Alfred began to shake as the menacing Lady Arkham began to rub between his legs. She knew, but Bruce had no idea. A frantic yelp escaped the old man's throat as she dug two fingers into the fabric, making Bruce flinch in disgust and guilt.
"Remove his pants and underwear," she said to her henchmen.
They obliged without question, tugging all of the clothing off his lower body and tossing it aside. Horrified, Alfred crossed his legs instinctively, but the men quickly pulled them apart, exposing a tight hole and bulbous clit hiding beneath a patch of white of hair. Bruce's eyes bulged, a wave of confusion washing over him. When he was a boy, he once walked in on Alfred getting out of the shower, and he was sure he had a dick.
"Al?" he yelled at the screen. "What the hell?"
"I'm sure you're probably confused," Arkham laughed as she slid her gloved fingers along his throbbing man-nub. "He wasn't always like this, of course. Your father was a very sick man. Poor Alfred."
Bruce's knees quaked. He leaned against his keyboard, staring at the monitor, the realization that his father took Alfred's manhood leaving him speechless. He felt sick, wondering how many times Thomas used Alfred against his will, and if his mother ever joined in as well. Alfred moaned, pulling on his restraints as Lady Arkham's index suddenly penetrated his entrance, slowly working its way to her knuckle.
"Does that feel good, old man? I'm sure it's been a while. You're still pretty dry."
"P-please, stop!" he begged, his shoulders tensing. "Bruce, don't look!"
But he couldn't help it. His body froze, his face pale as his eyes stuck to the screen like glue. Everything inside him wanted to snap and strangle Lady Arkham, but he had no idea where she was holding him. Alfred gasped as she began to thrust, parting his wrinkled walls and thumbing his reddening clit.
"It's okay to get wet," she said, but it was difficult with her gloves. The coarse fabric bumped her finger along his tunnel, but eventually his fluids began to run. "That's it," she smirked behind her mask. "It's getting slippery now."
Alfred's soft voice rumbled against the walls, and he wailed as she added another finger. "Auugh! P-please! I haven't been touched down there in years!" he cried.
"And yet you're so sensitive," she chuckled, rubbing harder against his elderly insides. "Tell me, how many times did the Waynes fuck you? Did you enjoy it?" The question ringed in Bruce's ears as Alfred looked away in shame. "I guess it didn't really matter if you liked it or not, huh? The Waynes always took what they wanted. They didn't care who they hurt."
She sped up, her arm jerking as her long, slender fingers dipped in and out with a slight twist. She wanted Alfred to suffer, because that would in turn make Bruce suffer. He cried out, on the edge, his head arching back as the men held his legs in place. Bruce could see how quickly and mercilessly she was digging into his hole now, as she stepped aside just enough to give him a perfect view.
"Ahh! N-no!" Alfred screamed, a familiar sensation rising in his stomach.
"Is he going to cum?" one of the men asked, his tone curious. "He knows you're raping him, right?"
Arkham laughed. "That's right! Are you going to cum, old man? Even though you clearly don't want this?"
Alfred bellowed, his hole pulsing as his first orgasm in nearly a decade shot though his lower body. Lady Arkham laughed, feeling triumphant as his tight cunt clenched down on her fingers, his liquids spewing as she continued to pump. His outer lips had turned pink and bumpy, his clit solid as a rock. His warmth was shocking to her, as was his reaction. She didn't expect a man of his age to have such stamina, or such a powerful release. As she pulled out, a thin line of lust stuck to her gloves as Alfred tried to catch his breath, his chest heaving.
"It's a little wider now," she said, eying the tiny, open hole left between his legs. She then gestured to her men. "Should be good. You two go ahead. Have some fun."
"Alfred!" Bruce screamed as one of the henchmen stood and unzipped his jeans.
But Alfred only sat in defeated silence, his glasses shining over his passive eyes. The man grinned and locked Alfred's legs around his thighs, then lined his already hard, veiny cock with the poor butler's throbbing hole. Without warning, he bucked his hips and stuffed all eight inches into Alfred's ill-prepared cunt, stretching him even further as he cried out from the unexpected pleasure.
Bruce watched in horror as the massive cock slammed in and out, ravaging Alfred's body. Since the man was so burly he couldn't see Alfred's face anymore, but he could see the vigorous thrusts and Alfred's hole between the man's brawny legs. Alfred’s crease squeezed around the monstrous length, the creaking of the chair barely audible through Alfred's grunts and whinges. Bruce looked everywhere, at the walls, at the floor, at the ceiling, but he couldn't find a single clue that gave away their location.
"Does it feel good, old man?" Arkham asked, petting his head like a puppy. "Tell Bruce how it feels."
"D-don't ... watch!" Alfred stuttered, his nails digging into his palms. "Auhugh! Oh, God!"
"Are you going to cum again? Do you like it when a big, strong man takes charge?"
"My hole!" was all he could say.
His voice cracked suddenly, his toes curling as his captor continued to thrust down into his vulnerable entrance. His asshole puckered, his orgasm pulsing around the coarse member as Lady Arkham laughed and brushed her finger along the burning edges of his hole. She felt a sense of pride and victory as the shocks of intense pleasure drummed against her index, Alfred's eyes rolling back and drool coating his mouth. The man pulled out, but only for a moment so Bruce could see how Alfred's poor insides convulsed from the abuse. He clutched his desk, trying to take solace in the fact that despite the sheer humiliation of it, at least his beloved butler wasn't in any pain.
The man slipped back in, earning a weak gasp from Alfred as he pumped through his orgasm. He fucked him even harder now, spurned on by the spasms that rippled against his dick. Alfred said nothing, only moaned in abandonment as every hint of his pride was raped away.
Finally the man began to pant, gripping the back of the chair for purchase as he slammed Alfred's old cunt with the last of his strength.
"W-wait! No!" Alfred cried, trying to deny another approaching climax. "Not inside!"
But the man released with a deafening grunt, filling the old butler to the brim. Alfred groaned, whimpering as his own body betrayed him, his hole bursting with pleasure as it choked on his rapist's seed. His legs trembled, his sanity fleeting as the man held still, buried to the hilt so only his twitching balls were visible. Bruce watched, consumed with rage, but knew he couldn't do anything to stop it.
"Still with us, Alfred?" Arkham hummed, caressing his cheek. "Don't faint on me now."
"P-please..." he squeaked, his glasses crooked from the pounding. "It's ... getting so sore."
"Excellent!" she screamed, excited. "That's just what I wanted to hear! That means it's ripe and ready for more!"
Despite only suffering three orgasms, Alfred wasn't as young as he used to be, but that was far from a deterrent. As quickly as the first man pulled out, the second man pushed in, his cock about two inches longer and one inch thicker. Alfred gagged, his hole stretching and straining to adjust.
"Fuck, he's so tight!"
"Is he?" she grinned, looking at the camera. "Hear that, Bruce? He's still tight. Guess that means we have to do better, huh? The looser the better, after all."
Bruce slammed his fist against the keyboard, momentarily losing the image. As he scrambled to relocate the footage, the audio, completely undisturbed, echoed through the cave. Alfred's helpless moans, the chair scraping against the concrete, even the man's thighs slapping painfully against Alfred's backside. Though he couldn't see it, he knew the second man was fucking him even harder than the first, and Alfred was powerless to stop it.
Alfred's voice pierced through the snowy static, and Bruce knew he'd been forced to cum yet again, even with all that filth inside him. But the slapping continued, with no sign of Alfred being given any release. Arkham's chilling laugher sent shivers up Bruce's spine and he desperately punched every button to recalibrate what he'd displaced.
"That’s four," Arkham giggled, applauding her victim. "I'm surprised. At your age I expected you to pass out by now. I guess Thomas Wayne made that hole pretty resilient, didn't he?"
"No more!" he cried, squirming as the man hammered his cervix. "Oh, God!"
Finally, the image switched back, just in time for Bruce to see Alfred wail as the man exploded inside him. Broken screams pervaded the air as Alfred's whole body stiffened and drowned in the euphoria. His eyes teared, his glasses catching the drops as the man finally pulled out, allowing his hole to gush like a geyser. Bruce stumbled against the platform, his brow arched and lips quivering as Alfred's twisted face came into view. He looked exhausted, mortified, but at the same time incredibly satisfied. His hole, which was so small and tight when everything started, was now gaping and surging with two loads.
Lady Arkham cheered and opened it wider with her fingers. "Bring the camera closer!" she said, and one of the men obliged.
Bruce couldn't help but collapse into his chair as Alfred's cunt filled the entire computer screen. It was barbaric, his pussy destroyed and on display for all to see. But he wasn't prepared when Arkham's sonic stick suddenly slipped into frame, teasing Alfred's clit.
"Don't worry," she said, massaging it into Alfred's hypersensitive crux. "On full blast this thing can do a lot of damage. But used carefully--"
The stick began to vibrate, and Alfred screeched, his walls beating to the rhythm. Bruce could see his insides churning, opening and closing as the last of the henchmen's smut squirted out of him. He could hear Alfred crying, begging her to stop, but instead she circled around and pushed harder into his pelvis, causing his cunt to ache deep inside.
"Do it," she ordered.
Bruce didn't know what she meant, until suddenly the camera disappeared into Alfred's passage. Sticky, crass noises blurted from the speakers as Bruce was forced to watch Alfred's hole stretch over and over, invaded, tormented, tortured. He could see and hear the camera, and whatever it was attached to, pound against his useless cervix, as well as Alfred's muffled groans between the foul vibrations. When the camera retreated, for a split second Bruce could see Alfred's hole in its entirety, and that's when he realised they were pulling the tool out completely before shoving it back in.
"Alfred! Hang on!" He knew he couldn't hear him, but he didn't know what else to say.
Alfred looked down, staring as the intrusive cock-machine penetrated him over and over, his glasses falling to the floor with a crash. The stick sent zaps up his spine, his nerves shot, his clit waving. He saw his life flash in his mind as the pleasure rose, his body covered in sweat and cheeks glowing. He laid back, giving in as the most incomprehensible orgasm he'd ever experienced drained the last of his energy. His mouth hung open, but what came out was silence, then a squeak, then more silence. The camera finally pulled out, showcasing the old man's loose, convulsing gape, then panned out so Bruce could finally see his dear friend, his head down and lying on his chest. He didn't move, just slouched in his chair, the pleasure overtaking him.
Horrified, Bruce slammed his hands on the desk and shot up.