hotel room and have it brought here.”

Peasoup patted Barbara’s cheek, “It’s best if you don’t leave the grounds for now, my dear. But not to worry, we’ll see to your needs so that you can begin your servitude without delay.”

“Quite so, Penelope, dear!” Fogg chuckled, “Lady Prudence, I’m placing our young Miss Gordon under your charge. If you would, see to it she is settled in and properly presentable? An introduction to the girls will be necessary as well, I suspect.”

“Oh, and do give her a good caning, please,” Lady Peasoup added, looking to her brother, “After all, she did come here under false pretenses. It wouldn’t do to simply let that go unpunished!”

“Spare the rod, spoil the Batgirl!” the lord proclaimed, “I heartily agree! See to it, will you, Lady Prudence? Then you and the girls may do with her as you like. But make sure her costume is undamaged; I would like it for the trophy room.”

A broad, sly grin made Prudence look like the cat that caught the canary. She curtsied again, slowly, her eyes lidded with smug satisfaction.

“Of course, father,” she crooned, “It will be as you say.”

Lord Fogg nodded, his own eyes slightly lidded as well, “Good girl. Off you go, then!”

After another curtsy, Prudence turned Barbara towards the door and strode away, her hand still clasping one side of the girl’s spandex-clad bottom.

Barbara followed, her head lowered, relieved to be taken away. She was more afraid of Lord Fogg and Lady Peasoup than the blonde girl that had captured her, and getting away from them meant that, at least for the moment, she wasn’t going to be executed, or have something terrible happen to her. Being caned wasn’t a pleasant idea, nor was being “introduced” to the schoolgirls that had been so cruel to her before, but it was better than being killed.

As Prudence led her through the door, the heiress patted the round shape under her hand, making it ripple faintly, then leaned closer to whisper into her captive’s ear.

“You did very well,” she cooed, “Now everything will be fine as you like.”

Barbara blushed again as her captor kissed her cheek, nuzzling her sweetly.

Not only was she happy to be away from the Lord and Lady, but something about being in Prudence’s care excited her. She didn’t dare think about it or say it aloud, but it was there, building as her mistress touched her and whispered.

She knew soon she would have to face it, and the thought both enticed and frightened her.



*                             *                             *



When Prudence opened the door and led Fogg Place’s newest servant into the school’s dormitories, at first it seemed like no one was there. There was a long hallway, finished in the manor’s austere stylings, but the doors to the girls’ rooms were all closed. There was no sound at all, other than the footsteps of Barbara and her mistress.

However, when Prudence closed the door behind her, another beside them cracked open, just enough for a curious schoolgirl to peer through. They didn’t stare for long; after the girl saw who it was, she threw the door open wide, an excited grin on her face.

“She’s here, she’s here!” the schoolgirl cried, “Lady Prudence is here with Batgirl!”

That call opened the floodgates. Doors flew open and delighted girls spilled out, giggling and squealing with delight. There was at least a dozen of them, and they poured down the hallway, feet scampering on the hardwood floors, eyes bright and eager. They were in various states of dress, some in sleepwear while others still wore their pleated skirts, but they were all rushing towards the new arrivals in a torrent.

Barbara’s eyes widened. Cowering, she took a small step back, drawing instinctively closer to Prudence for protection, but it was a futile effort. In a moment, she was surrounded and swarmed.

“Look at her now! Such a cute thing she is!”

“Unmasked and all!”

“Oy, it’s that American girl!”

“Is she staying?! Oh, please say she’s staying!”

“Can we keep her?”

While Barbara shrank back, worrying at her bottom lip, hands were all over her, tugging at her cape, stroking her hair, faces leaning close to stare into her eyes. Her eyes darted to and fro, overwhelmed by all the motion and attention.

“Aw, she’s frightened!”

“Timid as a mouse she is, now! Not so brave anymore!”

“Still should wash her mouth out! Give her to me and I’ll teach her proper!”

Prudence sighed and looked skywards, giving the crowd several seconds to get over their initial excitement. She kept a firm grip on her captive’s arm, making sure they didn’t pull her away, and stayed close, both for Barbara’s comfort and to make it clear who she belonged to.

After much giggling and curious groping, the heiress finally raised her voice above the din.

“Ladies!” she called with good-natured patience, “Ladies, that’s enough!”

The group quieted, though several still murmured and whispered, giggling to themselves, eyeing the exposed Batgirl mischievously.

“You’ll all get to enjoy Batgirl to some degree!” Prudence assured them, but added, “Unless you don’t behave yourselves, then I’ll see to her entirely myself! Now, shush!”

The small threat was enough to silence the murmurs. The girls all looked to her, eyes wide and attentive, mouths closed but grinning eagerly.

Prudence looked around at them, letting the silence hang for a moment. Once it was clear she had their attention, she continued.

“This is Barbara,” she told them, nodding to her captive, “She’s not Batgirl any longer, she’s a servant of the house. She is also under my personal charge!”

She squeezed Barbara around the waist, hugging the girl’s hips to her own, a possessive gesture.

“I captured her and she’s mine,” Prudence clarified, raising an eyebrow, “Is that understood?”

A few of the girls glanced at each other, biting back giggles, but they all nodded.

“You are not to tell anyone she was Batgirl,” the heiress continued, “Anyone breaking this rule will be SEVERELY punished.”

She paused, looking staring coolly from one face to the next. Once the threat was clear, she smiled again.

“I’m willing to share her, of course, as long as you are not too cruel. She’s quite timid now and will obey you quietly as you like. You are not to harm the poor thing. If she errs, you will come to me first rather than taking on her punishment yourself, yes?”

The girls nodded again, their eyes shining.

Now that the ground rules were set down, Prudence nodded once, satisfied.

“Now, then,” she continued, “The governor wants to see her settled in. We’re going to undress her—”

This drew squeals of delight and applause from the girls.

Prudence had to speak louder to be heard over them.

“—undress her CAREFULLY!” she called, “Her costume will be going to the trophy room! So, you are not to steal anything or damage it!”

Groans of disappointment sounded. Some of the girls crossed their arms and outright pouted.

“I shall see to it she’s well-scrubbed and bedded down for the night,” Prudence grinned, “But first… she shall have to be spanked, I’m afraid.”

Still annoyed by the fact that couldn’t take bits of Batgirl’s costume, it took a second for the Lady’s words to register amongst the gathered girls. When they did, there were gasps and the disappointment quickly became delight.

Sharing gleeful looks, the girls squealed in unison.

“A SPANKING, A SPANKING!”

The hall rang with giggling, several of the girls hugging each other or jumping up and down with glee. Their voices were bouncy, cheerful, their manners friendly, but their eyes were locked onto the half-costumed heroine with wicked intent.

Barbara whined faintly, scooching closer to Prudence. She felt like she was surrounded by a pack of hyenas, giggling hungrily, and herself a cornered antelope.

She turned to stare pleadingly at her mistress, sticking out a trembling bottom lip.

“Ohh…” Prudence cooed, then leaned in.

The heiress gave Barbara a firm kiss on the mouth, then captured the bottom lip with her own. She pulled back, suckling, then let it pop against her captive’s teeth before giving her another quick kiss.

The girls ooo-oooed at this, some pushing closer, wanting to see the famous Batgirl being enjoyed by their head lady. They grew quiet as they watched with fascination, chewing on their own lips, squirming and fidgeting, wanting to have their own turn. New servant girls were always the most fun, and this one was Batgirl, of all people!

When Prudence drew back, Barbara stared, her eyes big and glistening, mouth left sightly ajar. She’d rarely kissed a boy before, never mind a girl, and she blushed pink, both stunned and feeling a delicious warmth. For a moment, she forgot the other girls were there at all, and her ears were ringing, her head light, almost like she was about to faint.

Pleased with the devastating effect of her kiss, Lady Prudence’s lips quirked up into a small, puckered grin.

“Isn’t that peculiar?” she teased, “I seem to have found your off switch…”

This set the girls into another chorus of giggles and Barbara only blushed darker. She sucked in her bottom lip, still feeling a little dizzy.

Prudence squeezed her again around the waist, tilting her head in sympathy.

“Don’t fret your little head,” she cooed, “The girls are enthusiastic, but they won’t harm you. You have nothing to be afraid of! Isn’t that right, girls?”

A chorus of replies rang out.

“Nothing at all!”

“We don’t bite!”

“We’ll be OH so gentle!”

“Unless she’s a fraidy cat!”

“We won’t hurt you, love!”

“Maybe a bit!”

“You see?” Prudence gave Barbara another pat on the bottom, “No need to worry at all!”

With that she slipped her arm free of her captive’s waist. She drew a small step back, leaving Barbara feeling suddenly very cold and exposed.

“Right,” Prudence smiled, “Let’s take her to the common room, please, so we can have her costume off.”

The instant she spoke, the halls were filled with cries of delight and at least a dozen hands took Barbara by the arms and wrists. She barely had time to look around in alarm before she found herself whisked down the corridor, surrounded by squealing, giggling schoolgirls.

“Gently!” Prudence called after them “If any of you ruins her costume, you’ll be the ones getting spanked!”

Eyes wide, Barbara yelped as she found herself moving away from her mistress with alarming speed. It was less like she was being marched, or even dragged, and more like she was being carried along by a raging current. The girls holding her arms were running, much too fast for her to even consider planting her heels, while the ones behind her were pushing, all cackling, bursting at the seams with excited energy.

“Come on, Batgirl! Come on, then!”

“Tee hee! Time to get you starkers, then! Pick up your feet!”

“Hurry, hurry! Oh, I want to try on her belt!”

“I want to see what kissing her is like!”

“Hurry! The quicker we undress her, the more time we’ll have to play with her before bed!”

Barbara was forced to run with them or simply pick her feet up and be carried along as they rapidly approached the double doors at the end of the hallway. The group was carrying her at ramming speed, showing no signs of slowing down, and for a moment she winced, thinking they were going to plow into the heavy oaken doors.

Fortunately, one of the girls darted ahead and threw the doors open, allowing the group to cascade into the common room with cheers and cackles of glee.

The common room was large and comfortable with many places to sit, couches arranged in circles for the girls to chat or knit or play a card game. There were places for sewing, but also places to practice lock-picking, a mat for practicing judo, and along the walls, bookshelves filled with tomes of all sorts. It looked comfortable and innocuous, if one didn’t think about it for too long.

However, the timidified, unmasked Batgirl didn’t get to make out much beyond that initial first impression. Events were transpiring around her in a whirlwind, the girls carrying her in, then all of them sprawling falling onto a sofa in a giggling fit, before others pulled her back up again with the protest that she needed to be standing to take her costume off. She was spun around and quickly surrounded by flushed, eager faces, hands all over her, girlish voices tittering and calling out.

“Her threads are so groovy!” a hand smoothed of her chest, “Feel how shiny!”

“Let me in, you bullies! I want to touch!”

“Are you feeling her threads or her bosom, Dierdre?”

“Both, of course, you little minx!” the hand cupped one of her shining breasts.

“Pity she’s not a redhead!” other fingers combed through her hair, “She seems much more mousey now, no?”

                “How cruel! Did you hear that, poor Batgirl, she said you’re a mouse!”

                “A pretty mouse!”

                Barbara yelped, jumping onto her toes as a hand roamed from the back of her thigh over her bottom, then squeaked when another tickled dangerously close to her inner thigh. Eyes wide, she tried to raise her bound hands to shield herself, but the girls only pulled them back down. There were so many hands, so many faces, so many voices cooing at her and she could only look to and fro, harried like a cornered bunny.

                Her reactions only increased the girls’ giggling delight.

                “Ohhhhh, the little thing’s bashful!” someone stroked her cheek.

                “Quite chirpy for a brave crime fighter!”

                “Let’s make her squeal, then!”

                Fingers tickled just along the groove between the moons of her bottom and Barbara did indeed squeal, jumping and blushing bright red.

                This only encouraged the others, who erupted into gales of laughter and began to pinch, tickle, nip, or otherwise overwhelm the defeated heroine with teasing attention.

                Barbara squirmed and let out pealing, plaintive cries as she was swarmed. Her only defense was to try to sink to the floor and curl up into a ball, but the crowd wouldn’t let her, pressing too close for her to slip away.

                “St-stop—NEEK—p-please! NEE-EEEP!” her voice squealed through the giggling throng, “PL-PLEA—YEEEK—PLEA-PLEEASE!”

                The girls only giggled and continued their torment. Someone gave her nipple a playful tweak, another tickled along her ribs.

                “PLEASE ST—AAIEE!” Barbara shrieked as one of them pinched her bottom, “P-PLEA—ERMM!?”

                Her cries were abruptly silenced when one of the girls lunged in and captured the heroine’s mouth with her own. Hands cupped either side of the hapless girl’s face, holding her in place while she was firmly kissed.

                Fresh laughter and squeals of delight burst from the girls around them.

                “Jezebel!”

                “You sneaky little tart!”

                “That quieted her down, didn’t it?”

                “Mmm nuhh!” Batgirl continued to plead against the girl’s lips, “Emm Hmm!”

                The schoolgirl continued to nuzzle and chew, hungrily devouring the heroine’s protests, her own eyes closed in rapture. Her tongue flicked, lips warm and wet, pressing insistently but without rancor, calmly and firmly slaking her thirst.

                Abruptly the kiss ended, and Batgirl gasped for air, her heart pounding. But she barely got a chance to breathe before someone else turned her head and captured her with their own kiss, covering her mouth and suckling at her lips.

                “Me next! Me next!” another girl cried out.

                “I want a turn!”

                “No, me!”

                Hands continued to roam over the curves of her body, touching her in intimate ways she that made her squirm and flush, but Barbara could no longer even protest. She mewled as she was kissed but didn’t have the wind left to continue crying out, nor the energy to keep twisting and writhing. Her chest heaved desperately for air, her lashes fluttering as she began to feel lightheaded.

                “Here, now, I want a go!”

                “Yes, you’re being greedy!”

                Other hands turned Barbara away from that kiss only to be forced into another one, while someone else nuzzled at her neck, kissing her beside her ear. The girls around her continue to murmur in laughter, whispering in soothing voices, groping, pressing close, submerging her in warmth and softness.

                It became too much. Exhausted, drowning in the touch of so many hands, the unmasked daredoll began to melt in the arms of the girls around her. Her whimpers quieted and she remained limp as one of the girls squeezed her breast. A hand palmed over her bottom, moving from one side to the other, while another hand slipped between her thighs, and another smoothed across her hips, but she no longer jumped or cried out.

                When the kiss was broken and her face was turned for another, the next girl paused to grin at Barbara’s expression. She was still flushing pink, her lips puffy from the thorough kissing, but her eyes were glazed, drunk from pleasure. It was like each mouth to mouth was sucking a bit more of her mind away.

                “Mmm,” the girl cooed, “She looks done for, now!”

                Then she pressed closed, to enjoy her turn kissing the submissive heroine’s soft mouth.

                “All dressed up, but not going anywhere!” another agreed.

                “Best help with that, then, eh?”

                “It will make you so much more comfortable, love!”

                And then, those same playful, exploring hands began to strip her.

                Her hands were untied, and she allowed them to fall to her sides, hardly noticing it had happened. Fingers plucked at her cape, tugged at her belt, worked at her gloves and boots, gentle but persistent.

                “That’s it…” a voice whispered.

                “You won’t be needing this…”

                “It’s so tight, it will feel much better once it’s off…”

                “Just let us take care of everything…”

                Batgirl only sighed as the kiss was broken. It was only a small pause and she left her mouth ajar, waiting for the next pair of lips to claim her. They did with an eager purr and she merely sighed once more, wallowing in the now-familiar sensation of hands roaming over her bottom, her breasts, her stomach, her legs, her shoulders…

                Through the crowd, Prudence watched with her arms crossed under her breasts. Her eyes were narrowed, assessing and supervising, but there was a small smile on her lips, enjoying the show. She met eyes with Barbara for a moment, staring deeply into them, promising she’d have her own turn soon, and that this was merely the warm-up.

                Barbara closed her eyes and allowed all the feelings to swallow her up. As she did, her imagination toyed with what would come next, when Lady Prudence was the one enjoying her. She moaned faintly as both worry and another, warmer emotion made her heart flutter.

                Her gloves were slipped free and taken aside, along with her cape. The circular bat-buckle of her belt took a bit more toying before it unclicked and slipped from her hips, heavy with all the tools it carried. One of her feet was picked up to undo the boot, while others now found the zipper of her suit, drawing it down and opening the purple spandex. It was all coming off, the last of her caped façade peeled away, but Barbara was in no state to protest. All that registered with her was that now the fingers were feeling over her bare skin, and how that was much more pleasant.

                “Look, look!” a girl cried as she stepped away from the group, placing the satin cape over her shoulders, “I’ve got Batgirl’s bat wings!”

                She twirled, picking up her skirt and the cape as she spun.

                “Ooh, this is lovely!” another girl slipped the yellow utility belt about her wait, “See how well it fits!”

                “You don’t get to keep it!” a different girl protested, “Let me try it!”

                “I’m the one took it off her!”

                “You did not!”

                “Did so!”

                The pair began fighting over the famous utility belt, but before it could break down into a tug of war, Prudence called out.

                “Here, that’s enough of that!” the Lady snapped, “Neither of you are allowed to play with it now! Set it aside with the rest of her things and stop behaving like ninnies!”

                The pair of them quietly obeyed, scowling at each other for ruining the fun, then turned back to Batgirl to watch the undressing continue.

                As Barbara was kissed by another girl, the rest were either supporting her or drawing the suit off her shoulders. They pulled it down, rolling it over her chest to expose a modest, canary yellow bra that nevertheless couldn’t hide the roundness of the shapes within. The bat symbol on her chest crumpled as it was rolled up, the shining violet drawn away to reveal fair skin beneath.

                “Oh, we shall have to dress you in different underthings, dear!” one girl cooed as she worked Batgirl’s arm out of the costume’s sleeve, “These are much too stuffy for you!”

                “Stuffed, are they?” another giggled and cupped a bra-covered breast, squeezing it thoughtfully, “Hmm… I think not, actually! Not stuffed at all!”

                “Liar!” someone else clasped the opposite breast to see for herself.

                Yet another kiss was broken and this time another one didn’t come. The girls were too busy eyeing the heroine’s bosom and trim tummy as the suit came down, getting in on the argument of whether she stuffed her bra.

                “They’re right plump little pigeons, they are!” one girl giggled, “See? No stuffing! Feel for yourself!”

                “It’s mostly the bra, I think!”

                “Jealous, then?”

                “Get your hand out of the way and I’ll show you!”

                After several seconds of no forthcoming kiss, Barbara slowly blinked her eyes open, her brow furrowing in confusion. It felt like she was waking up from a heavy dream and looked disoriented, her blue eyes glassy. Only gradually did she notice cool air on particular places she usually kept protected, such as her stomach, the tops of her breasts, and even her hips.

                The dazed librarian looked down in bewilderment, unsure what was happening at first.

                Then she saw. Her suit was more off than on, peeled all the way down to her hips, exposing her bra. Her arms were out of the sleeves and the upper half hung off her waist, empty and useless, but even as she watched the costume was still being wiggled down. She saw the yellow cotton of her panties peak out, then suddenly the suit was yanked down with a jerk and the undergarment was exposed in its entirety.

                Barbara stiffened, her eyes shooting wide.

                “NOO-OO!” she shrieked, her voice reaching a painfully high pitch.

                Surprising the girls holding her, she yanked her arms free of their grasp and pressed them to herself, hugging one arm over her bra while the other hand clamped over the front of her panties. Blushing from the tip of her nose to her ears, the young former crimefighter tried to hunch over to better protect herself, biting her lip. She even grasped the bottom of her suit and tried to pull it back up.

                A chorus of laughter rang out around her, even Lady Prudence joining in as she saw Barbara’s desperate expression. It made the librarian only try to cover up more, dropping to the floor and starting to curl up into a protective ball.

                But despite their laughter, the girls weren’t about to let their prey hide.

                As athletic as Batgirl was, she couldn’t resist the numerous hands that grabbed her and pulled her back to her feet.

                “Oh, she IS a bashful one!”

                “Remember how churlish she was earlier? So much for that, eh!”

                “Don’t hide yourself, you silly thing! You have nothing to be ashamed of!”

                Her lack of courage making it impossible for her to strike back at them, Barbara only twisted in their grasp, fruitlessly trying to pull free so she could cover herself. Laughing, teasing faces surrounded her, hands continuing to explore her body, and her bottom lip quivered pitifully as she looked from one to the next, hoping for at least a semblance of mercy. They stroked her cheeks, plucked at her underwear, and though they didn’t seem overly malicious, none of them were keen to help her.

                “Pl-please…” she whimpered to one girl only to receive a kiss on the cheek.

                “Silly thing! You should have thought of this before you tried to outfox our governor!”

                “Not so cheeky now, hm?”

                “Perhaps we should give her her spanking now, eh?” another girl suggested, “While she’s already in a tizzy?”

                “Oh, yes! We should!”

                “Yes, let’s! A spanking!”

                “A spanking, a spanking!”

                After the consensus among the girls was reached, the group quieted and turned towards Lady Prudence. Some of them didn’t like how she lorded over them, others were jealous, but they knew she had the final say in this matter.

                They waited for a moment, seeing if she would intercede, then one of them piped up, her voice soft and hopeful.

                “Lady Prudence?” the girl asked, “Might we give Batgirl her spanking now?”

                The others watched with nervous anticipation, their eyes bright.

                Barbara watched as well, staring pleadingly at her mistress, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

                The room was silent.

                For her part, Prudence let that silence hang for several moments. Her arms were still crossed under her breasts and as everyone stared at her, she scrunched her lips in thought, cocking her hips to one side. Posing in that fashion, she made a meal of considering her options, drawing out everyone’s anticipation.

                Looking at each face in turn, the blonde heiress’ eyes danced with obvious mirth. She put up a front of solemn reflection, but didn’t try very hard to keep it up, as gradually her lips began to quirk up in her usual superior grin. Nevertheless, she refused to answer as the seconds ticked by, tapping her foot on the hardwood floor.

                The last face she looked at was Batgirl’s. She stared knowingly into the crumpled crimefightress’ eyes, enjoying her uncertainty most of all, as well as searching deep inside them for something that would inform on her decision.

                “Hmm…” she mused, peering into Barbara’s shining blue eyes.

                Her bottom lip trembling, the half-dressed heroine stared pleadingly back, hoping for some sort of mercy. As silly as it was to beg for rescue from the very person that had captured and defeated her, she had no other choice. In sheer desperation, she gave the other girl all her hope, praying Prudence would protect her.

                “Please… m-my lady…” she whimpered, her voice warbling and barely audible.

                Prudence’s grin broadened, relishing the pathetic tone.

                Then she shrugged.

                “Sorry, my dear,” she cooed, “But I don’t make the rules, do I?”

                The other girls bounced with excitement, their eyes lighting up. They had a shrewd idea of what was going to happen next, but still they waited for the Lady to make it official.

                Prudence looked to them, “Go on then, girls. A spanking it shall be.”

                Immediately, the schoolgirls cheered in unison.

                “A SPANKING, A SPANKING, A SPANKING, A SPANKING!”

                The feminine mob erupted in celebration, clapping, some jumping up and down, others even hugging each other. Giggles, piercing in tone, abruptly filled the room once more. It was enough to make Barbara cringe and she clenched her eyes closed, trying to cover her ears.

                However, the girls weren’t distracted by their rejoicing for long. Before Barbara could think to protest, she was picked up by a giggling swarm and carried over to a sofa. The former Batgirl cried out in surprise, kicking her legs instinctively, but could do nothing but pedal harmlessly in mid-air.

                Eyes wide, she looked around frantically, unsure what they were doing or how to protect herself. She was still completely bewildered when the girls shoved her over the back of the sofa, so her face was buried in the seat cushions.

                “OOLPH!” she cried out as she found herself draped across the sofa back, her hindquarters hiked up.

                Barbara still didn’t understand the sheer precision of the girls’ maneuvers until several of them, who had scampered around to the other side of the sofa, now took her arms. Still tittering, they grinned and held her still, leaving her doubled over the sofa and unable to right herself.

                Her full rump held high, the moons parted and stretching rumples out of her panties, Batgirl kicked her feet, but only succeeded in making the presented shapes bounce merrily. Crying out in wordless fright, she wriggled and twisted her hips, only to easily be held still.

                The girls knew well what they were doing. This wasn’t their first such outing.

                While Barbara squirmed, several standing behind her began to comment.

                “This won’t be so bad!” one of them patted her bottom, “She has quite the springy bum! A bit large, actually, for such a graceful thing!”

                “Oh, but that makes it hurt worse!” another hand smoothed across the seat of her panties, “The fuller, the more it stings!”

                “Only if it’s blubber!” yet another giggled, “And this Bat bottom has precious little of that! Look at how strong her legs!”

                Barbara had never blushed so violently in her life as the girls continued to giggle. Her face was so hot she felt feverish, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Whimpering, she squirmed and looked around desperately for Lady Prudence, but her mistress was nowhere to be found.

                Shortly, another pair of girls skipped up behind her.

                “Here it is!” one of them cried, “The Welcome Rod!”

                The others around her laughed at that, like it was some kind of inside joke.

                “All right, then, Batgirl!” one of them teased.

                “Yes! Down with the nocturnal knickers!”

                Then several pairs of hands found the waistband of her underwear and began pulling them down.

                Barbara stiffened, her head bucking up from the sofa cushions.

                “NO-OO!” she squealed, “YOU CAN’T! STOP!”

                Her protests only made the girls giggle louder as the yellow panties came down over the shining, pale globes.

                “Look!” a girl cried, “I think it’s the bat signal!”

                “Pity we don’t have a bat-shaped paddle!” Another laughed.

                The enrollees at Fogg Place’s finishing school continued to tease and cackle, working themselves into hysterics. It wasn’t clear if they always got excited about a spanking, or whether it was just because it was Batgirl, but they were certainly dragging this one out. For almost a minute, Barbara’s bare bottom was exposed to the open air, being pinched and occasionally patted while the girls laughed and joked.

                It was only when Lady Prudence called out that they quieted down.

                “ENOUGH ladies! Honestly, pipe down or you’ll ALL have a turn!”

                The laughter died quickly after that, the room becoming silent once more. Other than Barbara’s squeals and the occasional muffled titter or whisper, it was as quiet as a church. It was so quiet, the clicks of Prudence’s shoes on the hardwood floor almost made the captive heroine wince.

                Stopping at the front of the sofa, where Barbara buried her cheek into the seat cushions, the young criminal aristocrat knelt down. Leaning down to meet the captive crimefighter’s eyes, she smiled and reached out to stroke a cheek.

                The gentle touch made Barbara whimper. The small comfort was enough to make her want to beg for more and she looked pleadingly into the eyes of the girl that had beaten her, tears already rolling down her cheeks.

                “You know very well that you misbehaved, Batgirl,” she chided, “Talking back to father and auntie, sneaking in where you weren’t invited, dressing up as a costumed crimefighter and trying to spoil our plans… it’s all very naughty, isn’t it?”

                Staring back, Barbara gulped audibly. Part of her didn’t want to agree, but another part of her knew that not to do so would make things worse.

                After a moment’s consideration she nodded.

                “And we can’t let something as naughty as caped crusading go unpunished, can we?” Prudence continued.

                Barbara hesitated only a moment before shaking her head.

                “I-I…” she whimpered.

                “Shush, now,” Prudence placed a finger on her lips, “Best to get this out of the way so you don’t have to bother about it. Then, after this is settled, I’ll see to training you up properly.”

                Barbara gulped loudly, staring at the other girl with every ounce of desperation she could muster. She wanted to beg, to tell Prudence she was sorry.

                But before she could do so, the heiress grinned at the others.

                “All right, then,” Prudence cooed, “Let’s start. Twoscore to begin with, I think. We’ll see how penitent she is.”

                “Yes, Lady Prudence!” the schoolgirls replied in unison, the giggles of excitement beginning anew.

                Barbara stiffened, blinking in surprise.

                Twoscore?! But that meant—

                But before she couldn’t even finish her thought, the cane whistled through the air and landed across her bottom with a resounding crack.

                Batgirl let out a pealing shriek, her head jerking up off the sofa cushions.

                “40!” the girls called out in unison.

                The blow of the cane left a throbbing streak across the swells of her bared bottom and the sting that followed was enough to make her teeth grind. Barbara had been spanked growing up, but it had been a long time ago and part of her had thought those pains of childhood wouldn’t be a match for an adult pain threshold. Now she was beginning to learn otherwise.

                Clenching her eyes shut, she braced herself for the next blow, hoping that it wouldn’t hurt as bad when she was prepared for it.

                She was wrong. It was worse.

                CRACK!

                “AAAA-AAAAAAH!” Barbara cried, her presented bottom rippling as another welt was raised below the first.

                “39!” the girls called out again, laughing as they did.

                Already gasping for air, Barbara gulped and sobbed, wide-eyed almost to the point of shellshock. She couldn’t believe how much it hurt, and the shame of the act itself, along with being unable to take it, made the pain exponentially worse. She kicked her feet feebly, wriggling in desperation to escape, but she couldn’t even manage to turn enough to see the next blow coming.

                “Pleas—EEEEAAAAGH!” her plea for mercy was cut off by another resounding smack.

                “38!” the girls continued to count.

                Now with welts crisscrossing her well-shaped butt, Barbara wept openly and without restraint. She couldn’t handle the pain, couldn’t handle the embarrassment, and didn’t know how she would survive thirty-seven more canings. Sagging into the sofa, she buried her face and cried bitterly.

                But Prudence wouldn’t allow it. She cupped the beaten Batgirl’s chin and lifted it up, forcing the girl to look at her.

                “Mmmm…” the heiress narrowed her eyes, “It seems Batgirls crumple under the cane just like other girls…”

                Her face as red as a tomato, Barbara opened her mouth to blubber and plead, when another loud smack jiggled her bottom.

                “AAAA-AAAAAOOOW!” she wailed.

                “37!” came the predictable cry.

                “Don’t you feel silly now?” Prudence clucked her tongue, “Trying to tell me off? Spouting all that nonsense about just desserts and putting me behind bars?

                SMACK!

                “AAAAAAAAGH!” Barbara cried.

                “36!”

                Prudence grinned broadly, “From now on, I shall call you Babsy. You will be my personal girl. My servant and property. And the slightest step out of line, we’ll have you bottom up and beneath the cane before you can say ‘yankee doodle’…”

                Another smack made Barbara bawl, her bottom bouncing boisterously.

                “35!”

                Prudence helpfully covered Batgirl’s mouth to restrain any further cries. She smiled affectionately, wiping tears, while the girl sobbed into her palm.

                “Let’s at least try to show some dignity now, hm?” the heiress cooed, “Embarrassing for everyone to hear the famous Batgirl cry… and there’s only 30 odd left…”

                Barbara wept into her mistress’s hand with abandon, her backside a pair of red, throbbing bubbles.

                It was an intense, intimate moment for both of them; the moment their roles were truly sealed. Mistress and pet. They both knew there was no way any remnants of even the hope of defiance would remain within the former crimefightress after 30 more spankings.

                The tale of the Londinium Larcenies was over. Batman, Robin, and now Batgirl, were finished.



                *                             *                             *



                And so, the adventures of the caped crusaders came to an end. In all the perfidious schemes they’d thwarted, the terrific trio finally met their match. Woe is to fair Gotham City, for without its knowing, far across the sea in Londinium, its watchful wardens against wrongdoing have been wrought-over and wrangled to their doom! How can Gotham—nay, the world—fare without the selfless superheroes that so often saved it from sinister schemes of super criminality?

                Even now Commissioner Gordon, though ignorant to the costumed calamity, senses dark clouds looming, overshadowing the last hours of his Londinium vacation. His preternatural police perceptions prompt him to predict a pall of pernicious evil-doing that will soon prey upon his protected province. 

                Soon to take a return cruise to his home city, the beleaguered police commander shares his fears with his daughter via a last telephone call…



                “… and that was the last of it,” Gordon said into the phone, “The crown jewels are gone and Ireland Yard has no clues or leads! It’s as if it all vanished in a cloud of Londinium fog and I could do nothing to aid them! I feel so helpless!”

                Seated in the living room of Fogg Place, Barbara Gordon nodded sadly, empathizing with her father’s helplessness. Her dark hair let down to fall in shining curls at her shoulders, she was transformed by Mod style her mistress had selected for her, a short skirt with high stockings that showed much of her strong legs and a snug vest with the Fogg family crest. A small collar was around her throat, with a bell attached, and she sat upright and proper as she’d been trained, while lowering her head in the meek posture of a servant.

                “I’m sorry, daddy,” the tamed librarian replied, “That sounds awful.”

                “Not only that,” Commissioner Gordon continued, “But it’s been weeks since anyone has seen Batman, Robin, OR Batgirl! I was delighted to see they’d come to assist us, but now they’ve vanished as well!”

                Barbara swallowed, “Maybe… maybe they’re out looking for clues?”

                “I hope so, Barbra, I do hope so, but…” the Commissioner paused to let out a heavy sigh, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I fear the worst. Batman has never taken so long to respond to my messages—not ever—and if he was still on the case, I feel sure he would have contacted me by now.”

                Lowering her eyes, Barbara nodded again.

                “I think it will soon be time to face facts,” Gordon continued, “Whoever these criminals are, Batman nor Robin nor Batgirl were a match for them. They were most likely outfoxed and brought to their knees. They are either prisoners or worse. And now with Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, and even their butler locked in the looney bin… well, I fear Gotham shall be a much darker place.”

                Yearning to give her father some words of comfort, Barbara squirmed in her seat. In truth, there was little she could do but confirm his worst fears, as she knew that Batman, Robin, and especially Batgirl, had indeed been beaten by their latest foes. Still, she wanted to say something to assuage the commissioner’s worry, perhaps hint towards what had really happened.

                Biting her lip, she looked up at Lady Prudence, who was looming over her, supervising the conversation.

                Her mistress looked into her eyes and knew exactly what Barbara pet was asking. The larcenous lady shook her head in the negative, making her instructions clear.

                Barbara sighed heavily.

                “D-daddy…” she tried to sound cheery, “Don’t be such a worry wart. Batman and Robin have always come through before! I bet when you get home, they’ll already be waiting for you!”

                “Perhaps you’re right, darling,” Commissioner Gordon replied, “There’s always a bright side! I AM very pleased that you’re so happy with your position at the Fogg Place finishing school!”

                “Oh, yes, daddy. It’s wonderful.”

                “Wonderful indeed!” the commissioner continued, “I think this will be a grand opportunity for you! You can’t spend all your time in a library and you could use a good finishing! At least some good has come of this, eh?”

                Barbara closed her eyes as Prudence stroked her hair. Her mistress was fond of doing it and Barbara found it comforting as well. She smiled, genuinely relieved.

                “Yes, daddy, you were right all along,” she said, “I’ve already learned so much from being here! I’ve really… found my proper place.”

                “I’m delighted to hear it! And since Lord Fogg is coming to Gotham to take over poor Mr Wayne’s business interests, I won’t even have to wait long to see you again!”

                Just as he finished speaking, there was the deep, rumbling bawl of a cruise liner’s horn.

                “Oh, dear, it sounds like they’re about to make way, Barbara, I’ll have to run!” Gordon said, “Kisses, my dear! I’ll see you in Gotham soon!”

                He blew a kiss into the phone receiver.

                Barbara blew one back, “Bon voyage, daddy. I’ll see you soon!”

                With that, they both hung up.

                Setting the phone in its cradle, Barbara kept her head bowed as Prudence continued to stroke her hair. She remained this way for several moments, merely waiting to be given a command. If her mistress wanted her to do something, she would say so, and until then she would sit still and be petted.

                After several seconds, Lady Prudence stopped running her fingers through her servant’s shining hair and lowered her hand to her side.

                “Very good, Babsy,” she said, calling Barbara by her new affectation, “You can stand up now.”

                Barbara obediently stood before her mistress, her eyes lowered in deference. Her new garments and hairstyle made her look almost juvenilely girlish, not at all the mousey but confident librarian who had arrived at the manor. Hands clasped in her lap, bowed and uncertain in the aristocrat’s presence, she kept her eyes on her feet.

                Prudence nonchalantly produced a leash and reached towards Barbara’s collar.

                “And that shall be that, I think,” she said, “No more Batgirl, no more crimefighting.”

                “Yes, my lady,” Barbara agreed.

                The leash clicked into place and Prudence gave it a little tug to make sure it was secure before placing a finger under Barbara’s chin. She tilted it up, directing the girl to look at her.

                “Good! Then now it’s time for your chores!” the heiress said brightly, “There’s much more dusting to be done today, dishes to wash, and after you’ve finished, I have friends that want to see my little college graduate servant! If you behave well, you shall be given a treat!”

                At this she slipped a hand under Barbara’s skirt, feeling over the smaller, white panties that had been chosen for her.

                Barbara blushed. She knew what a “treat” meant and she wanted one very much.

                She nodded eagerly, “Yes, my lady! Thank you, my lady! I promise to behave, my lady!”

                “I’m sure you will, Babsy,” Prudence cooed, “You always do!”

                Then with a pat on the former crimefighter’s bottom, the lady turned and marched away, guiding her pet by the leash.

                “Come along now, Babsy! Step smartly!”

                Blushing, Barbara scampered eagerly after her.

An alternate telling of the classic Batman Londinium Larcenies episodes!