It was nearly midnight and I didn't know anything had happened yet. I sat in my office, with the Joker's files spread out over my desk. I had thumbed through the papers; reading the plethora of back-stories, the many diagnoses, and the long laundry list of crimes and atrocities he had committed. I wish I could say I was getting closer to cracking his case than any doctor before me, but I highly doubted that. In the months I had been seeing him, he still confused me just as much as he did on the first day I checked him in. Those bright green eyes and blood red lips, that stark white skin; all of it drew me in. Imagine trying to solve the world's most difficult math equation while being surrounded by five different TVs blasting at full volume, and all of those TVs rapidly flipped through the channels repeatedly. That's what is must be like to be the Joker. His attention-deficit-disorder was unprecedented, but there was so much more to him that I have doubts that anyone would be able to figure him out. In the months passed, I had become practically obsessed with the Joker; he had driven his way into my mind and made up a permanent little resting spot in the recess of my subconscious.
I hated to think about him, hated waking up in the middle of the night with my heart racing, my face flushed, and a rising dampness growing between my legs from the dream he would occupy. I felt sick; I contemplated checking myself into the Asylum. Maybe then, even for a minute, I may have understood what had happened to the late Dr. Quinzel all those years ago. I hated it-hated him with a passion. It made my stomach churn painfully when even in the most intimate of moments with my fiancé Brad; my thoughts would go still back to him, the Joker. Often I would feel Brad's strong muscular body twist and contort into that monster's lean stature, while he was on top of me. Perhaps there was something terribly wrong with me; something I had been fighting off for far too long now.
Maybe I was broken, not cut out for this job; or could it be that I was weak and twisted just like Dr. Harleen Quinzel had been?
Many times I fought with the idea of asking Doctor Lerner to take him, admitting to her that I couldn't handle him; however something always held me back. Possibly this growing obsession with him, or maybe it was that he had become a Rubik's cube. One that with each turn you seemed to get further and further from the solution; the one that you just can't bring yourself to put down. I wanted to believe that I could cure him, yet with each passing day I gradually understood that there was no cure. Maybe none of the diagnoses could ever come close to being accurate, because the simple and plain fact was, was that he was insane,
A purely sadistic homicidal maniac.
No amount of medicine or rehabilitation could ever solve his problem. All of this ran through my mind as I fingered through his files, working late again. Naturally, it was already dark outside, and I had gotten so caught up in what I was doing that I hadn't even realized what time it was. In just a few more minutes I'd go down to the ICU and check up on Brad. He was working the graveyard shift tonight and I had no doubt that he'd be mad at me for staying so late again; especially when I had to drive all the way back to Gotham. These past few months had really put a strain on our relationship; a strain that I knew was my fault. I should be planning a wedding, my mind should be occupied deciding on the flowers and the perfect cake; but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The more time that passed, the later I would stay in my office, listening to recordings of the past sessions, while reading through the files persistently.
I didn't know that anything had happened yet, until the loud banging on my office door alerted me that something was wrong. I jumped up from the desk, wishing more than anything that I could see through the door. Dr. Lerner would be home by now; it was more likely one of the guards with an emergency. Although, I doubted it since most people probably didn't know that I was still here. Hurriedly I got up from the desk, flattening out my lab coat and taking a deep breath. "Can I help you?" I asked kindly, and upon opening the door, I was taken aback by the sight that stood before me.
I hardly had time to comprehend his orange torn jumpsuit and tally marked skin before my body was sent hurtling to the floor from the impact of his hard slap. My eyes watered immediately and I could instantly feel my cheek burning hot as it swelled up. I couldn't do anything but scream before he was on me. He grabbed me harshly by my long black hair and yanked me across the floor towards my desk. I continued to scream, hoping and praying that somebody would hear me. But I knew that no one could. I tried to scramble to my feet before I was met with a hard kick to the face. That's when stars danced around my head as blood poured from my nose; I could taste it as it dripped down my chin to my neck.
"Where you think you're goin' girly?" He demanded wickedly, as he grabbed my hair and yanked it back when I tried to crawl away; "The parties just gettin' started."
I whimpered and cried, thinking hard about the panic button under my desk. I felt the cold metal blade press against my throat as I wondered if this would truly be my end. "Please…" I whimpered pressing my eyes closed, tasting the blood in my mouth.
"Oh don't worry this knife's not for you. Boss says I'm not allowed ta hurt ya. " He laughed deeply while moving the blade away from my neck. "But these are…" I didn't open my eyes to see what he had just taken out, I was too afraid.
"Look at me!" He yanked my hair back hard again. I opened my eyes shaking my head in panic. He was holding a silver pair of handcuffs. "This Penitentiary is now under the watchful eye of the inmates now." He growled, handcuffing my right hand to the leg of my desk then he stepped back from me. "And you're all gonna pay for what you do to us." I took the opportunity to spit out the blood that had been pooling in my mouth, although he backhanded me hard across the face again.
"Pretty little girls like you shouldn't do such things. Now just wait here a minute, we've arranged a little entertainment for you tonight." He winked at me, the tallies on his neck moving with his smile.
"Please" I whimpered again, trying to shift my position a bit, one of my heels having broken off when I hit the floor the first time. My cheek continued to swell; and I had no doubt that he had broken my cheekbone and possibly even my nose.
Zsasz left me there on my office floor for a brief moment, before I heard his footsteps coming back in. But this time they weren't alone, someone else's accompanied them. I opened my eyes in time to see who was coming and I swear my heart stopped. Brad was bound and gagged, though he looked slightly relieved to see that I was not dead. Against his ball gag, he made a sort of calling noise. "Brad" I cried, yanking my body against the handcuffs unsuccessfully.
"Filth, the things you and your friends think are funny...making mockery of us inmates. You're a sinner and I must purge you, and baptize you in blood." Zsasz growled, and then he pressed his knife hard against Brad's throat. I screamed out for him but it was too late; the blood was already pouring from his neck and his body dropped forward onto the ground, gasping slightly as he bled out. I lost it, sobbing hysterically, calling out his name at the top of my lungs.
Zsasz laughed almost more hysterically than my sobbing, carving another tally into his skin. "Shut up, you stupid little slut!" He yelled as he again hit me so hard that my body collapsed to the ground. Then he grabbed my head and hit it hard against the hardwood floor, making my vision go fuzzy. "I said I wasn't 'llowed to kill ya, roughin' ya up a bit's a different story." My limbs felt heavy as I struggled to keep consciousness. I watched Zsasz boots leave my office, leaving the door open. I couldn't bring myself to move because of the pain; so I just laid there with my head reeling and my face throbbing, watching Brad's blood seep across the hardwood floor to me. Knowing that, I'd never lie beside him again; or let my body curl up into the crook of his arm, when we joked and teased until we couldn't keep our eyes open anymore. Even though, I had never appreciated all of this, at the time. I didn't deserve him, I couldn't even bring myself to be loyal to him, even when I'd promised myself that I'd make it up to him later when we were married. Now I'd never get that chance. His eyes were open still, now cold and dead, staring at me. I sobbed harder, wanting to pick my body up, but found myself incapable. My body shook with each racking cry. These past few months I hadn't been the best fiancé, always wrapped up in my work…the Joker...and he deserved so much better. But now I'd never be able to make it up to him; right now, I wanted to puke. I dry heaved trying to reach with my un-cuffed arm but it was too far. "I'm sorry," I sadly whispered, finally losing myself in the pain.
I wasn't sure how long I had been lying there, crying, constantly drifting in and out of consciousness; and every now and again pulling against the handcuff and making no progress. My body was hurting and I couldn't sit up. Not to mention, my ribs ached, and I could feel my hair was caked with blood. It could have been just moments or even hours by the time I caught sight of the all-too-familiar black pointy shoes and purple pinstriped pants that nearly walk past the office door. Abruptly halting, as he looked in.
"Well, well, well," cackled the Joker, "What do we have here? Dr. Sweet Legs, you don't look too good." He snidely commented again. "You know, I've been looking all over for you."
"Why?" I desperately whimpered; I didn't want to look at him, because I knew in my gut that he had done this, he had done this all before. We were in the same predicament we were in now because of him; his twisted mind, his constant need for chaos.
He pushed me onto my back, making my arm contort rather uncomfortably. I tried to look away from him, but he grabbed my face, pulling it back towards him. I couldn't help myself; I laughed hysterically, while I looked upon this deranged man standing over me, his knife already pulled out from his pocket. "You look like you're in a rather compromising situation now Doc, perhaps I can help you out a bit. You see, these people killed my Harley and I could really use a new Hench-wench. Now I've been thinking that maybe you could fill the spot." He had that sinister grin on his mouth; something in the way he accented and emphasized his words rang through my ears, moving down to my core. He fumbled again through his coat pockets before pulling out an extra set of handcuffs. He latched one end on my other wrist and the other to the same post, pulling my arms over my head until I was flat on my back.
"There, that's better, but I think you might be missing something…or maybe you just have a little too much." He chuckled, dragging his knife down my chest until he reached the waist of my pencil skirt, where my blouse was tucked in. Viciously, he sliced open my blouse, allowing the cold air to hit my bare chest. I screamed despite the fact that no one could hear me, and the Joker's hand slapped me hard across the face for my effort. "Silence, you little fool! That part hasn't come yet." He winked at me with those bright green eyes, and his large smile outlined by his bright red lips. "Well, that's a nice rack you got here." The Joker cackled loudly like a hyena, as he sliced open the front of my bra effortlessly and pushing each cup aside.
"STOP!" I cried out, trying to squirm away from him, but I suddenly found myself gasping as he pinched one of my nipples hard between his thumb and forefinger. I continued to beg him as he dragged the knife over my skin slowly, moving down to the waist of my skirt. "Please..." I begged again, squirming with all my might. He then pressed his hand hard on my chest, pinning me to the floor and shimmying my skirt up, until it was around my stomach. With the knife, he cut off my panties, throwing them aside.
Tears poured down my face; I hated myself, hated everything, hated him, hated Brad, hated Arkham, Doctor Lerner; but above all, I hated that fantasies, such as this, had occupied my dreams for the past few months, and how they were now coming true. All those nights I had stayed late in my office, hoping to find something in his files that would clue me in, or at least find some crime that would knock him down, in my mind, to where he belonged. All those nights, I would go to the ICU and sit outside his cell, with only the reinforced glass separating us. And he would just sit there on his bed, his back to the wall, smiling at me as I watched him, with neither of us saying a word. And even on the nights when I would watch him sleep. And the times that I would think about him coming into my office for a session and ravishing me right there on my desk. I continued to mutter no, even if I was certain it was useless, and I was certain that I didn't actually mean it. My dead fiancée lied only a few feet away; with his eyes eternally open watching this, watching my body react so shamefully. I was convinced the Joker could hear my thoughts, and I was confident that he would know that he had had me under his thumb after these past few months. I didn't know that then, but I know it now.
"You don't seem to be minding this too much, do you?" The Joker asked rhetorically, as his now ungloved hand slapped the wet heat between my legs before plunging his long fingers in. "I'd even say that you like it." His face was only inches away from mine; his long and pointed nose, and his green eyes right there in my face. So few people found themselves this close to him and lived to tell the tale. I could smell his stale breath and notice his yellowing teeth, but my back automatically arched against his fingers pumping harshly as he plunged a third finger into me.
It was only a brief moment before he sunk his sharp teeth into my hard pert little nipple, sucking hard enough to suck it right off my body. His fang-like teeth bit hard into my skin. He roughly forced a fourth finger into me, and against all my self-control and dignity, I moaned loudly, knowing that my wet pussy was making it easier for him to glide his fingers deep into my core and sliding back out for only a brief second in between. I felt dirty and wrong, and yet I was sure I would die if he stopped his perfect torture. He loudly chuckled against my skin, his breath felt surprisingly warm and human against my skin. "You know," he started; my eyes rolled to the back of my head as he curled his impossibly long fingers forward hitting my sweet spot and making my body jump and writhe, "there are some things you just can't get from the showers in the ICU. You're actually a tight little thing, and oh... how I've missed this." He hissed wickedly again, abruptly removing his fingers from my body.
"DON'T STOP." The words had escaped my mouth before I could stop them, when my back arched and he rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
"Now, now, Dr. Sweet Legs. All in due time." The Joker taunted as he stepped back from me and whistling. He slipped out of his purple jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his yellow shirt. He was wearing this yellow orangey-looking waist coat with two columns of purple buttons; these past few months I'd seen him in nothing aside from his orange jumpsuit. I vaguely wondered where he had found the clothes, or who had brought them for him. I wriggled against the handcuffs, trying to make my body sit up but that attempt failed miserably. "Did I ever tell you how I got these scars, Doc?" I shook my head, not really knowing what to say. There were dozens files spread out over my desk with his various life stories, along with the various diagnoses, and I wondered which lie he would spew at me this time. "Sometimes I have a hard time remembering." His voice dropped to what I supposed was a whisper for him. He'd already poured hundreds of stories down my throat, and all of them were lies. My entire body ached, however I knew that the Joker wasn't nearly through with me. I had managed to pull my body up, leaning against the leg of my desk, trying and finding it painfully hard to breathe. Suddenly, in one swift motion the Joker had pulled my back down and flipped me onto my stomach. My arms twisted, making me yelp in pain; although I found myself very aroused at the prospect of what was to come. "I had a wife once," the Joker went on, "pretty little thing, looked a lot like you actually, with the long dark hair and the pale blue eyes…always gave me a real stiffy…" His laugh was manic when I heard the swish of his belt coming off. He yanked my hips up hard, snatching my legs apart. I couldn't stop myself from screaming as he cracked his leather belt down over my bare skin. The sheer force of the impact forced me to hold tight to the cuffs.
"Sometimes I remember it one way and sometimes another," again he cracked the belt down onto my backside, making my body jolt forward. "But my wife, you see, was pregnant, expecting a little boy...or maybe a girl." I tried to lift my body up until the Joker placed his hand in the middle of my back, effectively holding me down against the floor with my hips pulled up. He slapped me again with his belt. "Well, let's just say things don't always work out for the best." I didn't have to look at him to see that large smile as he threw his head back and laughed rowdily; that same echoing laugh that would resonant through your body. "You know your fiancé over there…he had a few secrets of his own…" I hardly heard what he was saying; my body was trembling too much, desiring more. "Let's just say he and his friends had their own way of punishing us inmates." Crack! He hit me hard with the belt again, my legs shaking so hard, it was a marvel how they were holding me up. "He was always suspicious of me, he saw right through our whole little act, and made sure I knew about it." Crack! My body jolted forward. "You ever know that he swung for both teams?" He laughed wildly, dropping the belt to the floor with a thud.
I gasped out, my body jumped like I was being electrocuted as the Joker's warm fingers rubbed my hot center. I hated the moans that poured from my mouth. The pad of his calloused thumb found my nub making my body craved more. "Oh god…" I breathed out.
"No, no. Not God… It's Joker."
"JOKER!" I cried as he suddenly slammed into me, forcing my legs apart further. More aroused then shocked at the feel of his hard length inside of me, I whimpered and cried in pleasure at his incessant pounding, which sent my body forward with each thrust. "Please don't stop." My breathing turned into panting as I tried to mute myself by biting my lips hard enough to taste blood. I listened to the Joker's groans and grunts as he took me on the unforgiving floor, pounding away at my wet pussy as I continually struggled to breathe. I could feel his long fingers move through my hair holding it tightly, before sliding down my neck and squeezing lightly. I curled my toes in as I moaned deeply, my breath getting caught in my throat.
My head was spinning as he continued to pound into me, grunting and groaning like vicious animal. His fingers became tight around my neck; and I pulled hard against the cuffs trying to fight against the growing fire as I neared my first orgasm. I could feel my mind unraveling, no longer did I care, and I had cried the last of my tears, gave my last fuck to the world. "Don't stop!" I whimpered wantonly, embracing the way his fingers held my neck, his body bent over my body, his thrusts slowing but never losing force, his erection stretching and filling me beyond my limit.
He growled; that deep animalistic noise radiated from his chest. I was shocked, at his length and girth was so perfectly angled. I was getting close; I could feel it building inside me. I wanted to reach down and touch myself, push myself over the edge, but the cuffs held me in place. The Joker finally released my neck and pressed hard on my spine, digging his nails into my hips. I could feel the skin break under the pressure of his trimmed length nails.
"Please…" I practically begged, gasping as he pushed in to the base as he held me hard against him. I tensed against his hardened length, falling over the edge into the blissful perfect nothingness. My body trembled from exhaustion, wanting nothing more than to collapse down as I came apart at the seams. My moans and screams filled the office. And the Joker continued to pound away until his own orgasm took him, making his already rigid body tense more and more; and for a brief moment, his life force was drained from him which allowed him to fill me with his seed. He dragged his nails down my back, and after that brief moment of ecstasy, he stepped away from me.
He let my body collapse down onto the cold floor, while I tried to catch my breath, as well as calm my over-stimulated body. The pain in my ribs came back with a vengeance, and my undying curiosity came back with it. What would happen to me now? Would he kill me? Perhaps he would un-cuff me and let me go? Or perhaps he'd use me as an example. Look how the demonic clown prince broke another doctor. I tried hard not to cry, biting my lip, ashamed for the first time of how exposed I was, and how ready and eager my body was for this murderous psychopath. My muscles trembled, and my clit thumped, aching for more.
"Looks as if you have two choices now, Dr. Sweet," he began, his voice perfectly controlled, long and drawling as usual. I still struggled for breath, yet he sounded as if nothing had just happened. "I can kill you, but wouldn't that be a waste?" My body curled up instinctually in fear, praying to God that I wouldn't be found like this, so vulnerable and open. They would know it wasn't rape in the autopsy, they would know that I wanted it; they would even know that I enjoyed it. "As I mentioned before Doc, I've got a need for a new Hench-wench. You scratch my back Doc, and I'll scratch yours." He laughed manically, stepping around my body towards my head. "The choice is yours, Doc. Tick-tock-tick-tock." He must have read my face and saw my questioning gaze. "What can I say? I have a thing for doctors, and you-" he pointed at me, with a menacing stare and an ever-chilling grin, "-have a thing for clowns. Wouldn't be the first time."
My throat felt dry, but I knew. I knew there was no going back. It had been coming, and it was only a matter of time before I gave in. I had become obsessed with him; he drew me in, and unbeknownst to me, staked his claim and made me his own. Just like Harleen Quinzel; I had fought the urge for so long but now I couldn't pretend any more. I couldn't stop myself from laughing with my head against the ground, as an eerie smile spread across my face causing my swollen cheek ache. I continued to laugh as I felt the cuffs unclasp from my wrists. "Dr. Sweet…" I whispered wickedly, "I like that." He began to laugh, pulling my shaking body up off the floor as I kicked off my broken heels. His maniacal laughter filled the room as he handed me my lab coat. I stripped down the shreds of clothes he had left and pulled on the lab coat, buttoning just a few of the buttons, running my fingers through my long dark blood caked hair.
This was it; this was me. That was the Joker's new and improved girl.
"Now that's the look I've been waiting to see."