Marry The Knight Ch 10

Hot water hissed powerfully from the showerhead that loomed over Bruce and Harley, flushing their skin a light shade of red with its warmth, plastering the clear shower stall glass with condensation, filling its interior with billowing steam, mortaring Harley's pale blonde hair between her shoulder blades as Bruce took her savagely, ruthlessly, the pristine white tiles of the shower wall creaking ominously as Bruce bombarded them with Harley's ruthlessly taken body.

Harley was caught between clinging to Bruce's powerful body, arms and legs affixed to him too tightly for even his slickly wet flesh to slip away from, and throwing her head back to try to vent the feverish pleasure he produced in her. Her young, submissive body was responding to Bruce's fucking like it had a mind of its own. She rode his cock like a bucking bronco, toes splayed and feet twisting even as her fingernails dug into his back, her face upturned into the heavy shower stream, the water gargling her cries.

"Ohhh yesssharbbjb, more, Brucie, moreblblb!" She spat, face twisting downward, blonde hair webbing across her own face as her body orgasmed for him yet again. "I want your gorgeous cock so baaaaad!" She threw her head back once more, in a scream silenced by her open mouth filling with water.

Bruce stopped suddenly, wanting more from her than just her possession in this single way. Harley was powerless to hold herself to him when he didn't want her to. Carrying her across the puddled floor of the gargantuan shower, he threw her against the foggy glass and entered her from behind, leaving her body pitched up against the glass. He thought Ivy would like to see her tits and well-used cunt pressed up there for her jealous eyes, if she checked in on them.

Harley adapted quickly, eager to fulfill Bruce's urges. She tossed her head from side to side, trapping new, errant strands of hair against the glass as her cheeks pressed against it, while her tight ass slammed back against Bruce's cock. Bruce just stood there, picking up a bar of soap from its dish and casually lathering himself up as Harley desperately fucked herself for him. When he was done, he began sudsing Harley's back. She spat out the water she'd had obliviously stored in her cheeks, splattering it down the shower door as she instinctively enjoyed his strong touch.

Feeling the suds drip down her wet body, splash down between her splayed feet, Harley had something of a heretical thought. She hoped Bruce would come soon at the same time she wished that this would never end. Such irrational thoughts were par for the course to Harley. This was actually more reasonable than most. She knew Bruce would be able to start fucking her again very soon—perhaps after she'd played with Ivy, or with the redhead joining in. And if Bruce came, she'd feel his creamy load inside her, warmer and more satisfying than Wayne Manor's endless hot water could ever be. She needed it desperately. She needed everything Bruce could give her, from his warm, soothing coddling to his stern, masterful dominion of her.

Meanwhile, so enthusiastically did Harley slam herself back against Bruce's cock that she slipped right off the glass he had her pinned to. Now she bent down, as if to touch her toes, but really bracing herself with her hands on the tiled floor, her ass now the highest point of her body. She could look up and see how his huge cock breezed effortlessly through her swollen labia, watch as well as feel herself tensing the trained walls of her cunt, trying to please Bruce as much as he pleased her.

"Holy moly!" Harley moaned as Bruce reached underneath her and almost carelessly began to soap her cunt. But she almost got more pleasure from seeing a throbbing blue vein running the underside of Bruce's cock. She felt like it was hers; a symptom of Bruce's lust and love for her.

Harley reached even lower, grabbing Bruce's ankles where he stood behind her, holding herself tightly still for his fucking. Every time his prick fucked into her, her tight walls expanded—almost unwillingly—to allow room for his size. And when he pulled out, her walls skillfully contracted, clenching and unclenching, milking Bruce as hard as he fucked her.

She was actually facedown on the comparatively cool tiles surrounding the drain, her feet on tippy-toes to keep her pussy high enough for Bruce, when her husband lathered a washcloth with soap and prodded it into Harley's ass. Inside the washcloth, Bruce's middle finger pushed into Harley's small, tight hole, fucking it in perfect tempo with her cunt smashing down on his cock.

"Ohhh, yes, Brucie, that feels great! I'm so fucking hot!" Harley screamed.

"You want me to turn the water down?" Bruce asked sardonically, but for once, the joke was lost on Harley.

His almost dispassionate cleaning of her had Harley moaning loudly in orgasm, her tongue lolling out onto the shower's grout, not even tasting the soap-tainted water flowing past as she was overwhelmed with the orgasms Bruce gave her from effectively fingering her ass. Bruce actually had her dominated so completely that the combination of physical pleasure and mental distance was running Harley through a series of multiple orgasms, her entire body shuddering, juices from her cunt running down her upside-down stomach to be lost in the shower stream. Likewise with her overjoyed tears.

It took long enough to tax even the mansion's water heater, but finally, Bruce felt his balls churning below his rigid cock, felt the cum traveling the length of his prick. Sweat pouring from his body, only to be swept away by the water raining down on him, he let his cock jerk and twitch inside Harley's cunt.

"Done!" he gritted out, and Harley felt the hot rush of his cum filling her slick, clasping pussy to overflowing, so tight that each new ejaculation pushed jism out of her small cunt to run down her trembling legs in thick, creamy rivers. The shower washed it away like so much soap scum. Harley licked the drain to taste the smallest part of it.

Harley was still, but Bruce wasn't done yet. He gripped her asscheeks firmly, squeezing her trembling ass as he fucked into it hard and fast, pumping cum in and out of her cunt. Harley was so turned on by the sensation of his fucking cock and shooting cum that she thought she would pass out for sure. "Yesss, Brucie, yessss! Give me all your cum, Mistah B! Ohhh, how can you have so much after last night?"

"Always more for you," Bruce grunted, though he himself was shocked at how furiously he was thrusting into Harley, how much jism he was shooting after so recently ejaculating. The climax he got from fucking Harley Quinn, of all people, was turning out to be one of the great ones of his life.

Just as she'd expected, Harley came again as Bruce's hot cum spilled out of her, actually splashing down onto her own face. Bruce was hunched over her with his orgasm, Harley desperately glad that his body blocked the shower spray. His cum, mixed with her own juices, was all hers. She nearly ripped her tongue out of her own mouth, licking it from her cheeks.

Bruce pulled back slightly, about to withdraw from Harley, but she stopped him by hugging his ankles tight.

"The only way you get to take your cock out of my pussy," Harley squealed, "is if you promise to put it in my ass!"

Bruce gave her apple ass a spank. The slight blow was enough to knock Harley off even her gymnastic balance, and she moaned in dismay as she fell over, his half-hard prick popping from her cunt. Still, she looked a vision, sprawled below him on the shower floor. Bruce was reminded of a porno he'd shut down for ties to organized crime, concerning a cheerleader who had a gangbang with the football team in the locker room. Today, he'd been the football team.

"I'll put it in," Bruce told her. "But later. After all, we just got your ass clean."

Rolling over, Harley kissed his foot.

Bruce wondered if he'd had any cum on it.

***

Harley came away from her shower dressed in daisy dukes and a halter top, her hair still wet and her legs still trembling. Ivy gave her a look when she came out of Bruce's room. Harley gave her a shaky thumbs up.

Bruce came out with his hair neatly combed, slacks and a turtleneck giving him a casual vibe that turned intimidating again on his chiseled face and steely eyes. "Would you like to change?" he asked Ivy. "We're going into town."

"This is fine," Ivy said. A creeping example of her namesake winded up one leg, covering her pubis and breasts in flowery shoots before ending, twined around her neck and hair. It was a look as intimidating as Bruce's, in its own unconcerned way.

Bruce nodded. They went to the garage. A collection of classic cars that would make Bruce the envy of Speed Racer, though he bypassed them all for a sleek electric concept car that wouldn't hit the open market for another two years. Seeing it, Ivy was unimpressed. She sniffed disdainfully at the gas-guzzling Aston-Martins and Lamborghinis that lined the walls of the structure as ostentatiously as wine in a cellar.

"Are they going to go green as well?" she asked.

"Think of it this way," Bruce said. "With me owning them, at least no one else can drive them."

Harley hummed at his logic. Ivy dead-eyed her as the clown got into the passenger seat, Ivy having the backseat to herself.

They breezed into Gotham. It was a weekday and well after the morning rush, thanks to Harley's long shower. The road was a straight shot from Wayne Manor to the high-rise district of Gotham, not having to go through the slums or deeper into the more dystopian districts. In short order, they'd arrived at the Mall of Gotham.

It was no Cinnabon-infested multistory supermarket, but a zealously guarded temple to commerce. Sales boutiques and high-class salons took the place of Gamestops or Best Buy outlets, with armed security that had more in common with stormtroopers than Paul Blart, and food-trucks-without-wheels that only sold artisanal cuisine. One place sold only cheeses. That was all. Just cheeses.

The black-visored, would-be SWAT officers eyed Ivy menacingly as she sidled around in the same attire she might've worn to hold the place hostage, arm's length from the happy couple of Bruce and Harley—her arm locked around his as neatly as wrapping paper on Christmas morning.

Bruce had a plan for the outing. While Harley oohed and aahed at the spectacle of the monumental building, and Ivy tsked at the swampland that had been drained to build it, he led them to a particular boutique—not as flashy or upscale as some others, but with a stronger work ethic, deeper roots in Gotham rather than being a fly-by-night outfit from Metropolis or Paris. The owner's father had been behind his mother's iconic dresses.

Inside, the proprietor, one Anthony Merkap, greeted Bruce with a warm kiss to either cheek and gushed lovingly over his wives' looks before breaking down and pleading with Harley to let him give her a less 'paparazzi shots of an actress going to Wal-Mart for yogurt' aesthetic. She agreed, after first looking to Ivy and then getting an encouraging nod from Bruce.

The boutique had ridden the wave of gossip from Man of the Year Bruce Wayne marrying two murderous, if chic, supervillains. The latest fashion line mixed Harley's colors and literally motley motifs with green looks inspired by Ivy. She sneered, but still took an interest in dresses made of living moss or lingerie of intricately woven grass; clothes that were watered instead of washed.

Harley disappeared into the dressing rooms with an armful of options reminiscent of laundry day left to the last second. "Mistah B? Think you could help me into this?"

"Excuse me," he said, stepping into the dressing room.

Harley had on one hell of an avant-garde look. The tailor had modified a purple and red boyfriend cardigan with a diamond pattern into something a Tamaranian might wear, open at the front with only brown leather straps buckled to hold it over her breasts. The slope of her cleavage was still largely exposed. Her lower body was left entirely bare by the cardigan, modesty preserved by purple briefs, purple and red leggings that continued the diamond motif into shin-high black boots. Her pigtails framed her lovely face, made more alluring by a chic domino mask and a dangling necklace of a skull jester.

"You seem to have the situation in hand."

Harley preened. Her modest breasts, framed by the impossibly tight 'bolero vest' of the garment that revealed more than it obscured, were made positively succulent. He had no difficulty in seeing either their wonderful curves or the cleavage in-between. "Oh, did I say I needed your help getting into this dress? I meant I needed your help getting out of it!"

Bruce turned. Over the closed door to the room, Ivy had drawn Merkap away to barter with him. When he turned back around, he caught his breath again. Harley had turned around as well, and the hot pants hugged her rounded buttocks like a glove, the line that divided her luscious cheeks extravagantly detailed by their tightness, while the soft initial curving of her ass was tantalizingly visible between the 'coat tails' of her cardigan, drawing attention with jingle-bells at the end of each tail. Especially with a translucent lace panel topping the back of her bottoms. She wagged her ass at him. Ringalingaling.

"Think you could take this off of me? It's sooooo tight!"

She twisted to look at him. He saw her left nipple inside her vest. It was full and erect. Then she spun back onto her tiptoes, facing away from him, thrusting her buttocks back, bending over to make them even more prominent. Bruce's cock was fully erect, smothering inside his boxers. He reached for her panties.

"Your ass this time," he said. "Like I promised."

***

"Anything in leather?" Ivy asked Merkap as he followed her sheepishly in rummaging through his stock.

"Well, yes—" he admitted sheepishly. "Sorry, I know you're one of those PETA types..."

"Oh, no, I'd love to wear a dead animal. Show me what you've got. And make sure it's in black." If Wayne thought he could dom Harley better than her, he was in for a rude awakening.

"OH FUCK!" Harley cried suddenly, her shrill voice rising well above the store's gentle orchestral background music.

"Good heavens!" Merkap spun around. "Do you think everything's alright?"

"She's fine," Ivy said without bothering to turn. "Probably just trying to get into one of your clearance items. Something's just too damn tight."

***

Harley was bent over the pile of clothes she had brought into the changing room, her unbuckled cardigan now thrown over her head, leaving her bare from her shoulder blades on down. Her teeth grinded on one of the coattails that had so recently hidden her ass. While it had only accomplished that goal halfway, it served far better at muffling Harley as she repeated her recent outcry of pleasured violation, now at a level only Bruce could hear.

And he quite enjoyed hearing it, kneeling behind Harley, forcing himself inside her quite possibly virgin asshole. It was a tight fit, but his lubricant was ample, and his fingers had been forceful in opening her up. His complete taking of her ass was a virtual certainty.

Though Harley's face was hidden from him, Bruce saw a bell fall to the ground. Snipped off by Harley biting through her coattail.

His back strained to maintain his rocking tempo, while his cock tried desperately not to give into her tiny ass's tightness and warmth. Harley tightened her canal, rolled her ass, winding his cock inside her like a crank and screwing her empty cunt against thigh muscles as hard as boulders. She was trying to rub out the fire that had burnt her body down to raw nerve endings.

"Oh, Brucie, it's coming... it's coming!"

Putting up a leg so that he was on one knee, and thus more erect, Bruce reached under the cardigan to find Harley's head and pushed it down into the floor. She obediently raised her ass in counterpoint, and with much greater ease he pushed his cock in and out of her ass.

Bruce could feel his self-control coming to any end. His balls were tensing, expanding, counting down to an explosion. He felt Harley's open lips, screaming against his palm. As he slid a finger between them, Bruce thrust his cock in with all his might, watching as the entire shaft disappeared into the tiny opening between Harley's taut cheeks.

He could feel Harley's tongue flapping as she tried to form words. "Oh Jesus!" and "I'm coming!" and of course, "Fuck me hard!" He pulled on her cheek like he was reeling in a fish, his hooked finger yanking Harley's head back, forcing her to stay aware of what has happening to her even as she came. Then, sure she was his, Bruce let a great shudder of carnal fulfillment go through him. His swollen balls boiled over, thick, heavy streams of cum diving for Harley's bowels.

The leaden warmth filled an emptiness Harley had never known she'd had, triggering another delirious response from her. She raked her nails across the carpet, screaming with unabated lust into the three fingers Bruce now had stuffed into her mouth. Bruce groaned for him, feeling her anus suck at his still spewing shaft, already hungry for more of his seed.

Still he fucked her. His hips pounded against her ass with such force that the slapping sound stung the air around them. Even though his cock was slowly softening, Harley had lost none of her enthusiasm for it. She tightened her anus, trying to revive it, rolling forward and rocking back, grinding her hips around, anything to eke some last little pleasure from his deflating cock.

"Fuck me!" Harley babbled with the ringing ecstasy of her satisfaction. "Fuck my ass!"

Bruce tried to, for her sake, but his cock had met its match for now. He let Harley keep squeezing it, massaging it in long rippling waves, until it slipped out of her now gaping asshole. Her sweaty body, weighted down by the load of semen in her ass, fell into a limp heap like it was one more empty garment piled onto the stack.

Bruce sat next to her, his aching cock completely flaccid, smeared with cooling sperm. He patted Harley's ass for a job well-done.

"So," he said, wheezing breathlessly, "do you like the dress?"

***

They bought it. They bought jewelry, they bought hats, they even bought furs, just because that was Harley's idea of what rich people wore. It reminded Ivy of a few years back when they'd dosed Wayne with pollen and gone on a holiday season shopping spree. They hadn't used him for sex though. They'd only needed each other.

This time, though, Harley carried all the bags. Bruce had a telephone call. Ivy kept eying him as they waited in line for pretzels. The last time, they'd made Bruce pay for everything. Now, Ivy paid for their lunch. She'd pay for the movie, too. There was a nature documentary starting at the Cineplex in ten minutes. Plenty of animals for Harley to look at.

Bruce hung up his phone, walking back to join them. "That was Lucius Fox."

"A talking fox?" Harley cried.

Ivy rolled her eyes. She didn't think getting fucked nearly constantly was doing anything to help Harley's attention span. "What'd he want?"

"Just something that's come up at Wayne Enterprises. It won't take an hour. Would you care to join me? Wayne Tower has quite the spectacular view."

"Sure!" Harley chimed before Ivy could say anything.

She huffed a sigh, but then gave an agreeable shrug. Bruce hadn't bought her affections, but he had bought a lot of nice things. The least she could do was make his last few days on Earth congenial.

"Would you mind driving?" Bruce asked her.

***

Ivy hadn't even turned the key in the ignition before Bruce was on Harley. He tailed her into the backseat, sitting down pressed against her, reaching down the front of her briefs and popping a finger inside her like someone would feed themselves a bit of candy.