Harley was sleeping soundly next to Ivy, and Ivy was sleeping soundly next to her. But even if they were sleeping very, very lightly they wouldn't have heard Bruce as he entered the room.
His footfalls were absolutely silent, blending into the whispering sounds of the pipes, the air conditioning, their own breathing. He went to the two women and gently uncorked the vial in his hand. In a moment, its liquid contents had reacted with the oxygen in the room, creating a colorless gas. Bruce kept it well away from his face, even with his breath-mask securely affixed.
He dosed Ivy first. Her gentle snoring stopped, her REM dwindling to nothingness; her already sound sleep becoming something deep and dreamless. Then he did the same to Harley.
The clown was absolutely insensate as he corked the vial once more, replaced in his pocket, and picked her up as easily as he would a sack of grain.
Ivy hogged the covers more tightly, suddenly feeling a little cold.
***
In a dingy, dimly-lit apartment deep in the Flattops, Roxy Rocket smoked a cigarette as filthy as the rest of the place.
Imagine. Batman trying to set her up at Bruce Wayne's Home for Wayward Bitches. The would-be Playboy Mansion of the Secret Society of Supervillains Set. Like she would let herself get tied down to some ball and chain. Maybe she'd give it up to Batman; he looked like a good fuck and so did his twink friends. But
Bruce Wayne?
Wasn't he gay?
She'd said as much to Batman. Well, she hadn't said anything to Batman. He wasn't the kind of guy you contradicted. But she had laughed off his little arranged marriage. Bruce Wayne! What was she supposed to do with all his money,
buy things?
Where was the thrill in that? What would she buy, anyway? Vibrators for Ivy and Harley to use on her? That seemed about the only good thing that could possibly come out of her going on pussy parole.
Her laptop beeped. Roxy sat up on her couch, the motion putting one more lump in it. A new job? Maybe Calendar Girl again? That bitch was crazy, and crazy chicks made the
best
lays.
She opened it up, looked at the video suddenly playing on her screen. She hadn't even opened an e-mail. It was just going.
And it looked a lot like Harley Quinn there in the middle...
***
Harley woke up confused in a way she couldn't quite explain. Something was different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. She was naked, and there was a straitjacket holding her, and Ivy was gone...
Oh, it was that Bruce was there. That was it. The room was like a small dentist's office, with white padding covering all the walls, and a gurney in the middle of the room dominating it. A big black window which showed only reflections took up the better part of the far wall. It almost looked like one-way glass. And Bruce wasn't dressed in a leisure suit or anything. He wore... a robe.
His legs were hairy. His chest was hairy. He was naked underneath.
"It's time for you to earn my cock, Harley."
Harley shivered, a sympathetic tremor suddenly going through her. "Yes, Mistah Bee."
He petted her hair. She strained for more of his touch. She'd seen what it was like for Ivy, getting fucked by him. She wanted that. She wanted that so bad. "I just need you to answer a question for me."
"Yes, Mistah Bee, anything!"
His hand ran down her straitjacket, picking at the buckles like he was thinking of releasing her. Harley almost couldn't help herself. She struggled and Bruce put his palm flat on her chest, effortlessly holding her down. She moaned helplessly.
When she fell still, Bruce continued. "Are you ready for the question?"
His hand went lower. Down to her cunt. She was so wet already... Harley nodded frantically.
"The question is... am I better than the Joker?"
Harley froze. All except her eyes. She couldn't stop blinking. "Buh... better?"
"Yes, Harley." He toyed with a finger in-between her labia, like he was curious at how her folds felt. "Am I better than him?"
"Well, at-um, at what? Because he's pretty good at killing people, I'll tell you what! Not that you'd be bad at killing people, if ya really wanted to... Mistah Bee..."
Still more casually, Bruce reached up and touched her clit. He seemed almost bored by it. His clipped, calm strokes seemed nearly disinterested in how he was bringing Harley to the brink of orgasm. "Am I better than the Joker at making you come?"
"Well, I mean..." Harley's eyes were wandering, slowly going cross-eyed. "I mean... I mean, that's not really fair... I can't really say... haven't earned your cock yet..."
"You've had my finger," Bruce said, his voice almost distant now. "Hasn't my finger made you come?"
"Yuh... yeah... I..." Harley gasped suddenly. He'd pushed down,
hard,
on her clitoris. "I guess so! But it's not the same... same..."
"Has Joker ever made you come?"
"That is—" Harley grinded her eyes shut. "That is a very private... a lady does not... would you want me to tell him if you make me come?"
"Say I'm the best you've ever had and I'll make you come like I did Ivy."
Harley remembered. She remembered how Bruce had been behind Ivy, like a dog with a bitch, and then he'd lunged forward with all the power in his big, muscular body. Ivy had screamed and yelled like she was on fire, feeling her ass expand, then yield—Bruce's cock inside her where no man had ever been.
Harley remembered seeing that tender little asshole, that had never taken anything bigger than a little feeler vine or Harley's tongue, suddenly many times its normal size. Suddenly just slightly bigger than Bruce's impossible cock. She'd heard Ivy gasp in pain, but her bestie had also jerked her hips back to take even more of his dick.
Harley imagined Bruce fucking her in the ass, pushing into the clenching confines of an asshole that had never taken anything bigger than Ivy's fist, then fucking in and out of her. Her pink muscles clinging to his cock as he pulled out, then being pushed back in as he thrust into her. Every time going a little deeper into her ass. Every time, a new, low moan of masochistic pleasure. She'd come so hard. Even harder than Ivy had.
"You're... you're good—soooo good, you're great!"
"I'm better than the Joker," Bruce told her.
Harley formed the words with her lips, but couldn't quite say them. "You're... better... than... Red!"
Bruce picked her up, only to put her down on the gurney. There were straps hanging from the sides of it. He began to buckle them, tying Harley down.
"You're so much better than Poison Ivy!" Harley said. "I'm not even gay, I'm not even gay! I'm straight! You've made me straight as an arrow, that's how good you are! Not even a green arrow, we all know he's gay for Green Lantern, but, like, uh, a different colored arrow? Is Red Arrow married to a lady? That's how straight I am! I mean, not that I'd be married to a lady..."
"I'll ask you again tomorrow," Bruce said, as he picked up the gag. Harley started to scream in dismay just as he clamped it over her mouth. "I understand it's not fair, asking you to judge before I've had you. Maybe if you see how I do, then you'll be better able to decide."
He flicked a switch on the wall. The glass tinged translucent, letting her see through it darkly. On the other side was Calendar Girl, in civilian clothes but still with her mask. And sitting on the bed of the bedroom beside her was Wonder Woman.
Oh, she wore a chiffon and sandals and not even a small tiara, but Harley knew it was her.
She screamed into her gag again, but Bruce was already closing the door behind him.
***
As she relaxed, and watched, Roxy's hand dropped to where her skirt folded between her legs. Not really aware of it, she pulled the hem up, up, up her thighs, until she felt the room's cool air on her panties. It didn't feel right. When she'd taken her panties off, it was much better.
The laptop's view changed to that of another room. Bruce Wayne was in there now. There were two other women with him.
***
"Good, you're here," Diana said. "Now we can begin."
She favored Paige Monroe with a soft smile, but the effort was wasted on Paige. "I see. You want to mock how ugly I am! Well, you didn't have to go to all the trouble of getting
Wonder Woman
here to show me how a woman's supposed to look like. I know how hideous I am."
"That's not it at all, Paige," Bruce said, sitting down on the other side of her from Diana. "Diana's a close personal friend. I thought maybe you'd listen to her about a few things."
"That's right. I don't think you belong in Arkham, or in Blackgate either. You belong on a pedestal, where you were once before." Diana touched Paige's thigh. Her touch was warm and soft. "I've read up on you. You did such good things. Charities, fundraisers, relief efforts. You even used her private yacht to rescue people from floods. You really wanted to use what you'd been given in a positive way. What's changed?"
"Nothing!" Paige hissed. "The world hasn't changed at all, it's still the way it's always been! I just thought it was beautiful, but really it's ugly!
Gruesome!
Just like me."
"You're not ugly, Paige. You're beautiful," Bruce said.
"Stop condescending to me! I know your act! Thinking you can get a fuck out of me! Even if my face is fucked up, there's nothing wrong with my gash, is there?"
"We're not lying, Paige." Diana reached down to her belt, uncuffed it. Drawing it out into her hands, its coils began to glow. "You know what this is?"
Paige stared at it, her coldly white mask lit up. "The lasso..."
"No one can lie when they're touching it, Paige. Not even me. Would you like to know how I think you look?"
