This chapter is for those craving a little dark and twisted mini-smut. In my defense:
It's the Joker...He's a bad guy...It's what he does...
(HA HA HA HA HA! :D)

You braced yourself for a hard landing on the floor, instead you landed on a bed, facedown. Your body bounced slightly from the recoil. You laid there listening for any clues about what was happening. There were no foot steps to indicate that The Joker had walked away. Then you heard them. He took a few steps, then you felt the bed shift. Immediately, you felt his weight on you. He was stretched out across the bed, using your hip as a pillow. He relaxed with his hands tucked under his head. He wacked you with an elbow for good fun. Then snickered about it. You did nothing.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Joker said pulling the bag off your head.

With your head turned to the side, you took a deep breath of fresh air. You buried your face into the bed for moment. It smells like him. Is this where he sleeps? You quickly turned your head to the side to look around. Nothing but the headboard of the bed, so you turned the other direction. Looking around you could see a studio-apartment style room. It was a little dumpy. Walls needed painting, the furniture appeared to be outdated, emtpy food containers and bottles decorated the place. However, his clothes were very neatly hanging on a clothes rack near a large, floor length mirror. He was vain, it actually made sense.

"Pigeon?" His voice sounded 'innocence'.

Joker waited for you to answer. When you didn't you felt his head turn to look at you. Then his weight shift.

He tugged at your gag, slipping his fingers between it and your cheek. With a yank, he pulled it out of your mouth.

"There." He immediately reassumed his relaxed pose, using you as a pillow. He nudged you, "Where were we?"

You hesitated before answering, "W-what?"

"Did you enjoy getting those cops killed?" He chuckled. "Oh, I bet you did. I just regret not getting to spend more time with, what's his name? Oh yes, Mr. Kelley." He continued to chuckle under his breath.

"Where are we?" You figured you had nothing to lose by asking.

He completely ignored you and continued talking.

"Thinking back on it, I'd wish I'd use my knife. Guns are so impersonal. Time affective, yes. But I like the feeling of knowing rreeaall afford was put into ending someone's life." He was chatting away happily without a care in the world.

"It makes me all cozy inside when your hand meets the flesh at the end of a blade." He stretched out his arm and rested it on your back.

"I'll use a knife to kill you, Pigeon...Slow and savory or maybe, rushed and painless. Depends on my mood." He was now barely moving his finger tips, scratching your back as if you were an animal that needed petting.

You listened, completely unfazed. The first time he had talked to you like this left you in complete horror. You were dull to it now, this was normal conversation. Joker, on the other hand, was starry-eyed from the conversation.

"Piiigeoon?" He used the same 'innocence' tone.

"Yes." You knew the consequence of not answering to be steep.

He quickly rolled his body so he was resting his elbow on your back and propping his head up on his hand. He stopped 'petting' your back and moved to fidgeting with your hair. You couldn't help it, you wiggled your arms trying to make the soreness from being tied, a little less. You froze when he wrapped his hand around one of your wrist. He chuckled.

"How would you kill me, Pigeon?" He paused, waiting to see to you were going to say anything. You made an "Aha" sound but didn't say anything. He grinned. And shifted his body so he was once again on his back using you as a pillow.

"Brutal and messy, I suppose. No style, either. But the rage! Oh, the rage and animosity of the whole thing…" Joker chuckled softly and did a fake shiver.

"Now that would be a real show stopper... I can see it now. You unforeseeably getting the better of me, a well placed hit. Purely out of luck, of course, causing me to get knocked out. Or maybe you get your hands on a gun or knife, a head shot or a blade threw the heart."

He shifted again, quickly adjusting his whole body so he was straddling your hips.

"You'd, no doubt, want to make sure I'm dead. Repeatedly stabbing me..." His hand roughly grabbed your sides.

"Over..." He tighten his grip.

"and over..." His grip tighten more.

"and...Over..." You wiggled and protested. He chuckled.

"You'd thrust in and pull out the knife, rapidly at first." He started to mimic a stabbing motion against your back. Doing it a few times then stopping.

"Adrenaline pumping through your body, fueling your anger." His hand went from the mimiced 'holding a knife' fist to flat, palm down against your back.

"At some point your arm would tire. The stabbing would slow." He grabbed your upper arm with one hand. While his other hand went for your the nap of your neck, viciously squeezing it. You let out a cringe. You were scared.

"By then the knife...your hand...all covered... in my blood." He was close, almost completely laying on you.

"Splattered everywhere, no doubt. Oh, Pigeon, it'd be a delightful mess" He was excitedly whispering to you.

You felt The Joker grind against your body. He moved his hand from the back of your neck to the front of it, holding your throat.

"This only happens, remember...if for some reason, I haven't been able to fight back." He squeezed hard around your throat, causing you to buck your head upward. He let out a laugh.

"And Mr. J always fight back, baby!" He suddenly adjusted your thighs where he wanted them and reached down to undo his own pants. You struggled, wiggling your body like a worm.

Somehow, you managed to turn to your body under him. He laughed and manhandled you back over to your belly. The handcuffs, holding your arms behind your back, were cutting into your wrist as you twisted and thrusted about. The cuffs on your ankles allowed you to move your legs, with a little bit more freedom. You could kick them apart few inches. Allowing you to use them to try and scoot yourself up, anything to delay what was about to happen. He hadn't touch you, like this, since the first time he violated you. You had actually started to think he wasn't 'this' kind of bad guy. The fact that there was NOTHING he wouldn't do, in order to create chaos and mayhem, hadn't fully been comprehended by you...yet.

He grabbed the curve of your waist, roughly squeezing and pinching your skin as he slid his hands up the side of your body, pushing your shirt up. He stopped when he got to your tied arms and started moving back down your body.

The lower he got you pleaded "no, no, no."

It wasn't until you gave your finally physical attempt to "fight" him off that you realized something. You went for it. Jerking, twisting, flopping with everything you had. Joker laughed, sitting up on his knees to let you play out your performance. When he'd had enough he laid down on you and forcefully held you as still as he could. This only gave you more cause. Between your oscillating and his tugging and pushing, you were on your back. Face to face. You couldn't help but feel how aroused he was, there was no hiding it. You had already made the connection between him craving and needing physical conflict. Of course, he'd be aroused by it too. You immediately stopped all movement. At first, it appeared you had tired, leaving it so he could easily continue to torment you. Which he did, by touching you slowly and inappropriately. You closed your eyes and took it. Never once cringing or disputing his touch. It quickly became apparent he no longer was enjoying himself and tried to get an reaction out of you:

The pressure on your throat hurt. Your face turned red. You needed air but fought against the urge to gasp for it. His green eyes narrowed as he stared at you. You made no attempts to pull away from him, cry or plead. He bared his teeth, getting anger. You were dizzy now. A final squeeze and he let go of your throat. Air rushed into your lungs making you cough. He grabbed your jaw roughly and turned your head to the side.

"Clever." He snarled into your ear. "But careful... you don't really want to test me, do you?"

Out of nowhere, he pulled a straight razor and opened it so you could see. You closed your eyes at the touch of the cold metal laying flat against your face.

"What wouldn't you miss?" He rubbed the blade down the profile of your nose then your lips.

You were keeping yourself composed. Joker sat back up, on his knees and continued to slide the razor down your body. You felt the warmth of your blood before you felt the sting of the cut. To the side of your navel, he had made a long cut. You looked down to see how bad it was, still without giving him the reaction he craved and needed.

He called your buff. A huge devilishly grin crossed his face and he quickly made two more cuts. This time, they were a lot deeper and way more painful. Your eyes widened with pain, from what he'd done. Blood quickly flowed over your skin, rolled down your side and soaked into the bed. You struggled to look down but he fought against you, pushing you down-flat on the bed.

He waved his finger in a back and forth motion, getting on to you.

"Party pooper. The funs just starting!" He laughed loudly. "There's still four more letters to go."

You immediately started struggling again. You couldn't let this happen without protest.

"Oh, stop. You're going to botch the whole thing. I'd hate to slip. Heehee." He pressed the blade down on your skin.

You jerked causing a unintentional cut.

"See." He looked at you with a 'i told you so look'.

He laughed and examined your bleeding belly. He wiped the blood away with his hand, soaking his glove. He admired his work. Tears filled your eyes and started slowly running down your face. Your crying was very low and soft. You no longer had control of yourself. He snarled at you, tears were a sign of weakness and he despised them. Suddenly, he leaned over and grabbed your face. Covering your mouth and nose with his hand in an effort to stop your sniveling. He wanted screams not crying.

He stared you in the face, lowering his brow. His hand pressed hard against your month. You jerked your face in order to get away from him. A bloodly hand print was smeared across your face from his blood soaked glove. This amused him greatly, making him grin smugly. Almost as if it was a reflex, you popped him in the jaw with your forehead. Your head fell back on the bed in pain. Not a good idea, you'd hurt yourself more than you'd hurt him. He only grinned. Answering your attempt to hurt him, he backhanded you, hard. He was immediately all over you. Readjusting his position, he found his way between your thighs. You moved your head back and forth in protest. You mumbled something. It only caused him to laugh hysterically.

"It's far too late for any of that now." He gave you a wide grin as he entered you and started thrusting...

A gasp exited your lips and you looked away. You focused on the sound of the bed squeezing under the weight of the two of you. There was a steady rhythm to the noise. It wasn't until you heard the squeezing stop that you snapped back into the situation. He was readjusting you for his own benefit. He looked down and forcefully made you look at him. He taunted you with that smile at first. Whatever the expression on your face, it made him frown. Obviously, it wasn't genuine. He was mocking you. He could only hold the frown for so long before he started hysterically laughing, prompting him to start fucking you again.

This time you were unable to omit what was happening, Joker made sure of it. He was in your ear, verbalizing his pleasures.

"You won't survive me, Pigeon. Try as you might." His voice was cheerful and breathy while he thrusted into you over and over.

"All the more reason to enjoy life and all its tiny pleasures." His cheerful voice turned sinister, "While you still can."

Then his laugher exploded again.

"Afterall, I've been told I'm a hell of a good lay." He chuckled deeply.

It was over quickly. You were thankful for that. He crawled off of you and the bed. Immediately, you rolled to your side and pulled your legs up to your body. Like a rollie pollie looking for safety. As you rolled up you cringed. The cuts on your stomach were already sore and throbbing. Not to mention, still weeping blood. Your arms were half asleep from being behind your back and having the weight of yourself and him moving on top of them.

Through your tears you could see the burry outline of The Joker as he peeled out of his blood stained jacket and shirt. He tossed both pieces of clothing on the bed, landing near you.

"Rocko!" He yelled at the top of his voice as his slipped on a clean shirt.

Rocko ran in through one of the doors you hadn't really noticed.

"Yeah, boss?" The goon's eyes drifted toward the mess, that was you.

"Is everything ready? I've got a very important date with Batsy tonight." Joker pampered himself in the mirror. Adjusting his suit, brushing his hair, checking his teeth for food, making a few faces into the mirror...

When he was done, he eccentricitly turned around, "How do I look?" Arms opened as if he was greeting an audience.

"G-great boss." Rocko didn't sound impressed.

The Joker's face turned sour. He wanted a bigger reaction.

"Yes, well, nevermind..." He rolled his eyes.

"While I'm out..." He gestured toward you. "Clean this mess up and watch my pet."

"Yeah, sure boss. Whatever you say, boss." Rocko answered.

Joker headed to the door, stopping to grab a hat. He flipped it on with style and laughed. He went into the same room that Rocko had come from. You could hear Joker

There was a uneasy feeling in your head. "Clean" didn't mean kill, did it? You were pulled to your feet and shoved toward the bathroom. Once in there, your feet were uncuffed and you were made to go into the shower stall. Thank goodness. Rocko left you there, shirt and all, standing under the running water only long enough for the blood to be washed away. You stood there, soaking wet. Rocko uncuffed your hands and warned you "no funny business."

A ball of clothing, picked up off the floor, was tossed at you. As you untangled the ball, you realized it was simply some shirts wadded-up and nothing more.

"Really?" You questioned Rocko.

He shrugged, "Ain't got nothing else. It's that or whatcha got on."

He went to snatch the clothes away but you pulled them to you as a way of saying 'ill keep them'. You had a choice of an orange dress shirt, a white, stretched out undershirt with a unknown stain - gross, or an overwashed gray pullover with 0801 across the back and pocket. You peeled out of your wet shirt and hung it over the shower curtain rod. You couldn't help but notice Rocko doing a double take as soon as he saw your belly. You knew it was bad and hadn't brought yourself to look at it again.

"You're bleeding. Stay put." Rocko ordered as he dug around, looking for something.

Glancing down you saw blood weeping out of the J that had been carved to the right of your navel. You quickly looked away. Out of sight, out of mind. Unsurprisingly, you were given a roll of duct tape. Studying your options you took the under shirt and tore it in half, folded it over and started to tape it to your belly. You managed to cover everything sufficiently. Once you finished buttoning up the orange shirt, Rocko immediately cuffed you again, with the added benefit of having your hands in front of you. Your cuffed ankles caused you to take tiny steps as you followed him out of the bathroom.

"Sit." He pointed you to a chair he had placed in the middle of the room.

"Stay. Don't make me shoot you." He flashed his gun.

You quietly sit.

To your surprise, Rocko started putting trash into a trashbag. He cleared the room of the empty bottles and food containers, items that could be easily be used as a weapon and actually weapons. He placed them simply on the table. You half watched him and half looked around the room. Regardless of the fragile state you were in, your eyes bounced to from door to door. There were 3, not including the one to the bathroom. You didn't know what was on the other side of any of them. The best option you had was the door Rocko entered in and Joker left through. It wasn't the actually exit, you could tell it lead to another room but you knrw could get to it an exit that way. You made a mental note.

*Phoomph*

You turned your head to see Rocko flipping over the mattress. It was his way of cleaning the blood, your blood, from the mattress. You blinked slowly as you watched. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake the dazed-over filter that was casted by your mood of defeat. All though not broken, you were certainly in the lowest place you had even been. Those dirty little thoughts like "you're going to die here" were creeping into your head and not wanting to leave. You felt a tear hit your arm. You quickly wiped away the tears in your eyes. It took everything you had but you kept anymore from forming, at least until you knew you where alone.

When everything was done, you found yourself back on the bed, cuffed to the headbroad. Once Rocko was certain you were secure, he left the room. Making sure to check on you on a regular basis. Where ever you were being held at, now, the goons liked to stay in the other room, keeping their distance from The Joker's 'personal quarters'.

You were exhausted. You turned to your side, used one of your arms as a pillow, with the other one laying over your face. Immediately, your emotions took over. Hopelessness was an bottomless hole and you had finally jumped into it. You cried as quietly as you could. Angry tears, sad tears, fearful tears, regretful tears, mournful fears, even thankful tears, due to the fact, that you hadn't yet been killed. It was an emotional breakdown.

You didn't remember falling asleep as your eyes shot open. You could feel the whole atmosphere of the room change and he wasn't even in the room yet. Just him being close was enough to heighten your senses and make the air fill with, what seemed to be, an electric spark. You listened intently for confirmation. It came in the form of his laugh from the other room. You listened and waited.

Apparently, exhausted was an understatement. You quickly fell back to sleep. Your eyes shot open again. When the Joker busted threw the door, he ignored you. Only banging around and moving stuff as he looked for something. Once he had found whatever he had been looking for, he left the room, leaving the door open. He yelled insults to his goons and complained about 'the bat'. Once he calmed down, you could still hear his voice but couldn't make out what he was actually saying. You found yourself tearing up again. So you focused your thoughts else where. You found the tone of his voice pacifying your mind, seeing you effortlessly back to sleep.