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Marry The Knight update
🕑 Added 2015-08-16 20:47:30 +0000 UTCBruce was driving. Harley sat in the backseat with Ivy. She leaned her head against Ivy’s shoulder, but Ivy was in no mood to return the gesture, lay her head atop Harley’s and make them a matched pair in Wayne’s rear-view mirror.
She didn’t trust herself to touch Harley, and the clown kept up her slump, pressing more insistently into Ivy, until she skimmed down Ivy’s body to land on her lap. There, Harley gently headbutted Ivy’s thigh, bit the pocket flap hanging out from underneath her jeans and teethed at it like a bored dog.
Bruce pulled over onto the side of the road.
Ivy looked around. A desolate country road perched on an embankment, a ditch alongside them, plunging down into a forest. Trees tall enough that their branches protruded over the road. Bruce killed the ignition and got out, Harley not seeming to notice or care. Off in her own little world, which now included Wayne in her loving sighs.
“We should keep him,” Harley said.
Ivy said nothing.
“We’ve kept pets before. It wouldn’t be any different. We just wouldn’t get rid of him ever…”
“It’s not the same,” Ivy said tersely, watching as Bruce went to a willow tree, examining its branches as a farmer would examine his crops.
“We need him!” Harley whined. Outside the car, Bruce snapped off a willow branch. Ivy winced, as if in reaction to Harley’s desperation. “I need him…”
“I don’t want to need him,” Ivy said, watching balefully as Bruce stripped the slender branch of twigs and leaves.
“You don’t want to need me either,” Harley pouted. Bruce took out a pocket knife and further pared down the branch.
“That’s not true,” Ivy seethed. “I want you to need me like I need you. Like you needed Mistah J, like you needed Deadshot, like you need him, like you need anyone but me…”
“Well, I’m not enough for you, so why should you be enough for me!”
Bruce was coming back to the car.
“Because I’m a goddess,” Ivy hissed, “and you shouldn’t need more than one goddess!”
“You need to be worshipped more than I need to worship you!”
“You need to be hurt more than anything. I’d worship you if you let me!”
Bruce opened the backdoor. “Quinn, out of the car.”
Harley got up, unfastening her seatbelt and stepping out with him. “Maybe I do need to be hurt,” she told Ivy. “But not by you.”
She closed the door.
Bruce bent her over the trunk of the car. “Do you know what I’m doing this?” he asked, ripping the coattails of her dress away, leaving her bare ass totally uncovered.
“Because I helped the Joker,” Harley said. “Because I was bad. Because I need it.”
Ivy rolled down the window. Bruce noticed, addressing her as he gave the willow switch a few testing swings through the air. “I’m interested to see how red her ass gets,” he said, as if to himself. “I think Harl will look good in stripes.”
Ivy’s expression soured. “Harley looks best with a smile. And a few love pats on her cunt will give her a great big smile.”
Bruce reached between Harley’s thighs, rubbing lightly, feeling her sex’s smoothness, how quickly it moistened for him. He worked his fingers into her a few times, and Harley’s breath steamed up the car’s bodywork.
“Would you like that, Harley?” Bruce asked. He pinched her labia. “You do seem to like it whenever I touch you here…”
“It doesn’t matter what I like,” Harley moaned.
“That’s right, Harley. That’s absolutely right. Safe word is Batman.”
Bruce slapped the switch across Harley’s ass, the stinging pain bringing a scream out of her throat. It had been a brutal blow, landing across both cheeks, leaving Harley’s ass on fire. Ivy could imagine the welts it would leave. Then Bruce brought the switch upward, so it came between the crack of Harley’s ass with the tip smacking the lips of her sex. Searing pain flew into her stomach.
“Oh God!” Harley yelled. “Don’t hit my cunt! Too tender, hurts too much, don’t! Spank my ass please, please!”
“Well,” Bruce said, “since you asked so nicely…”
He brought the switch across her ass again, Harley screaming as fiery pain sliced across her cheeks. She could hear Ivy laughing, but the sound was from a distance. Bruce slashed her again, one way, then the other, so both cheeks of her ass got a turn with the brunt of his force. He did the backs of her thighs too, leaving stinging pain from her knees to the small of her ass. It was excruciating. And delicious. Her cunt was soaked, her clit standing as if begging for another blow,
“Oh, more… give me more of the switch…” Harley was out of breath, her head unable to rise from the body of the evening-cooled car.
“Who am I?” Bruce asked.
“My master,” Harley intoned dreamily. “My jailer… my doctor… my man…”
The switch cut her short, lashing low across both buttocks. Automatically Harley’s hips worked, shoving her ass upward to make of it a better target, to get closer to her pain and her joy. She wanted him to cut her flesh until it was his.
“You’re the cock… the one I dream about… the one I’ve wanted since I knew what they were for… you’re what my cunt was meant for…”
Ivy watched as he beat Harley unmercifully. His cock was out, free hand working methodically on it, readying it to ever increasing hardness as his eyes appraised the wetness of Harley’s sex, the redness of her ass, like a master painter carefully deciding each brushstroke. His eyes were glazed. They were seeing through her.
“Beat me!” Harley screamed at the top of her lungs. “Mark me! Make me yours, make me hurt, whip me, hurt me, fuck me with your switch!” She screamed it over and over, and over and over Bruce complied.
“Couldn't this wait until we were on your estate?” Ivy asked, her voice bored, but shaking underneath.
“This is my estate,” Bruce answered, hitting Harley again.
She whimpered under him, enjoying the pain like she never had before. She could stop it, if she wanted, and even if she’d never wanted to stop it with Mistah J—had she?—that still meant it was her pain, hers, to make herself feel good.
“Beg, bitch,” Bruce commanded. “Let me hear you beg.”
Harley nodded, bobbing head smearing tears across the car’s paint. “Please! Please whip me, please show me you’re my master… whip me, please, yes, whip me, love me…”
Harley only wished there was some slick, sticky, delicious leather to hold her down, like Selina had, so she couldn’t stop him even if she wanted to, unless she wanted to, but she didn’t want to, she wanted him to, she wanted to tingle at the pain…
Harley reached under the straps of her dress, circling her wrists around them so that they were wrapped around her wrists, holding them in place. She loved being restrained.
Bruce stopped. Any more would scar the flesh, and he liked it quite well as it was. He laid his hand on Harley’s welted ass, the fresh pain making Harley ooze in gratification, her small voice cooing into the dusk. “Now what do you want?” he asked.
Harley looked backward. She’d heard his hand on his cock, and now saw it with hungry eyes, a huge drop of precum hanging from his dickhead. “That’s what I want… y—you… your… seed… taste it, on my tongue… lick it from you…”
For a moment, Harley thought he would let her have it. Instead, he dropped the switch and rested his hand on Harley’s back, pressing her harder into the car as a warning to stay put, then moved away. He continued to massage his tool, milking his precum out into a great blob held by a liquid thread. It fell lower, further, Harley wanting it but only watching.
“Please let me have it,” she said involuntarily. “I want it—your cock…”
But he wouldn’t. The drop fell loose, hitting the car’s gleaming chrome fender.
“Now you can have it,” Bruce told her.
Harley hurried to the bumper, still self-restrained, and planted her lips on the precum. She lapped at it until there was no trace, then less than no trace.
Bruce watched, pleased. “I’ve always heard a good woman could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch.”
Harley licked her lips. “I’m not a good woman.”
“Not yet.” Bruce grabbed her by her hair and simply tossed her down the embankment, Harley rolling end over end, grass and wildflowers skidding over her body, until she preternaturally caught her foot, heels sliding over the last feet of the slope. She tried for a smooth dismount, but her foot sunk into the mud at the foot of the hill. She tripped and fell face-first into a mud patch.
Bruce was right behind her. His cock was out. Harley rose, lips puckered, but his foot landed on her back, pressing her back down to the earth.
Facedown in the mud, her ass in the air, still roiling with pain.
“Ride your Harley,” she said.
***
Ivy stood at the top of the embankment. She listened to the wind, to the leaves waving in the wind, to the growing of the roots and the nourishment of the sun and the turning of the seasons. She listened to Harley say “oh, ohhh, it’s so hard, it’s steel, it’s fucking steel in my fucking cunt!”
Such a whore, Ivy thought, her brow furrowing, her nipples hard within her tight shirt.
She sat down, the grass welcoming her weight, and looked up at the sky. It was darkening like a fruit growing ripe, stars coming out, the cold light of the moon telling her plants that they’d grown enough for the day. She could see some meteors, even, bright and cutting, whipping across the dark sky as Bruce’s switch had…
Once more, she stopped being able to put the moans out of her mind. “You big fucker your cock so big in my cunt! I can’t stand itNO! No! Don’t stop! Give me all that sweet big cock of yours!” Were they louder or was she listening harder?
Would she use such dirty, shameless words if it were Wayne fucking her? Yes. He had and she had, and if they did it again she would only be louder and filthier, as filthy as Harley being fucked into the ground like a mud wrestler. That was why they couldn’t keep him, even as a slave. Because Ivy wanted him as much as Harley did.
“Holy Toledo, that cock is great! Nothing could feel better in my cunt! Nothing!”
It wasn’t the words Harley said that made Ivy burn so hot. It was the way she said them.
She was so happy, even as Bruce’s hips drove hard against her flank, slapping her welts into fresh pain.
“So big inside meeeee!” Harley wailed, Bruce’s hand in her hair, shoving her face in her mud and making her love it all the more. “That fucking monster cock… I love every inch of it! Don’t you ever jerk off, Mistah B! I’ll kill you if I ever find out you jerked off when you could’ve come and fucked me! I want all of that cock I can get!”
Bruce pulled on her hair, hard, and Harley cried even louder. Ivy watched as her lover’s movements turned jerky, broken. Harley writhed in the mud even as she shoved her pussy back into Bruce’s cock. Ivy watched. Bruce’s cock went balls deep into Harley, her juices leaking out around it and cascading down Harley’s thrashing legs, and Ivy watched.
She couldn’t stand it anymore. She turned away. But the cries rang in her ears, echoing so loudly that she had to look back.
Bruce was holding Harley down as he pulled out of her, Harley begging for him to come back, to finish her off. He stopped with only his cockhead still inside her, then bodily pulled Harley to him by the haunches, impaling his steely cock inside her. Harley came, slumping down into the mud like she didn’t care if she drowned there. Bruce rolled her over, though. Harley was covered in mud, her dress hanging off her, a breast popping out of it to show an erect nipple with a brown sheen.
“Let me rest,” Bruce said, “or I’ll come inside you.”
“Promise?” Harley asked.
“Promise to fuck you all night, one of these days. Your pussy’s so tight, it’s like fucking a virgin.”
Harley laughed, weak and drawn from her orgasm. Then she shook her head, muddy hair flailing around her half-painted face. “You’re thinking Ivy. She never gets laid—that’s her problem. Mine too. I just can’t get fucked enough!”
Bruce heard a twig crack and looked over. It was Ivy coming down the slope, her eyes wild. The shirt she wore was thin and tight enough to show most of her body, and her denims were gone so he could see the rest.
She thrust her mouth against his, kissing him as she took his cock in her hand, smearing her hand with the precum on its tip and the cream along its length. “She’s mine,” Ivy panted. “You fuck her, you fuck me too!”
Just until he gets Harl pregnant, Ivy told herself. She’d probably be bored of him by then anyway.
She let Bruce lower her down beside Harley. He didn’t even bother taking her shirt off. He lunged forward, not needing either of their hands to guide himself into Ivy’s willing cunt. He penetrated her all in one shove, Ivy releasing a scream of ecstasy. Instantly, she was transformed, becoming a rutting animal that shoved her hips against his to take his prick again and again.
Harley turned onto her side, arm pillowed under her head, watching intently. After a lot of fucking, it was nice to relax and watch someone else’s for a while. Once in a while she even picked up a new trick. Why else had she and Red lived with Kitty?
And nothing was better than watching when they knew they were being watched, when you could get so close that you saw every straining, every goosebump, every breath. Like a vociferous movie goer, Harley whistled and cheered and clapped at the show. Until Bruce slid his hand between her thighs and expertly fingered her pussy, first teasing the moist mouth of her sex, then sawing his finger over her clit. In no time at all his hand was glistening with her creamy. Harley whimpered and clapped harder. She felt like giving a standing O.
Ivy let out a sudden moan and all three of them knew she was done, already. Bruce was on the verge himself. He stopped fingering Harley and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up to see as he shot his load deep inside Ivy. When he let go of her, she fell to Ivy’s breast—still coming.
“You can’t go back to the manor like that,” Bruce told Harley as Ivy finally touched her, caressed her hair—“You need to put something on.”
He reached into his pocket and brought out a collar.
***
PROPERTY OF BRUCE WAYNE shone on one side of the collar’s pendant, the Wayne Enterprises logo on the other as Bruce affixed a leash. He led Harley out of the car’s backseat on all fours, Harley tracking mud across the driveway as they went inside.
Ivy had not said a word. All her attempts to make Harley someone who’d be aghast at this—some of them quite cruel—none of them had worked. Harley would always be addicted to this. But better to get her fix from Wayne than someone dangerous. And Wayne, at least, she could control.
If she controlled Wayne, and Wayne controlled Harley, then Harley would be all hers.
