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“Alright,” Zatanna said, giving a final once over of the bedroom. Before turning to the man in the bed. “All set.”
“Just so we're clear here,” She said. “No blood or piss, no marking…”
“No permanent marking, if it will fade in a day or so, that's fine.”
“Right,” She said. “Other nos, I've got a list here.”
She held up a sheet of paper.
“And I'll be watching from the CCTV,” the magician said, pointing to the camera. “And will stop things immediately if they cross your red lines. One recorded copy only, which you can review and destroy at your leisure.”
“Right.”
“Bruce…you are sure about this?” Zatanna asked, somewhat nervously. “You're always very protective of your privacy and this is…well beyond that.”
“Everyone I invited already knows my secret identity,” Bruce Wayne said firmly from his place on the bed. “And has proven capable of extreme discretion, both inside the League and to potential threats outside of it. I may not trust easily, but I do trust these people.”
The erstwhile Batman was dressed for the event, but that did not entail all that much clothing. Tight black shorts that showed his well sculpted ass in the back and a large bulge in front. A similarly tight blue cropped muscle shirt that strained to hold his pecs, but left his abs mouthwateringly exposed. And a cute leather jacket that was just a little too small, showing his broad shoulders and muscled arms. It was a slutty outfit, but one not expected to survive the coming ordeal.
“Alright,” Zatanna said. “Are you ready then?”
“Ready,” He said firmly.
“Alright,” The magician said. “See you on the other side. Total of five by the way.”
She pressed her palm against his forehead, and spoke the magic word.
“Peelsa”
…
Bruce Wayne woke up, very, very, sore. This was not new for the caped crusader of course, but the type of soreness was new. His hips, his ass, his cock ached in particular, as did his jaw. But it was all from a different angle. His jaw hurt not from being punched, but from being held open.
The taste of cum was all over his mouth. It was a mix of various salty and sticky sensations. And was that? Yes it was, there was also the barest hint of pussy juice left on his taste buds. Interesting.
Bruce opened his eyes, which provided his next clue. One took a bit of effort to open, covered slightly with cum. At least one of his guests has gone for a facial then. Sitting up carefully to avoid disturbing any of the evidence, and to avoid irritating his sensitive ass, Bruce rose and surveyed the room.
His clothes were in ruins. All that remained on him was his crop top, and even that was forced into a bundle around his neck, someone had wanted access to his chest. His jacket was on the floor in the corner. His shorts torn to shreds nearby. And was that a set of red underwear…
“Superman!” He shouted to the room.
A loud ding came his response, Zatanna affirming that he had guessed correctly. He grumbled to himself. The whole point of this was the challenge of deducing who had been part of the gangbang. Clark was making it too easy.
He reached down and picked up his shorts. As he suspected, torn in several places in order to remove them quickly from his body. He examined the tears carefully, noting where the rips had been located, as well as the strain on the remaining fabric. Someone with super strength had done this, but someone with proportionally smaller fingers. No sharpened nails though, practical manicure. A woman most likely, which would explain the taste of pussy in his tongue and the non-semen fluids on the bed…
“Wonder Woman,” he said. An affirmative ding confirmed his suspicions.
An examination of his jacket proved fruitless, so he was forced to turn to the marks of climax all over his body. He inhaled deeply, letting the sense of being used wash over him. This was supposed to be fun after all. He ran a finger up his cheek, gathering the remains of the facial. He tasted it. Unlike the mix left in his mouth, this was clear and distinct, from one cock alone. And he recognized the overpowering taste. Salty as salty could be, while still being tasty.
“Aquaman,” he said confidently. Ding.
His next taste was far less helpful. He still took his time to savor Clark's cum, which was always delectable in his opinion. But he'd already found him. Looking over the rest of his body it was more of the same, from head to toe.
Wait.
He looked back down at his feet. Yes they were covered in cum. But none of the people he had invited had a foot fetish, as far as he knew. And he knew quite a bit. And the angle, the angle was all wrong for a footjob. If they'd been using his feet to get off the splatter pattern wouldn't look like this. And yes, as he looked up his leg, he saw an almost imperceptible line of cum and precum, as if dripped by someone in a hurry.
Oh that was clever, trying to disguise themselves by taking a foot fetish. That narrowed it down to certain cheeky, clever, teammates but did not give him a direct name.
He examined the bed next for clues and found a curious price of evidence. On the side of the bed was a stain of semen. Not entirely surprising, he had likely been hauled all around the room while he was out. But the pattern was complete, from the farthest reach of the cumshot, to the final dribble of the penis. This orgasm had touched nothing but the bed. It's distribution was uneven as well, as if the person had been unprepared. Unfamiliar with how to handle the cock.
“Zatanna,” He said carefully. “Did you perhaps use a bit of magic to give someone a dick for the evening.”
“That would be telling,” came the reply over the intercom. So a yes then.
Another clever ploy.
Bruce's mind raced through who on the list would have been comfortable with asking Zatanna to give them a magic cock. Diana certainly, but she had her own means of magical phallic pleasure, and was experienced with them besides. Who else?
He reached up to feel his ear. Any odd sensation there had long faded, and paled in comparison to the rest of his body. But now that he examined them, something had been in there. Nothing directly sexual, but something had plugged his ears…
“Black Canary,” He growled.
Ding.
Dinah. That made sense. Clever enough to think of the trick, and with other superheroes in the room, she felt free to use her cry. Wonder Woman, Superman, and Aquaman would have been able to handle it without earplugs. So another superhero with powers…
…or who was familiar enough with Black Canary not to be bothered by having to wear earplugs, or knew how to avoid the effects entirely. That was doable by someone clever enough, someone clever enough to fake a foot fetish and to divert his aim quickly to do so.
“Green Arrow,” Bruce concluded. “That's five.”
Ding.
“Good work,” Zatanna said. “Come on out to celebrate your victory. They're waiting for you…and so am I for that matter.”
Suddenly, Bruce found himself much less sore.