Marry The Knight Ch. 12

Ivy walked the halls of power. She'd never seen them intact before. Ripping through them with her vines, yes, but not like this. It was fascinating, anthropologically speaking. Here was where old men decided how long the Earth should live once they were done with it, where forests were reduced to numbers and those numbers subtracted, divided, zeroed. Where all noises of conscience echoed on soundproof walls, fading away before they were ever heard at all.

And at the head of it, Wayne. A puppet, perhaps, but a puppet by choice. She watched his smug swagger as he approached the boardroom, Harley nipping at his heels like the beta she was, needing his strength to make up for her weakness. Ivy pitied her, raged at her. Why couldn't she just be strong?

Lucius Fox was waiting by the double doors. Ivy had considered ending him many times, but he was the best of a bad lot. If she'd removed him, there'd be a million more far worse, graduating each day from business school to take his place.

"Good evening, Mr. Wayne. And the Mrs. Waynes." He smiled bemusedly.

"Evening, Lucius," Bruce replied. "What's up?"

"The merger with the Moon Consumer Group. I warned you the CFO was jittery. He's on the verge of a full-scale panic attack because you haven't reviewed the security filings yet. It's a quibble, but you know how these things can catch like wildfire with the shareholders."

"Don't I know it." Bruce was chipper, even more lighthearted than he'd been with Harley, like all this was even easier to manage than a homicidal ex-villain. "So just a quick review and we'll be set."

"That's all, Mr. Wayne, that's all."

"And maybe throw in a review of our holdings in South America. I think Pam here would find it enlightening."

"With pleasure, Mr. Wayne."

***

The boardroom was empty, the conference table deserted, the lights lowered and windows tinted to draw attention to a screen at the far end of the room. It flickered from a rotating Wayne Enterprises logo to a graph. The first of many.

Lucius stood just outside its light. "The first area of concern is redundancies throughout Applied Sciences. You've mentioned wanting to double that department in size and take on additional projects, but it'll be several fiscal years before we can show a profit with that strategy. What I suggest is announcing a few of our more nebulous projects, so at least we can tide over the shareholders with something through the lean seasons..."

Harley sat between Bruce and Ivy, nearly sinking into the thick leather chair meant for a heavyset man. With her slouch, her body disappeared to the breadbasket under the thick oaken table, its surface featurelessly clean except for an ornately carved W. It had been there since it stood for Thomas Wayne.

She was bored. She wished desperately that Bruce was touching her again, or Ivy, or that Lucius wasn't droning on about business and business and business and numbers. She tried to think of anything else, ended up imagining she felt Bruce's hand on her thigh. It felt so real...

Harley smiled to herself, her teeth very nearly the brightest thing in the dark room. It was real. Bruce was massaging the leg closer to him, his head still turned away from her, the light from the screen playing over his profile to show his intense concentration. Harley leaned toward Ivy, lifting up her ass, giving him more room to work if he wanted to take advantage of it.

He did.

With Harley's invitation, he slipped his hand under her, feeling the warm fullness of her ass through her shorts, then the moisture between her legs. His attention had been quick to rev Harley up. She opened her mouth in a silent moan as Bruce pushed his callused fingers against her sex, the feeling wonderful, but still not as good as having him inside her. All it took was one little bit of Bruce inside Harley's cunt to make her feel complete: his tongue, his cock, his fingers. She thought she could get off on his toes if it came to that.

Straightening surreptitiously, Harley tugged her shorts down from her waist, then quickly hopped over them so she could skim the thing down her legs. She gave them a little kick off her feet, landing them directly underneath the conference table, and promptly forgot all about them.

Bruce now pulled his hand out from under her, sticking it down the front of her body. Harley drew her vest's coattails to either side of her legs, giving him even more room. He quickly ascertained that now she wore nothing from the waist down but her stockings. He dove right in.

Harley gasped aloud, just barely managing to keep her voice to a whisper. Bruce could hear her; he smiled. So could Ivy, she turned away from her curious perusal of the screen and regarded Harley, green eyes tracing her from hot cunt to embarrassedly enjoying expression. Bruce knew what to do with an open pussy, and Harley felt the rewards of her nudity immediately. So much so that she lifted her left leg, putting it across Bruce's lap so that he had even more room to maneuver. With her pussy split and totally exposed to him, her demented mind imagined she might even have room for his fist.

Bruce didn't share her assessment, though he did fill Harley, one finger after another, until all fours of his digits were tucked away inside her, drawing her aroused juices out into his palm. His thumb gently caressed her inner thigh, and Harley wished she could cover his face with kisses, showing him the same affection he had for her. But there were other ways for her to spread the joy.

At the boutique, Ivy had bought the most expensive jeans and blouse she could find, then disdainfully modified them by shearing the jeans off at the thighs, ripping the midriff from the blouse, exposing most of her chartreuse skin to nourishing sunlight. But not all.

There wasn't much room in Ivy's tight-fitting shorts for Harley's hand. She had to wiggle it around, shoving hard to get it into the region of Ivy's groin. There, she copied every move Bruce made inside her, slipping her middle finger into Ivy just as Bruce did to her.

With the feel of Bruce's fingers in her cunt, Ivy's cunt around her fingers, Harley was swimming in orgasm, about to drown. Pleasure washed up her body, and she knew she had to do the same for Bruce. She whipped her hand to his lap, felt his hardness waiting for her, unzipped him, pulled him out. He stroked her as she stroked him, stroked Ivy, getting off two people at once and getting off on that herself.

Ivy reached automatically for Harley, wanting to repay her, and felt the hairy back of Bruce's hand where her own belonged. She looked at Harley, who smiled only somewhat apologetically at her. It was hard for Ivy not to smile back, feeling their lust rising, hearing Bruce's deep breaths bellow out of his flaring nostrils. All three of them were having difficulty keeping quiet, and Ivy wondered if Lucius could hear what was going on.

Harley and Ivy were breathing hard as they came together, but Bruce grabbed Harley's wrist, jabbing his thumb into her pulse, wrenching her off his erection. She stared at it longingly as she came, fingers digging into the walls of her pussy, thumb pinioning on her clit. Bruce squeezed her hand as she came for him.

"Go to the bathroom," Bruce whispered to her. "Now."

Harley leapt up, ignorant and uncaring of her bare groin, the wetness evident. "I have to go to the bathroom!" she announced. "For peeing, not for sex. Although," she added in a stage whisper, "if either of you'd care to join me..."

"Go!" Ivy hissed, unsure why she was helping Bruce. Or was this still part of their plan?

***

"I think I get the picture, Lucius," Bruce said, a few minutes after Harley had left. "I think a quick phone call to Burt will calm him down, once we've touched base and brainstormed a little. I think he just wants to be kept in the loop."

"I agree, Mr. Wayne."

"Would you mind continuing the presentation? I think Pam's finding it interesting."

"Certainly."

Ivy watched Bruce as he left the room, then turned her attention back to Lucius. It was interesting. New pesticide techniques in their agricultural division for less contamination, cross-cutting in the logging industry to better allow the forests to recover, even pushes to legalize and industrialize marijuana distribution—more plant life. Ironic how Wayne Enterprises was the sort of company she'd ignore in favor of more flagrant offenders, in her old line of work.

Then she realized neither Bruce nor Harley had come back.

***

The men's restroom was empty. The women's restroom appeared to be, so Ivy started checking the stalls. She didn't know what the problem was; why Harley seemed so enthusiastic to go along with the plan. How could she enjoy having that man on top of her so much? Ivy was red with anger, with jealousy. He shouldn't have been allowed to join in at the conference table, to touch Harley like she did. Ivy had thought about fighting over her, and thought about it and thought about it, how Bruce was touching Harley and entering her and pleasing her. Ivy had thought about it right up until she'd come.

Just then, Ivy heard the jingle of keys, the whispered slap of clothes hitting the floor. It was coming from the handicapped stall—the handicapped stall—at the end of the restroom. Her bare feet making not a sound, Ivy walked into the stall just beside it, kneeling down to look underneath the partition.

Harley was sitting on the toilet, Bruce opposite her. He had dropped trou... or perhaps more accurately, Harley had dropped it for him, bringing his trousers down in a defeated slump of open fly and broken buckle, her slender hands grasping at his muscle-ridden ass while she looked up at Bruce worshipfully. She wore only stockings and gloves, Ivy reminded of how sleek and firm and delicate her body really was. She looked up and saw that Harley's dress was actually slung over the partition of the stall she was occupying.

She hadn't noticed it—just like she hadn't noticed Harley, so many times. She'd been a fool not to pay attention to her. Now she was losing her to Wayne.

Bruce reached down, stroking Harley's upturned face, her unbound hair, then bringing his hand to Harley's lips. She kissed it graciously, seeming to savor the taste of his fingertips, his knuckles, biting playfully at the webbing between thumb and forefinger. Bruce pulled his hand away chidingly, then rested his forefinger on Harley's lower lip. She opened her mouth obediently, her eyes darting down to his erection—Ivy could not see it behind Bruce's body, but its shadow fell across Harley like the Empire State Building's across Manhattan.

Like a lion tamer putting his head inside the beast's mouth, Bruce's fingers entered the clown's smile. Harley allowed it. She wasn't trying to get pregnant anymore. She was just trying to please him.

She closed her slim lips, sucking, eyes closed to better concentrate on her own flavor. Ivy had nearly forgotten what it tasted like.

So many nights Harley had wanted to make love, but Ivy had refused, irritated, or given her a quick round with tentacles, with Feraks, and let it go at that, knowing what Harley needed was long, sensuous lovemaking. Harley was starved for affection and attention and that had driven her to go to Wayne for it.

As angry as she felt—as much as she wanted to march in there and turn Wayne into compost—Ivy couldn't bring herself to blame either of them. It was her fault that Harley was gorging herself on Wayne's devotion. And how could she naysay Wayne for going after someone so beautiful, so perfect, so funny and bright and eager to please...?

Then Harley grabbed Bruce's cock and started pumping it. Ivy flushed with anger even as she shivered lustfully, recalling how good Harley was with her hands. However, her chief thought was That's mine! It was not directed at Harley's hand.

Bruce definitely seemed to approve of what Harley was doing, slouching in relaxation, his thumb lovingly petting Harley's dimples as she continued to submissively suckle at her own taste on his fingers. It wasn't much, but Ivy had become adept at reading Bruce. And by craning her neck at an uncomfortable angle, she could see how his prick had hardened into a thick, weighty column. Once more, she couldn't believe how big it was. She never did.

Harley smiled with all her summery glee, watching his cock enlarge. "Mmmmm, Brucie-wucie!" she sighed. "I just can't get enough... being with you feels like being sane again, only fun!"

"Since you're so grateful," Bruce said, with his usual withholding sardonicism, "why don't you show it? Why don't you take as many inches..." His rigidly standing cock nudged at Harley's mouth, "as you feel grateful for?"

Harley breathed in his precum. "Love ta, Mistah B!"

Her glistening tongue seemed almost to be pulled from her mouth, drawn to Bruce's cock as if by magnets, lapping frantically at the precum gathering on Bruce's cockhead. Ivy almost shook with lust, watching her. She'd known how gluttonous Harley was for her own juices. Now it was Bruce's she lapped up like ambrosia.

Ivy couldn't demand her lover back. She was the one who'd forced her to this. She could either leave, or watch. Those were her choices.

At first, it had been agony to see Harley with Bruce, but that had faded. What was left Ivy had been almost afraid to acknowledge. An arousal that hadn't developed with Harley's nudity or submission, but that had been there since the beginning. Ivy watched Harley's greedy tongue lick her lips until they were slippery enough to be driven down hard upon Bruce's erection, the man flushing as his every inch was encased in her sucking, caved in cheeks. Ivy remembered their dildos, the hard but sensitive wood Ivy had grown to try and lure Harley away from Joker, how she herself had enjoyed Harley's loving oral attention to it.

"That's good," Bruce groaned. "Harley, you're so good..."

Damn right she is, Ivy thought. I taught her. She'd taught Harley everything she knew about men, about cocks, so they could use them and abuse them, play with their own—modified cucumbers that shot maple syrup, let her know how it felt to be a man, tried to show Harley how much better cunts were. It was terrifying—exciting to see Harley put her lessons to work on Wayne. Head bobbing, golden hair flying, hungry sucking just seen from another angle.

Ivy watched with a mixture of sadness and lust as Harley further transformed herself into the perfect submissive for this dark, powerful master. She didn't want to kill Wayne anymore. She didn't want to fuck Harley, dominate her and show her who she belonged with. She wanted to touch herself.

And she could, so long as she stayed quiet. Unzipping her pants, Ivy reached under her panties and began rubbing, slowly, sensuously. She wanted to come just as Harley did. Like they were making love again.

"I'm getting bored of your mouth," Bruce said, Harley shaking her head desperately—"Mm-nnn, mm-nnn!"—as he pulled his cock away, Harley's distended lips finally drawing back together as first the base of his cock was drawn away, then the rest of it. "I want your cunt now."

As simple as that, he picked Harley up, whirled her around, setting her on the grab bar. Ivy looked straight up from her position underneath the partition. She could see Bruce's enormous cock slam into Harley's juicy cunt from directly underneath. Harley took his fierce lunge with a wail of satisfaction, completion, the cream that covered her thighs joined by fresh waves from her box.

"Unnnnnnnhhhhhh, shit!" Harley wailed. "It's yours, Brucie, it's yours! Fuck meeeeeee!"

Ivy fingered herself feverishly, trying to pump into her own cunt as hard as Bruce's girthy erection was powering in and out of Harley's womanhood. She could see everything, all of Harley's tics that she usually ignored—those short and vivaciously painted fingernails scratching the partition, blue eyes rolling, her lovely breasts shaking and swaying like they had minds of their own. It was the most beautiful thing Ivy could imagine; all that was missing was her own body upon Harley's.

"Just like that, just like that!" Harley wailed. "As hard as you can! Fuck my PhD out!"

Just come to me and I'll do it for you, Ivy thought, though she knew there was no way Harley would quit now, eyes closed tight as Bruce fucked her toward the orgasm she needed so badly. Harley whimpered and moaned and clawed hard at Bruce's body, finally showing how much she wanted it.

Bruce's muscular body smacked loudly into Harley's flesh, his thick cock sounding off noisily as it reamed out Harley's juices. The man was snorting and grunting, red-faced with lust as he hammered Harley to climax, physically forced her pleasure onto her. It was something Ivy could never do.

Inevitably, Harley screamed, came. "You're doing it to meee!" she howled. "You're making me—unnnnnnhhhhh!"

Bruce gave his cock one final thrust and jetted his load inside Harley, exhaling harshly as he finished. Then Harley kissed his cheek sweetly.

"Is that all you've got?" she panted, out of breath. "Or are you saving some for Paige?"

Paige? Ivy thought, withdrawing back into her own stall, sitting on the toilet and drawing her feet up so they wouldn't see her when they left.. Then she remembered. Bruce and Paige and Vicki. Maybe Roxy too. Bruce could have all of them and she couldn't even handle Harl.

"Right now, it's all for you. We can wait for more, if you want. It won't take long."

"No, Red—she worries."

"Not worth it?" Bruce asked.

Ivy could hear Harley's smile. "Worth it. So worth it. That was—"

"—not what you need," Bruce interrupted. "Not all the time. Was it?"

"...no."

"You need to be punished, too. Not just rewarded."

Ivy couldn't hear, but she knew Harley was nodding.

"We're going to get back in the car and we're going to go home. We're going to do some things. I'll tell you what's going to happen, and if you don't like the sound of it, we don't have to do it."

"Tell me," Harley said in a small voice.

Bruce leaned in closer and whispered. Ivy couldn't hear him, but could hear the sound of his voice, low and hot, spooling into Harley's ear.

"Yes," Harley said. "That's what I want. That's what'll make me a good girl."

***

Bruce 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.