Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6157513.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Batman_-_Fandom, Harley_Quinn_-_Fandom, Joker_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Harley_Quinn_and_Bruce_Wayne, Harley_Quinn_and_Batman, Mentions_of_Harley
      Quinn_and_Joker, Mentions_of_Harley_Quinn_and_Ivy, harley_quinn/bruce
      wayne, Harley_Quinn/Batman
  Character:
      Harley_Quinn, Bruce_Wayne, Batman, The_Joker, Joker, Poison_Ivy, Alfred
  Additional Tags:
      BDSM, dd/lg, blurred_lines_on_consent, Rape, Smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-04 Updated: 2016-03-25 Chapters: 3/? Words: 7335
****** Violent Delight ******
by onceminutos
Summary
     Based off that one Valentine's day comic where Harley scores a date
     with Bruce at an auction. In this story she wins being his housemate
     and sidekick for three whole weeks. Harley is delighted. Bruce can't
     wait until she moves out.
***** Auction Dinner *****
“So, how’d you do it?” Bruce asked, sipping his champagne.
Harley let her glass leave her lips and set it down gingerly. “I stole from a
rich money laundering criminal.”
Bruce smirked. “You’re lying.”
Harley’s blue eyes zeroed on his. “Quite the contrary Mr. Wayne-“
“Call me Bruce,” he interjected.
Harley’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she continued “it’s what a girl has to do
to afford such a striking gentleman as yourself.” Harley let her cheek rest on
her palm and bat her dark lashes up at him. She looked like a little girl. Her
nose was red and her eyes had a playful glimmer in them. Her grin was lazy and
she nibbled on the tip of her finger. It was disgusting.
“Stealing is bad.” He grabbed the starch white cotton napkin on his side of the
table and placed it on his lap. He looked up at Harley when he finished,
expecting her to be doing the same, but she remained with her face in her hand
and and an idiotic look in her eyes.
“I see Master Bruce is fancy,” she giggled and reached for the bread bowl in
the middle of the table. Her pasty white fingers wrapped around a garlic stick,
broke it in half and guided it to her parted red lips.
“Mmm!” Harley squealed. “Now that’s good garlic twists!!! Do you think they’ll
have cheesy breadsticks?” Harley’s eyes were gleaming, bread spilling from her
lips as she spoke. Bruce grimaced.
“Look, Harley-
Her head shot up and eyes widened. “Harley?! Who’s Harley? Im Harleen, sir.”
Bruce restrained from rolling his eyes. She hadn’t even bothered to pink up her
skin or put on the wig and she expected him to believe she was Harleen Quinzel?
Obviously she was indeed Harleen in essence, but that was her identity no more.
If anything her alter ego was her true self now and Harleen a costume she used.
“Harley, I know it’s you.”
Harley’s cheeks turned magenta and her smile faded. “Ya did?” She wiped a
greasy finger on the fabric of her dress. She should have at least done it on
the black diamond.
“Harley, you’re not exactly being inconspicous,” Bruce reached over towards her
napkin and gestured she put it in her lap. “I mean your hair is black and red,
your dress has a black diamond on it. It’s clearly you, Harley Quinn.”
Harley scowled at him. “My hair was blonde when I last saw you.”
“Yeah, but-“
“And I’m wearing high heels,” she pushed out her foot from beneath the table to
expose a black pump, “and jewelry.”
“I know, you dressed up. However the colors give it away.”
“But-“
Bruce held up a finger. “Look Harley, I know i’s you.”
Harley continued to scowl.
“I mean, you know I’m-” Bruce looked around to make sure no one was listening,
then lowered his head, “Batman.”
She looked up at him with earnest blue eyes. “Yes.”
Bruce reached for a menu and opened it. He looked at Harley before reading it.
One of her dress straps was sliding down, her hair was poking out of her unkept
bun, there was bread crumbs in the corner of her lip. “So, why are you
pretending?”
“I don’t know,” she grinned up at him, “guess I don’t wanna get busted for
stealing from the old brute.”
Bruce smiled. “I’ll let it slide. You did say he was a criminal after all.”
“Serves him well!”
“Yes it does. Now look at your menu. I’m sure you're hungry.”
“I could eat all the food in the world!” Harley picked up her menu. She flicked
through the pages, eyes widening as she read the options. “Hard to see in this
dim lighting,” she grumbled.
The room was darkly lit, as most date oriented restaurants were. It had a deep
red backdrop which gave it a gentleman’s club vibe. The place was old just like
everything in Gotham.
The furniture was mainly matte black with velvety red apolstery and golden
accents. The tables were all round and set up by a small fragrance free candle
and a bundle of roses. Jazz drifted around the walls accompanied by the light
chatter and charm of Saturday evening.
Harley was marginally underdressed. She wore a red knee length dress that had a
black diamond along the side of her torso. It was accompanied by black four
inch heels, the kind that have a little strap around the ankles. She adorned
her ears with rhinestones and wore black gems around her wrists. Her lips were
blood red and each eyelid was painted a different color.
The girls around her dressed in pastel colored gowns and beaded golden shawls.
They had twice as many jewels and all looked like the new face Chanel. Bruce
had admittedly been hoping he would land one of those girls. He had much
experience with this type and could easily woe them into sleeping with him. He
also liked the way their tiny bodies felt against his hard grip. Harley was
much bigger.
He wondered why she had scored the date with him at the auction and suspected
perhaps the Joker was involved. That was ridiculous though. The joker had been
gone for two years. It was over. Harley didn’t work with him anymore. She
probably had some twisted plan of her own.
Maybe you’ll get sex out of this somehow. Bruce scoffed at his own thoughts.
Sex with Harley Quinn? He hardly thought so. She wasn’t unattractive, but she
was just so… childish.
That’s never bothered you before.
“Harley why am I here?”
Harley slammed down her menu and grinned up to him. “Because I payed money for
you to have dinner with me.”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “Why did you want to win a date with me at the auction?”
“Well,” she bit her bottom lip, “it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why a
girl wants to go on date with Bruce Wayne.”
“You want money?”
Harley giggled. “No, silly!”
Bruce frowned. “What is it Harley?”
“Guess you’ll just have to figure it out.”
Before he could reply the waiter approached their table. He took their order,
silently glancing at Harley suspiciously. While Arkham had cleared her, she was
still known as a criminal to most of Gotham.
Criminal, exactly. What the fuck are you doing having dinner with her?

“I wonder what the duck will taste like. Duck is different every place I go.
Never been here before.”
“Oh yeah?” She wanted to chit chat. He wondered what was keeping her from
demonstrating what she was really up to. Any moment he would hear gunshots or
an explosion. It was a good thing he was suited up below his tux.
“Mmm-hmm.” She was back at the garlic bread. “One of my favorites, but then
again all meat is my favorite. I like food a lot, all food basically.”
“Okay.”
Harley stopped to swallow, then grinned once again at him. “Hey Bats-
Bruce thrust his arm towards her and put a finger to her lips. “Not here.”
Harley rolled her eyes at him. She looked at his finger, her eyes crossing.
Bruce brought his arm back to his side.
“Anywaaaaaays, as I was saying there’s a rumor going around that you're
actually a virgin and payed all those women to lie they slept with you.”
Bruce nearly spat out his champagne. What the fuck? “Who said that?”
Harley batted her lashes. “I don’t know. It’s just what they say.”
Bruce gripped his fork. “Who’s they?
Harley smirked. “You know, the media.”
Bruce groaned. “Harley I’m serious.”
She smiled slyly. “So am I.”
This is exactly why he didn’t follow the attention he got. He needed the drama,
it kept up his appearance, but he didn’t exactly want any part of it.It’s
stupid.
“So,” Harley looked at him “are the rumors true?”
Were the rumorstrue? Was she kidding? He’d even slept with her girlfriend Ivy!
Sure, Pamela had only seduced him to kill him and the woman was probably a
lesbian, but he’d bent her over his couch and fucked her. So had he with all
the others. Bruce mostly slept with socialites for the appearance, the drama
(he preferred a different type of girl when he did it for his own pleasure) and
those who knew his real identity assumed the scandals of between him and
wealthy women were made up, and yes the fighting and dramatics were, but he had
fucked each and every one of them.
Just three weeks ago he’d been balls deep in Gotham’s secretary of state. She
liked having all three holes filled and he happily came in all of them.
“No, Harley."
“I was kinda hoping so.”
Bruce raised a brow. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh, I like my men experienced.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Sure.”
Harley reached for the last garlic twist. Bruce wondered how those rumors had
started. It was most likely nothing, just fire started up by reporters. However
Bruce couldn't help but feel slightly humiliated.
The waiter arrived with their food. Harley munched on her duck, ate the entire
thing in twelve minutes, then downed her glass of champagne and contemplated
dessert. Bruce only had a few bites of his steak. He wasn’t hungry. He was
bored and couldn’t stop thinking of the world picturing him as a virgin.
“You don’t feel bad about that still, do you?” Harley asked suddenly. They
had’t spoken since their food arrived.
“I don’t feel bad.”
Harley smiled lightly. “Sure you don’t. I shouldn't have brought it up. I
thought you knew.”
Bruce felt his cheeks warm up. He put another forkful of food in his mouth and
chewed in silence. Harley called up the waiter and ordered an ice cream sundae.
She asked him if he wanted something, Bruce simply shook his head. When the ice
cream arrived Harley was on it instantly.
“You weren’t kidding about liking food,” he noted.
“I never joke about food, Mr. Wayne.”
“Please, Bruce.”
“I kinda like Mr. Wayne better,” she edged a bit closer to him, her eyes
gleaming, “sounds powerful.”
Bruce flushed. He wanted to agree, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
Truth is, he liked it when girls called him Mr. Wayne. However, he knew better
than to think of Harley that way. She was a criminal.
Like you’re so far from it.
“Call me what you like then.”
“I wasn’t waiting for your permission.”
“Naughty girl.”
Harley turned pink, but she looked satisfied. “That’s right Bats. That’s me.”
Bruce didn't reply. He just stared.
“Don’t call me that here.”
“Is that your only request?”
“Yes”
“Okay.” She reached behind her chair and pulled up her purse. “Good because I
forgot to tell you the surprise and I figured now is better-
Bruce sighed, ready for her attack. “Harley-
“Now, shh you’re gonna like it,” her white fingers fiddled around her purse.
She rummaged for a bit, her fingers coming back up with what looked like
documents. “So it turns out this isn't just a date Bat- I mean Bruce, we get to
be housemates for three weeks!”
Fuck.
He’d completely forgotten.
This is why I was hoping to land a cute rich girl.
Harley’s grin had spread completely across her face. “And you know what Bats-
Bruce, I chose your place!”
Bruce felt his temple palpitate. “Harley, no-
“Oh yes,” her eyes were the size of the moon, “it’s on paper.” She tossed him
the documents.
How could he have forgotten. He signed these last month. It wasn’t a big deal.
He agreed only because he’d almost gotten exposed. Someone took some photos. He
took appropriate measures to silence the witness, but he needed Bruce to seem
busy and to be in the spotlight.
Batman’s identity had to be protected at all costs and what better way to do so
then honoring Valentines day with an auction dinner where the winner will win
three weeks with Bruce Wayne? The media would have no choice but to be all over
it and ignore Batman.
“No, I swear-
Harley’s eyes were so wide she looked diabolical. “Yes!”
Bruce groaned. This was bad. He couldn’t have Harley Quinn at the mansion! That
was ridiculous! She would destroy everything. She’d touch everything.
“Harley I’ll pay you anything-
Harley puckered her lips. “Oh hun, that’s not what I want.”
Bruce slammed his fists on the table causing a couple people to look over.
“What do you want?” He hissed.
Harley leaned in towards him, her shoulders curving, eyes looking up at him
excitedly. “Now you’ll have no choice but to accept me as your sidekick.”
Bruce burst out laughing. As if!
When he opened his eyes Harley was still staring at him, eyes round.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Please.” 

Bruce hadn’t expected her to beg.
“I could help you,” Harley was leaning in closer, “I can do lots of things! Im
a gymnast! A doctor! Did you know I went to school? University, I graduated top
of my class. People think I’m dumb, but I have a masters. I’m strong too! And
Ivy made me immune to pretty much everything. I could drink a whole tank of
poison and be alrigh-
“Harley, shut up.” It was out of the question. “You’re not going to be my
sidekick.”
Her eyes lowered, bottom lip fell out. She looked stupid. She was crying.
“Jesus Christ, Harley people are gonna look!” Bruce hissed under his breath, he
shifted so he was blocking her from anyone’s view. Tears were streaming down
her face, her cheeks were red. Goddammit. “Cut it out.”
“Why can’t I be your sidekick!” She sobbed. Her nose was watery.
“Stop acting live a five year old, Harley!”
A couple ladies at the table beside them had started to notice the commotion.
They whispered to each other and pointed in his direction. It made others
notice and look their way as well.
“Just stop!”
“I just wanna be your sidekick!”
A man at the table across from them stood up.
“Alright! Alright!”
Harley stopped crying. “Really?”
Bruce felt a headache forming. “Yes.”
“Oh my god!” She squealed.
Bruce clenched his jaw and restrained from strangling her. “Go, get in the
car.” He gathered his coat and left a couple of bills on the table. It was much
more than the bill would most likely sum up to be, but he didn’t care. They
could keep the generous tip.
“The bat mobile?!” she squealed in a hushed voice, her eyes alight.
“No,” he grabbed her arm and pulled her up. He used his other hand to put her
coat around her shoulders. “My Mercedes.”
 
 
***** Wayne Manor *****

Harley’s hair turned purple as the strands danced around in the wind behind her
head. Her white skin glowed, giving her a ghostly feel. Behind her sapphire
waves slushed around stark grey rocks with ragged edges and thick clumps of
seaweed. The sky was amethyst, with streaks of green at the sky and ocean
limit. Right at the stop, in the dark blue of space, tiny stars twinkled down
at them.
The road was dark and empty. His headlights grey bigger as he twisted around
corners and flew by tall pointy trees. As they drove, less houses appeared and
the foliage grew thicker. They were isolated, cast away amongst the rocks and
ocean. It was a no man’s land out here.
He lived high on the cliff of the cove. The manor loomed dark and alone above
the sea. It was surrounded by an iron fence that protected him from intruders
using electricity, blackberry thorn infested bushes and gargoyles that could
shoot beams out of their eyes.
Behind the gate and fence sat the three story terra-cotta manor. Top to bottom
the walls were adorned with body length windows and pillars. Arches with
decorative patterns in the concrete hung along a corridor that circled around
the entirety of the mansion’s first floor.
Beyond the building, stretched out endless grounds of green. There was a pool
situated at the back of the manor along with a tennis court, a cabana, stables
and a sweat lodge. Towards the front grew an extensive garden filled with both
exotic and native plants, Greek statues, rose bushes, and shady emerald
orchids.
Bruce drove them up to the staircase and got out. Immediately a man dressed in
black took his spot. He opened the door for Harley, whom looked ecstatic, and
led her up the staircase ignoring all her excited gasps and comments. The car
drove off towards the garage.
Harley was hyperventilating in his arms as he led her into the foyer and to the
double staircase. She looked around appreciatively, taking in the high ceilings
and glistening chandeliers.
“I’m going to show you around,” he explained, leading her towards the kitchen.
He wasn’t going to show her the entire manor, that could take days, but it was
best to familiarize her with the places she could access as soon as possible.
That way she wouldn’t wander.
Her fingers slid across every inch of marble in the kitchen and she was jumping
up and down in the lounge room. Bruce did his best to get her to shut up and
grudgingly put up with her celebrating as he gave her selective a tour of the
manor.
“Where will I be sleeping?” She asked he showed her the bathroom she would be
using. It was the upstairs guest bathroom. That one was pink and smelled of
strawberries. It was the same bathroom used by every girl that had spent the
night at the manor He’d had Alfred stock it with all sorts of supplies females
would need. Even makeup.
“Will I be joining you in the master bedroom, hmm?” She twirled around him so
she was facing him.
“Funny.” Bruce walked past her and towards her actual room.
He never actually went in that particular room. The last time he had stepped in
to look at it was the day it was finished being put together. He wanted to
approve of the decoration and setup. It was simple and slightly cute. He
approved it after being in the room for 30 seconds.
He had only one image of the room and that’s how he intended to keep it. When
he pictured it he saw white walls followed by salmon sheets on a double poster
full size bed in the center of the room. There were ocean green paper lanterns
at each side of the bed on top of white nightstands with rose colored handles.
An almond brown closet was positioned across from the bed, next to a coat rack.
“Seems boring,” Harley said after stepping in.
“Sleep there, don’t wander.” Bruce instructed. “Come to breakfast whenever you
like. Alfred will make it.”
Harley blinked at him. “What time do you have breakfast?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Stuff.”
“What time will you have breakfast tomorrow?”
“Eight am.”
Harley frowned a little. “Should I be suited up?”
Bruce smiled. “No, Harley.”
He turned to leave.
“Bats?”
“Yes?”
“What about my stuff?”
Another thing he’d forgotten. He should have stopped at her place before coming
here. He turned to face Harley once again. “I’ll get it for you what do you
want?”
Harley yawned. Her eyes filling with sleep. “My favorite things.” She sat down
on the bed.
Bruce chuckled. “What would that be?”
“Beaver. My clothes, my shoes. I need my shampoo. Oh, and the conditioner too.
Also, my makeup. My superhero clothes!” She had curled up on the bed. “Perfume,
snacks, undies, phone charger, iPad, iPad charger, my weed, maybe a bong,
slippers…” Her eyes fluttered shut. “A can of cherry soda,” she whispered.
Bruce slipped off her shoes, set them side by side on the ground and closed the
door behind him. On the way to the top floor he ran into Alfred and instructed
him to buy a series of snack foods and cans of cherry soda for tomorrow. He
then went to his bedroom, where he undressed, put his clothes away and suited
up into Batman. He knew it was stupid to go as Batman to get Harley’s stuff,
but it would get the job done a whole lot sooner.
Surely, after a bumpy twenty mile drive to her apartment complex (he meant to
figure out who ran the place) and swift entrance through the window (by swift
he meant crawling around the walls until he found Harley’s room) in fifteen
minutes he packed up her favorites and stacked them neatly in the back of the
Batmobile.
He put the automobile in reverse and backed out of the driveway. He drove out
towards the freeway where he cruised for a while, the only vehicle for miles.
Bruce typically drove along dark alleyways to avoid being seen, but at midnight
on a Tuesday not a soul was awake in Gotham and he could drive freely.
He drove for a while with the volume turned up for Mac Demarco, then exited and
drove slowly along a quiet neighborhood. He crept past the similar sequence of
run down houses until he found the one he was looking for. He parked in the
shadows, checked to make sure no one was around or watching, then got out of
his car and headed towards her apartment.
When he crept in through her window he heard music playing softly and the
humming of a fan. The noise was coming from the bathroom. Behind it a faint
powdery pink scent puckered around in the streams of cool air. Bruce followed
the indigo glow coming from the creak of her bathroom door.
Inside he found her, a dark silhouette against the lavender lighting. She stood
with her back facing him, shoulders arched. Her tattoos spiraling along the
curve of her hips, and thighs. She wore her thick short curly black hair pinned
up in a bun, thin tendrils spilled along the side of her cheek.
“Hello, Batman.”
“Kitty.”
She chuckled. “You mean business. Bad day?”
She rubbed the soap bar along her leg. He watched the suds slide against her
skin. His eyes swam up to her ass. It was glistening with soap.
“You wouldn’t believe it.”
She turned to face him. Her breasts were foamy with soap. “Yeah, I heard nut
job is moving in with you.” Her tone wasn’t happy.
Those reporters were fucking fast. “I hate it as much as you do.”
“How long?”
Bruce shuffled off his suit. “Three weeks.”
“When is she moving in?”
He set his suit on the bathroom counter carefully. He could see her figure in
the mirror. She was lavishing, her skin all soapy and wet. He just wanted to
run his fingers over it. To cup her big bulging breasts. “She already did.”
Selina glared. “Huh.”
“Selina look-
“Look, I get it. We’re not a couple, Batman.”
“Bruce-
“You know I won't call you that.”
He stepped inside the shower, his skin sprayed with warm water. He found her
body and pulled her close. She felt soft and silky against him. He placed his
fingers on her shoulders and ran them along her arms.
“Besides, Kitty,” he brushed his lips against her ear, “it’s not like I’m into
her.”
Selina sighed. “Yeah,” her hand was on his hip, her fingernails digging in
lightly. “I know that.”
“Then stop bitching,” he bit on her bottom lip. Selina moaned.
He slid his hands along her back and gripped her ass. He bit at her neck and
engulfed her hair in his palm. “I’ve been missing you,” he whispered as he felt
her hands hold him. “I’ve been missing you so much.”

* * * * * * *

Harley was in a pair of pink pajamas and sitting at the dining room table when
Bruce came down for breakfast at eight am. She wore her hair split down the
middle, red on one side, black on the other. This time she had each side pulled
up into a bun. On her feet were the fuzzy bunny slippers he’d snatched from
beside her bed.
Alfred already made breakfast. The table was set for two. In front of Harley
was a bowl of oatmeal, three slices of toast, a glass of orange juice and half
a grapefruit. Across from her, at the other end of the table sat his meal:
scrambled eggs, strips of bacon and a cup of coffee. Bruce took a seat.
“Didn’t expect to see you here this early.”
Harley stared at him. She put a foot on the rim of the table, the other was
folded onto her chair. “I thought you’d like the company.”
“Feet off the table.” Bruce pressed his coffee cup to his lips.
Harley didn’t budge. She grabbed a slice of toast and brought it to her lips. A
loud crunch erupted.
“Harley.”
She looked at him, a brow raised in question. “Hmm?” There was butter sliding
off her lip.
“Get your feet off the table.”
She swallowed her toast “Why?”
“Because Harley,” He looked at her sternly, his jaw set. “I said so.”
She didn’t say anything, instead she narrowed her eyes. “Make me.”
Bruce was up in an instant. He gripped her leg hard, pulled it off the table
and let it fall. He grabbed her other leg just as swiftly and unfolded it so
she was sitting with both legs pressed together. He shoved her arms to her side
and thrust in her chair so she was squeezed up to the table. He then gathered
her napkin and tucked it in her pajama collar so it hung at her chest.
Bruce went back to his seat, picked up the paper and took another sip of his
warm coffee. His cheeks felt hot from having moved around so quickly. His palms
remained closed, fingers pressed firmly against the inside of his hand. He’d
enjoyed pushing her around. He liked man handling her into submission.
Not another one.
Harley huffed in her corner. She wanted attention. Probably an apology. He
would do no such thing. Bruce ignored her and continued to eat his meal, his
eyes on the paper. He was delighted. He watched her cheeks get red as she got
huffy-puffy. He didn’t give into any of it.
“You’re just like puddin,” she moaned. “Brooding and bossy.”
He saw her cross her arms. It made her breasts bulge against the pink fabric.
“Exactly the same.Control freak.”
Bruce set down his newspaper. He looked at her. “I am nothing like Joker.”
“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes.
“What did I say?”
She was snickering at him, blue eyes looking at him humorously. "Wanna bet?"
“I amnothing like him!” Bruce slammed his fists on the table, shaking it.
Harley stared at his fists, her brow furrowed. “Yeah,right." She glared up at
him.
Bruce sighed. He’d gotten too carried away. “Harley, I'm sorry.”
Harley didn’t look at him. Her eyes were fixed on her oatmeal. “No need.”
Bruce felt guilt build up in the pit of his stomach. He had to think of
something. It would be bad if she started crying like at the restaurant. “Look,
I’ll invite you to come with me tonight. How’s that?”
Harley remained looking at her food, but her lips turned up into a small smile.
“Okay.” She reached up to itch her nose, it turned red.
“It’ll be your night, okay?”
“We can do whatever I wanna do?” She looked up at him.
“Yes. Within reason. Hopefully nothing stupid.”
Her eyes brightened up. Soon she was grinning like a child again. “Oh boy, this
is gonna be fun!”
“Now, Harley we need to be careful, okay?” He explained. “This isn’t crimework.
It is imperative everything goes smoothly, alright?”
“Duhh.” Harley crunched on some toast, getting more butter on her mouth. The
crumbs fell on the napkin he fashioned over her chest.
“Harley, say yes.”
“Yes. Geez.” She rolled her eyes.
She thought this was all a joke, but this was important. It wouldn't be some
elaborate scheme like the stuff she was used to doing with joker. It didn’t
consist of evil and explosions. There would be no killing, no hostages, no
punch lines. It would be simple, in and out with as little casualties as
possible.
“Can I wear a matching costume?” She shoveled oatmeal into her mouth.
“Something like Batgirl?”
Barbara.
His voice was firm when he said no. “Just go as Harley Quinn.”
“Alright, sir!”
This is stupid, Bruce. This is really stupid.
 
 
***** After Work, in the Evening *****
Bruce spent most of the the day undisturbed in the study. A good portion of his
time had been dedicated to all Wayne manners, which consisted mainly of
answering phone messages, renewing contracts, accepting social invitations, and
emails. Lots of emails.
At six pm he sent his last reply. He texted Carol, his assistant, instructing
her to sort through his email and to text him if anything important came up.
Once his computer screen went to sleep, Bruce got up from his seat. He
stretched, relieving the aching muscles in his back and shoulders.
It was time for a drink. Bruce strode determinedly over to the liquor cabinet
on the other side of the study. He retrieved a small key from his right pocket,
jammed it into the key hole, and watched the cupboard door creek open with
satisfaction. Inside, a bottle of aged whiskey awaited him.
The whiskey fell into his cup with a fulfilling slush, an ice cube following
behind it. He let the drink sit for a few seconds. His intent was to give it a
slight chill, just enough so it went down smoothly without eliminating the
entirety of the sting. Once the wait was over he brought the cup up to his
lips, pressed down, tilted the glass and took a big gulp.
Warmth spread along his throat and insides as it rapidly followed the liquor to
his stomach, where it eventually settled into a burning pain. An inconvenience
he could have avoided had he bothered to eat before drinking.It’ll fade in
fifteen seconds or less. Bruce ignored it and took another sip.
Bruce pulled out his phone, typed in the password, and checked the weather
report for the night. Perfect conditions. A sixty-five Fahrenheit degree night
with clear starry skies and no wind was to be expected. Hopefully that meant
things would run smoothly tonight and he wouldn't run into any trouble.
Bringing the clown won’t exactly guarantee that.
Bruce ignored his thought and continued drinking. He took a big gulp and then
another. Fuck it. Two more gulps and he finished off the glass with a mild buzz
in his temples. He relaxed his shoulders and loosened his tie. He was tired and
needed a nap. Probably some food as well, but his main priority was to sleep.
Bruce poured himself some more whiskey, this time going past the two-finger
mark. He added an ice cube, then set the drink down on the cabinet. He quickly
put the liquor away and ice tray back in the tiny fridge he kept below the
cabinet. It was mostly just for ice, but he stocked it with some popsicles for
when he was too busy to eat, but low on energy.
He closed the cabinet, picked up his drink and left the study. He locked the
door, set the key in the same pocket as the cabinet key and headed up to his
room. Once there he set his drink on the nightstand and stripped.
He started with his pants. Button, then zipper, and a tug down his legs. He
kept his boxers on and decided to keep his feet warm with his socks. The blouse
and tie had to go, so he discarded them with his pants. Typically he would pick
up his clothing and fold it, but feeling tired he just climbed into bed.
Bruce took a fleeting sip of his drink and set it back down on his nightstand.
He scrambled into bed, shuffling his sheets and comforter around to get in the
right position. He adjusted his head on his pillow, trying to figure out the
correct angle.
After wiggling around for a bit, he managed a comfortable position and resumed
drinking the whiskey he left on the nightstand. He found his headphones in his
pocket, and plugged them in. Then he unlocked his phone and scrolled through it
until he found the song he was looking for.
Bruce closed his eyes. His head was spinning contentedly. The once aching
muscles in his back had softened. His skin was warm, his breathing comfortably
low and his head burrowed cozily into his pillow.
He sighed slowly. He was at ease. A little drunk as well. Nothing too wild,
just a pleasant buzz. And in addition was also feeling quite horny.
He was in one of those moods where nothing would satisfy him more than to fuck
a tight pussy, then pass out into a power nap until tonight’s gig.
Unfortunately he was too drunk and too tired. His own hand would have to do for
the evening.
In a perfect world he wouldn't have had whiskey to drink and would be sober
enough to drive into town, or even better he did have the whiskey, but a girl
happened to be over at his house. Say he invited her over earlier. Work hadn’t
been so bad in this perfect world and he’d had enough time to decompress and
socialize.
He would take her the way he wanted; the way he liked it, with grabbing,
slapping, spanking, and choking. Hopefully she would be a good girl and stay
still when he pinned her down, the fingers of one hand around her neck, the
others holding her legs up to reveal her soft pussy and ass.

He was dizzy enough where each thrust would feel like gooey heaven as he shoved
himself in and out of her. He could already picture her sweet honey sliding
along his shaft as he worked his way in. God, if he only had a girl. He
probably wouldn’t even bother being gentle.
He’d spank her so hard her cheeks would be purple with his handprints. Her ass
would be so raw from his thrashes that he would have her on her hands and
knees, begging for him to forgive her for being such a dirty girl. He’d make
her apologize for being such a slut, then watch with satisfaction as cum ran
along her thighs.
It was rare he found a girl that would let him abuse her. In fact he hadn’t had
one in years. The last was Barbara and even she wasn’t the same. Now that she
was older, working, and finishing school, she no longer dropped down at his
command and let him torture her until she was sweaty, exhausted and had cum as
many times her body allowed her.
They’d had fun during her freshman year. Bruce would roughen her up a little
whenever he was feeling horny. It always helped ease the tension, especially
the Batman stress. There wasn’t a day he didn’t think about her tiny teenage
body beneath him.
Stupid mistake.
He’d sworn to stop evil, too uphold the law and protect all citizens. Justice
was his single motive and the only option when it came to stopping the bad
guys. He was Batman for fuck’s sake. People had expectations.
But he wasn’t any better than the guys he locked up almost every night. She’d
only been fucking eighteen when they started seeing each other. Sure, she was
legal, but he was what? Thirty-two? Probably only ten to fifteen years younger
than her father.
You should have known better, Bruce.
It started out as innocent tutoring. Barbara was struggling with Chemistry.
Bruce having majored in the subject offered to help her immediately. That was
his first mistake. Barbara wasn’t like any other girl. She was different. She
had a hunger in her eyes that had always attracted him. She could see things,
understand things.
Bruce had enjoyed every moment with her. She was always so eager, so willing.
He could torture her for as long as he wanted. He would start by tying her up
in all kinds of positions, forcing her tiny body to bend and contort for his
pleasure. Then he would tease her by playing with her until she was crying and
pleading he let her finish.
He’d never just allow her to cum. She had to earn it. In order to do so he
would subject her to brutal spankings. Each time he spanked her he liked to do
it a little differently. He would switch between instruments. There was a
flogger, multiple paddles, belts, a cane, a ridding crop, and his hand. He
chose depending on how much pain he felt was needed in order for her to be
worthy for him to penetrate.
When he didn’t see her for days at a time was when he would usually inflict the
most damage. The cane was typically used during those situations. Lightweight
and flexible when cutting through air, the cane was the most painful. The way
she cried as he slapped her round cheeks made him feel a sinful amount of
pleasure.
He was rock hard from the memories and needed to relieve himself, but he
couldn't continue thinking of Barbara. Bruce never masturbated to the memories
of Barbara. The last thing he needed was to continue salivating the pain he put
her through.
He had to find someone else to think of. Someone like Barbara. He wasn’t
interested in any of the vanilla girls that lived in his mental archives, and
craved someone that would submit to him. He wanted the control, the dominance.
He wanted her to listen, to do as he said no matter how ridiculous the request.
He wanted to push someone to their limits and watch them thrive with pleasure
when satisfaction was finally met. If only he knew someone who was good enough,
who would bend to his every request.
Harley…
Bruce hesitated. He'd observed the way Joker treated her. Harley would do
anything he’d ask, and Joker knew that. He’d certainly used it to his
advantage. Bruce was sure that they had some kind of messed up sex life and
that Harley had most likely been put through all kinds of stuff. He could only
imagine what it took to get Joker off.
Bruce tentatively gripped his cock. He let his eyes flutter shut and started to
stroke lightly. He started by visualizing her. He wouldn’t just think of her
naked body and jerk off. He liked to imagine things as specifically as
possible.
In his fantasy accuracy was imperative, so he pictured her with pigtails,
dressed in red and black shorts, with a loose tee that had a diamond over the
right breast pocket. She was laying below him, watching him with wide curious
blue eyes. Each time she blinked blue and red eyeshadow glimmered up at him.
Bruce kissed Harley’s neck, causing her breathing to escalate. He grasped her
shoulders, latching on tightly. Slowly, he moved his lips downwards and along
the curve of her neck as he squeezed her arms.
He kissed her pale skin gingerly, stopping only to nibble on her collarbones.
He liked to bite down just enough to leave lasting red marks. The little moans
Harley made as he bit her felt like heaven to his ears.
His hands slid along her belly, feeling the way she shivered as he let his
palms glide over her softness. He let his fingers press down against her as he
continued to run his fingers along the slopes of her body. When he found her
hips, he squeezed them tightly, making her squeal.
Bruce kissed her. In a swift motion he reached for her neck and pulled her in
closer to his chest. He cupped her tightly in his grip, watching her eyes
flutter shut as he firmly held her flesh.
When his lips left hers he let go of her neck and allowed the oxygen to travel
safely down to her lungs once again. Harley’s cheeks flushed red. Her eyes
flittered open, clearing the glassy look in her eyes.
Bruce grabbed her hips once again, this time lifting them up. He brusquely
loosened the button of her jean shorts, and yanked down the zipper. He grabbed
the pockets and tugged down, pulling them along the length of her legs and off
her body.
He tossed the shorts aside and spread Harley’s legs apart. Between the white
lengthy limbs, covered by lacy rose fabric, awaited what he’d been craving the
most. A tiny dark patch of moisture already formed on her panties.
Naughty girl.
Bruce placed his index and middle finger on her pink panties and rubbed gently,
making Harley let out a sweet moan. He kept kneading his fingers, causing the
panties get more and more soaked as his fingers worked their way along her lips
and clit.
He pushed his fingers against the material, inserting both the tip of his
fingers and the cloth into her. Bruce simulated penetration movements and used
his thumb to massage her clit. Harley wiggled her hips and hummed with
pleasure.
Bruce pulled his fingers out and pushed the panties aside, exposing her
lubricated pussy. He observed her, admiring her tight form. He let a finger
slide along her. It collected moisture as it ran down the folds.
Bruce placed his hands at her thighs and held her in position. Slowly, he
leaned in and kissed her. He then stuck out his tongue and licked down the
length of her pussy, getting the fresh taste of her honey along his lips.
Bruce lapped up the sugary sweetness of her lips, salivating how wet she had
gotten from just a little teasing. Letting go of her thighs, he used his now
free hands to place her legs on his shoulders, and leaned his head deeper into
her pussy as he sucked and licked it.
Bruce fucked her with his mouth, tongue pulsating in and out of her drenched
cunt, before placing a finger inside her little hole. In seconds she was
squirming and letting out high pitched moans that sounded suspiciously like
begging.
Bruce obliged by inserting another finger and bringing his tongue to her clit.
He moved his mouth in circular motions and penetrated her with rapid in and out
motions. He shook his head as he worked on her cunt, digging his head in when
she wrapped her thighs tightly around his neck.
Harley was moaning loudly. Her hips were arched. She had her brows furrowed
down together in pleasure, and her arms were strewn behind her clutching onto
the pillows.
Bruce sucked on her cunt, flicking his tongue around on her clit, driving her
crazy with pleasure. He moved his other hand towards her head and scrambled
around for her hair. When he found her pigtails, he grabbed a fistful and
yanked.
Harley let out a sharp moan. Her lids opened slightly, causing her to lustfully
stare at him from behind half lidded eyes. She bucked her hips and squirmed as
he smashed his tongue onto her clit and thrust his fingers deep into her cunt.
“Fuck,” Harley panted. Her hips curved even more upwards. Bruce watched her
face contort into critical pleasure, starting with the “o” shaped lips and the
almost squinty way her eyes shut.
“Bruce, I’m gonna cum,” her voice was breathless, her pussy gooey. He could
feel her insides tightening.
“Fuck, Bruce! Fuuck!”
Bruce’s cock twitched in his palm as he came. He shivered and groaned as cum
squirted out of him. He shook so violently from his orgasm, that cum had gotten
onto his chest and he had to quickly wipe it off before it coagulated and
became a pain. As soon as he cleaned himself up with some tissue, Bruce flopped
over. He assumed a comfortable position under the covers and set an alarm for
tonight. 
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