Marry The Knight Ch. 09

She'd wake him up with it inside her, just like she did for Ivy sometimes. Catch her sleeping and lick her awake. As irritated as Ivy could get, she always gave in, the warm licking turning into fingers and vines and biting. She wanted to see what Bruce would do under similar circumstances. How he'd punish her.

First, she had to get him hard. Harley licked at his cock—her own scent was strong on it. She must've been so wet... Bruce stayed soft, though, his cock stirring but not following through. Dropping her jaw, Harley prepared to blow him. She slotted the oversized head between her lips and leaned in, dropping him into her mouth. He didn't quite go in; his crown clocking her teeth. She stretched her mouth wider, feeling a clicking in her jaw, a soreness, and managed to get him.

She sucked. Now he responded. She felt the flow of his blood quicken, his presence in her mouth stiffening, expanding, filling her and reaching for her throat. She suckled harder, putting her hands on his washboard abs, feeling the muscles twitching, firing as he took the pleasure she gave him. She moved her hands higher, to feel his lungs pumping and his heart racing, as his cock moved deeper into her throat. Claiming it.

Her cheeks billowed, her lips stretched, her teeth grated over his feverish length as she pitched herself down on his cock, trying to throat him. She never reached the base of his cock. Though his cockhead just managed to get into her gullet, she literally couldn't swallow it. No matter how hard she tried, his cock was just too big, jamming up the narrow confines of her throat.

But the motion of her lips and tongue, even over only a portion of his great cock, had his balls alive and girthy. She held herself down on his manhood until it was hard to breathe, his cock blocking some of the air her lungs were increasingly desperate for, and when it was clear she still wasn't going to make any headway, Harley let up.

Tried to.

Three callused fingers had landed on the back of her head, holding her neatly still, the way a man would mark his place in a book. Harley tried to heave off his cock, but his strength was too great. She was locked in. She felt the air in her lungs turn toxic—the stretch of her cheeks become painful. His cock was straining in her mouth, pinning her tongue down, pushing the roof of her mouth upward. She could feel it throbbing, pounding, cum inside roiling and heating.

She gagged, choked, coughed, but couldn't get his cockhead out of her throat, not with those three fingers forcing her to keep sucking. She pulled desperately at what little air flowed past his prick, vacuuming up the musky scent of his phallus. Tears were in her eyes now as his hips began to roll, offering up his cock to her submissive throat, gently ushering it toward her stomach even as her body cried out for oxygen.

Her eyes rolled back in her head; everything dark, like him. All she could see was his scarred, muscular weapon of a body, effortlessly controlling her, owning her. His belly undulating as he danced his cock as far inside her body as he liked. She had reached a point of total submission, obedient past the point of death. She kept sucking even as the world blurred and grayed. She would please him even if it killed her, because being killed by him would feel so good...

His abs clenched; he exploded right into her needful mouth, his cum bombarding her furiously. It coated her teeth, spray-painted her cheeks, her eyes opening and closing and then staring wide as she felt his quivering cock shrink with the exit of the cum engorging it.

She swallowed in cum what she couldn't in cock, every gob of hot sticky seed, gagging on it but keeping it down, feeling no choice in the matter. He let go of her head, stopped pumping into her mouth, but she kept his prick inside her. For the longest while, she let it keep her mouth. Then it slipped out.

She held it tenderly. Kissed it all over, then his empty balls, then she massaged his softening penis to produce one last bead of cum. She popped it onto her face like a beauty mark.

"Good morning to you too," she said, returning his cock to its resting place on his thigh like it was some ancient artifact.

Bruce said nothing. He laid there, barely breathing, as still as he'd been when she'd entered the room.

"Mistah B?" Harley asked, coming up to her knees. Her oversized shirt slanted, exposing her bare sex between her thighs.

No response. Playing hard to get, huh? Harley slapped him on the ass. "C'mon, Brucie! I know you've still got more in the tank! Fuck me already! My cunt's as good as my throat! And if it's about gagging me, you can use whatever you want!"

He didn't move. Harley grabbed his cock, finding it still a little hard, a little lusty. Even so, she cried—tears of frustration and anger. He could get just as hard as before, but it wasn't enough. She needed him, her husband, to make it good. "Please, Brucie, honey, I earned it, you said I earned it!"

Bruce didn't even crack an eyelid. He could feel the delicious tightness of her small hand pumping his big cock, his balls swelling up once more, his cock growing even tauter than before. She was going to mount him, he knew it. He'd let her. It was important for her to know she could enjoy herself even without being used.

"I need to get fucked! I need your cock!" Harley sobbed, licking at his cock, slapping at it, none of her efforts budging the pillar of flesh that seemed to mock her with its complacent hardness.

She couldn't take anymore, having his cock throbbing in her hand but not her cunt. She needed this beautiful hunk of cock inside her, one more time. Maybe that would be enough to satisfy her once and for all, to end her burning for it.

She climbed atop him and lowered herself onto his cock. By then, it was standing up, aimed at her cunt like it was hungry for her. She was so wet, she took it easily. It conquered her cunt in one gulp.

Harley came, her pussy hugging Bruce's cock tighter than it ever had the Joker's. Bruce felt hot rushes along his prick and knew Harley's slippery tightness had brought him right up against orgasm himself. He waited another minute, Harley squealing and jabbering nonsensically, till finally her head stopped spinning and she quieted down a little, satisfied that his cock wasn't going anywhere. It would stay deep inside her for a long time.

Then, cooing with relief, she saw Bruce's eyes watching her.

"Mistah B."

Bruce shot up, coming to her in an effortless sit-up, devouring her breasts as his hips pumped wildly, actually bouncing her in his lap with the thrusts of his deeply embedded cock.

"Mrs... Wayne," he replied, feeling Harley's cunt twitch in a transcendent climax.

Then he hugged her to him, pumping into her, his cock shooting with every thrust. His own long-awaited orgasm pumped out of him, rushing along the well-used walls of her cunt, running down his balls. Harley was slack-jawed, feeling his cum stuff her, fill her even more than his cock had. She wrapped herself around his shoulders and held him until the strength had gone out of her arms. When he was done, she slid off him, falling back to the mattress with his cock soft and warm inside her.

Harley opened her eyes, burning up with his cum still flowing out of her. "Love me?"

"Yes. Proved it, in fact." Bruce scooped her up in his arms again, staying inside her as he situated them both on the pillows. Reached over to the nightstand and drew out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one loose. "Just the one for both of us," he said, lighting it and passing it to Harley.

She dragged in deeply, her eyes never leaving his. They were so warm. But so piercing.

"You've got a little something," he said, running the butt of the cigarette over the corner of her mouth before putting it between her lips again. She tasted him once more. She guessed his cum was all over her mouth, like a messy eater.

"I was really thirsty," Harley explained.

"And I was a geyser. You bring out the beast in me, Harley. I'm glad you can be in love with that."

"Ivy wants to know if you can take us shopping."

"Shopping with two supervillains. Sounds boring," Bruce joked. His voice was almost a purr.

"The more time you're with me, the more you can use me." Harley smiled kittenishly. "Or I can use you. Depends on how you look at it."

"As long as we both enjoy it, who cares?"

"Yeah." Harley watched as Bruce took the cigarette back, puffing on it contentedly. "I guess maybe I'd kinda enjoy... being the one to use you. You wouldn't mind, would you? Fucking me a lot?"

"I think I'll manage."

"Especially if we do it bareback. Like just now."

"I can handle that. As long as you're not worried about getting pregnant."

Harley flushed. She hated lying to as nice a guy as Bruce, but—"I'm on the pill. We won't have kids until... things is more settled, I guess."

"But it wouldn't be so bad, would it? I think you'd be a wonderful mother."

"Really?"

"Really." Bruce stubbed out the cigarette. "But if we're going to go shopping, we can't do it like this. Anyone in an eight-block radius could tell what we've been up to."

"Let 'em know!"

"They do. I just don't want to be obvious about it." Bruce rolled away, finally leaving her cunt, and Harley winced as she felt his warmth turn instantly bitter. She needed more of it. Much more. "Let's get you cleaned up, Harley. A nice, long bath."

Memories of an unhappy childhood, a slavedriver mom, rose up to accompany her emptiness. "Don't wanna."

"A shower, then. C'mon. I'll help."

As he stood over her, Harley turned big, beaming eyes at him. "And maybe... when we're done... if there's still some hot water?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on taking a cold shower. Not with us being married."

Bruce picked her up and Harley coiled around his embrace. A fuck in the shower, then they had the whole drive to Gotham for his balls to fill with cum again.

She'd be pregnant in no time.