A/N: Another fucked up chapter.

Shake 'n' bake, that just happened!

R&R, please.


He needed to possess her.

She was his - his alone.

Not a mutual lover, not an equal.

An inferior, a possession, a slave to his every whim,

And he had marked her as such.

Of course, he'd have to re-cut it often,- as soon as it became the light pink of a healing scar, he'd have to re-do all of his hard work, and he'd get to see her sweet blood.

Verily, he could just kill her, it'd make things so much easier, no more cutting, no more having to appease her, no more of her obnoxious new jersey accent --

It'd be nice.

But still.

He needed either to get rid of her or to fuck her, dominate her, hurt her, violate her.

She had gotten to him.

Somehow, she had gotten past his walls, past his exterior - he had been out of character in telling her - what he had never intended to reveal to anyone.

Least of all her.

She was HIS.

That goddamn song was playing in his head.

He needed something to drive it out - pound it out--

And the bat was tracking him.

He couldn't leave.

Or kill Harley.

A dead harley would just draw attention.

Damn.

He needed to do SOMETHING.

"Harley!"

He heard a muffled squeak, then the soft padding of her feet, slowing as she approached the door.

"yes, Mistah J?"

"Come here, Harley." He said, with a steel voice.

She walked over to him, looked at him with her big baby blue eyes.

"Harley."

She whimpered.

He pulled her to him, kissed her hard, biting her lip, pulling her hair.

He tasted blood.

And smiled.

The Joker violently ripped off Harley's dress (well, one of his shirts) sending buttons scattering.

"On your knees."

He didn't give her a chance to be gentle - he slammed into her mouth, gagging her, dominating her.

He withdrew from her mouth and directed her to sit on the bed.

He spread her legs and pressed them over her head, taking advantage of her loose, flexible hamstrings.

The Joker slammed into her, showing no mercy. He bottomed out and groaned as he felt her clench around him and shriek in pain.

"Please--"

"Quiet, slut."

There was nothing she could do but lat there and take it - taking all of him.

He could tell she was trying so hard to stay quiet, her lips were bleeding again.

He picked up his pace and the force of his thrusts, making her eyes tear in pain.

"Good girl, Harley."

"Thank you, daddy..."

"Did I say you could TALK?!"

She shook her head 'no'.

And he smiled.

She was his, alright. And he knew that, no matter what, she'd always come back.

A loyal girl.

"Harley, baby, you're such a loyal little slut..."

He could tell that she was going to break, so he gave her more, all he had. He wanted her to break, to cry, scream - he needed an excuse to hit her, slap her, beat her.

The joker started slamming harder - hurting her, until she couldn't take it anymore.

And screamed.

He slapped her across the face.

"I can't... Please..."

This was what he wanted - total submission, willingness.

He could feel her body relax underneath him, and he knew that no matter what he did now, she would take it, gladly.

He pulled out of her.

"You're not worthy of this inside you." he said, spilling himself on the bed.

Harley was almost crying.

He had succeeded at what he set out to do.

Teaching her that

He was her MASTER.

And Harley began to sniffle.

Possibly the most annoying sound known to man, the whimpering of an injured henchgirl.

"Go clean up, whore. No one likes you all messy."

Harley pulled herself up and walked out.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, such a mess..."

The Joker shook his head.

And as he began to strip the bedsheets, he hummed:

I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, a hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap, a barrel and a heap and i'm talkin in my sleep, about you.

A/N: hope you enjoyed, even if it is a little squicky.

R&R, loves.