Joke's On You

"What the-?"

Now this was a strange situation. One minute Joker had been idly scheming in his cell at Arkham Asylum. Suddenly he found himself bound to a chair with thick ropes, and he was, oh crackers, completely nude. He giggled.

"Huh. Well well well, Joker ol' boy. Looks like we finally went bonkers for real."

"Oh, I wouldn't necessarily say that."

He was now face to face with a lady. A very naked lady with a blurry face.

"The fuck kind of drugs did the blonde put me on?"

She sauntered toward him. "Oh no, Mr. J. You're not hallucinating. You're my wet dream."

She smiled and traced a finger from the end of one scar over his lips to the end of the other. "And you're about to make my wildest dreams come true."

"Note to self. Ask for drugs that give the naked lady hallucination better lines."

She chuckled and straddled his lap.

He felt her breasts press against him and began to squirm. "You're not going to bad-touch me, are you? My therapist wouldn't like that. Not. One. Bit."

She tweaked his nose. "Oh Mr. J, I'm going to do much more than just touch you."

Shit.

"Okay, now look here, Broad-in-my-head. I don't know if the MAO-inhibitors relayed the message to you, but I'm not really into the whole, y'know, hanky-panky thing."

She giggled. "I didn't say I cared whether or not you were into it."

He rolled his eyes and laughed at her. "Yeah, okay lady. Look, I can't get it up if you're into it, so uh good luck trying to ride my big rubbery one."

She thumbed his lower lip. "Looks to me like you've got a perfectly acceptable mouth. And I'd love to know what those scars feel like against my wet hot cunt."

Double shit. Time to take things a little more seriously.

"Sweetpea," he growled and bared his yellowed teeth. "I'm a psychopath. Don't think I won't bite your lips off."

"In that case I'll just have to rub my hard little clit all over you until I cum. Oh and Mr. J-"

"Mr. J?" What the hell was all this "Mr. J" tripe?

She whispered in his ear, "I'm a squirter."

His eyes and mouth widened. "Oh for the love of-! You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I?" She began grinding against his flaccid dick, running her hands up and down his bound body, moaning and groaning as she rubbed her slick slit against him.

He struggled angrily at first, shouting and moving as much as he could in a vain attempt to disrupt her rhythm, but eventually realized she got more enjoyment from the friction of his struggle. He gaped at her in a mix of disgust, confusion, and sheer horror.

She moaned his name loudly as she came, and true to her word, squirted all over his lap. Then she dipped a finger into her dripping cunt and traced her juices over his scars.

He stared incredulously at her. "I-I never thought I would say this, but… I feel violated."

She curled her fingers through his green hair and laughed. "Guess the joke's on you this time, J-Man."

"Yeah yeah, oh ho, haha," he snarled. "Look, will you just go away now so I can, oh God I can't fucking believe this, go sit in a cold shower or something?"

She grinned. "See you around."

He jolted awake, covered in a cold sweat, and sat upright in his rack. He was wearing his inmate scrubs again and the blurry-faced naked lady was gone. Dr. Quinzel sat calmly in a chair across from him.

"Good evening. Just dropped by to see how your new medication was treating you."

"Yeah, about that, Doc. I'm not a fan. And uh, I don't really want to talk about it right now, but I think I'm gonna need a lot more therapy."

The corners of her mouth twisted into an unnerving smile wider than he'd ever seen on her. "Whatever you need, Mr. J."