1/23/10: Dedicated to the one and only, Mr. Heath Ledger. You are always remembered.
- Communication Is Really Key.
Talk about a long day. Productive, but long. This evening had been the most interesting, though. His men didn't think much had been accomplished at Harvey Dent's little party, but he knew better.
You just had to know how to look for the right results.
Like Rachael Dawes. Now there was something worth looking into. In fact, he already had plans set into motion for that spunky little bitch.
He got excited just thinking about her. That knee to the groin had really turned him on. There was mixed feelings about the Batman having showed up so soon.
How he would have liked to get some time alone with her. That smug mouth of hers could probably suck the marrow out of a corpse.
Oh well. She could come in handy some other way.
It was at the end of a long hallway, two stories underneath an old factory, that he stopped. Taking out a set of keys, he put one in, twisted, and turned the handle.
The door to the Joker's room creaked softly when he opened it. He stepped inside and kicked it shut behind him, jingling the keys in his hand as he did so.
No point in re-locking it. No one bothered him down here.
Walking over to the little dresser table, he hooked his index finger around his tie and loosened it, while with the other hand he tossed the keys down onto the wood with a 'thunk', "Yanno," he said, licking his lips as he reached into his pockets and pulled out a few knives.
"There's something about our situation here that's become a bit…unfulfilling."
Keeping his eyes on his work, he laid the knives down one by one along the length of the flat surface. He did this carefully. Meticulously arranging them side-by-side as he pulled them from his pockets. One after the other.
He always carried a lot of knives. A lot.
Oh, and one potato peeler. That one hadn't been used in a while. Not since the first time on that security guard. That had been a fun night, too.
"Ya see," he said, holding up an old hand crafted, wooden-handled fish scaling knife that he'd had for years. It still had a few smears of blood on it, so it was probably time to clean them all again.
He waved this one around in a few little circles as he spoke, "I just can't get over this little bump,"setting the wooden knife down to demonstrate the sound, he moved on to the next, "in communication that we have here."
He was finally done. The knives, and potato peeler, were laid out in a neat line that almost reached each end of table. Then again, he'd lost a couple, too. Sometimes he just got in a rush and ended up leaving one in somebody's ribcage. It happens.
Next he pulled off his gloves, one finger at a time, "Oh, it was alright at first." Placing the gloves on top of the knives, he took off his tie and hung it on the coat rack.
"But, see…when I walk into a room, I want people to be…a-ffec-ted. I want people to know why I'm there." Slipping his coat off his shoulders, he hung that in the closet.
That was when he finally turned around to look at his audience.
She was still laying in the same exact position on the bed that he'd put her in before he'd left for the party. That was several hours ago.
The ropes helped, of course. He had decided to tie her hands together behind her, and tied her ankles, as well. Then he had tied her hands to her ankles.
Lying her on her back, he had forced her knees as wide as they would go. Displaying certain parts of her naked anatomy perfectly.
Looking at her now, so open and inviting, as she watched him with red, terrified eyes, a jolt of excitement shot right down his spine and through his abdomen. He was instantaneously as hard as a rock.
Grinning, he ran and hurled himself onto the bed, landing on top of her. The girl cried out, a muffled sound, which quickly turned into a sob.
"Like tonight," he continued happily, raising himself up to hover above her at arms length. Staring down at her with hungry eyes, his tongue flicked out along his bottom lip excitedly.
"You should have seen their faces!" Tilting his head, he furrowed his brows and dropped his voice to a mocking pitch. He grabbed her tear streaked chin roughly in his fingers and shook a little, "But you couldn't be there, now could you? No, no. Had to be a bad girl, didn't you?"
She whimpered in response, and he let go of her chin to unbutton his vest, then his shirt, eyes on her face the whole time. "Now, if you had been there, you coulda got an idea of what I've been expecting of you."
Lifting up away from her, he took off the vest and shirt and tossed them onto the floor somewhere. His hands then went for his belt, and he felt the girl tense up between his thighs as he whipped it out of the loops with a sharp snap.
He ignored her reaction, throwing the belt to the side, "The issue with us is that, ah, I like knowing what people are think-ing. I wanna be sure that they understand the consequences if I don't get want I want from them."
Looking back down at the girl, he nodded slowly at her, his eyes roving over her body. Then they landed on her eyes. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying so much. He could tell she was scared. Although, he didn't think she was scared enough.
Which brought him back to his point.
Leaning down, he put his face an inch away from hers She tried to turn her head, to look away. He took her entire jaw in his hand this time, and squeezed it real hard until she brought her eyes back to his.
"But, you. You." He accused hatefully, glaring at her, "How am I supposed to know that you even know wha-t I'm saying? Hmm?" His voice was practically growling. Her eyes were wide, frightened into stupidity.
The girl was sixteen years old. Japanese. With long dark hair and slanted eyes. He liked her eyes. That was why he'd picked her up.
A pretty little thing, really. Young, naive, hoping to make her dreams come true in the big city.
But she didn't speak a word of English.
He didn't understand how these people take all that time to sneak into this country, expecting to make better lives for themselves, and refuse to learn any English.
It was annoying. It was just…lazy. The Joker didn't care much for laziness.
For the first few hours he had tried to teach her some words to say. But, after eventually knocking her out cold with one of those heavy dictionaries, he had finally decided she wasn't going to get it.
A day later, he had had enough of not being able to understand what she was screaming. It had really started to take a bit of the fun out of hurting her.
So. He had cut out her tongue. He even cauterized the wound so she didn't drown in her own blood. That was fine for awhile, until he got tired of the gargling, mumbling sounds of her still trying to talk, then he sewed her mouth shut. Problem solved.
The Japanese girl didn't say anything to defend herself in the current matter. He doubted that really had too much to do with her missing tongue and stitched lips.
Twisting his head over to the left, he stared down at her from the right corners of his eyes, chewing on the inside of his knotted right cheek.
Suddenly he jumped up, standing between her bent, open legs. His fingers were working on undoing his pants as he said, "See, that doesn't help your cause-uh." Frowning down at her, he shook his head sadly, freeing his erection.
The girl moaned pathetically deep in her throat, maybe something like 'no', closing her eyes and turning her face away again. She tried to squirm a little. Testing the ropes. A desperate act, but as usual it didn't gain her any results.
He always got the ropes tight. Tighter than tight. Maybe even tighter than that. He knew what he was doing.
Watching her, he waited until she opened her eyes and looked up at him. Tears were pouring down the sides of her bruised and broken face, leaving streaks in the dirt and blood.
It matched the rest of her. A lot of the deep bruising was visible now. And the many cuts were no longer bleeding, but had left dried trickles behind.
Smears of makeup, blood, and grease covered her body. Along with the dozens of other marks from belts, wire hangers, and nylon cords.
Cram a weeks' worth of beatings and fuckings and more beatings and then even more fuckings into a three day time period, and it'll start to leave some heavy wear and tear.
It was probably about time to get a fresh one. There's plenty of others out there where she came from.
"What's it gonna take," He was saying as he bent over at an awkward angle, trying to keep his eyes fully on her while reaching for his feet to take off his shoes and socks, hurling them to the floor.
Straightening back up, he froze for a second to look at the wall somewhere way above her head, then dropped his eyes back down to hers, "To get you to, ah, to o-pen up to me?" He asked her, sounding very sincere, and moving his hands outward from each other to illustrate the word 'open' for her benefit.
"Huh?" Turning his head to the right, he displayed his ear better to listen to her. But she didn't say anything. She just laid there, crying and shivering.
Heaving a deep, aggravated sigh, he took off his pants one leg at a time, then threw them over the TV across the room.
"Well, then," he said in a lower voice, dropping down onto his knees between hers and leaning over her with a hand on either side of her head, "If you're not gonna make the effort for this relationship," leaning closer to her, he could smell the blood on her face, "Then what good are you anymore? Hm?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes welled up with more tears, but that was about it. Figures. She just couldn't cooperate, could she?
Her crying was getting worse, like she could sense where this was going. Reaching up to pat at her tangled hair, his brows drew together in concern, "No, hush, hush, hush, hush, hush. Don't you worry,"
Twisting his fingers in her hair, he gave it a good, hard tug. She yelped in her throat, her body jerking upward to bump against him. Licking his lips excitedly, he tried to stifle a little giggle so that he could lower his voice to almost a whisper and tell her, "We still have plenty of time for a goodbye fuck before your trip."
It sounded like she tried to scream, attempting to thrash her head out of his grasp, but she couldn't. In response, his red grin stretched across his face, "Oh, yes, yes, yes!" and to really punctuate the last 'yes', he thrust into her anally, so hard so that it drove the air right out of her, her back arching as he buried himself up to the hilt all at once.
There wasn't much chance for her to catch her breath again, that he was really aware of anyway, as he proceeded to pound into her with every bit of vicious energy and excitement that that Dawes bitch had instilled in him earlier in the evening.
He fucked her for hours, finding as many positions as he could with her being all tied up like she was, until at last he had her on her stomach, and the both of them were slick with sweat.
Her hips were angled up into the air for much deeper penetration, his right hand supporting most of his heavy, shifting weight at the base of her spine between her shoulder blades. His left hand was around her throat, forefinger and thumb locked into the back of her jaw, holding her head up and back.
He was probably cutting off her air supply. Her throat still worked against the palm of his hand, and she was able to make some kind of noise a time or two, so the thought didn't stay with him long.
He was getting close now. The buildup alone was powerful enough to make his whole body tingle with the rush of adrenaline. Slamming into the girl so hard he could feel the bed beneath him move across the floor, The Joker's animal-like grunts had quickly become deep, rumbling growls, growing louder and louder the harder and deeper he pushed in.
Minutes later, the orgasm ripped through him like a backdraft through a narrow hallway, and most of his conscious thought was lost as he surrendered to the numbing ecstasy. His whole body tensing, muscles contracting everywhere, hips jerking as he kept driving into her, pulling back with his left arm and shoving down with his right.
The roar that left his throat as he came was so loud it echoed off the walls, so it was little wonder why he felt the sharp crack more than he heard it. For a second, he thought that he had finally done it…Doc had always told him that at his rate his dick was either going to rot or break off someday, though he'd always found that pretty impossible.
He was so lightheaded and giddy from the climax that he couldn't tell if there was any pain involved or not. His breathing heavy, and strands of his hair clinging to the sides of his painted face, he finally let go of the Japanese girl's head and opened his eyes to the ceiling.
Stretching his cramped arms up over his head, he let them fall back down to his sides, and lowered his eyes to give himself a good once-over, pulling out for inspection.
Nothing out of the ordinary. That's when he studied the bound brunette laying in front of him. Her neck seemed to be at an odder angle then he last remembered it…
Titling his head, his brows drew together. Licking at the inside of his cheek, he leaned over her, supporting himself on one arm, and rolled her over as far as her tied hands and feet would let her go.
Her head lolled off to the side. Her eyes were wide, staring, unblinking. "Oh," he giggled, taking her jaw in his hand and turning her face this way and that, "That was you!"
Nothing. No reply whatsoever. Slapping her cheeks with his fingers, he paid close attention to her eyes.
There was still some life in them. They dilated as he turned her face towards the lamp by the bed, and listening closely he heard a hint of breathing. She was still alive, but just barely. It probably wouldn't take long.
"Well," he said to her, his voice less cheerful and holding a trace of annoyance as he glared down at her, "If that's the way ya wanna brrreak things off between us, then I'm goin' ta bed."
Grabbing her by the shoulder and hip, he rolled her back onto her stomach, grunting out a raspy, "Excuse me," as he shoved her over the edge. She spun and hit the floor with a dull thud, landing mostly on her side with her cheek against the cool cement.
Seconds later, as he stretched out over the bed and reached to turn the lamp off, he peered down at her, and licking his lips, he told her, "Uh, don't bother waking me when ya leave. Got lots to do tomorrow," lamp off, he rolled away from her and onto his own side, murmuring, "Lots and lots…" to himself as he closed his eyes.
Sometime in the night, a few hours before dawn would arrive, Masami took her last few shallow breaths of hot, stale air.
The last thing she would ever see in the dark, was the slanted view of the floor disappearing into the bathroom across from her.
And the last thing she would ever hear, was the soft, peaceful snoring of her killer.
The Joker.