Chapter Twenty-Three:
Harley couldn't understand it. It made no damn sense to her. Here it was, she was a voluptuous, gifted, and willing woman, but her Mistah J still wanted that little redheaded slut locked in the cellar. She had seen him, coming up the narrow stairs, and she could practically smell it on him. She had no idea exactly what he had done down there, or to what level little Miss Gordon had participated, but Mistah J had definitely gotten his rocks off.
The memory of him holding her, pressing against her as hard as he possible could as he rammed his rock-hard member inside of her, both of them moaning and keening with need, rose unbidden to her mind. Her arms were crossed across her chest, her fingers digging into the sweater that was probably the only thing that kept her nails from breaking flesh. Joker barked at Chauncey to "get Babsy clean," and the henchman hustled off to do just that. Behind closed lips, Harley bit the end of her tongue. What the hell did that little teeny-bopper have that she didn't? The girl had probably been a virgin before Mistah J, so it wasn't like she knew any tricks. Granted, with the way the internet was these days… but still, it wasn't likely.
Joker retreated to the bedroom, and Harley mentally did a ten-count before she followed. She paused right outside the door, fixing a sultry but bright smile on her face. He really liked smiles. She rapped on the door but didn't wait for an answer before she entered. Joker was in the threshold between he attached bathroom and the bedroom, and he turned with an arched brow and a touch of a grimace when she closed the door behind her. What had the girl done to him now?
"What do you want?" he snapped.
Her heart broke. All he had wanted was a fun getaway from work, but that stupid girl had to make it all about her. Harley knew how to treat him, what he needed. She slinked over to the bed, sinking down onto the foot of it.
"Puddin', are you all right? You seem… tense."
His face contorted into a snarl, just for a second, before it was back to his neutral, frozen grin. "Don't call me Puddin'," he grumbled, walking into the bathroom.
Harley listened as he began to run the shower and fought down a grin. Maybe she could give him a little relief. It wouldn't take but a second to shimmy out of her clothes, hopping in behind him. She stood, grasping the hem of her sweater, ready to pull it free, when he called, "I have an idea."
Harley let her grin loose. "Yeah?"
The water shut off, and Harley's brow furrowed as she let go of her sweater. Joker emerged, dressed in nothing but his boxers—purple with little red hearts. He wasn't even wet. His thoughts were so consumed with this little slip of a girl that he couldn't even enjoy a relaxing shower! Harley's heart broke for him all over again.
"Oh, Pudd—uh… Mistah J… you're really in a tizzy, aren't ya?" Harley said, sashaying her way over to him. She ran a finger up his pale, pale bare chest. She looked up at him, adding, "I betcha I know what that idea was."
"Oh yeah?" he asked, his grin widening.
"Let me take your mind off things. Ride your Harley, Mistah J, and remember what it's like to really have fun. You're too good for her."
His grin was sweet… just seconds before the back of his ungloved hand slammed down across her face, sending her crashing to the ground. She put her hand against her aching cheeks, fighting the tears that had immediately formed in her eyes as she stared up at him. It was then that she saw it. It was small, but it was right there on his damn boxers, right over his dick. A white, crusty little stain that explained why Chauncey had had to go clean Barbara up. She pursed her lips, gritting her teeth behind him while he glowered over her.
"Never say that about her. Never even think that she is anything less than perfection!" he growled.
"I'm sorry," she murmured.
"Get out. Get out!"
Harley knew his moods better than most. She lost no time scrambling to her feet and rushing from the bedroom. The door slammed shut just as she crossed the threshold, and she could see through the doorway across the way that Chauncey was coming up from the cellar, his eyes a little sad and downcast. Harley snarled. What the fuck was so special about this girl?
Harley spent the next couple of days mulling over that very question as she watched both Joker and Chauncey attend to the poor widdle princess like she was the damn Queen of Sheba! It made her sick that any one person, especially a woman just out of childhood, could be so manipulative. Finally, three days into it, she volunteered to take the girl her lunch. Chauncey had seemed wary of the offer but had relented easily enough. Now, Harley would find out exactly what was so great about Barbara Gordon. She clasped the bowl of soup in both hands, the spoon balancing within, as she stepped cautiously down the dimly lit stairs.
The girl wasn't looking her best, to be sure. Her little nightdress was wrinkled and looking a little too worn. Her hair was messy, but not as bad as Harley would have supposed after several days of being chained to a bed. With a mental roar, she wondered if Barbara here had had the boys upstairs brushing her hair for her. It made her want to toss the hot soup onto little miss thing's barely covered body. But she didn't. She showed restraint and composure. She plastered on her best, happiest smile and set the bowl down on a little table several feet away from the bed.
"Grub time!" Harley sing-songed.
Barbara blinked at her, confused. "Where's Joker?"
Harley curled her hands at her side. Was she so demanding that Mistah J couldn't even have a second to rest? Selfish, definitely a symptom of being an only child. Harley plastered an even wider smile on her face as she gently scooted the table closer. She took a seat on the edge of Barbara's cot, sighing and placing her hands in her lap for just a moment.
In this moment, she took a second to really drink in the girl's appearance. True, she had probably seen better days, but, even still, she was… cute. Harley hated to think it—especially since it was a word that had described herself for most of her life. She reached forward and playfully booped Miss Gordon's little button nose, and the girl blinked at her, obviously dismayed.
"Now, Mistah J is a busy, busy man. I am being a good Samaritan and offering my help in feeding you. Poor Mistah J deserves a break every now and again, you know? He's constantly performing for his adoring public."
Barbara, despite looking horrid in a dirty, crumpled nightdress with grime streaking her legs, arms, and face, and her hair beginning to look more knotted to Harley now that she was closer, still managed to pull off a spiteful sneer.
"I suppose it is hard, pretending to be reformed when he's still the same monster he's always been," she snipped.
Harley frowned. "Now, none of that. Mistah J… he's had it rough. I can't even tell you—doctor-patient confidentiallity, of course—but he has, really. For the longest time, I believe the sessions he had with me were the only times he felt relaxed and himself—happy."
Barbara blinked at her. "You're… you're his psychiatrist? From Arkham?"
Harley set a little straighter and forced back the feeling of pride was making her chest swell. "He mentioned our sessions, did he?"
The redhead scanned her face for a moment before saying, "Once. He said he had to get to his therapy session, to be exact."
The words bit, and Harley wasn't an idiot. She knew the girl had meant for them to sting. They did, no doubt, but she would be damned if she let it show. Instead, she reached behind her head, gripped the back of her gown—and a good amount of her hair—and yanked, perhaps a touch harder than necessary—up until the girl's head was no longer lying flat. Harley would be lying if she said that the little grimace of pain on Barbara's face wasn't pleasing. She reached for the soup and spoon, loading up a good mouthful.
"Now, say 'aw.' Or do we need to play 'here comes the airplane'?" she said, holding the spoon just an inch or so in front of Barbara's mouth.
She stared up at her, and Harley didn't like the look of dawning comprehension that was spreading over her dirty face. She cocked a single brow up, a cruel smirk fighting to make itself known in the corner of her mouth. Harley steeled herself, preparing for any verbal barb the girl would throw at her. Instead, Barbara only opened her mouth. Harley fed her the spoonful of soup and grinned.
"There's a good girl," she cooed. "Mistah J will be happy when I report that you've been so cooperative."
Barbara took another mouthful of soup, and Harley was feeling quite pleased with herself. But, after a quick lick of some escaping broth on her lips, Barbara nodded.
"I'm sure he will. After all, it's important he's happy, isn't it?"
Harley stared at the girl, her eyes narrowed. She didn't reply, simply feeding Barbara another bite. After it was swallowed, the younger woman continued, "That's it, isn't it? You want nothing more than his happiness—and you wanted to be the source of it. I've read about this. My Dad's the commissioner, so I've read all sorts of reports on the Joker. He's got a way about him, the way he twists and manipulates. Hell, even I fell for it. But you? You're still under his sway, aren't you? You want to be the one he loves… but instead it's me. A dumb kid by comparison."
Harley felt her whole body shudder, and her very bones seemed to shake within her flesh. She forced her smile to be even brighter, plastering it on, because Mistah J preferred smiles. Then, without taking her eyes off the redhead, she reached over, barely put the tips of her fingers on the lip of the bowl containing Barbara's lunch, and pushed gently downward. The bowl flipped, the food—the whole amount, minus three bites—careening to the cement floor.
"Oh my," Harley said, followed by a tsking sound. "I was so nice to you, and I tried to be so helpful. But then, oh but then, you fought me, hit my hand, and knocked your food to the floor. Mistah J isn't gonna like this."
Barbara's eyes went wide as Harley stooped, grabbing up the bowl, and began to head toward the stairs.
"N-no. Th-that's not what happened!" the girl yelled.
Harley flashed her a bright grin and a shrug as she exited the cellar and shut the door behind her. She left the dishes in the sink, fixed a sad pull to her lips, and went to find her puddin'. She found him in the bedroom, exiting the attached bathroom, as a matter of fact. A large, white fluffy towel—almost the exact shade of his skin—was wrapped about his waist, and she stopped in the doorway of the bedroom to appreciate the curves of his lean muscles, and the way his green hair was curling even now against the wetness.
"Did Babs eat?" he asked.
Harley could almost imagine a record scratch in her head at the mention of that stupid kid's name. The frown to accompany her story wasn't hard to fake.
"She was so mad, Puddin'. She struggled and knocked the bowl to the floor, with all the food. She said such—" She sniffled here for effect. "—mean things."
Joker's hands curled briefly into claws as he let out a growl. He moved to take a seat on the foot of the bed, burying his hands in hands. He tapped a quick beat on the floor with his right foot, and Harley didn't need to be able to see his eyes—which were downcast and hidden by his hands—to know he was glaring a hole into the flooring.
"What am I gonna do with her? Why doesn't she get it? She understood it all so perfectly in her submission for the closing statement."
Harley shrugged. "Maybe she lied. It was just a dumb school assignment."
Joker shot Harley a look of pure venom, and the psychiatrist raised a shaking palm. "O-or, maybe, she's just not used to being so free in the open yet. Y-you did tell me that she lives in a very repressing environment."
Joker went back to glaring at the floor. "Yes, but how to break her of her bad habits is the question."
Harley's mouth twitched into a tiny grin for just a moment as a rather wicked plan entered her mind. Slowly, moving like a shadow, she crossed the space from the doorway to the bed, crawling carefully upon it. She moved until she was right behind the Clown Prince, resting soft hands on his shoulders.
"You're so tense," she said, beginning a careful massage.
When he groaned in pleasure and didn't throw her to the floor, she took that as a sign to continue, which she did gladly. "I know you'll find a way to help her, Puddin'. She just needs to be shown, you know? Just like I did. Now look at how happy I am. But you… you need a break. You need to take some time, to work out some of the tension. A, ahem, full body workout, you know?"
She was lobbing brick-sized hints, and she didn't care. Joker suddenly sat up ramrod straight, and Harley snatched her hands away lightning fast. He turned, his frozen grin even wider.
"My dear Harley girl… you've given me an idea. And you'll help me with it, of course?"
Her heart soared. "Of course I will, Mistah J!"
#
It was the next night, and Harley still had no idea what she was helping with. Joker had sent her away soon after he had asked her, but now he held her hand, leading her down into the cellar. Yes, a voice at the back of Harley's mind was screaming at her that this was all about Barbara and that it was a huge red flag that they were heading down to the cellar where the little brat was, but… Harley had learned a long time ago not to listen to the voices in her head.
Their shoes made scuffling sounds as they hit the dirty cement of the cellar floor, and Harley took a moment to look over at the young woman still handcuffed to the bed. Barbara looked as confused as Harley felt, but that was when the Joker made his intentions clear. He yanked on Harley's arm, twirling her into his embrace, and kissed her full and deep.
Harley's eyes widened; her heart thudded against her chest hard. She dared another glance at the redhead, whose eyes were equally as wide. Joker's hands moved up from the small of Harley's back and worked their way into the little spaces between her blouse's buttons. With one mighty jerk, he ripped it open, buttons popping off in all directions.
"M-M-Mistah J," Harley stammered.
"Quiet," he growled, pulling the destroyed top off her.
Her pencil-line skirt was unzipped and pulled from her until she stood there in nothing more than the purple and white lacy bra and panty set. She blushed as she remembered buying it, thinking that the man who was currently undressing her would enjoy it. She puffed out her chest, about to ask his thoughts on it—maybe even give a little playful shake of her chest—when he all but tore the brassiere from her.
Harley glanced back over at Barbara, finding that the girl had shut her eyes tightly and turned her head away. Joker turned, following his psychiatrist's gaze. He reached over and gripped the girl's chin, hard, and yanked her gaze back over to the two of them.
"You're going to learn to appreciate the freer side of life, Babsy. Lesson the first, enjoying what you've got and using it when you want. Don't look away, or this will start to hurt."
He let go of her, turning his attention back to the blonde. Harley had, with a little bit of shaking, already removed her panties. They were cute, bikini cut, white with purple hearts. She didn't want to lose them to this cause like she had the bra and blouse. Joker's grin was pure deviousness as he yanked her body to his, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. He sucked and licked at it, causing Harley's head to loll back. She let out a moan as Joker brought a hand up to pinch at the other nipple. He moved from one breast to the other, and Harley peeked open an eye.
She had never had sex while someone watched before. She had read about this situation in certain trashy novels and had even watched a porn or two featuring the situation. She had always thought she might find it a bit of a turn on, in the right setting.
Right now, as Joker shoved her up against the wall at the foot of Barbara's bed—so that the girl would have to look down at her feet to watch, but would still have a front-row view—and trailed his tongue down her body until he was on his knees and his tongue was dancing within her folds, Harley wasn't sure this qualified as "the right setting." But she couldn't ignore the way it felt to have her puddin's talented tongue dancing across her increasingly sensitive clit. Her hands dropped to her sides and she clawed at the wall, moaning.
"Stop. Please!" Barbara yelled, shutting her eyes and looking away.
All at once, Joker's licking of her clit came to a sudden halt as he jumped to his feet and moved to the bed to straddle the young Miss Gordon. Harley panted, trying to catch her breath, and unable to see anything but Barbara's legs kicking as much as they could while still being cuffed and Joker's back.
"Be good, Babsy. I don't want to hurt you… but it doesn't mean I won't. Some lessons are painful, ya know."
A gagging noise followed, and Harley, her brain still hazed from her growing arousal, feared for a moment that he was fucking her mouth. But, after realizing that he was still fully clothed and seated too far back for that, she came to the conclusion that he must be choking her. That voice at the back of her mind was back, asking whether or not she should be okay with the fact that that apparently made her wetter than a water hose.
"Are you gonna be good, dear, and watch like I've asked you to?"
There was a gagged reply, but it seemed to satisfy Joker as he stood. Harley could see small bruises, even in the cellar's dim lighting, forming on the girl's neck. Joker let his fingertips trail along her body as he came back to Harley.
"Good girl," he growled, and while Harley knew he was talking to Barbara, she pretended it was her he meant it for, which made her grow even wetter.
Joker turned away from the redhead and pinned Harley up against the wall. She was a little disappointed that he didn't seem to be returning to eating her out, but that thought quickly vanished as he worked a hand down to her folds and began to fiercely rub her clit.
"Yes, yes, yes," she moaned, her head tilting back against the wall.
"That's it, Harley girl. Show Babs what she's missing out on," Joker purred, moving his fingers down until they slid inside of her with no resistance.
Harley squeaked and keened as Joker pumped two digits in and out of her, and she felt her inner walls beginning to tighten. It had been so long since he last touched her like this.
"Come for me, Harley. Come for me, and then Babsy really gets a show," he ordered.
That was all it took, the coil winding itself up in Harley's nethers sprang loose, and she screamed as she soaked the Joker's hand with her orgasm. When she finally came down from her high, she felt him remove his fingers from inside of her. Her head lolled over to stare at Barbara, who was red-cheeked with tears streaming down her face. She heard Joker unzip his fly, and a small smile played about her lips.
"No need to cry," Joker said, lifting Harley up while still holding her pinned against the wall. "All you need to do is ask, and I'll gladly stop and move my attentions to you. I love you."
Harley's heart skipped a beat. She wanted to cry. The words hurt and made her scared all at once. No! No, no, no, NO! She wanted him! She wanted to ride his cock and made him come while he was buried balls deep inside of her. She glanced over at Barbara as she felt the head of Joker's cock tease her outer folds. But she girl had her lips pursed tightly shut, tears still streaming and face still red, as Joker shrugged.
"Have it your way," he said, thrusting into Harley.
Harley cried out, moaning and rocking her hips toward him. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, holding herself up while he was able to get a better leverage on the wall. Having lettered in gymnastics really had done wonders for her.
Joker slammed into her full tilt, taking her as roughly as he could against the wall. And she loved it.
"Yes, Mistah J! More! Fuck me harder! Give it to me!" she screamed.
Joker went as hard as possible, slamming into her until she could feel the walls of her pussy tightening, trying to hold him inside her longer and longer until finally she cried out, screaming his name.
"That's right, Harley, come hard on my cock. Remind her how it feels to be my good little girl!"
He continued his rough taking of her until Harley was sobbing with the intensity of her second orgasm. It felt like she couldn't breathe, like all she could do was scream and scream and scream, like she could die any second now.
It would be worth it.
But death didn't come for her—not the big one, anyway—as Joker's thrusts got more and more erratic. With a grunt and a growl, Joker's hot seed filled her, and Harley smiled, her breathing finally returning to normal as he finished.
He withdrew from her folds, all but dropping her to the floor. He walked over to Barbara, his dick still out, semi-hard, and covered in both his cum and Harley's juices.
"Lick it clean," he ordered, positioning himself near her mouth.
Barbara's mouth opened, and Harley was sure it was to protest, but Joker shoved his cock inside. The girl cried as he thrust a bit, his frozen grin aimed down at her in a look that was almost loving.
"That's it. That's my good girl. Use that pretty little tongue and get every last drop. Next time, if you're good and listen to me, it could be your juices that you're licking off of me."
After a moment, he pulled his cock from her lips with a wet pop and set about putting himself to rights. He was pristine and put together in just seconds, and when he turned to face Harley, still slumped naked in the floor, he sneered.
"Get up and get out," he ordered. "Now!"
She nodded, launching to her feet. She gathered her broken and discarded clothing and rushed from the cellar.
She didn't even bother trying to get dressed.