Marry The Knight Ch. 13

Vicki Vale wasn't sure what to expect as she drove up to Wayne Manor. She'd texted him, half-expecting the number to be changed, but instead had gotten a firm agreement on finally getting her interview. She pulled up on the roundabout, expecting there to be someone to take her car, but no one. Tacky as it was, she killed the engine and left it there. It wasn't like there was a parking lot on the grounds. She got out, stepping out into the buzz of flowing water from the fountain on the front lawn, then circled her own car to the manor's stope. Up the stairs, she found the door shut. No doorman. She tried the bell—they had a bell—and wondered if she should see if it was unlocked before the door parted.

"Hello, Ms. Vale," Poison Ivy greeted her. "Do come in."

Vicki's mouth went abruptly dry. Not only was it Ivy, but she was next to naked. Ragged cut-offs, a similarly torn top that left a thrillingly flat belly exposed. In the dusk light, her green skin might be mistaken for simple paleness, while her red hair hung unabashedly to her shoulders. And her pose was pure seduction: one hand on her hip, the other raised to the cleavage of her crop top, rubbing the flap between thumb and forefinger like she was curious with this thing obscuring her nudity.

Her investigative mind rushed like adrenaline entering the bloodstream. "Bruce didn't send that text. You did."

"Mmm. Smart cookie." Ivy's voice lolled out, lazy and contented, like a tiger at rest would sound. Her erect hand pried at the collar of her blouse, like she wanted to see if Vicki was interested in the bareness of her shoulder, the lack of a bra strap. "I thought we could talk. Woman to woman."

"Why don't we talk outside?" Vicki replied. "Always heard you liked the great outdoors."

"You want to take a walk with me?" Ivy's hand pressed flat to her breasts. "Sounds fun. Alright then. Let me show you the lake."

She walked past Vicki, leaving the blonde to shut the door. Vicki could see how the cut-offs rode high on her ass, pockets hanging down past the frayed edges to do more to hide her cheeks than the denim was.

"You know, I seem to recall taking you hostage a few times," Ivy orated. Vicki couldn't help but watch her buttocks roll as she walked, almost unencumbered by a single thread. It was like watching a flower somehow in continuous bloom. "I remember I always considered giving you a little pollen, seeing what you were like without all thoseinhibitions.But they always seemed to close to the surface... wouldn't it have been interesting if you justkissed mebecause you couldn't help yourself?"

"Where's Quinn?" Vicki asked as they walked across the manicured lawn, Ivy's bare feet making the trek far easier than Vicki's pumps. "Aren't you two usually inseparable?"

"Don't you mean where's Wayne? Shame to come all this way to moon after someone who won't present that geometric profile—and you don't seem the type to moon at all,Vale.You're usually... eminentlyseparable."

Vicki blanched. "I think I'm pregnant."

Maybe not the wisest of moves. Still, it was satisfying to see Ivy break into a hot sweat, jealousy burning up her spine and into her scalp. For the blink of an eye, Vicki thought she was tinted red, not green.

Ivy's voice trembled but tried not to as she said. "Bruce's?"

Vicki was suddenly remorseful. It was clear that knowing Bruce had been with her made Ivy feel things that were all but impossible to contain. And after all her jibing about only tolerating him... "There really hasn't been... much of anyone else."

"I am a doctor, you know." Ivy's voice choked a little, but was shockingly sympathetic now. The sweat that gently dimpled her body gave her a dark glow now. "I could check."

"You really don't have to—"

"Bruce is my husband. That would make you family. Sit."

They'd come to a golden pond, its surface featureless except for a family of ducks that milled near its center. A single bench faced the water, a little ways from a boathouse, a little ways past a pier. All so quaint. Vicki wondered how often Bruce had played here, as a boy. If his many adopted children had enjoyed it too.

She sat. The bench was old and wooden, but comfortable, with a few initials carved into its seat. Most ended in W. Ivy sat beside her, and they looked out at the rippling water, catching the red sun, except where lily-pads and reeds sat like shadows in the crystal.

"You don't have to worry," Ivy said. "I would never hurt a child. Not even a seedling."

"I'm not too worried. I left word at the office that I was going to the residence of two known super-criminals."

"Three," Ivy replied. "Calendar Girl is staying here too." She reached out her hand, gently batting a forefinger at the lapel of Vicki's suit. "May I?"

"If you must," Vicki said, feeling awkward, but not uncomfortable.

Ivy lowered her hand to Vicki's belly, feeling inside it. Her brow furrowed. She unzipped Vicki's jacket, brushing it open, then unbuttoned the buttons of Vicki's blouse below the sternum. The breeze picked up, as if obedient to Ivy's wishes, and blew a flap of the blouse aside to reveal honey-brown skin. Her fingers softly ran over the almost invisible curve of Vicki's belly, then pressed down, palm flat, the green-colored hand like a firefly's glow on Vicki's darkened stomach.

"Yes. Definitely Bruce's," Ivy said. "The same scent. And don't worry. The toxins from the skin-to-skin contact won't afflict your child. Or you, I guess."

"What... toxinsssss..."

"Shh, Vicki, shh. Don't think of that right now. Look out at the water. At the rippling water and the light from the sun—it's fading, isn't it, growing darker as the sun goes down. It's getting cooler and cooler, and the wind's picking up... the crickets are chirping... all because of the sun. The sun in the water. The water getting darker and darker..."

Vicki stifled a yawn. She felt very tired all of a sudden, a great sleepiness coming over her—eyelids weighting a hundred pounds—Ivy's husky voice smoothing out, getting softer and slicker—she couldn't keep her eyes open—she couldn't—

Vicki yawned again. She didn't hide it this time. She felt half-asleep, or groggy, like she'd just woken up, but the daze of remembered sleep wouldn't go away. Yet she hung on Ivy's every word. She couldn't understand what Ivy was saying, but she heard every word. All of it very clear, very carefully enunciated, even if she couldn't make out what was being said. Then, suddenly, she heard Ivy tell her to sleep,

Vicki's head fell forward, hair slipping from her neatly combed part, running tousled and shadowed over her face. Ivy smiled at her as she raised her head. Eyes a soft green. She looked at Ivy calmly, with trust.

Ivy lowered her hand to the inside of Vicki's thigh, cooing when her legs closed, squeezing her hand with the sweetest pressure. "Now," she said, "how long have you and Bruce been fucking? Is it a regular thing, or did you just throw yourself at him once he was a married man?"

Vicki's mouth hung open. "I... not like... I can't say the words."

"You must," Ivy said softly. "You must."

Vicki's lips compressed, pain evident in her lovely features. "It was the night of the interview. We were having dinner..."

Ivy moved her fingers, the pads tracing the curvature of Vicki's inner thigh, nails scraping near the underside of Vicki's leg. "Tell me about it. Everything. Relax and tell me everything..."

Vicki swallowed. "I was just playing around with him... giving him a little sex appeal, you know... teasing him so he'd be off balance... I ran my foot along his leg and he was so handsome, so... commanding... I even touched his thigh, his... but he took it out, under the table, and made me feel it... it was so big... I wasn't even... I'm not like that, it seemed ridiculous, perverted... there were people everywhere... but it felt good, touching him, so good, oh, it felt so good..."

Vicki's legs scissored open. If Ivy could detect the life growing inside her, she certainly knew what was happening behind her crotch seam. But she stilled the motion of her hand. She had to know what had happened before Vicki ran too hot. "Go on."

"I got under the table and I, I sucked him. He didn't come either, not for a long time. Not before he fucked my face. But the waiter came and... Bruce talked to him, as I sucked. He ate his meal. He gave me a bite, then he had me sucking him again. He came in my mouth."

Ivy's eyes opened wide. The bitch! Sucking Bruce like she'd done anything to get that cock besides be in the right place at the right time! Was there no limit to outrages? How dare Vicki Vale have any of the cum meant for her and Harley? "Go on, go on!" she urged. Vicki still hadn't explained how she'd gotten pregnant. If this had happened more than once...

Vicki's breasts heaved as she choked out the rest of the story. "He was still hard after. He went under the table... I went with him... he fucked me right then and there! I came so hard... so hard... "

"Shh, shh," Ivy said in a soft but insistent voice. "I understand. You remember how that felt?"

"Yes."

"It felt very good, didn't it?"

"Yes," Vicki sighed, her expression slack, foggy, but a smile on her lips.

"You feel that goodness now, Vicki. You feel very good, like Bruce had just finished fucking you. In fact, you have never felt this good before. You would do anything to keep feeling this way, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Vicki responded, even further in her trance. "Anything."

"This is the best feeling in the world and it's everywhere, spreading all over your body. But despite how good it feels, you're still relaxed. Sleepy, even. And this relaxation is letting your mind wander, letting you think things you never would if you were awake. You're not awake, are you Vicki?"

"Not awake..." Vicki mindlessly repeated.

"You're thinking of me, now, aren't you? What do you think of me?" Ivy took Vicki's hand and planted it at the knot of her tied-off blouse. "Be honest, now."

"You're... you're so beautiful."

"And you've thought about doing things with me, Vicki—haven't you?" Vicki's hand was tightening on its own. Ivy just had to push at her wrist a little and, in Vicki's grip, the knot came undone.

"Wondered... what you tasted like... minty, maybe..."

Ivy's blouse fell open, the twinned halves hanging off her breasts, nothing at all holding them in place but the jutting protuberances underneath the cloth. "But something always stopped you from finding out, didn't it? Why don't you tell me?"

"Can't kiss you... lips are poison... kill me..."

Ivy giggled. "I wouldn't kill you, Vicki. We're friends. Besties. If you kissed me, all that would happen is that you'd feel good. So very good." Ivy shrugged off the blouse. Her bare breasts jostled softly, the fading light making them even rounder, softer than they could possibly be. "You believe me, don't you Vicki? You trust me. All I'd do is make you feel good. If you just... kiss me..."

Vicki moaned as her entranced mind caught up with her body, feeling intense arousal, nipples straining through her shirt. "May I kiss you, Ivy? You're so beautiful... so perfect... I have to kiss you!"

"Why don't you take off your clothes first?" Ivy asked. "So that when I kiss you back... I can kiss you all over."

If only Harley knew what she was missing, Ivy thought.

***

Harley didn't feel any shame, being walked by Bruce on all fours, her hands and knees first padding over the cold concrete of the garage, then the hardwood floor of the manor's first story, then the carpet of the second floor. Bruce led her at a slow, fond pace, the leash on her collar never exerting more than the slightest pressure.

No, Harley feltproud.To be claimed by Bruce, him not embarrassed by her in the slightest, willing to show to anyone that he was her master. Not yelling at her or hitting her like Mistah J had, but fondly patting her on the head as he filled a glass of water for her, then tipped it to her lips.

Then he took her to the bathroom, putting up the lid for her, and resting his hand on her shoulder as she went. Next he put her in the shower—by now she was nearly naked, so nearly that her ragged clothes fell off her under the force of the stream, and she would've cried except Bruce promised to buy her new ones. He took the showerhead down from its mount and ran the warm water all over her, washing away the cum and the mud and the sweat, brushing her hair with his fingers to make sure he'd gotten it all. Harley spread her legs, hoping he'd get her at least a little dirty again, but after teasingly spraying the showerhead there, Bruce turned the water off and smiled at her. She got back on all fours. After he'd wiped her down with a towel, she followed him to his bedroom.

Inside the room, Bruce turned a dimmer switch to dampen the room with a softly muted glow. On the bed, Paige Monroe lay in nothing but an elegant white mink stole, the fur draped across her breasts and running down her side, between her legs to cover her crotch as well. Its whiteness shimmered like newly fallen snow. Harley didn't feel embarrassed at beingseenin her present state. She was glad to have it be known what a little whore she was, how obedient she was to her master. She proudly padded on all fours to the cage at the foot of the bed, Bruce ignoring Calendar Girl to unlock the door, pull it open, and usher Harley inside. He took off her leash, then shut the door behind her, locking it and hanging up the leash on a bedpost.

"So that's what the cage is for," Paige said, drawing the most casual of attention from Bruce, who went to get a blanket from the room's chest of drawers.

"I keep bitches in it," Bruce said, his voice light and conversational.

Paige petted the stole running down her body. "Am I going to go in there at the end of the night?"

Bruce put the blanket over the cage, but only halfway. "Depends on if you can be tamed or not."

Paige hugged the sleek white mink closer to her luscious breasts, pulling its censorship a little bit away from her nethers. Now Harley could see dark fur too. "You have to be very firm to train an animal."

Bruce unzipped his fly. His cock sprang out like a weapon. "And the animal has to be thoroughly broken in."

Paige stroked her softly curved thighs with the dangling end of the stole, the richly sensual caress of the fur exciting her, the sight of Bruce's cock making her squirm. "Wanna whip me before you take a ride?"

Bruce stared at the silky fur running over her belly. Her natural hair color, as evidenced by her groin, was red-gold, further shining with slick lubricant. The contrast of the two made Bruce think of fire, ice. "No. Just put on a muzzle."

Paige chomped her teeth. She was a beautiful woman, Harley had to admit. Not as slender as in her modeling days, but the weight had gone to all the right places, filled her out, given her a healthier appearance. Her breasts were modest, her cheekbones high—a buzzcut or change of clothes would make her androgynous, but the way she carried herself was abject femininity. She was lithe, she was slender, but she was all woman.

Paige gathered a mass of fur in her hands, circling it around Bruce's cock as he leaned over her. She teased him, her grip maddeningly soft through the sleek fur that glided up and down his shaft. Bruce closed his eyes, allowing her to work him to her heart's content.

Paige expected him to come any second, almost ruin her expensive mink stole, but when she pulled it away, his erection wasn't even red. Paige tried to pull him down to her cunt, wanting him to be finished off by its tightness, but he caught himself on the mattress around her, arms steepled so he hovered over her.

Paige blinked. "What's wrong? Don't you want me? Am I too ugly for you to want me?"

Bruce reached down and caressed her face. Her gorgeous face. Under his hand, it didn't feel scarred or fat or ugly. "No. Of course not. But a beautiful woman like you... deserves only the best."

He picked her up, Paige crying out as the stole fell away from her. He was so strong, her man. No wonder he was hers, a strong man like that for a beautiful woman like her.

"You've been fucking Harley, haven't you? That's why you took the littlebitchalong on your errands."

"That's right," Bruce said. "She's a cock-hungry little thing. A complete whore. She can't get enough of it. She's not special like you. Just a little slut for me to use when my cock is dry. A place to put my cum."

As Harley listened to Bruce's walls, she laid on her back in her cage and stared at the ceiling. She remembered in vivid detail how he had fucked her, almost not believing he would do such things in public, outside or virtually under people's noses. Now he talked about her like she was worthless, just a dumb little cunt he could use as he saw fit, his chattel, a sex slave, really. His own personal whore.

Her hand drifted down to the fleecy mound of her pussy. She stroked idly, staring at Bruce and her fellow whore—even if she didn't know it yet. Bruce set Paige down on top of the cage. Calendar Girl's ass was so lovely, Harley wondered if he would spank it like he had hers, or if that was her pleasure alone.

Bruce kissed Paige hungrily, his meaty cock pushing at Paige's cunt, setting Harley's own labia lips ablaze. Not only had Bruce fucked her, now he would let her watch him fuck another one of his bitches. She wondered if Bruce wanted her to give Paige some constructive criticism.

"You're beautiful, Paige. You're a goddess. You deserve so much pleasure... such pleasure..."

Harley blushed, suddenly imagining Bruce telling her such things. He had, sometimes, when he wasn't punishing her.

Her feelings were mounting again.

She liked being able to do both, get the pleasure and the pain, getting to choose like she couldn't with Joker or with Ivy.

Her fingers worked between the blood-thick lips of her labia, stroking with such scintillating ease. She could do nothing wrong. Everything she touched was so wet, so thrilling.

Maybe after he was done punishing her, she would ask him to make love to her again. Maybe him and Ivy could do it at the same time. Or him and Ivy and Paige, too...

In less than a minute, Harley's cunt was as wet as it had ever been. She could see Bruce's hard shaft pressed right up against Paige, not inside her yet, but so ready, both of them so ready as he kissed her, teased her. He'd caught the stole and looped it around her neck, pulling on it lightly like a leash, rubbing its fur over Paige's breasts, over all of her nakedness. Harley was practically salivating, watching them. Like a bitch in heat.

"And you're agod!" Paige moaned, planting both palms on Bruce's broad chest, almost as if trying to push him away, but with no strength in her slender arms. She felt his heart racing, his muscles tensing. "If I'm so beautiful... you're the only one who deserves to have me... the only one worthy of me... all of me..."

"Yes," Bruce whispered huskily, kissing her throat, Paige's mouth open, the fur brushing against her lips.

"All of me... I have a present for you. Something I knew you couldn't get from Harley."

"Oh?" Bruce grinned. "There's not much I can't get from Harley. She's such a dirty little slut. She'll do anything for me. She's not refined like you... sophisticated like you..."

"Yes." Paige laughed like she was at a high society cocktail party. "I don't know if there's anyone in this town she hasn't fucked. The clown, the plant lady—all those tentacles—Deadshot, of all people—I even heard the Joker lets his men pass her around like an old shoe. She's about as tight as one, isn't she?"

Bruce buried his smile in her ear. "She's just about the right size... for me, that is."