*If I had any idea I'd end up without my panties I'd have made the damn skirt at least three inches longer. I feel like fucking Ally McBeal, except that there's no way in hell I'm skinny enough to pass as Calista.* Scribe was sitting on the edge of the bed in her cell, *yeah, there's no bars, but that's exactly what it is, even if it does look like Motel 6. Come to think of it, hasn't Motel 6 always had a slightly penal air to it? And that's penal, as in prisons, not penile, you horny-ass fates.* trying to get her hem to come at least halfway down her thighs. No luck.

She finally gave up, deciding to explore a little. *A very little. It ain't exactly like I have the final frontier here to keep me occupied. But there are the facilities.

She went into the restroom, and stopped short. "Oh, hell. This is not good."

'The Facilities' were shockingly lavish compared to the bland functionality of the other room. It was quite large for a bathroom. Besides the requisite throne and sink, there were other fixtures. The shower was the size of a closet, with multiple showerheads. The tub was marble, sunken, and the size of a wading pool. There was a hot tub, complete with jacuzzi. There was a padded massage table, which was rather alarmingly equipped with what looked like stirrups. And, finally, there were more mirrors than she'd seen anywhere outside of Clive's private station.

She shook her head in dismay. "I've fallen into a honeymoon suite in the Poconos." She started sifting through cabinets and drawers, and became even more alarmed. Besides certain sanitary necessities * I'll give 'im this: the bastard is efficient.* and large, fluffy towels, there was an assortment of luxury shampoos and conditioners *Clive would have an orgasm just looking at this stuff*, soaps, bath oils, bath salts, and bubble baths. But what had her shaking was the large selection of condoms, lubricants, and flavored massage oils. *Shit, I was wrong. It's not the Poconos: it's a fucking Penthouse Forum fantasy.*

Scribe briefly considered flushing as much of it as she could down the toilet, but decided not to. Things were miserable enough without having a stopped up john, and it wasn't like the man couldn't afford to buy more, was it?

The bathroom made her nervous. After quickly using it for the reason that such things had been invented in the first place, she went back out into her room. As he had said, there was a tiny refrigerator, and she rummaged through it. She located donuts and a pint of milk. She would have preferred a soda but hey, life wasn't perfect. "So I fight osteoperosis for once in my life," she muttered, ignoring the little paper cup provided to drink straight from the carton. (Mentally she classified this as 'getting in touch with her inner guy'). After a handful of powdered sugar pastry nuggets she was sugar-buzzed enough to perk up a little bit and begin to consider her situation.

*Okay, Lois, Superman, and company are obviously on the job by now. I'm figuring that Batman and Robin wouldn't be able to leave this one alone, either, and Clive probably started kicking in doors about a minute after they confirmed that I was missing. They are going to find me. The question is, how long will it take, and how far along with his little regime will Lex get before they arrive?*

She paced. * Exactly how much do I want to resist this person? Well, all right, I mean I want to resist all the way. But let's face it... I can't get out of this place, and he's bigger, stronger, and faster than I am. Even if I could get out of this room it's hellaciously improbable that I could outrun him, and either A, he'd be really, really pissed when he caught me, or B, perhaps more frightening, he'd think it was cute.*

She sat on the edge of the bed again, put her elbows on her knees, and propped her chin in her hands to think. *This is the pits. I don't want to lose my virginity to that... Oo, okay, mental pun coming here, but it's an appropriate name, prick. I'd much rather it was Jimmy, or Clive, or Kal-el, or Bruce/Batman, or Dick/Robin, or Lois... Wait a minute... Did what I did with her count as losing my girl/girl virginity? Or just plain... No, we didn't do that, so I suppose that technically I'm still... She sighed. "I shoulda teased Clive into leaving me unstrapped that last time. I bet if I jumped on him, he wouldn't say no. 'Oh, God!', and 'Harder!', but not 'no'."

She flopped back on the bed, sighing, and mumbled, "I wonder what the posse is doing now?"

They were in the process of splitting up. Each pair had a list of locations to investigate, and they scattered. Clive nobly refrained from pouting when he found out that they were going in a plain car rather than the Batmobile. "Oh, well. It's a dead sexy car, but so impractical."

"What do you mean, impractical?" Batman had asked testily.

Clive gave him a suggestive smile. "No back seat. Bucket seats instead of bench in front... Very cramped."

"On the plus side, it has a low, wide hood."

Clive looked at Batman closely, but he could do a pretty good poker face under that cowl. "I begin to think you're even more interesting than I first imagined. Okay, here's the first one on our list."

They pulled over to the curb and got out. Batman examined the building. "L.L. Lingerie?"

Clive looked surprised. "My goodness, you mean he's the owner? I keep copies of L.L. Lovelies catalogues at the shop for the ladies to browse while they wait." Clive could tell, somehow, that Batman was raising an eyebrow over that. "Oh, all right. After I look at them. Let's go. If he has her here, he's probably playing dress-up with her, like she's a Barbie doll. Just imagine, he could force her to put on all sorts of thongs, and demi-bras, and boustiers, and garters, and..."

"Excuse me, are you getting hard?"

Clive looked down. "Yes, I believe I am. You know, I really wish I'd left her untied the last time she came in. I think I got her frustrated enough to jump my bones." He sighed. "All the missed opportunities in life."

The door wasn't a match for a determined Dark Knight and Dominant cosmetologist, and they made short work of searching the premises. She wasn't there. They started out, and Batman said, "Clive? What's that black thing?"

"What black thing?"

"You're rotten at playing innocent. That black thing you stuffed in your back pocket."

"Um... nothing."

"Let me see."

"Oh, drat." He pulled it out and handed it over.

Batman examined the lacy scrap. "A peek-a-boo bra?"

"It's a present for Scribe, okay? She'll need something to cheer her up after this nonsense."

Batman dangled it, examining the cup size. "Is this going to fit her?"

Clive made a cupping motion with his hands, and smiled. "I haven't actually used a tape measure, but there are other ways of determining size."

Batman handed it back to him. "Get a nice gift bag for it, and say it's from me, too."

"Lois, this is only one of the suspected properties. Look, here's a little sign, with the owner's number on it, to call in case of any emergency. Why don't we find a phonebooth and..."

* smash*

*sigh*

"I really hope no one finds out about this. It will be hard enough holding my head up at the Justice League after they find out that Scribe was snatched practically under my nose."

"Will you quit worrying about that? Find her and I promise you that no one is going to worry about a couple of little breaking-and-enterings. Damn, I put a cut in the leather on my hand bag that time! Give me a boost through the window, would you?"

"Just a second." He moved her to the side and used his bare hand to remove the jagged glass shards from the window frame. It still gave Lois the willies. No matter how often she saw demostrations of his invulnerability. She couldn't help but imagine doing something like that herself. Not a good idea. The science of reattaching amputated limbs wasn't as advanced over here as Scribe claimed it was in her universe.

He boosted her through the window, and followed. They found themselves in a small area, obviously a storage room, filled with boxes and large bags. "This is just a small one," she observed. "It won't take long. You take the front part, I'll take the back."

"Right." He opened a door that led in the right direction. A cacophany of animal noises washed over thme. There were a few woofs and mews, and a rising chorus of assorted bird twitters, including parrot screams. "What on earth?"

Lois peered past him. "I'll be darned. Luthor has an interest in a pet shop?"

"So it would seem. That would explain those large sacks: they're birdseed and pet food. This won't take but a moment." He went into the unlit front room, and Lois turned her attention to the room off to the side.

This seemed to be some sort of animal holding room. There were stacks of cages ranked along the wall. It only took Lois a moment to determine that Scribe was no where around. Then, curious as to why the animals were so quiet, she peered into a few cages. Well, that explained it: rabbits. Nothing but rabbits.

Superman came in. "She's not there."

"Here, either. But will you look at this? What on earth are they doing with so many rabbits? There can't be that big a demand in Metropolis for rabbits."

There was a clipboard hanging by the door, and it caught Superman's eye. He scanned it, and his expression became grim. Handing it to Lois he said, "I think this may explain it. Check out where they're to be delivered."

Lois read the paper, then looked up at Superman in horror. "Technoprobe Medical and Product Testing Laboratory!" Tears welled up in her eyes. "They're going to experiment on the bunnies!" Then her jaw firmed, and her eyes hardened. "No, they're not! Go open the back door."

"What are you going to do?"

"Exactly what Scribe would do!" She started opening cages and dropping rabbits on the floor. "Run! Run for your lives!"

Jimmy made a check mark on their list. "Okay. That's been an office supply place, a hardware store, and a malt shop. Damn, the man believes in diversification."

"And this is just locally," Robin agreed. "What's up next?"

"Um, it's not too far away." Jimmy grinned. "Oh, a comsmetic supply store. Clive should have gotten this one."

"I don't know, I think he might have become... overstimulated."

"Do you know him?" They got back in the car. Jimmy, too, had been rather disappointed that there was no Batmobile, but he understood.

"Mm... kinda."

Jimmy checked out Robin's hair. "Has he done your hair? I mean, could he, with the mask?"

"No, he hasn't. But from what I've experienced, the mask would be considered a bonus instead of a hinderence."

"Oh." They rode in silence for a moment. "He offered to cut my hair."

Robin glanced at him. "Go."

There were no results that evening. It was reluctantly decided that the incident had to be reported to the police. A certain amount of hedging was in order to explain why it had been several hours before they were notified, but the problem was big enough that they were pushed aside till later.

A missing person/all points bulliten went out immediately. Police became very thorough on inspecting the cars that they stopped for traffic violations, but most of the citizens didn't mind. At least not after the morning papers, with their screaming headlines about the disappearance of the current favorite celebrity. Lex Luthor's name was not mentioned in any official release, and for once nothing 'leaked'.

Besides the legalities of the situation (i.e., he could sue anyone involved into the next century), it was decided that he might decide to bolt if he knew they were on to him. ("Rather silly," Batman had avowed. "I know that arrogant prick, and he not only knows that we know, he's getting a kick out of the fact.")

A good number of neighborhood search parties were formed. Nothing was discovered, except for some fairly interesting secrets between neighbors. Who knew that many men kept secret stashes of lingerie?

Jimmy and Lois were bullied into going home for a little rest. 'Headquarters' had been set up at the hotel suite of Bruce Wayne and Dick Greyson. Batman and Robin had left to do something or other on their own, promising to be back in touch, and Superman was out on patrol.

Clive had flatly refused to go home. He'd cancelled his appointments (breaking several hearts) and was dozing in one of the bedrooms. Dick had peeked in on him to be sure he was comfortable, then joined Bruce in the living room of the suite. "He's conked. I didn't think he could, as agitated as he was. He's really worried about her."

"We all are."

"All he did was take off his boots." Dick smiled. "He has nice feet."

Bruce looked at him sharply. "You're developing some... eclectic interests since we came to Metropolis."

The young man looked at him blandly. "My horizons have been broadened. What do we do next?"

"Damned if I know. The only buildings left on the list are very public, major ones. I'm afraid that we may have to get search orders for them, and go in with the police."

"I don't like leaving her with him this long."

"Neither do I. But I have the feeling that Luthor isn't just going to... er... jump into the middle of things. I think he's going to try to draw this out for as long as he can."

"I just hope you're right about that."

Scribe glared at Luthor morosely when he entered the room, carrying a paper bag. He placed it on the night stand. "According to the magazine stories you like you hamburgers without pickles and with ketchup. I didn't have them add onions, for reasons which should be obvious."

"I get kidnapped by one of the richest men in the world and I get a hamburger for lunch? Cheap."

"Now, now. I'd be happy to provide you with cuisine that's a bit more haute, but you'll have to eat it with your fingers if I do."

"Do you mean to tell me you people don't have plastic cutlery yet?"

"We do, but I'm not giving you anything that even remotely resembles a knife or fork for the time being. You're a resourceful little minx, and might come up with something damaging."

"What about a spork?"

"A what?"

"One of my dimension's more bizarre, but practical inventions Say, tell you what. Let me go, and I'll tell you about it. It could add another million or so to your profits. I'll throw in pantyhose, too. You could really make a bundle off them. Anyway, it worked in Peggy Sue Got Married."

"You can, of course, tell me about these things later, if you wish. But money simply isn't a reasonable temptation with me, Scribe. I have more than I need, and I have no doubt that I'll always be able to get more."

"Pretty damn confident, aren't you?"

"I'm a megalomaniac. I thought you'd noticed. Now, before lunch, another little encounter." She edged back farther on the bed, warily. "Oh, it's still nothing for you to get too worried over. But I thought I'd give you a bit of a choice as to what I try next. Would you prefer giving me a hand job, or a nice little bit of dry humping?"

Scribe scowled, "First off, I refuse to be made a party to this by stating what could be taken as a 'preference'. Secondly," she flexed her fingers meaningfully. "Do you really want to get your private parts anywhere near my nails?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "Well, you're feeling feisty again. Good." He pulled two silk scarves out of his pockets. "The masturbation will just have to wait till I get you a little better trained."

"Trained? Are you calling me a bitch, you prick?"

"Semantics, semantics, when you have so much more to worry about."

He pounced.

There was a good bit of thrashing and swearing, all of it on Scribe's part. Luthor didn't get agitated even when she managed to land a knee within inches of its intended target. He sat back and tested the knots that were now binding her hands securely to the bars of the headboard, ignoring the aspersions she cast on his ancestry, and the suggestions about the moral health of his relationship with his mother. At last he rubbed his thigh. "I'm going to have a bruise there."

She became still, apprehensive. "Yeah, well. What did you expect?"

"Nothing less. Don't be worried, Scribe, you're reacting beautifully. I haven't had a real challenge in a long time." He ran a hand over her belly, and she kicked at him vigorously. He calmly pinned her legs down and sat on them.

*Fuck,* she thought dispiritedly. All the control you think you have in your life, then you run into someone physically stronger who doesn't give a damn about anything but what they want. All right, can't kick him, might as well try insult. Maybe I'll be lucky and get knocked unconscious. "Pretty pathetic, Luthor. You have to tie a woman down to get her? Sad."

"Good try." He peeled her top down, exposing the strapless bra. "That's nice." He ran a finger along the edge. "I have some much prettier products available from one of my companies, though. I'll get a sampling for you. A little modeling session would be fun."

"I am not a freaking Victoria's Secret model! Stop that!"

"Be quiet, or I'll take it off." Scribe scowled, but fell silent. "You know, things would be easier for you if you just realized that you didn't have any choice in this and co-operated, but I don't think that's very likely."

"Can you say, 'When pigs have wings?'"

"You're so colorful." He squeezed her bosom. She gritted her teeth, deliberately looking away. Again he traced the rim of the garment, drawing a fingertip thoughtfully over the swells and down the cleavage. "I'd spend a little time getting your nipples hard, but I don't want to be away from the office too long today. Someone might show up asking about you, and I need to be seen innocently working away. So we'll have to just get down to the main event."

He unbuckled and unzipped, spreading his fly, then pushed everything down his hips. "I know these sort of sessions usually begin with both parties more or less fully dressed, but I just don't want to come in my pants. The spare pair of trousers I have at the office don't go with the jacket I wore today."

When he worked himself free of the constraining fabric, Scribe spoke, voice shrill and alarmed, "You said you wouldn't!"

"I won't, not yet. Full intercourse is a good ways down the line. But I see why you're worried. Don't worry, I'll keep your skirt pulled down between us. Of course," he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes, and his voice was silky. "If you struggle too much, it's entirely possible that that little scrap of cloth will get pushed aside. Then there's no telling what might happen."

So she didn't try to kick again when he moved on top of her and pushed a knee between her thighs. She turned her face away and closed her eyes, grateful that he didn't insist on trying to kiss her while this grotesque act was taking place. She didn't think she'd have been able to resist trying to bite a chunk out of him, and she had a feeling that retaliation would have been swift and very unpleasant.

In any case, she had to concentrate on breathing. He settled his weight over her, not trying to brace himself in any way, and he was heavy. True to his word, he made sure that her skirt was between their bodies, then began to rock his pelvis against hers. Luthor never took his eyes off her face during the entire encounter, drinking in every scrap of distress and disgust. It made him harder than ever, considering how he could eventually change those emotions to desire, however reluctant. Because he was quite sure that eventually he would make her want and enjoy sex with him. That was one thing about being a narcissist: very little self doubt.

She closed her eyes when she felt the warm liquid seeping through the fabric, thinking *God, this is so different from what I did with Kal-el. That was one of the sweetest experiences of my life. He was so gentle and considerate. It felt wonderful. This is degrading, and that's exactly what he was aiming for.

He finally rolled off of her with a sigh, and began to unknot the scarves. Her voice shaking a little, eyes still closed, she said, "All right, you pervert. What am I supposed to do about my dress now? I don't intend to let it stay in this state. That may have been fine for Monica, but I happen to think it's nasty."

"Feel free to rinse it out in the sink if you like. There's a robe in the dresser if you feel you must remain covered up." She felt him touch her face, almost gently, and swept her hand up violently, knocking his aside. "You really are going to fight this, aren't you? Suppose I told you that I'd give you a substantial sum of money in compensation. Say, oh, a million is a nice round figure. And I would, you needn't worry about my welshing on the deal."

"Oh. Then I'd be an expensive whore."

"Suppose I offered to set you up in a luxury apartment, with an unlimited allowance, servants, and the car of your choice?"

"Then I'd be an expensive, exclusive whore."

"Suppose I offered to marry you and make you my sole heir?"

"An expensive, exclusive, slave."

"My, my, my. Such ethics." Again a finger trailed down her cheek, and again she slapped it away. "Well, we'll see how you feel at the end of a few weeks."

Rubbing her wrists, she listened to him leave the room. When he was gone she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, feeling the bruises that he'd left on the inside of her thighs with his pounding, knowing how much worse it could have been, and whispered, "Weeks?"