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It feels like hell’s dirty sin when the first person Jason’s presented with to ‘prove his ways’ is fucking Anatoli. The damn KGBeast. The mother fucker who shot Dickie in the head and gave them all Ric to contend with for far too fucking long. The asshole who has plagued Dick’s life for what feels like a million years. At first, Jason thinks he’s going to come unhinged at the mere prospect of proving he’s one with Gotham’s underworld by fucking this guy. Much less doing it on stage in front of all these assholes. Behind him; Black Mask, Penguin, Riddler, every two-bit drug lord and crime boss wannabe, all staring at him. At what he’s about to do.
It's about the same moment his brain finally issues a solid fuck this, it’s all in or all gone that Anatoli steps on stage, wearing his black and red mask – the one Jason’s always privately labeled as the gimp mask – and not a whole lot else aside from a black plastic cock cage, that Jason realizes he’s been fucking gifted. The gods have seen fit; assuming there are any. Called Jason worthy and tossed this rotting asshole at his feet. Told him to go ham. In front of an audience, no less.
When Anatoli’s knees hit the stage, Jason can’t even help the smirk behind his helmet. He studies the man before him; all heaving chest and half-chubbed cock pressing the confines of the cage. Then he grasps the soft whip left with the array of toys that Jason half-feared would become something to abuse him with, wraps it around his hand, tests the strength of it between two taut fists, and then takes his first slow, intentional steps toward Anatoli.
He comes to a stop in front of him, lets him see the twist and pull of the whip in his hands, see the power he possesses, and then he steps neatly behind him and within a second, he has the stretch of the whip that isn’t wrapped around his fists straining against Anatoli’s huge, muscular neck. He leans into it when Anatoli grunts in an aroused kind of way and doesn’t fight it. Feels his heart start thumping hard in his chest as he growls out, “Play with yourself,” and feels more than sees Anatoli fumbling between his legs. He can’t outright masturbate; not with the cock cage on. But there’s a hundred other things he can do and Jason thinks of him doing them. Thinks on how he’s choking him out while making him get nasty in front of all these troublemakers.
Leaning back, he feels Anatoli’s hips jerk and hears the grunt that tells him he still has air, so he places one booted foot on Anatoli’s back and pushes. Pushes and strains and really leans into it until Anatoli’s bucking, his bulky arms straining, hands moving between his legs, in his lap, frantic and needy.
Jason smirks beneath his helmet, even as he feels the whole thing start to get to him. His own cock is chubbing up in his pants, straining at the seam just the barest amount. He feels the tingling awareness that speaks of the desire to give in to true arousal.
There’s a few moments and then he feels Anatoli’s body buck, jerk, and then start to ease. He’s either passed out on him or cum. Either one is fine for Jason. Releasing the whip from around his neck, he trails his hand over Anatoli’s broad shoulder, pinching slightly at the muscle as he come around the front. Stops and stares at the stringy mess of semen dangling from the cock cage, leading to a little puddle of it on the floor.
Smirking, Jason nudges the cage with the tip of one boot, watches it swing back and forth with the heavy weight of Anatoli’s fat cock. He prods it again and then again, harder this time. Another nudge with his foot and Anatoli’s panting breath.
Someone behind him unzips. Jason thinks he knows exactly which someone, given who he’s had on the floor before him like this before. Given who begged for his boots, his foot, his cruelty until they spilled beneath it.
The memory hedges Jason onward. It doesn’t matter who’s in front of him. Doesn’t matter the guy almost killed Dickie. His current mission matters... and then he can take out the trash. He always has.
With a breath, he lets go of present, lets go of grievances, and reminds himself how it felt before. How it felt to watch his little peeping pervert who’s now excitedly jacking behind him cumming all over his shoe.
He’s damn near grinning by the time he presses his boot hard against caged cock and exposed balls. His cock is pitching a tent big enough he’s certain his audience will notice it next time he shifts as he leans into it, as he listens to Anatoli’s excited shout as he catches balls against flooring, beneath the sole of his shoe.
Jason isn’t cruel. Not here, not like this. He walks the line of pleasure-pain with his every action. Grinds his foot, watching the spark of pain sink to the barest lows and then pushes up against the cock cage, jiggling it until there’s pleasure written in the lines of Anatoli’s body. Does it again and again until his own cock is so hard he wants to unzip and give every one of these fuckers a one-man show, cranking one out while they all stare, their cocks exposed and stiff all for his viewing pleasure.
The thought draws his foot away, turns him to side-profile to the audience. A quick glance tells him he’s right about who has been jacking off watching him and Anatoli. He tosses the whip aside, retrieves the e-stim unit and tucks the receiver in his pants pocket. Unzips and shifts his clothing out of the way, exposing his aching cock to the audience. Listens to the way the sound of someone jacking intensifies and takes immense pleasure in knowing his dick is wanted like this.
He gives it a few good strokes. Even leans over Anatoli, his hand on his hip and jacks himself with the tip of his prick rubbing against the space of mask in front of Anatoli’s mask until he sees his precum smear it. For a wild second, he thinks about pushing forward, stretching that mask to force his way into Anatoli’s mouth. He doesn’t. Just stands there and masturbates while thinking about it until he’s left a stringy wet patch of precum decorating his mask.
When he pulls back, he can see the outline of Anatoli’s tongue rubbing over the material, licking his essence away. His heart pounds and he hesitate on what he wants. Kneeling, he places the e-stim pads on Anatoli’s cock. One just under the edge of the cage, along the bottom of his cock. The other on the expanse of flesh behind his balls. He stands, puts it on the smallest intensity and hears Anatoli groan. Then he steps forward, grasps the man’s head, fists the material of his mask in both hands, tilts his hips forward, and nudges his cock against Anatoli’s chin, his lips, his nose. It’s the slip of it against the area to the side of his nose that convinces him to give in. one more step and he’s pressed to Anatoli’s masked face. Pressed to fabric that shields skin from what Jason’s about to do.
His heart pounds and he lets go with one hand to thumb the controller, pushing it up another level, giving Anatoli more forced pleasure, feels him buck because of it. Then he grabs his head and holds him steady as he presses his cock, his whole groin to Anatoli’s face and begins to hump.
Jason’s hands shake and his heart bangs in his chest as he gives in, does this reckless, nasty thing to the asshole who damn near killed the Robin that came before him. He takes in a searing breath and grips on harder, leans back further so he can watch his penis dragging over Anatoli’s masked face. Watches as it shoves up past his nose and prods at the space where his eye resides. Bucks there frantically for a moment, reveling in defiling every inch of this man until he can’t see a mirror without thinking about what Jason’s done to him.
His cock drags over the bridge of his nose. Slips down over nostrils and lips, slides across fabric with Jason’s frantic fucks, humping everything he can. Then he slides up and forward and crushes his groin to Anatoli’s face and fucks. Hard and quick and grunting with his effort.
He turns up the e-stim unit and hears Anatoli shout. Feels him buck and jerk beneath him. Hears the spill of words that ends in one he knows. The word for orgasm. He snarls, “Hold it in,” and hunches over this horrible man’s head and humps it as hard and as quick as he can. Until his balls are tight and high and his breath is a ragged pant and Anatoli is shouting through his own orgasm beneath him. His cock drags down, down and then slams forward, ripping a hole through the pathetic fabric of Anatoli’s mask and shoving his cock right into Anatoli’s mouth.
That’s all it takes for Jason’s hips to jerk to a stop. For his hands to yank Anatoli forward a half dozen times, grunting obscenely as he shoves his cock deep down that pathetic throat and then spills.
He can’t breath right by the time he’s empty. Can only hear the myriad of sounds that equate to multiple men jacking their cocks behind him. He imagines it. Imagines seeing what he just did on stage, his own penis in hand, his excitement up into his throat, allowing such a scene to happen.
It’s only pity that brings him out of his thoughts and drags his cock free of Anatoli’s mouth, that pulls his hand to his pocket and cuts off the current flowing through Anatoli’s spent body.
Jason takes a step back and stares at the mess Anatoli’s made on stage and steps back, demands, “Clean it up,” as he pushes his head toward the stage, making it clear what he wants.
Anatoli goes down and starts licking and Jason stands there, flagging cock hanging out of his pants, and growls out, “Next,” with determination.
There’s a flurry of movement and a few low level thugs Jason knows flit on stage to help Anatoli get to his feet and be removed. Then the sage creeks and groans and when Jason looks up, he finds Bane towering over him, a fierce look on his face.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s about to get the tables turned on him. So when he’s shoved down to his knees, he goes down easy. Doesn’t struggle in the slightest, just kneels and waits on his fate.
The first part is easy. Pathetically so. Bane’s fat, flaccid cock pushing into his mouth, filling it up. Jason doesn’t even let him get to the part where his hand is shoving him around, he just goes to town himself.
He’s been here before, too. Another man, another place, his knees aching on the floor, his mouth open wide around the hard prick he’s being fed. His mind sinks into the past as much as it needs to and he half-lids his eyes and pushes through it. Bobs his head, swirls his tongue to play with the limp flesh stuffing his mouth to overflowing. Swirls and twirls and then plays with the slit until the limp flesh is twitching and cum is squirting across his tongue.
Outwardly, Bane gives nothing away. He doesn’t look like a man having an orgasm. Doesn’t breathe hard or grunt or pump his hips. He just stands there, big mitts on Jason’s head and feeds him his load from his limp dick.
Jason swallows it all down and then sits there with the hard cock in his mouth. Does it until Bane pulls out and wrenches him up by the front of his shirt and shoves him back toward the floor, face-first. Jason scrambles to yank his own pants down under the swell of his ass, to spit out what little of Bane’s cum he didn’t swallow and shove his fingers back against his own asshole, his own crack and coat them in the slick liquid.
Then he’s stuck that way, hand trapped under his body by the pressure of Bane’s huge form over him, against him, pressing him to the floor. His thighs spread out of instinct, as much as his pants allow, and he’s not surprised when that thick meat drags over his crack, against his asshole, along his taint. A few grunting pushes and rearrangements that force noises from Jason’s chest end with Bane’s limp cock pressed tight against his crack, between the globes of his asscheeks.
The volley of thrusts drag Jason forward again and again, shoving his wrist and arm at awkward angles. He should be humiliated, being crushed to the floor beneath a man whose penis isn’t even hard, but he isn’t. Instead, his dick is getting hard, poking against his wrist, the floor where he’s leaving a damp streak of precum he can feel with each thrust.
There’s a moment where he’s held by the hips; seized and yanked upward, and Bane’s soft dick fucks at his hole, the first half inch or so poking into the give of Jason’s tight ring of muscle, and then Bane starts to chub. Behind him, Bane’s panting, his hips jerking. His cock starts to shove into Jason’s hole; easier because he’s only half-hard, a blessing Jason didn’t expect to be the recipient of.
It takes what feels like forever to get all of Bane’s cock into his asshole. Leaves Jason hard and his balls low and heavy with semen. He’s leaving a little damp spot on the floor in front of his face where his breath is huffing with every desperate heave form his chest. His gaze catches on the crowd; on the man unzipped pants and exposed cocks. At the two men in the back bent over one of the theater chairs, fucking. He doesn’t know either one of them, but he feels a spike of unexpected pleasure at being seen like this. At providing a spark light of pleasure for them to get off on.
Bane finally shoves the last bit of his prick into Jason’s body, gropes and shifts around until they’re in a better position for thrusting, and then holds Jason in place as he starts to ram his hips forward and jerk them back. At first it’s awkward, the press of half flaccid flesh into his tight hole and the drag of it back out. Then Bane is getting fully hard. His cock is thickening, hardening, getting longer. Jason imagines the sheer length of this monster he’s taking up his hole and he has to struggle his wrist around to press it up under his shirt and against his belly, cupping his palm there. It’s in the moment before Bane’s forward thrust that Jason realizes he hopes he’s going to feel him like some absurd animated porno. Hopes this fucking monster of a man is going to have a dick so big he’s fucking Jason’s goddamned guts with it.
Jason’s cock strains, twitches. His balls begin to lift, tighten in preparation to shoot. He’s going to fucking nut to Bane fucking him with this monster dick of his.
A few more hard shoves and Jason gasps and chokes at the girth he’s taking. Whines at the shove of what has to be the full hardness of Bane’s prick slamming back inside. And then he feels it; the gentle bulge of prick pushing against his palm, so big it’s exceeding even Jason’s muscular bulk. He groans out, “So fucking huge,” and hears at least three men the audience moan in return. He sees one stand, watches the desperate jerk of their hand along their cock, and then stares open-mouthed as Bane uses his hole, at the guy spurting all over the theater seat in front of him.
The two fucking start to get loud. A few people turn to stare at them as they escalate toward orgasm. Jason’s penis hurts it’s so fucking hard. He’s aching in a way he can barely comprehend, much less contain.
Each thrust of Bane into his body shoves forward against his palm, leaves him groping the skin there when it happens. He’s drooling, desperate to cum, his whole body is alight with pleasure.
Behind him, Bane bellows. Goes after him faster, harder, needier. His hands squeeze Jason’s hips until he can barely stand the pain of it and then that huge fucking cock starts to throb and twitch and fucking shoot deep inside Jason’s belly. He feels it moving against his palm as much as he does against his hole. Gropes at his own belly to get at Bane’s dick as he jerks his own hips to fuck his penis against the floor the last few bits of stimulation he needs. And then he’s laying there under Bane’s huge body, holding Bane’s prick through his own belly, shooting his load all over the floor in front of a whole room full of villains and monsters.
He's never felt so high in his life. Not even drugged, he hasn’t. He groans and grunts and jerks his hips through the extent of his orgasm, until he’s spent and softening in a pool of his own jizz. Stares as Roman stands and comes to the edge of the stage to jack his dick and start cumming near immediately. Behind him, Penguin’s bucking against his hands, grunting and panting as he sprays the floor between his legs. More and more men follow suit and Jason’s left watching them, grinding against the floor and Bane’s softening dick until he’s losing it a third time, easy as pie. It takes near nothing for him to begin spasming, moaning like a two-bit whore as he pulses his need all over the stage a second time.
In the moments after Bane pulls free and Jason’s left there, gaping open and feeling empty as hell, he wonders about the levels of depravity his mind really holds. How this was barely even any of it. Marvels at the idea that they could have done about anything to him and he’d have shot his load for them.
It’s Roman helping him to his feet, because of course it is. Roman guiding him from the stage and down the hallway and pushing him into the shower with a washcloth and a bar of terrible soap.
After, it’s Roman who guides him into Gotham’s newest head honcho’s office and presenting him as having passed all their tests. Wearing the seal of approval, it’s Roman taking him back to his place, laying him down in his bed, and spreading Jason’s legs for a taste of his own.
Not that he minds. Not that he’s ever minded Roman doing whatever he wants with him. He lays and he takes Roman’s dick and his load. Gives Roman his in the bare stretches of the morning hours. Falls asleep in a familiar place with a familiar feeling in his limbs.
It isn’t the world Jason imagines he wants there to one day be, but it’s a world he can tolerate living in. So, he keeps on living it, one day at a time. For the mission, for the greater good, for the end of the goddamned fucking line. He imagines what Bruce would say. Imagines how he’d react. Sits in Roman’s kitchen, coffee cup warm in his hands, and watches the sun rise along with the idea of what Bruce’s face would look like if he found out just how Jason gets the job done.