It was late in Gotham, well beyond midnight, but that didn't matter. Gotham didn't sleep, and all kinds of trouble came to pass on the streets of Gotham at this hour. Gordon knew that. It used to give him sleepless nights, knowing what was likely happening out there. The truth was he had learned a long time ago that what was going to happen was going to happen, and there was only so much he could do about it. It was rare for him to have sleepless nights these days.
Yet he couldn't sleep tonight. Nor could he sleep the night before. There was something eating away at him, something he couldn't make sense of. It wasn't that Harley Quinn had been apprehended by the Batman. He expected nothing less. It was the way in which Harley had been found that troubled him.
There had been whispers in the mayor's office of sexual assault. She had been found naked. There had clearly been sexual activity, that much was evident from the marks on Harley's body and the "well fucked pussy" as the mayor had so eloquently put it. The mayor had examined the pictures closely, he had said, and he knew a well fucked pussy when he saw it.
Gordon poured over the report once more before throwing it down in exasperation. He simply couldn't believe that the Batman could do it. He knew he wasn't beyond stretching the law - and sometimes flat out breaking it - but this...this wasn't the Batman. Yet he couldn't find another explanation. She had been fucked, and the Batman was the only man who could have been responsible.
The papers fluttered on the desk. Gordon glanced over his shoulder.
"Where are the others?"
His voice was as harsh as always, but Gordon thought he detected something else. It was an urgency and perhaps even a hint of desperation.
"We tracked Ivy and Selena Kyle to a motel on the edge of town. They must have knew we were coming as they'd cleared out just before we arrived. Our informants have indicated they've returned to central Gotham but so far we haven't picked up any signs of them. It seems they're lying low for the time being".
There was a pause. Gordon turned fully to face the Batman and took him in. Large, imposing, menacing. To be on the wrong side of the Bat must be one of the most terrifying ordeals a man must face. And yet he had to ask him something that may well strain the relationship they'd taken years to build.
"I need to ask you something...about Harley".
The Batman didn't react. He stood motionless, waiting. The silence was prolonged.
"She...the examination of Harley Quinn suggested that she had been involved in...rigorous...sexual activity immediately before she was apprehended. The mayor's department are going as far as saying she had been assaulted. Did you...do you know anything about it?"
Silence. The kind of silence that can destroy a man. The kind of silence that raises more questions than answers. Gordon flinched first.
"I...I can show you the reports."
He swivelled in his chair and reached for the report he had spent hours pouring over. It took him no more than three seconds to turn, grab the report and turn back.
The Batman had gone by the time he turned back.
--
The first thing she felt when she woke up was the cold. The cold was everywhere, in the air, against her skin. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings and when she did she didn't like it one bit. She was naked of course. She had been pretty much naked since the moment she had been brought back to Arkham. She wasn't in her cell any longer though. She was in a brightly lit room with nothing else in it, other than the metal chair she was strapped to.
She didn't like being strapped down. She wriggled and pulled against the bindings but to no avail. The wrist bindings she could cope with. The binding around her neck which gave her virtually no ability to move her head she didn't like one bit. And the bindings on her legs that splayed her legs apart graphically made her positively angry.
She wasn't against exhibitionism, not at all, but she did like to choose who got to watch.
She had enough wiggle room to allow her to look horizontally down her body. The coldness had made the obvious reaction to her nipples, causing them to jut out hard from her perky breasts. She did love her titties, they had gotten her out of all kinds of problems before. She liked them almost as much as all the men that had played with them down the years.
Her mind drifted to some of the men who had enjoyed them. The good ones, the ones who knew just how to suck and fuck her big sexy titties. She bit her lip as she thought of them, and her mind drifted between two ex-lovers. Her most recent one, the Batman, who had been sucking them just days...or was it weeks?...earlier. And him. The greatest love of her existence. The one who taught her that she wasn't the kind of girl who liked things gentle. Whose laughter echoed inside her as she fought against it those first times.
She struggled again at the restraints, this time not to free herself from the chair, but because her pussy tingled and needed attention. She could feel the moisture building between her legs, and she wriggled uncomfortably against the cold metal frame, squeezing her thighs together to get some kind of friction for her aching cunt.
She didn't hear the door open behind her. She didn't hear the man step into the room. She didn't sense him standing so close behind her as she was so obsessed with her own arousal.
"It seems you're a little uncomfortable Miss Quinn. Perhaps I can be of assistance."
--
"Oh, you have a plan do you? Let me guess...it has something to do with plants?"
