Author's Notes: Sorry for such a long wait, hopefully this chapter delivers everything you want from it. My fancast for Barbara is one of two Emmas: Emma Stone or Emma Watson. there is more coming but I'm not sure when or exactly what chapter order so I haven't put a next time this time. Stay tuned to find out!

It came down to the moment it always comes down to. The Batman stood on the walkway above a vat of Ace Chemicals. The Red Hood falling. Jack had worn a mask of his own that night - his Red Hood gang had caused chaos throughout Gotham but he was the ringleader. He was the Red Hood. A faceless beast terrorising Gotham. This was the first time he'd seen the Batman face to face - all those weeks of preparations, picking off lesser heroes, it had all been building to this. And in the moment: he froze. Not out of fear. Out of love. Beneath the dome shaped helmet, Jack was grinning from ear to ear.

"You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?" Jack whispered as the Batman raced towards him, batarang drawn. Then he did the only thing he could to escape - he stepped off the walkway. Batman reached for him, out of instinct as much as anything else. Jack batted his hand away as he fell, crashing into the deep swirling vat of green. Nobody could survive that...

Barbara Gordon sat doodling. The Red Hood gang had been captured, the attacks had stopped - all that was weeks ago. Since then the Batman had retreated back into the shadows. His presence was still felt throughout the city but nobody had actually seen him since the attacks stopped. Barbara remembered what it had been like to help him in his dark crusade - the thrill of it all. That was what fuelled her daydreams now - she was barely even thinking as she sketched herself in a Bat costume for the 14th time.

With a sigh, she closed the book and tucked it into the top drawer of her desk. Barbara stretched out as she stood up, glancing around her messy college dorm room. Thank god her father never came to visit her here - he'd have a fit if he saw the state of her room. Barbara Gordon had a tidy organised mind, but that never seemed to translate to a clean bedroom. With a sleepy smile, Barbara stripped off, changing into tiny thin pyjamas, before flopping down on her bed. In a grey vest and short shorts, she stretched out on her back, yawning. Then suddenly the lights went off.

Barbara assumed it was a power cut at first. Then with a click, the dim light of the lamp of her desk flickered on. A figure all in black was stood there, flicking through the notebook she had just put down. "So you see yourself as some sort of Batgirl then..." The figure growled and Barbara recognised the sandpaper voice. Batman turned to look at her.

Batman dropped her book onto the floor without a second thought as he advanced towards Barbara. Barbara suddenly felt very self conscious, wearing so little. She swallowed hard. He stopped at the side of her bed, glaring down at her. Her heart was racing. "Gotham at night is a dangerous world. It's no place for a little girl like you."

"I'm not a little girl!" Barbara shouted at him. His hand moved with inhuman speed, grabbing her throat roughly. He squeezed slightly and Barbara whimpered. "You can't defend yourself," he stated, "you wouldn't last a minute as a Batgirl." He released his grip on her neck and the redhead gasped for breath. "Not without training."

Barbara's heart skipped a beat. "You could train me," she ventured. He glared at her and she wondered if he was going to hit her. "I could," he said slowly. "You were useful when I needed you, that's why I came here tonight. To find out what you really want." He leant towards her. "I could make you Batgirl if that's what you really want. But it would be dangerous. And you'd have to work for it. Harder than you've ever worked for anything before in your life. And you really have to want it, Barbara."

Something about the way he said her name made her tremble. "I don't care about dangerous," she answered bravely, "and you can work me as hard as you want." He leant towards her. "Do you want it?" He snarled it. "Yes," she answered. "How bad?" He leant even closer. "Really bad," she breathed out. They were right next to each other, faces inches apart. She could see the badly trimmed stubble of his jawline from this close. He could see the nervous sweat on her brow.

"You're a soldier now, Barbara," he told her, not moving away, "that means you follow orders. I tell you to do something, you do it. You never ask why because that wastes time we might not have. You just do as you are told. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Kiss me."

Barbara almost hesitated. But she knew better. She was a soldier now. She followed orders. The redhead grabbed Batman by both cheeks and pressed her lips to his. He cupped her cheek, kissing roughly back. She moaned into the kiss. "Stop," Batman growled and Barbara instantly retreated. He nodded slightly. "Hit me." He gave the order.

Barbara Gordon then did something perhaps nobody had ever done before. She slapped Batman. He grinned, impressed. Then he slapped her across the face with the back of his hand, striking her cheek so hard he left a red mark. Barbara cried out as he grabbed a fistful of her bright orange hair and wrenched her up against him, her back pressed to his chest. His hand wrapped around her throat again, silencing her.

He held her there for what felt like hours. She was terrified. Then suddenly he released and let her drop forwards onto her hands and knees. "That's what pain feels like," he said, and he almost sounded sorry, "you need to get used to it in this line of work. And you learnt your first lesson Barbara: anyone will hurt you if you give them the chance."

"No," Barbara corrected him, sitting back on her knees and letting a grin spread across her face, "not Barbara." She rubbed her cheek slightly where he'd smacked it, and her grin grew a little wider: "Batgirl." Batman grinned back at her.

His hands came down on her shoulders and Barbara felt herself being pushed down onto her back. He straddled her waist and grabbed her wrists, wrenching them up above her head and pinning them down. He pushed them higher, making her back arch up towards him, then he held them there with one hand. The other hand took rope from his belt and started to wrap it around her, tying her wrists to the head of the bed.

"I need to know your size for the costume," he growled. Barbara went to answer him but he silenced her with a hand over her mouth. She realised what he meant as his free hand started to trail up her inner thigh like a claw. As that hand cupped her crotch through her shorts, the other left her mouth and picked at the hem of her vest, rolling it up to expose her stomach. Then his mouth came down on her navel and she felt his tongue drag along her skin so roughly. She tried so hard to suppress the whining moan of fear and pleasure building in her throat.

"This isn't a children's tv show, Barbara," he told her, with what might have been a tiny hint of compassion in his voice, "super villains don't play nice, you need to be ready for anything." The hand on her crotch pressed down a little harder and Barbara squirmed uncomfortably, "If you want me to call you Batgirl, Barbara," he was almost smiling now she thought, "you have to prove to me tonight that you can take it. Prove to me that you deserve to be Batgirl."

Barbara nodded and he released his grip on her shorts, "yes sir," she did her best to stop her voice trembling, "I won't make any more noise sir," she assured him. He was definitely smirking now as his hand went underneath her shorts. "No," he said softly. Two fingers started to press inside her entrance. "I'm ordering you to make lots of noises."

She gasped as he slammed those two fingers down into her wet cunt with remarkable force, almost filling her tight pussy. Her hips bucked up to meet his hand, and she let a strained mewling noise. He waited until she was just starting to get used to it, then his fingers blasted her, pumping in and out faster and faster, harder and harder. Barbara was crying out, her body spasming, struggling against her restraints as he fingered her tight little pussy so hard it might break. Barbara slumped down, breathing hard when he finally pulled his fingers out.

He gripped her vest and rolled it up further, revealing her perky little breasts. He kept pushing it up until it was a thin strip over her eyes, a make shift blindfold. Barbara was breathing so heavily now. Her brain was still functioning just enough for her to whisper: "blind as a bat. Nice." He brushed his thumbs over her erect nipples, making her moan. Then he pinched them, pulling her breasts taut. "Not nice!" She squeaked. He actually laughed. Barbara wasn't sure anyone had ever heard Batman laugh before - did that mean she was special?

He covered her tits with the palms of his hands and grasped the heaving mounds, squeezing tightly. She bit down on her bottom lip. She was also suddenly aware that in the boobs department she was not the most impressive specimen - her mind flashed to her friends who made her look so flat-chested. She didn't want to disappoint her new boss, she almost told him she was sorry. It was like he sensed her fears though because she felt his hot breath on her ear and heard him whisper: "perfect fit." She grinned from ear to ear.

He pulled her vest away from her eyes and Barbara wondered if it was over as he untied her hands. She wasn't sure she was ready to be untied yet. As soon as her hands were free, she couldn't stop herself - she lurched forwards, grabbed him by both cheeks and kissed him. It was a long, hard, passionate kiss, their lips working roughly against each other. When she broke away, she turned bright red. He was smiling though. He really liked her. "You know how to use your initiative. Good. Now let's see how you take a beating."

Barbara yelped as he flipped her onto her front, rebound her wrists this time behind her back, and pulled her across his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, her rear end pointing up at the sky and the warm wetness of her crotch pressed against his pelvis. She could feel his erection and smiled slightly, pleased to know she wasn't the only one enjoying training. Then he slapped her ass with such force that she genuinely screamed.

She wasn't worried about people hearing. A night never passed in Gotham without the sounds of women screaming. She was panting for breath after just one spank. Who knew how many he had planned. He seemed to be taking a minute to soothe her after the first slap, gently kneading the globes of her ass through her shorts.

His hand came down again with a sharp crack, and she squeaked and lurched forward. She moaned. He was rubbing a hand soothingly over the stinging skin again. The moaning turned back to shrieking as he smacked both cheeks then peppered her upper thighs with lighter strikes.

Barbara moaned and let her mind melt into it, any train of thought she'd had shattered. He was ruthlessly precise - each blow to her aching ass and thighs stung, a burning sensation spreading through the rapidly reddening skin. Barbara could feel herself getting lightheaded. She whimpered as she felt him yank down her shorts. His hands dipped between her thighs and she spread her legs wider, preparing herself for pleasure. She yelped when he smacked her pussy.

The hits were gentler but still stung as the flurry of sharp slaps hit her entrance. She writhed and gasped, crying out desperately. He grabbed a fistful of her orange hair and yanked her head back towards him. "You're doing well, Barbara" he growled in her ear as his free hand returned to her sore stinging rear, spanking it harder and harder, "a good soldier knows how to take a good beating."

The crack of his hand on her ass was so loud, and he was holding her in place to the blows so firmly. The unrelenting punishment showed no signs of stopping. Her eyes watered as the dual sensations of pain and pleasure merged completely. It was agonisingly good. He massaged her butt-cheeks, stroking where the last few spanks had struck. "Good soldier," he said quietly as he released his vice-like grip on her hair.

Barbara breathed out as he pushed her off his lap. For half a second her cheek was resting on her pillow. Then he pulled her up onto her hands and knees. She heard his utility belt click open and the sound of a zip. She felt his erection pressed against her. "You've earned this," Batman told her as he grasped her hips. Barbara braced herself.

She moaned as he nudged her thighs wider apart and settled hi self between them, his cock pressing against her entrance. Then he pushed inside. Barbara whimpered at the rough penetration. "How does it feel?" He asked, and for a moment it sounded like he wanted her approval as much as she wanted his. "So good," she gasped out. He tightened his grip on her hips and started to move.

His thrusts were sharp and punishing, hitting a spot deep inside her that made her trembled. She was still on her knees, panting, as she rocked her hips to try and get him deeper inside her. He gripped her hair and pulled, tilting her head up to face the wall in front of her. "Say my name," he ordered.

"Batman," she gasped.

"Now say yours,"

"Batgirl!"

Her body squeezed involuntarily around him again in excitement. He thrust into her so hard she lost her balance, tumbling forwards onto her elbows. His hand left her hair and pressed down on her bare back, feeling the hot sweat on her naked skin. He pushed, arching her back, pressing her cheek down against the pillow. Barbara could feel tears of pain and joy trickling down her face. His other hand wrapped around her waist and dipped to her aching cunt, stroking her clitoris with precise calculated movements. "Scream," he ordered.

Barbara screamed as she exploded. She barely heard him cursing behind her through her climax. She felt him finish though. She'd finished the Batman. She slumped down face first onto the bed as he climbed off, both of them breathing hard. Batman leant against the wall for support as he clicked his belt back into place. "You're going to do just fine, Barbara," he smirked. She grinned back at him: "not Barbara..."

"Batgirl."

Pale white fingers clawed their way out of the sewage, dragging the aching attached body out onto dry land. The crazed man looked around, seeing the world through blood. His helmet came off and dropped to the floor, suddenly everything wasn't red anymore. He caught a glimpse of his face reflected in the red hood and saw Jack was dead. He'd been replaced by a clown. The Joker looked up at the moon and saw a deformed dead bunny. He laughed and looked towards Gotham. All he saw was prey.