I started the following day by powering down one of Sal's egg sandwiches – courtesy of Frankie going out first thing to get it for me. Then I wrote my last journal entry. He asked me how long I planned on staying.

"I don't know yet. I think … I just know I can't go home yet. Let him worry and stew for a little while."

"But you'll go back?"

"Eventually." Thinking about it was making me angry, so I decided to tell him exactly what had happened the previous night. It helped I had just written it all out and had it clear in my head. He listened quietly and when I finished, he nodded.

"Yeah, you both suck."

That made me laugh for some reason but I still threw a pillow at him. "Dick."

He chuckled, "Nah, don't get me wrong. You know a man's gotta sleep, so you were just being annoying as hell. But he shouldn't be pushing you that hard. Or kicking you out of your bedroom."

"Thank you. I knew I was right."

"That's not what I said," he chuckled.

"But that's what I heeaaard." I singsonged. He laughed again.

We watched TV for a little while. It wasn't until about 11:30 that I got my first text.

"Where are you?" from Jonny. I texted back a "fuck you" emoji.

Jonny must have noticed that I was gone before J, and chose not to say anything, because it was another hour before I heard from him. It read exactly the same "Where are you?" but I could feel the anger radiating from the words. Even though it made my heart pound, I texted back the same emoji.

"Get your ass home." came flying back.

"Fuck off." was my reply.

"HOME. NOW." My heart stuttered in its beating.

"No."

And then silence. It was really unnerving. I expected more fight, more anger. I expected a fit, to be honest. For me to not be where he expected, to have run out in the middle of the night, to refuse to go back to him … those are the worst things I could do. And I know how he responds when things don't go his way. It wasn't going to be pretty, but I wasn't going to let him get away with kicking me out.

But for there to be nothing? No rage? No answer at all? It was confusing. And terrifying. Who knew what he was going to do next?

If I'd thought about it, really thought about it, it was obvious what he was going to do. The fact it didn't occur to me makes me feel like an idiot. It's so obvious. He logged into my phone's GPS.

The banging on Frankie's door didn't even clue me in, but from the way he walked over, I'm pretty sure he knew. He never checked to see who was there, just opened it and stood back. J strode in, eyes dark with fury. I shrank back in my seat on the couch.

He snarled. On the one hand it was incredibly sexy. On the other, it was fucking terrifying. That snarling growl. "What do you think you're doing."

I barely noticed Jonny trailing after J into the apartment, my eyes were frozen on my daddy's. And my daddy was mad. I swallowed and forced some steel into my spine. Raising my brows was a challenge to him, "You told me to get out. So, I did."

He snarled again and I barely caught the shiver it would bring out. "I told you to go -"

"To my room?" It was time for my own rage to come out and I stood up, hands balled into fists, staring him down just as much as he was staring me down. "You told me to go to 'my' room. 'My' room. Like we haven't be sharing a bed from the moment we left Arkham. Like I was just another girl for you to take into your bed as you please. Another girl to be kicked out when her usefulness was over. I am not just some other girl." I stepped forward until I was inches away from him, "I am the motherfucking Queen of Gotham and if you aren't going to treat me that way, then you can bet your sweet ass I will leave. Every time."

The rage etched in his face would normally have sent me scrabbling to please him, would send anyone else quaking. But I was too angry in return. "My queen comes back to me."

"And I would have. When I was ready."

"You come when you're called."

"I may be a bitch but I'm not a dog!" I snapped. "You don't get to name me queen and then treat me like a servant. ... Hell, you don't get to name me queen. I name myself queen. With or without you, I am Queen of Gotham. I don't need you bu- "

CRACK

He slapped me so hard I fell as I saw stars. Then he was down in front of me, his hand wrapped around my throat, "Don't you ever think you don't need me, Pumpkin. You live for me. You die for me. When I call, you come running. I made you, I named you, you are nothing without me."

I punched him and he slammed me to the ground, pressing on my windpipe. Frankie took one step forward, but J locked his eyes on him and he stopped. He looked to me and I just barely shook my head, one small move you wouldn't see unless you were looking for it. To anyone else, it looked like Frankie obeyed J. But we both knew it was my orders he was really following.

J looked down at me with fury, "You are mine; you hear me? Mine."

"You think I don't know that?" I barely got out. He released my neck and I coughed violently.

"We're going home."

"Not until you apologize."

Hairless brows knit together in rage. "We go home now."

"No."

He slapped me again, this time grabbing my upper arm and yanking me to my feet. He didn't let go of my arm, just shoved me forward in front of him, a march of forced obedience. Before turning the corner, I yelled back to Frankie, "Only Harley Quinn drives the Quinnmobile!"

"I know, Harley." If I didn't know him so well, I wouldn't have heard the note of sadness in his voice. He should know I'll be fine though. Mistah J and I will get through this spat and everything will go back to normal.

He shoved me into the passenger side of one of his Bugatti's, but when he went to walk around the car I climbed out and slammed the door. His growl rose to a roar of frustration, "Harley, get in the fucking car."

"No. I told you I'm not going back until you apologize."

"I have nothing to apologize for."

"So, you're saying I have my own room back home?"

"What is so wrong with that?!"

"I don't join you in your bed." I snapped angrily. "We go to our bed."

He scowled, "What's the difference?"

"What's the difference? What's the difference? Are you serious?" from his expression I could tell he was. "The difference is where I belong. Do I belong with you or do I belong somewhere else? Am I your equal or just someone to use?"

"No one -"

"Think before you speak. No one is on your level; I can agree to that. But don't you dare say I am not your equal. I got you out of Arkham. I killed your enemies. I was reborn in the same vat that made you. You can't bear me to say I don't need you, but you dare to say I don't belong at your side?"

I could see it clicked. I hadn't changed his mind, just made it clearer. But J was never the type to give in, "That's not what I said."

"Not with words. But it's what you said with your actions. I know I'm an annoying piece of shit, but that doesn't mean you get to tell me I don't belong with you."

"That's not what I meant."

"Maybe not. But that's what came across."

"Harley..." He walked to me on the sidewalk and took me in his arms, "I'm sorry. Will you please come home?"

I squealed and jumped up, wrapping my arms around his neck, "Oh, Puddin'. I love you too." My eyes filled with tears as I kissed him.

"Let's go home."

I happily climbed into the car, staring out the window as he drove. "Did you see my car? Isn't she pretty? Frankie had her painted for me."

I chattered away as he drove, not knowing what was about to happen. I had no idea what was coming. Again, if I'd thought about it, I should have known our reconciliation couldn't have gone so easily. I should have known his apology was manipulation just to get me back to the high rise.

He didn't go to the speed elevator to the Penthouse when we got back to the underground garage. He went to the one Frankie had brought us back upstairs with after my shopping spree. We went to floor 72 and walked through the offices, out to the other elevator. I waved at the secretary lady and she just quietly smiled in response.

Once inside the second elevator, he hit the button for floor 69 and that's when I realized … I was still in trouble.

The Playroom was empty, as it had been the last time we went there. He brought me to a different room; this one was completely black, and there was only one item in it. A black sybian. I'd never seen one before. And now I wish I never had.

"Wh... what's that, Puddin'?"

"That's your punishment."

"But -"

"No backtalk, little girl. You wanted your apology. I want mine."

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I -"

"No." It wasn't harsh. It wasn't commanding. His voice had been soft and almost sweet as soon as we'd entered the black room. I realized what it was … it was a Daddy voice. The way a daddy would talk to his little girl. But J wasn't using it for comfort and connection. No, he was using it for discipline.

"Take off your clothes."

I did as I was told. He led me to the upside down half circle with a dildo attachment set on a custom metal stand. "Now, climb on."

He helped me to do so, without his usual fondling and copious touching. It was parental instruction - clear and simple, so the child would understand and follow correctly. Once on properly, the dildo buried in my cunt, he used silk ropes to tie my limbs to the metal stand so I wouldn't fall over.

"What did you do that was wrong, baby girl?"

My voice was small when I answered, "I left."

"Not just that, what else?"

"I wouldn't let you sleep."

"And?"

"I hit you?"

"You disobeyed me, little one. You left me and you disobeyed me. That's unacceptable."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"No, no, no. Say it again you'll be in even more trouble. That's not the apology I want from you."

"What do you -" and then he clicked on the sybian. I shrieked in shock from the intense vibrations. Of course it was set on its highest setting. He smiled at me, a soft and almost loving smile.

"You're going to sit right here and think about what you've done, little girl."

And then he clicked off the light and left.

"Daddy?" I've never been in a black so overwhelming. No light anywhere, not even a speck. The darkness pressed in from all sides, touching every inch of my skin

"Daddy?!" I could feel an orgasm building, but I couldn't even enjoy it. I was too scared. Being locked away in the dark wasn't something that had happened to me before. But I'd heard my previous patients talk about the abject fear, being stuck in the dark, not knowing how long you'd be left in there. Now I really understood what they meant.

"Daddy!" I shrieked, begging him to come back for me. And then I came, crying out from the pleasure. I pulled on the ropes holding my limbs, hoping there would be some give even though I knew better. He wasn't going to give me an out. He'd tied those things tight and with strong knots.

"Puddin, please!" The sybian hit me from the inside and the outside. There was a nub that touched my clit as well as the dildo within me. I found myself cumming in succession, never knowing when it would end. As soon as one climax ended another began. My body just wouldn't stop.

I was screaming incoherently. Still trying to call for him, but my mouth wouldn't make words. I pulled harder against the ropes without meaning to. My body just contracted with each orgasm. I don't know how long I sat there in the dark, my only company the buzzing of the sybian. My legs hurt from the vibrations, my cunt hurt from the endless orgasms, my wrists hurt from being tied. I was exhausted, covered with a sheen of sweat and juices, and had no idea how much longer I would be stuck in that room.

Blinded by the light shining through the door was nothing like when the lights turned back on in the black room. I blinked repeatedly, trying to get my eyes to adjust. J, Jonny, and Frankie were all in the room when I was finally able to see.

Frankie was bound and gagged, on his knees in front of Jonny and J was holding a gun. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit.

Jonny walked over and untied my right arm. J passed him the gun and he put it in my hand.

"Time for phase 2, Pumpkin." he was still speaking in the soft Daddy voice. "The other part of your punishment. For his part in hiding you from me, you're gonna kill Frankie."

"What? No!" My eyes widened in horror. He couldn't be serious. Please tell me you're joking, Puddin'. Blood. Death. KILL HIM. Shut up, you freak.

The gun shook in my hand. I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him just for giving me a safe haven when I was in need.

"You know what you need to do, baby girl."

"I won't. I can't." My blue eyes met his crystal ones, "He's my only friend."

"Aw, that's sweet." He stepped closer to me, "Doesn't change your punishment, though."

The gun shook in my hand as I came again, through the pain of what must have been hours of sybian use. I knew I couldn't kill Frankie. But how was I going to get out of this? It came to me, the solution. Well, a solution. Who knows if it would actually work?

I pointed the gun at Jonny.

"Now, now, little one."

"I won't hurt Frankie." I was determined.

"You're going to do as you're told."

"NO! I am not going to kill the only friend I have. I am not going to hurt someone that helped me."

"Do not disobey me again, Pumpkin."

I glared at him, gun still aimed at Jonny, "You wanna be mad at me, you wanna punish me, fine. There's no reason to hurt Frankie. He didn't hide me; he gave me a safe place to stay. Or would you rather I spent the night curled up in the Quinnmobile somewhere? Would you rather I stay out on street alone all night?"

"Harley." it wasn't a warning. Or maybe it was. His Daddy voice took some getting used to.

"I'm sorry I left and I'm sorry I disobeyed. But you're gonna have to find a different punishment because I'm not going to kill him!"

His frown reminded me that I wasn't supposed to say 'I'm sorry' again. Whoops. That and the fact that I was once again disobeying. I knew he wasn't happy with me.

He strode over and took the gun from my hand, nodding to Jonny, who came back and retied my arm with the silk rope. Jonny walked to the door, standing just behind J, who was standing next to the still kneeling Frankie. J cocked the gun.

"No!"

The lights went out and the gun went off. I screamed and fought wildly against the ropes. "FRANKIE!"

Not again, not again. My mind whimpered. Losing Frankie felt like losing Mama. He shared her name; was the only person I was close to besides J. His murderer.

"I HATE YOU!" I shrieked. "I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU."

And then I started weeping. Brokenhearted, end of days, broken bone type bawling that expressed all the pain deep within me. How could the man I love hurt me so badly? How could he do this to me?

I heard the body being dragged from the room and the door closed behind them. Someone had turned out the hall lights so there would be nothing but shadows moving in front of my vision before the door slammed. Letting myself hang from the ropes tying my arms, I wept bitterly and without end. Frankie was more than my only friend right now. He'd been one of the truest friends of my life. Closer than my dormmates who didn't understand me or my passions. Closer than high school friends who never knew what was going on at home. Closer than anyone I'd met while working at the asylum. Frankie was my friend. And Frankie was gone.

More time passed. By the time all was said and done, my sybian punishment lasted about five hours. J came back alone, propping me up as he untied me as my body had grown limp from orgasmic and brokenhearted exhaustion. I was still crying and probably looked an absolute mess. After getting all the ropes undone, he gathered me in his arms and carried me like a babe. I wept on his shoulder as he brought me upstairs to the Penthouse.

"You disobeyed me again, little one."

"I know." I couldn't stop crying.

"You know that's why your punishment continued?"

I nodded, "Yes."

"Do you think it's over now?"

I paused. Dear god, what the fuck else could he possibly do to me? Finally, I mumbled, "No."

"You're right."

I whimpered.

He laid me on my stomach in our bedroom and proceeded to spank me with a paddle. I lost count around 25 but I wouldn't be surprised if he went to 50. Each one hurt worse than the one before. After hours of sybian use, my downstairs was feeling raw. The paddle's slaps added to the pain, and each hit only added more. By the time he was done, I still hadn't stopped sobbing. Honestly, I was surprised I still had tears left.

He put the paddle away and came back with massage oil. Then he gently rubbed the oil into my ass cheeks, soothing away the pain with his touch. It felt really good, but I still couldn't stop crying. When he was done massaging me, he brought me into the bathroom and filled the jacuzzi tub, climbing in with me after he'd helped me inside. I hadn't used the tub since he'd killed me in it, but this experience made up for the last one. As I cried, he gently washed away the sweat and juices from my body, rubbing me down with a soapy loofah. Then he tipped my head back and got my hair wet, washing my long locks and scrubbing my roots with his fingertips. All in all, he spent probably half an hour gently bathing me. He'd never been so tender with me before.

I still hadn't stopped crying when he helped me from the tub and started toweling me off. It wasn't until he'd gotten me into bed, safely wrapped in his arms, that he finally spoke again, "I don't like punishing you."

"I know.." I was sniffle sobbing, unable to control my breathing.

"Please stop crying." he sounded so sad.

"I can't," I wept. "I'm trying. I've been trying. It just won't stop."

He held me for a long time, rubbing his hands down my back and making other such soothing gestures. "Are you hungry?"

I hadn't eaten lunch and it was around dinner time. But I shook my head. I couldn't bear to think about eating when Frankie was dead.

"Want to watch something?"

I shook my head again, "You can put something on if you want, though."

"What I want is for you to be ok."

"That's not gonna happen for a long time, Puddin'." All I wanted in that moment was to stop crying and sleep. At least when I'm sleeping I don't have to be aware that he's gone.

"Talk to me, princess."

"There's nothing to say. You killed my only friend. You killed the only person that cared about me besides you."

"It wasn't supposed to go that way."

"No. I was supposed to kill him. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I wanted your obedience."

"And I couldn't give it."

"You could have."

"Asking me to kill Frankie was like asking me to kill Mama."

He paused, understanding fully what that meant, "Oh, Pumpkin. My love. I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

This apology was one hundred percent real. His arms drew me closer to him and I knew he felt just horrible about the whole thing. With a sigh he rolled over and grabbed his phone. "Your punishment is over, my love. I can't do this anymore."

He tapped for a little while and then left the room. When he came back, he had my blue sweats and helped me into them. I didn't want to get dressed. I didn't want to leave the bedroom. I wanted to curl up and die. I live for my Puddin', but right now I just don't want to.

"Come on, Pumpkin. Come with me." He took my hand and pulled me behind him, "Jonny's bringing dinner."

"I told you I'm not hungry."

"I know. But you will be." He led me to the TV room and settled me on the couch, going into the kitchen and coming back with two crystal glasses of grape soda, my favorite, which he placed on the coffee table before me. Then he sat down next to me, taking my hand and rubbing the back with his thumb. He's trying so hard to comfort me. I feel bad it isn't working.

After flicking through the channels for a bit, he stopped at some silly cartoon. Something that usually made me laugh. But I didn't feel much like laughing, and didn't see the humor in things the way I used to. We watched until the elevator dinged.

"Jonny's here. Go help him with the food."

"But, Puddin' -"

"No buts. Off you go."

I wandered out of the TV room with melancholia. But when I rounded the corner and saw the elevator I screamed. My legs threw me forward and I jumped into his arms so hard he dropped the food he was carrying, "FRANKIE!"

I kissed him all over his face, "You're alive! You're alive!"

"I was pretty shocked about it, too."

"Blanks," said Jonny as he picked up the bag Frankie had dropped. As if that explained everything.

But it did. Part of my punishment was proving that I would obey. And I failed. Part of my punishment was believing Frankie was dead. And I took it so hard, Daddy couldn't bear to see me so hurt. He ended my final punishment early to make me happy.

The rest of the evening was the four of us just hanging out. My relief over Frankie being alive made me joyous and Puddin' smiled for the rest of the night.