Disclaimer: The Riddler is an interesting character with certain personality traits that I'm shocked many of the writers have not decided to have a bit of fun with. Well, they sort of have. It was once hinted he must have frequented a BDSM club (regarding the name "Foxglove") considering how when he and Batman went there for questioning, everyone there knew him. So I've decided to explore that bit regarding his need for attention and how he goes about satisfying that desire.
Before I begin, I want everyone reading this to know that this takes place in the Arkham games universe. I would also like everybody to know that I wished that someday I could be a sexologist and focus my studies on the BDSM community (though due to financial problems plus the locations of these grad schools regarding sexology, this is a dream that cannot manifest in my lifetime). I also happen to be someone who does have some BDSM within my sex life. So I want it to be clear that in my fanfics and erotica in general, I like my BDSM scenes to be realistic regarding practices. For those of you who are new to writing such scenes, keep in mind that safewords and aftercare are very important as well as respecting someone's boundaries. This has been a public announcement from someone that thoroughly enjoys a happy and safe sex life. Thank you for taking the time to reading my disclaimer!
Chapter One: "Topper"
Edward was slipping from the grips of sanity since the caped crusader found him out. Nothing changed according to plans. Gotham was still a filthy city infested with the plague of ignorance and stupidity. Willful ignorance and stupidity. Nobody wanted to read for the sake of enjoyment or for the sake of learning. The pursuit of knowledge, save for a handful of individuals, was dead in Gotham. Even many academics and college students didn't value knowledge. They would rather party and fuck each other's brains out.
Ah, college. How it made him hope yet brought him disappointment. No intellectual equals of any sort, though he thoroughly enjoyed being above others. Except nobody cared. No praise, no wow's or "can you teach me?" He once considered being a college professor, but the classmates that made the effort to keep their attendance within existence came in high, with hangovers, or they were too busy sexting with their flip-phones.
How disappointing the technological industry has become with consumers. Because that's all they saw: consumers. They didn't press for people to become intelligent and competent enough to where they could spark curiosity to tinker with gadgets and see what they could create. Only Edward did that, and again: nobody cared.
It wasn't too bad. There were times he got attention, and he jumped that gun when he could. Unfortunately the majority of those times were him getting laid. It's unfortunate because it turns out these women just wanted a satisfying bedside and nothing more. But it wasn't too bad because he's got brains and good looks. He was just mad that these young woman didn't genuinely want help with homework.
There was a slight urge to kill in college, but he ignored that. Instead, he made sure these women were so satisfied that they would be too afraid to get together with another man for fear the sex-life with a jock or an average Joe would be nowhere near as satisfying. He knew his way around the clitoris, could find g-spots, could help introduce or coax out hidden wants, desires, kinks, fetishes in these women. And he'd do this once, maybe twice. Make them come their brains out, and then want nothing to do with them afterwards.
It pissed off so many male classmates when word got around. And he just sat there, relishing what he'd done. Sex was nearly dead unless with him on campus, save for the lesbians that wanted nothing to do with him, whom he did not pursue.
It had been years since he'd done that, but he missed the attention. Now that he was out of Arkham and laying low, he wanted to figure out a very discrete way of gaining that attention again. But the question was: how?
Boredom and hiding made him want sex again, but he wasn't about to whore himself out on the streets. The cops would find out, and that would be bad. He also doesn't want to gain the reputation of a sexual predator of any sort, so he had to be careful of that. To be a lady-killer without actually killing can be easy, but not when you have a reputation for simply killing.
This was a new, good riddle indeed: Where can one have anonymous sex? Where can one have anonymous sex and the police won't find out? And how does one do this without spooking civilians?
He reached a finger up just under his bowler to scratch at his temple. His fingers drumming the top of his cane as he sat there in the alley, thinking but remaining alert in case he needed to book it.
It had to be where he could essentially be him and not somebody else. No disguises. The attention needed to be for him and only him and not someone fake.
"Unless someone has a kink or fetish for fugitives", he thought aloud to himself.
A lightbulb lit up. Of course!, he thought, The Foxglove! That's the perfect place that guarantees anonymity for this sort of thing! The Riddler could be a fetish fad or a kink fad! But... He shifted his weight from one foot to the next as he leaned against the trash can, almost sitting fully on it again, What the hell am I even into?
Well, he can take a bit of a beating from Batman. Perhaps there might be a limit where there could be pleasure from that. This way, when he gets hit by Batman...
Okay no. If I do that, I don't need to condition myself to become aroused when my arch-nemesis shows up. Then again I don't really know what I'm into...
He was curious of being tied up. He was curious of the paddles. He was curious of the flogging, the crop, bare hand spanking. Perhaps he could find an endorphin rush off of that. And it would be with someone he's paying to trust to bring about these feelings. And these are professionals. I'm sure if I voice my concerns as a beginner, they can do what they can to help me explore.
Walking in as the Riddler may or may not be the best idea. He did his best to come up with a disguise until he gave in and decided to go as his glorious self. With a lie... ish.
Edward waltzed into The Foxglove with a smile and everyone froze in fear. He held up his hands defensively, "No no no, I'm not here to harm anybody. I am here for help." He noticed that the workers and customers looked to one another. He continued to "explain" himself, "In Arkham, it was mentioned there is a possibility I may have something that needs fulfilled. A need. And I think you all know exactly what I'm talking about."
A greeter that helps someone become assigned to clients wearing a lacey half-mask and bunny ears approaches him nervously. He could hear the fear in her tone, "How may we help you, sir?"
"I trust anything that happens here stays here?" He saw her nod, almost ready to cry. He didn't need that. It would spoil his mood, "Oh now don't worry. Again: I'm not here to harm or kill anyone. I'm here to explore. It's my first time in an establishment such as this, and I'm interested in exploring what I may or may not be into."
"And h.. how would you like to explore? Top or b.. bottom?"
It took him a second to register what that meant before he responded thoughtfully, "I'm actually interested in trying the bottom. I trust no one will try to hurt me, I take it? Considering I wish to explore what it's like being tied up. This just may be what I need in life, you know?"
She nods and write his name down in the guest book as "The Riddler" under "newcomer." Then she asks him, "Would you like a master or a dominatrix?"
"Dominatrix. I want to feel the power of a woman over me, if that's alright with you."
She turns and asks another attendant in a similar attire and mask, but with leopard-ears, to send for a dominant. Edward waited happily despite the woman shaking in her stilletos. He noticed this would take a bit of a while, considering some of the workers are probably arguing who should take him out of fear. So he tries to calm the greeter down, "How difficult is it to walk in those?"
"It.. it's difficult at times."
"I commend anyone, man or woman, who can wear those and be on their feet all day. Do they not cause foot problems?"
"That.. depends."
"And how about that corset? Is it difficult to breathe?"
She gulps, trembling more, "That also depends. This corset has metal ribs in it, but I have it adjusted so I am capable of breathing. Worn with the right clothes, it can be comfy at times."
He shook his head but not in disapproval. It was in amazement, "The things women wear for style. Then again, if you like it enough, right?"
"Heh. Right."
"It also disappoints me greatly in society how some women are forced to wear such impractical, eye-candy clothing like skirts. There are enough men in the workforce that don't care to control themselves and feel this need to tell a woman what to wear so they have something pleasant for them to look at. You're there to work, not ogle at someone so you have something to do during your smoke-break", he says making a gesture as if jacking off a disembodied cock. "Then again, your job here is all about a client's pleasure, so wearing something provocative or promiscuous comes with the job."
"R-right."
"I think places like this need to be everywhere so people can keep their gutter-minds in one place and keep a level head in another. I think it would help cut down on the amount of sexual assault we have going on, as well."
"You're very thoughtful, M-Mr. Riddler."
He smiled, about to continue with the discussion in an effort to keep her from panicking when a dominatrix in leather and fishnets approached him. She wore a black eye-mask, and looked stereotypical carrying a riding crop. She prodded at him, "This way, bad boy." She tried so hard to keep up her composure and led him through the crowd of borderline orgies.
The aroma of perfume and incense filled the air as he walked further into the risqué establishment, and he made note of how clean everything was. This place was top-notch, and he was glad he had money in a hidden account for this. He was impressed at the upkeep.
The Dom led him down a hall lined with red carpeting, pink walls, and purple doors leading to rooms. Upon the Victorian doorknobs were signs stating whether or not a room was occupied. She informed him, trying to maintain a tone of respectful authority in her voice, "Each of the rooms are sound-proof for privacy reasons of the clients, which would include you. We take privacy as serious as we do with pleasure."
"Very high-end indeed", he thought aloud, becoming more impressed with the pretty dungeon.
She opened a free door, but with a key. Regardless if occupied or not, the rooms were to remain locked at all times for safety reasons. The purple door opened up to a room the size of a small classroom complete with Victorian era furniture, some looking like it was taken from those decades, others looking like new, long lost concepts that were never seen to the public. The furniture was plush, and Edward figured each room had different furniture for different reasons because more than one fetish or kink existed. This must be a common room t use on newbies such as himself. He was glad he'd at least be comfortable.
With a breath, Eddie reminded himself that he must keep an open mind and watch that he doesn't lash out. He was ready to take commands from a woman in leather, and understood that any orders she may bark are for his pleasure, and he can adjust any words that can or cannot be said accordingly. He decided on a safeword being "stop." He says that because it's his first time, that will be his go-to word for now. He's merely exploring, he repeated, to which she fully understood.
His bowler was hung up on a coat rack. He decided the coat should go as well. The dominatrix raised her eyebrows, trying to keep up the persona, and said, "A naughty boy with a two-piece suit? I'll bet that wasn't a gift for you being good."
"It wasn't", he grinned, then soon remembered the persona kicked in. He realized he was at her mercy, and he had to remind himself again to keep an open mind. He did enjoy eyes being on him all the time.
She taps the fainting couch, "Have a seat?" She, herself, began making mental notes to avoid any and all insults to avoid him losing his temper. "Bad-boy" wasn't commonly seen as one by society considering it has been overused with sexual undertones. So it's a safe one to throw at him.
He walks over like he owns the place and sits down.
"No", she said, "I was asking you id you had to seat. I wanna see your ass."
That shocked him a bit. He semi-enjoyed that and stood up, only to feel her hands on his shoulders spin him to the side, guide him up onto the fainting couch, and had him get bent over the one arm. He felt his heart rate rise slightly at the await of the unknown. Instead of a smack or a spank, however, he felt her hands fondling his ass.
"Oh my", she cooed, "You have one cute butt." He took pride in that. A compliment given to him on a physical feature never bothered him, but he felt her hands wiggle under him and began to fumble with his belt, "Except I want to see it."
By this point, he could tell she was starting to get into it, though still being cautious considering he was a dangerous man who has killed before. He felt his glutes become exposed to the air as she pulled his pants down to his knees. He held onto the arm of the fainting couch as best as he could, expecting hard blows only to feel a hand grab a cheek and give it a slight, unpainful pinch of inspection of the flesh as she went, "Quite cute indeed. Who would have thought that a bad-boy like you would look so good on this end?"
Soon he got a chub from the praise of his body, even if it was a part he only thought of for sitting and going to the bathroom with. I could get used to this after all.
Except she gave him a decent smack, though not enough to cause pain. It was like a love-tap, "But you've done lots of bad deeds, and you need to be punished for that. My way." The spank came cracking down a bit harder. It was a light sting. Nothing he couldn't handle.
Another smack, "Though the bright side for you is these cheeks are going to look absolutely adorable when they're pink. Maybe even red." A few more smacks, slightly harder but went no further than that. It caused him to gasp a bit because he feared it would get worse. Surprisingly, it didn't, and that blood rush of fear caused him to maintain that slight chub.
But she soon sat him up on his knees, not walking in front of him. She whispered in his ear, "Wait here a moment, and don't move." Fair and easy enough. He remained on his knees on the fainting couch, his pants at his knees, his genitals and buttocks exposed. For a moment, he feared she would take pictures, but this was debunked as he relied on his ears, hearing her rummage in an old timey trunk he'd seen on the way in. Possibly a toy-chest of sorts. He wouldn't have to worry about pictures, because they value privacy. They'd have to value privacy to remain in business.
She came back over, he could hear her footsteps, "Take everything on top off", she told him.
He removed his tie, his vest, his shirt. Aside from his pants around his knees as he sat on his knees, he was nude. More attention. Nearly full-on boner by now.
"That's better", she said approvingly behind him. He saw her bring a hand in front of him that held something. It was green silken rope. She chose the green thinking it would appeal to him. Of course, it did.
She began to tie him up with it, avoiding any wrapping around the neck or joints, creating lovely wrap and knot-work in the front of his torso, and tied his hands behind his back. It felt nice and comfortable to him.
But now he felt helpless and bound. Literally. This woman could kill him if she wanted to. But perhaps she liked the thrill of a challenge?
She walked around to face him from the front and looked him up and down with a smile, and raised her eyebrows again, finding another feature of his to be impressed with, "My, I never knew you were packin' something serious in those pants."
He realized she was talking about his genitals, and in a positive manner. He glances down, feeling more pride, but embarrassed she could see his almost full erection. The Dom walked closer and gently fondled his balls, "And a sizeable sack. Now there's something I don't see too often. Now I know why you strut around like the king of peacocks."
The fondling was nice; a sensation he hadn't felt in a while. Edward's hands struggled against the restraints. It was a random reflex he was now trying to figure out why despite he knows he's not in any danger.
Then he noticed something hanging from her wrist. It was a paddle. And she walked around behind him and gave him a nice little love-tap with it, watching him flinch slightly from the cold leather of her chosen tool, and then gradually increased the force to a moderate smack. His breathing grew a bit harsh as he tried to find pleasure in this, tried so hard to keep an open mind to this particular action. But something was trouble him.
His erection was going down as he began to realize that the reason he doesn't find appeal in this is because he is tied and helpless.
He is not in control.
That's what he wanted. Control, but attention at the same time. He wanted to ride this out, to find out whether or not this could blossom into something, but nothing. Not even being called a "cute bad-boy" was helping him maintain an erection.
"Stop", he finally said. The mistress ceased with the paddling and immediately came around to his front.
"Are you alright?", she asked.
Took him a moment before he finally looked up at her, "Yes", he said, "But I am not into this. Untie me."