Canary Corrupted - 2.2 (Patreon)

It was the sense of sound that first came back to him. Faint buzzing and low hums, familiar thanks to all the business done in dingy, secluded backrooms. The noises wormed into his ears, digging into him like fishhooks and dragging him up, up, up from the depths of slumber. Back to the waking world.

Feeling came to him next. Light soreness all down his back, like he’d slept wrong, bent like a pretzel. He tried to sit up, to shake some of the aches away, but it was to no avail. The tightness at his wrists and ankles kept them locked in place.

Bound. Tied down, he realized with a jolt.

Jackson Stone snapped his eyes open.

Light returned to his world and for a long moment it was blinding. The sounds seemed to blare louder too, the bulbs overhead buzzing like a swarm, like they were right inside his ear canals. Industrial droning, like such from dusty vents, lulled him with all the grace of grinding rocks.

It took time for the noises to fade. A bit longer for his groggy eyes to adjust to the lights shining in his face. Stone still had to squint to get even a bit of detail from his surroundings.

Where the hell…?

A room. Obviously, from the ceiling overhead and the bright bulbs hanging down. Red brick walls, exposed piping, black metal shelves stocked with… stuff. Rolls of tape, screws, bolts, crumple bags of who the fuck knew, tools and other shit. And his chair… it had to be a chair, since it wasn’t a goddamn bed. Cold. Metal. Reclined, like the chair you’d sit in at the dentist. 

Was this a garage? A warehouse? It sure as fuck wasn’t The Cage.

The Cage. Stone grimaced as he thought back… Or tried to. He remembered… loud music. Flashing lights, red and purple and pink, and a dozen half-naked bodies writhing and twisting to match the rhythm. Flawless skin, bare and glistening with sweat. Perky little tits going this way, that way, crowned by a brilliant smile and dark, dampened hair. He remembered flat tummies turning and twisting with the hypnotic sway of full, rounded hips. He remembered the rippling softness of mouthwatering thighs and succulent, spankable asses shaking right in his face.

Right in my face…

Stone remembered a cloud of pink smoke blooming right in his face. Someone had been vaping, maybe? Or taking a hit off of something they cooked up special? Hard stuff was banned from the VIP section, so it couldn’t have been that bad. Or maybe it was. Put him out like a fucking light, didn’t it? It sure as hell wasn’t the booze. Stone knew himself. He’d never get shitfaced. Dumb move for a man in his line of work.

Somebody… did this to me…

As realization sank in, a chill went over the man’s body. Not from fear or even from nerves - the anger growing hot in his gut was eating up too much space for him to feel either. The chill he felt was real, physical, making actual prickles of his skin. Every inch of his skin.

Stone jerked his head up, looking down at himself to get slapped with the greatest shock yet.

He was naked.

Knocked out. Kidnapped. Tied down to some chair in some room. And totally fucking naked.

What the fuck. Who the fuck…

“Done with your nap?” A cold, sharp voice cut straight through the buzzing in Stone’s ears. “Took you long enough. I thought I’d have to wait up all night.”

Stone narrowed his eyes against the glare of the lights shining in his face. He could only make out a shape, something leaning against the wall far ahead of him. Next came the sound of heeled boots clicking against the hard floor. The shape was moving now. Boots were stepping and stepping, drawing closer and closer, until the shape took on the form of a woman.

Blonde. Wavy tresses reaching down, just past her shoulders. Slender but not lithe. Too full-bodied for that. Soft, yet not delicate. Firm, but still feminine. Toned, smooth legs clad in shin-high black boots, heeled and laced all the way up. Fishnets the rest of the way up to her hips wrapped in a high-cut bodice. Black material snug to a trim, taut tummy, like a second skin, cradling a perky set of creamy tits. Each just about more than a handful by Stone’s guess. A small leather jacket set over her shoulders, just loose enough to tease and entice men like him with her smaller frame. 

And that face… that pretty face… that pretty, little nose and those pretty, blue eyes and those pretty, pouty lips that had been wrapped around the girth of his rock-hard cock-

Oh. Her again.

It was the Black Canary. In full heroine get-up this time, he noted, rather than disguised as a club dancer. Not that there was much of a difference, Stone mused. The way superheroines dressed…

Stone grunted as he struggled against his binds again. Once more, it was to no avail. Wrists and ankles all tied down tight. It was all starting to piece together now. The blonde. The chair. This weird-ass room. Him being fucking naked.

…And the small metal cart sitting just next to the hero chick. There was a car battery on it. Jumper cables, too.

Stone went still. His eyes darted back to the Black Canary. How had he not noticed how fucking pissed she looked? Cold as ice and razor sharp, those pretty blue eyes of hers. Like they’d shred him down to the bone.

Any other man would shrink and wilt and beg. Not Stone. He didn’t get to where he was, didn’t hustle and fight and cheat and kill and live through it all, by being a fucking pussy.

Jackson Stone put on a grin and relaxed into his seat.

“Pretty bird.” He let his eyes roam over those fishnet-clad legs again. Eyed up her tits, too, before settling on her stony face. “If you wanted to see me again so badly, you could’ve just asked. Or even given me a call. Hell, you coulda shot me a text-”

The blonde stepped up to the foot of the chair, standing over him.

“How the fuck did you know who I was?”

-  -  -

“Sorry, Pretty Bird. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

Stone’s insufferable grin came in tandem with him visibly relaxing into his chair, bindings be damned. After all the trouble of gassing him and dragging his unconscious ass all the way across town, he still found a way to get her blood steaming. Dinah had to fight to keep that rage from frothing up. She kept her jaw set, her eyes firm. She couldn’t let this motherfucker get the satisfaction of seeing her fume.

He was the one tied up. Stripped naked. Dinah had all the power here. More power than she’d felt in months. And if luck was still on her side, she’d wind up teaching him that the hard way.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me bullshit, Mr. Stone.” Dinah said, crossing her arms. She pointedly let her focus drift to the car battery resting close by.

Stone, however, was unflappable.

“Speaking of positions…” He murmured, squirming some in his seat. He made a show of testing the clamps binding him there. “Pretty kinky set-up. Not usually my thing, but hey, with the right woman…”

“Keep this up and you’ll find out just how fucking wrong a woman I am for you.” Dinah snapped. Hot. Way too hot. She closed her eyes, reined it in. “How did you know I was Black Canary? Was it a data leak? Because if that’s the case then I’m about to be the least of your problems, buddy. I make one call and you’re dealing with Batman for the rest of the night.”

She prayed he didn’t call that bluff. None of the other Leaguers could know about this, about The Cage and the pills and how she got down on her knees and opened her-

“Why not Wonder Woman?” Stone’s question snatched her attention back. The son of a bitch was smirking and she could see in his eyes a legion of lurid, filthy thoughts. “I wouldn’t mind some alone time with-”

Without thinking, her hand went between his legs. Her fingers closed around the root of him - even soft there was still some of him poking out of her fist. Her grip was firm but she did not squeeze. Dinah looked her prisoner dead in the eyes.

“Talk. Or I’ll twist this fucking thing right off.”

His grin was gone and the wicked joy she’d seen from him had fled with it. Yet Dinah was not satisfied. Stone’s expression was his namesake, hard, unreadable. There was no fear, no pleading in his eyes, nothing that she could relish as part of her revenge. Instead, there was something else, a glimmer that she couldn’t place.

“Easy.” He finally said, calm and more serious than she’d ever heard from him. “Easy, blondie.”

Dinah kept her hand on his cock. She gave the base a faint squeeze.

“I’m waiting.”

Stone breathed in, shifting again in his seat - as much he could anyway.

“There is no leak.” He told her. “There’s no nothing. I recognized you. That’s all.”

“Bullshit.” Dinah seethed. She squeezed a bit tighter. A strained grunt hitched in Stone’s throat.

“You think the bouncer didn’t call you in? Pretty blonde dancer late on her first night? Back door locked? Had to come in through the front? Christ. The back door is never locked for the girls. And it’s never unattended.” The muscles in Stone’s face and neck worked in discomfort, but he never once looked away from Dinah. “Everyone knows what The Cage is, sweetheart. Like the Iceberg Lounge or all those gang houses down by the docks. It’s our turf. Business men turf. So when we get a hot little thing like you strutting in, making a bee-line for us business men in the back, working to get up close to a hotshot like me-”

“Not doing so hot now, huh?” Dinah couldn’t resist the barb.

Stone, however, took it as a gnat rather than a hornet’s stinger.

“I’ve been in tighter spots.” He answered plainly. “A blonde knockout comes up to me wearing all-black, wearing fishnets. And it just so happens I’m the guy who’s been putting himself on the map, the rising star of Gotham’s bad boys? A fucking donkey could put two and two together, lady.”

Dinah absorbed it. The longer she mulled it over in her head, the more likely it seemed. More likely than a data leak, at least. The thought of Gotham City thugs managing to crack Watchtower encryptions was absurd to begin with…

“...So why’d you let me get so close?”

A chuckle rumbled up from Stone’s chest. She saw him relax again… even despite her fingers still gripping his manhood.

“Suppose you could say I like taking gambles.” He answered, shockingly sincere. The lurid gleam had returned to his eyes as he swept them over her. His voice dropped low. Really low. “I wanted to see how far you’d go for a piece of me. And damn if you got yourself a mighty big piece, didn’t you?”

Then, taking a split-second but feeling like an entire age, the worst thing that could have possibly happened happened.

Jackson Stone’s cock stirred in Dinah’s hand.

Hard. He had become hard. And warm.

Dinah released him like he was glowing red hot and yanked her hand away.

Shock and outrage and more blitzed through her innards, arcing from nerve ending to nerve ending like ravenous lightning. The jolt stiffened her body but her heart kept pounding, pounding so hard she could scarcely breathe. Words came pouring from her lips all the same.

“You’re sick!” She spat at her prisoner, at his stupid grin, at his fat cock that stabbed upwards defiantly, victoriously, temptingly- “Sick motherucker!”

“Hey, you were the one getting handsy with the goods.”

“Shut up!” Dinah shrieked. If she still had her Canary Cry, the man might have been turned to paste right then. At the very least, he’d have been left with shattered bones. But Dinah had no Canary Cry. She had no powers. Only her body. Her weak, mortal, traitorous flesh and blood. “Shut your fucking face!”

Her gloved fist took Stone across the face. A solid right hook. She felt the impact roll through her arm. It felt good, as did hearing the bastard grunt in pain. That was all she got out of him, though.

Dinah breathed slowly, waiting for her heart to match the pace. Her blood was still up, still simmering, bubbling hot. Her fist was clenched tight, still throbbing with pain. As if his cheekbone had been solid granite.

When Stone finally turned her away again, she saw his cheek sporting a faint welt and nothing more. There was no fear in his eyes, nor anger. There was no wilting between his legs.

Dinah’s chest flared hot. She moved in close, gripping Stone’s arm as she leaned over, putting herself nose-to-nose with him.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? Wearing that fucking smirk on your face, like you’ve got a way out. No, motherfucker. You don’t. You haven’t got a goddamn thing.” Dinah hissed. “I’m Justice League, asshole. You thought you could fuck with me?”

Stone still hadn’t flinched. Not once. And he remained infuriatingly quiet.

Dinah’s blood had turned to a froth now. All of her body felt like it was boiling over.

“Bet you felt like a big man, huh? Pumping me full of shots and that Joy shit and putting me on my knees-”

Stone’s chuckle cut her off. They were so close that Dinah could feel the heat of his breath clouding over her lips.

“That’s how you remember it? The big bad gangster never gave you a choice? Hah. I never made you do nothing you didn’t want to do, birdie.”

“You grabbed my fucking head, had your fingers in my hair, you son of a bitch.” Dinah snarled, her grip tightening on the man’s forearm. Her nails dug into the skin. “You held me down, made me…” Dinah’s tongue suddenly started to numb. “You made me-”

“Yeah? Made you what?” Stone pressed with mocking curiosity. “What exactly did I ‘make you’ do?”

Dinah swallowed. She breathed. Breathed in, nice and slow. Breathed out. She took a step away… and kept her focus fixed firmly on Stone’s undaunted eyes. She didn’t dare look anywhere else. Not lower. Not down there.

Her effort was futile. Memory could be a truly wretched thing. It all came back in a tidal wave, flooding her mind with flashes of sight, sound, touch, taste… God, the taste of him…

Stone. Stone in her mouth, gliding over her tongue. Stone pushing into her throat, making her choke on his girth. She was struck by his scent next, the odor that wafted from his balls and swept into her nostrils. So thick and heady that it had her weak in the knees, Dinah remembered. She remembered it all. Every whiff, every speck of salty flavor, every inch of Jackson Stone’s fat, veiny cock.

Dinah sucked in a tiny gasp. Just the memory of him has her swaying lightly on her feet. Her gaze moved on its own, drawn low to Stone’s naked waist.

Big.

He looked so big even now, strapped down and vulnerable. Muscled like a man ought to be. A fine example of the male sex - exemplary in all aspects. Big where it counted.

Why did he have to be big?

Meanwhile, Stone’s hardened length stirred against nothing. It was fighting against gravity, listing forth as it rose up from his groin. Even then, it seemed a towering stalk of manhood.

Towering. Taunting. Tempting.

“Sick fuck.” Dinah spat again. Suddenly she was moving around to the front of the special chair, where the cart was with the car battery and the bolt cutter. She moved past them, into the nook between Stone’s outstretched legs. She went in, locking furious eyes with Stone as she stood over him. “Fuck you. Think you’re so big and tough? Fuck you!”

Again, he denied her a reaction. Even as she took hold of his cock once more, all she got was a tension going through his body. Dinah closed her fingers around the root, finding his skin soft as silk and the flesh beneath hard as solid rock. All over, he was hot to the touch. Just looking at the fat, ugly thing had her belly churning with rage and… and…

“I should just bite this fucking thing right off…”

“You’d have to put it in your mouth again, sweetheart.”

“Shut the fuck up. How many times do I need to tell you?” Dinah gave a squeeze. It throbbed against her fingers.

Stone’s laugh was low and deep and it rumbled through Dinah’s ears and into her core. His voice had a hand of its own, reaching into her guts and gripping tight. Fucker.

“What’s the matter, birdie? Afraid you’ll like the taste even better the second time?”

“I liked it the first time, bitch.” Dinah snapped without thinking. The shock of her own confession lingered for only a single second, however. The delectable heat within her was spreading, a wildfire through her flesh, raging now in her loins. No room for reflection or guilt or shame. 

Her hands traveled over his length - when had she started stroking him? When did - There was precum welling up at the slit already. It sparkled under the light. Dinah couldn’t look away. There was a sordid beauty to it, she thought. The smooth, gleaming, pink head lured her down onto her knees.

She hummed as she worked, thumbing the bead of jism and spreading it all over the tip. Her other hand worked the shaft, long, languid strokes that gradually turned quicker. More jism trickled out, offering her more to play with, more to smear along this gorgeous cock. Before she knew it, her tongue had joined the fun and her taste buds were graced by that bitter, salty tang.

Through her trance, she reminded herself where she was… and who this cock belonged to. Looking up, she met Stone with a smoldering glare.

“This time, I’m running the show.” Dinah said with bite.

“Oooooh.” Stone trembled mockingly. “Canary’s got claws.”

“And I’ll fucking use them, too.” Dinah warned him, letting her nails graze along his shaft just so. She gave a pointed glance back towards the cart and cluttered shelves. “Them tools back there aren’t just for show. You want to keep your man-parts? Then keep your fucking mouth shut. The way I see it, you owe me motherfucker.”

A bluff, of course. She was Justice League. Torture wasn’t their style, even for scum like Jackson Stone. 

However, the man said nothing. Wisely - and fortunately - so. For Dinah, it was almost as pleasing as the cock she held in both hands. Almost.

She slid her hands back down to the root, holding the great length steady. Up close like this, aimed right at her mouth, she couldn’t help but marvel at the fucking thing. She noted how the member bobbed faintly from its owner’s heartbeat, how it swayed and listed under its own heft and weight. That pleased her too, so, so deeply in an indescribable way. So deep it had to be a primal reaction. Her craving was hard-coded into her DNA, stamped right onto the essence of her being. She was meant to love this big, fat cock. Bred for it.

Another bead of precum welled at the slit. It dropped, dropped, dropped until it was a thin stream. Like syrup from the bottle. Dinah’s mouth was watering.

“You really fucking owe me…” She breathed out before her flesh and hot blood compelled her to put her mouth to cock again. 

Lips first, kissing and caressing the head. Tasting meat and salt and sweat. She went on to the shaft, seeking to grace every inch of him with her mouth, until there was no spot left untouched. Her tongue followed, licking and lathering where her lips went, tracing the line of a bulging vein as she returned up to the fattened cockhead. There she bathed him in spit, lapping up every drop of jism she could. Her taste buds were singing and her cunt was molten hot.

It was sinful how good he tasted, how her body thrummed with joy at her own debasement. The Black Canary, famed superheroine, on her knees for a criminal hunk. Again.

Shame was absent. Guilt was miles and miles away, on the other side of the country in Star City with Ollie and his stupid, boneheaded sympathy.

He thought he’d be the shoulder for her to cry on. As fucking if. The only tears Dinah wanted were the ones dripping from this fat, juicy, throbbing dick. Dripping all over her lips, all over her tongue, gliding down her throat…

Fuck me.

“Fuck me…” Dinah moaned aloud. Her tongue danced around the cockhead once more, circling it, hoping to catch another trickle of Stone’s precum. She had to force herself to draw back. Even so, his enormity enamored her. “As thick as my fucking wrist…”

Dinah held it against her forearm just to be sure. She snickered in disbelief, in delight. Big ones always had her like this. Giddy like a schoolgirl. Naughty in the way everybody thought she was too good for.

Fuck them. They weren’t here. It was just her… and this big, beautiful cock.

Dinah slowed her licking and fawning, letting the head gently rest against her lips. Warm and wet, smeared to a glistening sheen with her own saliva, it spasmed softly. Like it was demanding more of her affection.

The blonde dared to look up at Stone. What greeted her was the face of a man who was simultaneously basking in his victory… and in utter disbelief at his own good luck.

Bastard.

He didn’t deserve this. Any of it. He didn’t deserve even one second of her hot, sweet mouth.

But his cock certainly does.

Every superhero had a weakness, they said. Superman had kryptonite. Martian Manhunter had fire. Green Lantern had the color yellow. This was the Black Canary’s. A dick big and fat enough to make a girl see stars.

Dinah tapped the cockhead to her lips, once, twice, and more. Wet smacks sounded as she hummed. She stuck out her tongue, letting Stone’s meat slap upon it. Salty jism flecked over her taste buds. Delicious.

Above, she heard the man groaning. As he should be, Dinah thought with pride. Wonder Woman could go take a hike. It was Black Canary who had the mouth to die for.

“It’s just not fucking fair…” Dinah mused. She let her tongue glide softly along the crown. She popped the head into her mouth and sucked, giving a few bobs of her head while she worked the shaft. When she felt Stone go tense under her hands, she stopped and pulled away, panting heavily. “It’s just not fair… that an asshole like you… has something as wonderful as this hanging between his legs. It’s just not fair at all…”

She left a pause there for Stone’s smartass retort. It never came. She liked that.

He remembered who was in charge here. Tonight was about what she wanted.

Dinah went back down and filled her mouth with cock. Thickened inches went sliding over her tongue, touching the back of her throat. Fuck, she wanted to gag herself on him already. She held back, slurping around him instead. His flavor was overwhelming, meaty and heady, salty and sweaty. She needed more.

She licked and smooched Stone’s cock to a spit-shine. It was positively gleaming when she was done. Pale and pink and swollen and polished, as all great knobs ought to be. The sight took her breath away. Somehow he looked even bigger than on the first night. It had to be her eyes playing tricks on her. This cock would batter her poor, poor throat. Dinah would weep trying to swallow him down.

Yet that was just the way she liked it.

Between her thighs was sweltering bliss. A yearning ache that could be ignored no longer.

Dinah set a hand on each of Stone’s bare, muscled thighs, bracing herself. The next moment, she dove down and gagged around Jackson Stone’s big fucking dick. And as she wretched and choked and swallowed down inch after inch of swollen, veiny rod… For the first time in months, Dinah’s heart was fluttering with wicked, wonderful joy.