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Gotham Sirens, Arkham Sex	By : Robwood Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > General Views: 12532 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: If you’re not familiar with the “Batman: Arkham” series of video games, go back now; I explain nothing.

Chapter List
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SECTION ONE: HARLEY QUINN
ARKHAM CITY, ONE YEAR LATER

The news was devastating. Everyone was of the general consensus that the Joker was dying and the Clown Prince of Crime had done nothing to alleviate her fears. When she heard the news, Harley planned her escape attempt from Arkham Asylum. With the Joker in tow, she arranged for a supply boat to whisk them away, having it loaded with essential weapons and underwater equipment.

A few nights before she was ready, Harley overheard some of the guards talking about wanting to have fun with the Joker. Her blood boiled. Nothing was ever going to happen to the Joker if she had her way! The time came for one last supply item, which she needed from one of her friends.

When it came time for her to take her shower she was joined by Poison Ivy, as she was most nights. Though the guards kept their distance and pretended not to watch, she and Pam both knew that they couldn’t tear their eyes away. That was because the two of them would put on a show for the security staff most nights, which allowed them to speak in private and relieve some tension. Even the woman guard who observed them this night, they knew, loved the performances they gave.

With her back to the showerhead, Harley soaped up her hands and reached around Ivy, who stood with her back to the blond, feeling up the plant lady’s breasts. Pamela leaned back, not only to further enjoy Harley’s touch, but also to hear what the clown wanted to say. Harley used Ivy’s head to block her own as she whispered in the plant lady’s ear, “We’ll be making our escape in a few days. Come with us, Pammy.”

As Harley tweaked Ivy’s nipples, the green skinned woman closed her eyes, turned her head slightly to Harley’s, and whispered back, “I’m not ready yet. My babies still need me here for now. The TITAN withdrawal is hitting them harder than it did me and it’s been wreaking havoc on my mind. I hide it well, but really you’re the only thing that helps to keep me focused.” Harley gave her a look of concern. “Don’t worry; it’s mostly over now.”

Harley moved her head around to the opposite side and began kissing Ivy’s neck. “How about some insurance, then? Got any more of that mind-control toxin anywhere? I could use some in case things get interesting.”

Pamela turned her head and gave Harley an Eskimo kiss while replying, “You mean in case the Bat shows up.”

Their kiss was deep and passionate. As their tongues caressed one another, Harley ran her hands along Ivy’s body. “Well, it would be fun to slide down the old Batpole again.”

Poison Ivy breathed heavily as she guided Harley’s hand to her pussy. Harley lightly stroked Ivy’s burning bush and ran her fingers along Pamela’s nether region. The plant lady gave an audible sigh. “You don’t need a man, Harley.”

“Do you have it?” Harley repeated.

Ivy gasped as two of the clown’s fingers plunged into her pussy. “Yes. I have a new concoction that will allow you to seduce anyone you desire.” She panted as the fingers inside her manipulated her folds. “It’s tailor made to your body’s chemistry; anyone who smells it won’t be able to resist you.”

Harley smiled. “Now why would you go and do a thing like that?”

Pamela’s hips began gyrating on Harley’s hand. In a matter of minutes she was on her tip toes, her entire body weight being supported by her sometimes lover. “It’s a powerful seduction tool. Since the strong willed, like Batman, can otherwise resist your natural charms, it will allow for anyone to be in your power.”

“You’re immune to it, of course.”

Harley began using her thumb to manipulate Ivy’s clit. “Ah! Yes!”

Poison Ivy’s hips took on a life of their own as she reached orgasm. Her lips clamped onto Harley’s fingers and rode them as hard and fast as they could. A minute later her orgasm subsided and Harley laid her on the floor of the open shower and mounted Ivy’s hips. She gave the soap to her friend, who lathered her hands up and began to soap up Harley’s beautiful ass. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the two male guards try to hide their erections while the female guard tried to squeeze her thighs together nonchalantly.

When Harley leaned on top of her, she continued, “Look inside your baked potato tomorrow night. It’ll be in a tiny perfume bottle. Just a couple of sprays on your neck will suffice.”

She slipped her fingers into Harley’s pussy; it was her turn now. As the clown panted away, Harley replied, “Thanks, Red. I knew I could count on ya.”

“Always,” Pamela responded. “Until you betray me to the Joker again, of course.”

“Of course,” Harley repeated, and then repositioned herself so she could hump Ivy’s leg as the plant lady’s fingers worked their magic. A few minutes later she grunted in hard orgasm.

When it was time to break out, Harley had everything she needed. Infiltrating the revenge-seeking guards, she took them out just as they were about to beat down her Puddin’ and made her escape. As she and the Joker motored their way to freedom, they were eventually pursued by, who else, Batman. He gave the Joker one warning to surrender. His response was to fire a rocket launcher at the Batboat while Harley readied the C4 for the supply boat. When their escape vessel went up in explosive debris, she and the Joker took an underwater scooter to land, emerging from a sewer into the condemned zone.

“You know what this means?” the Joker asked, looking around excitedly. “We’re the first ones in! The mayor and mayoress of Arkham City, and no one knows we’re here!”

Although the Joker was mostly able to move around on his own, Harley kept one of their arms around the other for support and even steered him to the nearest building: Sionis Industries. “How do you like this place for your mansion, your honor?”

Joker gave the steel mill a keen once over. Then he smiled. “Once we get the furnaces lit again, make a few modifications…it’ll be perfect! I tell you, Harl, a new city, new mischief—I’m starting to feel like the old me!” He then let out a raucous laugh that echoed forever in the empty neighborhood. Harley had never smiled so brightly.

When they approached the steel mill’s entrance gate, she asked, “Shall we go in and make ourselves at home?”

The Joker removed his arm from around Harley’s neck and began examining the immediate area with shifty eyes. In a dangerous tone, he replied, “Knowing the Bat, he’s probably found a way to track us even here. Best you keep him distracted while I go in and set everything up.”

“Can do, Puddin’.”

The moment she was alone, Harley made her way to the next street over (by the Tricorner Naval building) in order to lure Batman in the wrong direction. Once there, she dropped the utility vest she was wearing, unbuttoned her shirt to expose her cleavage, removed the perfume bottle from inside her asylum-issued bra and kept it close to her bosom. Knowing Batman, he would mysteriously appear behind her, which would barely allow her enough time to apply the toxin. He didn’t disappoint.

“Tell me where he is,” a growling voice angrily spoke.

Harley quickly sprayed the pheromone cologne before subtly pocketing it and turning around. Batman stood ten feet away from her, ever glowering as usual. “Couldn’t say.”

“You’re lying.” He closed the gap between them halfway. “I won’t say it again.”

Harley smirked. “It’s good you won’t call me a liar anymore; it shows that you’re learning.” Batman only stared at her. “You think I’m hiding him, bat-brain? Where?” She opened her shirt the rest of the way and opened the flaps. “In here, perhaps?” She dropped the shirt and ditched her bra before turning her body slightly, causing her voluptuous tits to sway. “Wha’ do ya think, B-man?”

He never averted his gaze. “I’ve seen them before.”

“Yipes!” She kicked off her boots; Harley always kept any boot she wore loose since they always felt restrictive to her. “Does the walking ice box know you’re wearing his suit?” Harley seductively walked toward Batman, closing the gap between them fully.

“You’re trying to distract me. It won’t work; Ivy’s not here this time.”

Harley slowly ran her hands down her breasts. “I’m not here to distract you, bat-breath. I just wanna have some fun; that’s all.” Batman felt his body temperature rise and his pulse start to quicken. “Being behind those cold bars all this time has been very frustrating.”

Batman took a step back. “I’ve felt these effects before.”

Harley gave a childish giggle. “I know; I’m pretty hot stuff. Remember the fun we had last time? Let’s have it again.” She began to walk backwards toward the gate.

For Batman, Harley’s scent was so enveloping that he found himself following her. His mind began to fog up. He resisted, despite the blood already being diverted to his groin. “Last chance.”

Harley dropped her pants and kicked them aside, exposing the rest of her luscious body. She now stood before him wearing only thick woolen white socks and fingerless black gloves. “Come on, B-man. You’re Batcycle is right here.” She placed her back against the bars of the gate. Batman was directly in front of her. She reached over and pulled on his trunks; he didn’t resist. When she got them down, she found the invisible seam and pulled his leggings apart, exposing his monstrous cock; it was a quarter erect. Harley removed one of her gloves and began stroking his member.

Batman still didn’t fight back. His resistance was faltering. However, even though he was physically incapable of backing off, he still managed to say, “We’re not doing this again.”

Harley kept stroking him as she stood on her tip toes and placed her mouth near his. “Yeah we are.” She gazed into his eyes seductively, sultrily. “I wasn’t very good to ya last time; I want to make up for it.” She kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth. His tongue immediately shot into her mouth, and as they danced together he quickly became fully hard in her hand.

“Mmmm,” she moaned into his head. Breaking the kiss, she knelt down onto her haunches, being careful not to bump her ass against the gate. She grabbed Batman’s fat cock with the palms of both hands and kissed the sensitive area below the head. The clown then looked up sexily and continued, “It’s just as beautiful as I remember.”

Harley’s blue eyes were a pool that Batman found himself diving into again. He couldn’t resist her and he no longer wanted to. But before he gave up completely, he asked, “What did Ivy give you?”

Harley licked the entire underside of his shaft and wiggled the tip of her tongue on his glans. “You’re the detective; you tell me.” She gave his cock head some kisses before grabbing the base of his dick with one hand and smacking his cock on her face a few times. She squeaked a few moans as she did so, causing Batman’s blood to start boiling.

He grabbed her shoulders and stood her up before slamming her against the gate. Harley let out a laugh and Batman began to attack her tits. He placed one breast in his mouth while holding the other, manipulating her nipples with his tongue and fingers. Harley had a great big smile on her face as she said, “Ooooooo, mamma likes!” She grabbed the back of his head and held on as shocks of electricity shot through her body.

Batman’s ravage onslaught on her bosom lasted a good ten minutes; it was as if he was trying to make her cum through mammary manipulation alone. She showed her support by using her free hand to claw away at the cape on his back and making the occasional noise. All too soon, however, his assault ended.

“Grab the gate,” he ordered. Harley dropped her hands to her side and held on to the bars by her hips. “Higher,” he demanded. Harley’s smokey eyes contemplated the man before her as she reached over her head and held on. Batman then placed his hands on either side of her rib cage, gave her right nipple one last kiss, and then slid his hands down her side, grabbed her ass, and lifted her off the ground. Harley immediately wrapped her legs around his waist as he brought his cock into position.

“Do it, B-man!” she encouraged throatily. “Give me some hot, sexy sex!” She smacked her pussy as hard as she could.

Batman stared at her. “There’s no way you took any pleasure from that.”

“None at all,” she agreed, but never broke eye contact.

Batman paused, then thrust his pelvis forward, forcing himself all the way inside of her. Harley let out a guttural moan as more of her juices made their way to her snatch. Batman’s motions were hard and it took most of her strength to keep from having her head banging against the gate, but the effort was well worth it. Once again she was getting feelings at a depth that only the Dark Knight had ever reached which caused an unknown sensation to permeate her body. It was followed shortly thereafter by another electrical shock as a slippery gloved thumb ran circles around her clit.

With each passing minute, she was getting closer to the edge. Harley’s stomach muscles loosened and then tightened back up, preparing to take the plunge. When she reached the precipice, however, Batman ended her clitoral stimulation and removed his dick completely from her pussy. Harley gave him a foggy, confused, and desperate look as she asked, “Why did you stop?” Batman smiled. “You are such a bastard!” she continued and then immediately felt herself get filled up again. Batman once again brought her to the point of no return and this time gave her permission to jump. Harley’s orgasm rocked her body, causing her to visibly shake, and when it was over Batman shot his load into her. She didn’t bother to count this time, as her mind began to drift off and her muscles started to slack.

When Batman felt Harley’s grip on him loosen, he quickly moved his hands to grab her back before she could fall. He then gently lowered her to the ground before extracting himself and standing there, watching as Harley slowly calmed down. With a blissful smile on her face, Harley got to her feet and staggered over to her clothes, most of which lied underneath the nearest lamppost. “That was some fun, B-man. We should do it again some time.”

Without a word, Batman grabbed his grapnel and made his way to the top of the lamppost. Harley paid him no attention, thinking that he was merely leaving, but got the surprise of her life when she felt the cord of his grapnel wrap itself around her left ankle. Batman then jumped backward off of the post and, as he hit the ground, Harley found herself being hanged upside down. Attaching the grapnel to his utility belt, Batman said, “We’re not done yet.”

Harley looked directly ahead of her and found Batman’s still rock hard cock in her face. Before she knew what was happening, the Dark Knight placed his mouth over her pussy and went to town. Harley’s eyes widened as she asked, “Hey! Don’t cha know you’re cum is still—” Realization dawned in her mind and an excited smile crossed her face. “Oh Bats, I never knew you were kinky!” His only response was to place his hand on the back of her head and force her on himself. Harley took the cue and began to give him a blowjob.

With each passing second, blood rushed to her head, which made her cunt more sensitive. She found it difficult to keep sucking him off, but she carried on like the little trooper the Joker always called her whenever she was rebounding from one of her many mistakes. It was usually followed by a slap to the face and an angry rant, but she was always able to find comfort in knowing that he was able to look past her mistakes and see the struggle to improve herself she made. It was just like him to be forgiving, even before doling out her well-deserved punishment. That was her Joker: always looking out for her.

Harley’s pole smoking started to falter. Her heart felt heavy as she finally realized how big the impact would be if Joker ever found out that she was fucking the enemy…now again. She almost quit entirely, but the pleasures of her flesh soon found their way back into her brain and she went back to what she was doing, deciding to figure out how to justify it later.

The altogether new sensations she was having took over her mind entirely and she once again found herself on the brink. She sucked on Batman’s cock as hard as she could and, inexplicably, they came together. Harley started to feel lightheaded and began seeing stars before she eventually passed out.

Batman removed the grapnel from his belt and gently lowered Harley to the ground. When he put the tool back in its place, he walked over to the clown’s pants and riffled through the right pocket. He then pulled out the tiny perfume bottle and gave it a quick examination before pouching it. It was a good thing that he was putting the finishing touches on his biometric-embedded costumes; he had a suspicion he was going to need them.

Harley stirred behind him but he didn’t bother to turn around. Instead he went for his grapnel again in order to leave. “Where ya goin’, B-man? We’re still not finished!”

She crawled over to the pants, Batman’s cum streaming down her face, and reached into the left pocket, pulling out a whoopee cushion. “What’s that for?” he asked.

Harley gave a weak smile and answered, “You’re about ta find out.”

* * *

After a third round, Batman made a stealthy retreat and Harley ever so slowly redressed. When she was able to stand and walk again, she picked up the whoopee cushion and examined the sizeable hole in it with a wicked, tooth-baring grin before moving over to the edge of the road and tossing it into the water below. “Gonna need another one of those,” she noted.

Before moving on, she ran her hands all over her clothing in search of what she knew must be there. A minute or two later she found it: a tiny black bat with a silently blinking red light at its center. “Not this time, bat-brain,” Harley quipped. The tracking device immediately joined the whoopee cushion.

She then made her way into the steel mill and eventually found the Joker in the manager’s office, busy laboring away at some sort of gas mask that had been pulled out of a box that sat at his feet. “Oh balderdash,” she heard him mumble under his breath.

She announced her presence by saying, “I don’t think you have to worry about the Bat, Mista Jay; he hasn’t shown up yet.”

The Joker looked up from his work and replied, “What do you mean, toots? I just left you not two minutes ago.” Harley felt both relief and spurn; he hadn’t even noticed she was gone that long. Things for him were worse than she thought, but she had no time to dwell upon it. The Joker approached her predatorily and continued menacingly, “Didn’t I tell you to wait outside and distract Batman?”

It was punishment time again. Harley decided to not speak up; her being physically hurt was better than him being emotionally scarred. He was always there to protect her—it was only right that she return the sentiment.

SECTION TWO: ORACLE
GOTHAM CITY, SIX MONTHS LATER

The dirty dishes clattered as they were placed in the sink. To Barbara, the Clock Tower apartment was abuzz with an electrical hum. She knew that it was in her head and she normally didn’t hear it, but tonight was going to be one of the biggest nights of her career.

With civic tension abated entirely over the Arkham City project, due in no small part to a staged coup involving violent criminals roaming the streets of Gotham and the successful intervention of the privately-sanctioned Tyger guards to round them all up, the people of the city had been well manipulated into believing that Arkham City was a necessity. In order to derail a citywide war, Bruce took it upon himself to organize a peaceful protest as his socialite alter ego outside Arkham City’s walls with full press attendance, which he was currently on his way to stage. Being Batman, of course, he had his latest costume placed in a deployable pod with various gadgets selected ahead of time.

As Barbara wheeled herself around the contoured bookcase to reach the center of the room, she heard something heavy hit the floor nearby. It was a noise she heard plenty of times before. It was made near the secret ceiling entrance that only three people had access to…and only one of them didn’t bother with stealth.

“Hey Tim,” she said as she rounded the corner.

“Hey Barb,” he replied. He stood there in full costume, even though Batman had already told him that his help wouldn’t be needed.

“About to go on patrol?”

“May as well; it’s not like I have anything better to do.” He met Barbara in the middle of the room, grabbed her face, and kissed her. “I’m beginning to see why Nightwing left; I often get the impression the wrong person was named Richard.” Barbara laughed. Tim smiled. “I love hearing that.”

Barbara made her way to the bust of Shakespeare that rested on the bookshelf she had emerged from behind. “Well, I’m about to get set up.”

“Why? It’s Alfred’s night.”

“Because only the Clock Tower is equipped to monitor his suit’s biometric system right now since the Batcave is still undergoing hardware upgrades. If he finds himself on the inside, then he’ll be dealing with not only Poison Ivy’s mind-control pheromones but whatever concoction she gave Harley Quinn six month ago as well.”

“I thought he got it all.”

“That night, sure, but we don’t know if Ivy gave her any more after that.” As she moved to take out her long reach grabber, Tim extended his hand to the Shakespeare bust and quickly withdrew it. Barbara gave him a knowing look and said, “Chivalrous as ever, I see.” She waved to it. “All right. Just this once.” Tim pushed back the bust’s head and stepped aside so the retinal scanner could pick up on Barbara.

“Identity confirmed,” the computer announced and then the Watch Tower station was brought online.

She positioned herself in front of the keyboard that rose from the floor, but before she could get started she felt Tim’s hand on her shoulder. “You know, you don’t have to do this right now; he’s not even suited up.”

She looked at his hand, knowing full well where this was going. “Not tonight, Tim.”

“You always say that. And I always say this. And you always say that. And back and forth and back and forth. Why do I always have to fight you to do something normal?” He stepped over to her side.

“Tim…”

“I know you need this, Barb, and you know it’s true for me, too. Now, we can either continue to have our thrilling half hour debate where you pretend you’re not interested before finally letting me in or we can go straight to taking care of each other. Personally, I prefer the latter; it’s less work on my part and it lets you get back to work earlier.”

Barbara gave him an irritated look. “Or I could just shoot you down.”

He crossed his arms against his chest. “Yeah, you could do that, too.”

The staring contest was off and the battle of wills began, but she wasn’t in the mood to entertain it. With her elbow on the armrest, she brought her head down and rested it on her fingertips, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. When she sat back up, she looked into Tim’s eyes and said, “Get your cock in me, stud muffin.”

With lightning reflexes, Robin scooped up Oracle into his arms and gave her a deep, passionate kiss; the hunger between them was visceral. Without needing to open his eyes, Tim guided them over to the couch and placed the both of them on it with himself on top. Barbra clung to his back tightly as they continued their tonsil strikes. When he grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged it up, however, she placed a hand on his. He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. She said, “You first.”

Bolting to the floor, his hood and cape were the first to go, followed by his gloved gauntlets and utility belt. The rest of his costume followed in short succession and he was left standing there in his socks and mask. Barbara ran her hungry eyes over Tim’s chiseled body as he undressed, lightly caressing her breasts over her clothes as she did so. When Tim moved back to the couch and attempted to raise her shirt again, she offered no resistance.

The Joker’s entry wound scar was the first bit of skin to be exposed. A sunken pit of flesh below her navel acted as a monument to the Clown Prince of Crime’s handiwork. Tim didn’t give it a second thought as he removed his girlfriend’s shirt and kissed her cleavage as he reached around and unhooked her bra which immediately found itself on top of the discarded shirt. As he gently kissed her nipples, Tim unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts. He then tugged both her shorts and underwear down together in order to remove them. The shorts caught a little on her shoes but he was able to remove them with an additional tug. Her panties, however, became entangled, causing him to remove them in great frustration. It was worth it, though, because now he had Barbara just as he wanted her.

Pushing one leg off of the couch, he kissed her thigh and made his way up her leg as slowly as his passion would allow him to. He skipped over her full bush entirely and moved down to the other thigh and making his way back up. With great urgency, he then kissed and licked around her pussy, making the circles smaller, until finally he had a face full of fur pie. He took her pussy into his mouth and licked it while sucking on it. In response, Barbara placed her hands on his head to hold him in position.

Contrary to popular belief, being paraplegic—or even quadriplegic—didn’t mean your nervous system was shut down in the areas you couldn’t move. The intensity of sensation varied from person to person, but most cripples continue to have rich and fulfilling sex lives, especially since sex is more cerebral than it is physical. Barbara was fortunate since she still had about 80% capacity left for being touched. It made having orgasms harder, but since she rarely had sex anyway, Tim was able to work wonders with her body and had no problem with getting her off.

Oracle suddenly felt Robin’s lips on her neck and his hands on her ample breasts. She wrapped her arms around his back and cuddled his head with her hands as he prepared to mount her. Knowing her body so well, Tim was able to penetrate her without the need to look first and when he did Barbara’s body heated up with great fierceness. As he pumped away inside of her she asked him to bring her leg in. He did so without relinquishing his kisses to her neck. The pleasure for her became greater and she started to moan lightly near his ear.

Oracle heard his labored breathing as he continued his performance. Tim was skilled enough to keep his nose free of her flesh, but it was clear that his animal instincts had taken over as his nose was buried in her neck and he refused to come up for air. About fifteen minutes later, however, biology won out and he gave up his kisses entirely.

As they moaned into each other’s ears, Barbara told him to drop her leg. When her foot hit the floor and her leg opened wider, more pleasure reached her and she felt her insides swell up even further. She soon found herself kissing his neck and cheek as she was brought ever closer to relief. Unfortunately, given her condition, it took another half hour before she could feel it, but when it came it was as if a wave of cool water was tiding over her body. “Oh Tiiiiiim!” she whispered into his ear. Though her toes couldn’t curl anymore, her fingers made up for them.

Robin kept pumping away at her until she pushed him off. As he stood up, completely out of breath, she asked, “How have you not cum yet?” She looked down at his throbbing member and found her answer: at the base of his shaft was a cock ring.

“It was your turn to cum first,” he responded.

“Where did it even come from?”

“I snuck it between the cushions one day.”

Keeping her eyes on his dick, she said, “Take it off.”

He hastily removed it, saying, “You don’t have to tell me twice!” It hit the floor and he sat on the couch by her hip. “Ready for round two?”

After uttering a closed mouth moan, she replied, “Not yet.”

To pass the time, Tim reached down and ran his hands inside her pubic hair. The jungle between her legs felt as soft as down; it told him that she had bathed before dinner. Barbara gazed sleepily at his manipulation and said, “Maybe I should trim it down a little; get a landing stripe or something.”

Robin replied, “Do whatever makes you feel happy, but I like it as it is. Only little girls have no hair on their lips and you are definitely a woman.” The post-coital smile that crossed her face from what he said was so wide her eyes closed.

Ten minutes later she was gingerly stroking his arm when she announced, “I’m ready. You’ve shown me lust already; now show me love.”

Tim smiled and replied, “Your wish is my command.”

Every move he made was slow and methodical. His penis had calmed down plenty during the wait, but it eventually found its way back to being fully erect. When he made love to her, the world disappeared and it was just the two of them. Barbara wanted to stay in that moment forever, but just like most other worlds created by the mind, it was temporary and ended much too soon. When she felt his load fill her up, she slowly came down from the clouds and disappointingly found herself back on Earth.

Tim helped her to dress and returned Barbara to her wheelchair. As he redonned his costume, he heard Oracle typing away on the keyboard and say, “He’s got what? How’d he get TITAN off of Arkham Island? What’s going on here? Your suit’s bio readings are spiking.” He joined her at the station, standing behind her. She continued after listening to the conversation, “But—” and removed her earpiece a few seconds later.

Tim placed both hands on her shoulders. “Don’t kick yourself. Life happens all the time; that’s why you’ve got to take advantage while you still have it.”

She crossed her free arm over her body and grabbed Tim’s opposite hand. Barbara then turned her head to face him and replied, “Don’t worry about me; I’m not going to regret this anymore.”

“Good.” He leaned in and gave her one last kiss. “I’ll be on patrol if you or Alfred need me.”

Barbara’s eyes widened. “Alfred, right!” She put the headset back in her ear. “Yes, Alfred. Sorry about that. Tim’s here and we were finishing our conversation before he left for patrol. You were saying?”

SECTION THREE: CATWOMAN AND POISON IVY
ARKHAM CITY, EARLIER THAT NIGHT

“Look, Red, I just need your help!”

“Never.”

Unaware of what was happening, a vine worked its way around Selena’s ankle and strung her up before working its way around her lower body and stomach. “Not again,” Catwoman said and crossed her arms.

Ivy approached her and accused, “You’ve got some nerve, Selena,” while silently commanding a thorny vine to reach out to her prey. To most people the vine slithering in the air would have appeared intimidating—indeed, Catwoman found herself involuntarily flinching at one point when it got a little too close—but Selena knew who she was dealing with.

Keeping her tone lighthearted, she said, “Pammy, you animal! I had no idea you were into hentai.”

Ivy completed her approach; Catwoman had been strung up to where their heads were at the same height. “Is that some sort of abnormal growth? And I am no animal.”

“Well you’re certainly not all plant, no matter how much you pretend to be.”

Ivy didn’t appear amused. “You’re preposterous.”

Selena gave her friend a cattish smile. “Oh really? You forget that the walls of the apartment we used to share weren’t exactly soundproof. I could hear you and Harley going at it all night long; it sounded hot.”

The thorny vine appeared in front of her face and undulated in a hypnotic circle. Poison Ivy’s face was partially blocked from her view because of it, but Catwoman was still able to keep eye contact with her. “Is this going somewhere?”

Ivy’s patience was wearing thin, so Selena decided to get to the point. “You’re so tense, Red. When’s the last time Harl took care of you? She’s been so preoccupied with the Joker lately that I’m willing to bet it’s been a while.”

Ivy’s eyes narrowed, causing her irises to appear as if they were burning. “And?”

“You know where I’m going with this.” The movement of the vine intensified.

“You think you’re good at eating pussy?”

“Of course; I am a pussy.” The vine suddenly whipped out of the way. When it happened, Selena knew she had Ivy right where she wanted her. It was a good thing, too, because the blood rushing to her head was getting pretty bad.

Ivy got face-to-face with Catwoman. “How cute. Understand this: If you can’t satisfy me, I’ll kill you.”

The next thing Selena knew her arms were protecting her head as she fell face first to the floor, the vine holding her up having suddenly let go. It wasn’t her most graceful landing, but she compensated by seductively getting up and brushing some of the dirt off of her. “I’ll be a good little kitty; I promise.” She leaned in and teasingly brushed the air in front of Ivy’s lips with her own as she unbuttoned Pamela’s shirt. “Does that chair of leaves also make for a good bed?” Selena removed the shirt and dropped it to the floor, exposing Ivy’s bare breasts.

Ivy returned the gesture by pulling down the zipper on Selena’s catsuit. “Come with me and you’ll find out.”

“Meow,” Catwoman replied as she removed her gloves. She then removed her boots as quickly as she could and started to wiggle out of her catsuit.

Pamela watched as Selena jutted her shoulders about in an attempt to dislodge herself from the latex outfit and shook her head. “You always make this more complicated than it needs to be.” She walked behind Catwoman and grabbed the suit’s collar.

As Ivy helped Catwoman out of her clothes, Selena replied, “You should see what I do to get into it.”

“I have.”

She looked over her shoulder to face Ivy. “Oh really? Spying on me with your plants, are you?”

Pamela had an impish smile. “Maybe a little.”

Selena gave Ivy’s face the once over. “Then maybe I’ll pick up a few rhododendrons for my bed and bath tomorrow.”

The catsuit was now down to her waist, allowing Selena to remove her arms from the sleeves. Ivy knelt down to help get the suit over Selena’s hips and pulled them down together with Catwoman’s French-cut panties. She then kissed Selena’s ass cheek, taking the cat lady by surprise.

When Selena stepped out of the costume she was left wearing thick white socks, her headgear, and cat head choker. As Ivy stood back up, giving Catwoman’s body an approving gaze, Selena asked, “Shall I?”

Ivy answered, “The hat, too…You’ll be glad you did.”

Catwoman undid her chinstrap, removed her cap, and laid it on the floor, careful not to scratch or break the goggles that were attached. “Much better,” Ivy said, running her hands through Selena’s short-cropped black hair.

“I feel almost naked without it.”

“You’re not Catwoman to me.”

Ivy slowly walked backwards until the vines behind her caught up to her body and picked her up. They brought her to the back of the room while Selena crossed the gap on foot, avoiding all of the unconscious henchmen she just got done fighting off. Within the cubbyhole, the leaves and vines that made up Ivy’s chair rearranged themselves into a mattress-like surface and she was placed upon it on her back. Selena, on the other hand, had to climb up.

When they were both on the perch, Catwoman saw that Ivy was already lying down and had her legs spread: one leg fully extended with the other one bent at the knee. She also saw that Ivy’s underwear—if it was indeed underwear—had already been removed, leaving the flower between her legs fully exposed.

Selena was mesmerized by it. She had never seen Ivy fully naked before and from what she could tell, she had been missing out. Just like the majority of her body, Ivy’s pussy was completely hairless and was made up of large, thick lips that were engorged with blood and a much darker shade of green than the rest of her body. Her vagina was the very definition of the term “camel toe” and on her it looked perfect.

“Oh Pammy,” she said as she crawled the two feet necessary to reach between Ivy’s legs. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Hurry; I need this now. And don’t forget I’m evaluating you.”

Catwoman looked up at her, but Ivy’s eyes were already closed. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, and took the plunge.

Given Ivy’s condition, Selena didn’t bother with foreplay. Instead she took Pamela’s entire pussy into her mouth and shot her tongue deep inside. Ivy made some noises of relief as Catwoman lapped away at the insides of the plant lady’s folds and purred. She closed her own eyes as she enjoyed the taste of Pamela’s nether region. Ivy didn’t respond very often, since she was engrossed in the wave of pleasure Selena was sending her on, but she did manage to utter an occasional moan or two.

The longer Selena ate her out the hotter the room became. Ever since Ivy’s take over, the building apparently became less of the hotel it used to be and more like a greenhouse; Catwoman was covered in sweat after the first few minutes of action, but she didn’t care. Ivy was one of the best tasting women she had ever come across—granted, that wasn’t very many, but it still counted for something.

Time slipped away from her as she continued her feast. Eventually Selena switched things up by shoving two fingers into Ivy’s pussy and concentrating her mouth on the green-tinted woman’s clit. Ivy’s breath became erratic and she placed her hands on Selena’s head to force her down.

As Catwoman tried even harder to please her current fuck buddy, her eyes bulged out when she felt something trying to penetrate her. She immediately knew what it was without looking: one of the vines was being controlled by Pamela to penetrate the woman eating her out. Selena inwardly smiled; she knew Ivy was loving all of her manipulations.

As the vine pumped away within her she continued her work on Poison Ivy, but was startled once again when she felt tow more vines reach out and caress her breasts. Unlike the others, these were covered in some sort of slime which made her feel very good. Did they contain an aphrodisiac? Probably. Given how horny she was feeling, though, Selena didn’t give it any further thought, especially since thinking was becoming harder and harder to do.

Ivy’s body writhed in pleasure, demanding more. Even though her plants were taking care of Selena’s needs, they knew to stay away from Ivy herself. Normally she allowed their touches, but since she was putting Selena to the test, they knew to leave her alone. Her breath staggered as Selena brought her to her crescendo, curling her fingers within Ivy’s pussy to stroke her G-spot. She let out the occasional moan with a hard exhale as the pit of her stomach swelled up. The dam was full; it was now time to open the flood gates.

With a most unladylike guttural scream Ivy orgasmed hard, her cum squirting all over Selena’s face. The squirts came multiple times and the cat lady feared that she might die from drowning. Meanwhile her own pussy was reaching its pique. The plant inside her made her feel wonderful; Selena found herself ready to explode.

That was when the plant that was pistoning inside of her completely removed itself. Catwoman immediately shot a hand to her pussy and rubbed it furiously. “I need to cum, Pammy!” she cried.

“You will! Scissor me!”

The remaining vines removed themselves from her tits and Selena quickly brought herself into position, shooting one leg out under Pamela’s crooked one and placing her other leg on top of Ivy’s extended appendage. Ivy looked down to watch their pussies join together and noticed that Selena kept her black hair shaven, except for two triangular areas atop her pussy lips that looked like cat ears. Although the sight amused her, Ivy’s attention soon returned to the sexual act on hand.

They each grabbed the other’s propped leg and ground their crotches against each other as hard as they could. The slippery friction felt fantastic against their swollen labia. Selena loved the sensations she was getting—while the vine felt great as it stretched her out, there was nothing that could beat real human contact. Sweat continued to pour down her face as she once again reached the pinnacle of sexual pleasure. This time she came hard, her stomach muscles clamping down, causing her to lean forward, before releasing and throwing her back.

Forced to let go of Ivy’s leg, Selena nonetheless kept up physical contact by raising her ass into the air and writhing it against Poison Ivy. The sensations Ivy was able to make her feel were incredibly intense and she soon found herself unable to think as she worked herself toward a second orgasm. It built up within her, fogging her mind to the world around her. The pleasure was all that mattered.

But then her mind immediately snapped out of her sexual haze when she heard Ivy call out, “Oooooooooooooooh Harleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!”

Selena’s opened her eyes wide in both surprise and disbelief and saw Ivy having her second cum, which drenched both of them in her fluids. Finally Ivy collapsed onto the plants beneath her and Selena spoke in offense, “Are you fucking serious, Red?”

Without waiting for a response, she wiped Ivy’s cum off of her face, rolled over the edge, landing on somewhat unstable legs, and made her way back to her clothes to put them on. Whether it was out of sweat or adrenaline, Selena found it quite easy to slip her catsuit back on.

“Sorry, Selena,” Ivy replied. “But Harley’s a great lover and you matched her. You should take that as a compliment.”

The boots were easy to slip into and quickly tie up. “I’ll keep that in mind for round two when I’m fantasizing about Batman’s cock while you plant penetrates me.”

“Come now; it’s not that serious. Least you forget, I did a number on you, too.”

The gloves and finally the cap; she was now back to being fully dressed. “I’ve had better; Zatanna was able to make me cum without touching me.”

Catwoman realized too late that that was the wrong thing to say. As quick as greased lightning, the vine that had suspended her upside down before was doing so again. “Bitch,” she heard Ivy spit out. The green-tinted woman had used her vines to reach back down to the floor and was beginning to dress again…with what little clothing she had. “I should have expected nothing less from a murderer!”

Catwoman rolled her eyes; it looked like it was back to business. “Are we not done yet, Ivy? I told you that thing with the flowers wasn’t my fault. I know it, you know it.”

Poison Ivy approached her. “You should have watered them. You said you would water them. Now there’s one left and Strange has it sealed in his vault.”

“Well in that case, I think we can strike a deal. I need a way into his vault and I think you’re just the girl to help. If you get me in there, I’ll get your plant. Deal?”

“I should kill you.” Selena was thinking the same thing about her. Thankfully, she had been quick witted enough to use the plant as leverage or Ivy wouldn’t hesitate to follow through on her threat. “Fine!” she projected and Selena once again felt herself fall immediately to the floor.

As she stood up, she asked, “No kiss? I’m kind of disappointed.” She walked away before the taunt could change Ivy’s mind.

“OUT! NOW!” shouted Ivy. When Selena left the building, Pamela touched her lips with her fingers and followed up with, “Only one fleshy sack gets to touch these lips!”

SECTION FOUR: HARLEY QUINN’S REVENGE
ARKHAM CITY, TWO WEEKS LATER

“Put ‘im in the middle of the room!” Harley ordered. Two of her goons dragged a well beaten pig into the central room of the shipyard, her new secret base, and tied him to a chair. “The rest of you idiots patrol the room. Batman will be here any minute and I want everyone ready when he does.” She held up the flair gun she was carrying around. “The Bat Killer is begging ta be used!”

As her orders were being carried out, she walked across the room, through the opposite door, and made her way to the Joker’s shrine room. Her heart nearly stopped beating when she looked at the statue she had made in his honor. The loss was still too recent, the pain unbearable. But now was not the time for dwelling.

Behind the control panel to the effigy was a small pond, for lack of a better word; she couldn’t be bothered to figure out what it was called. Along the edge of the pond were her instruments of choice: a gas mask, two tattoo guns (one with red ink, the other with black), a wiping cloth, and a cigar she had procured from the Penguin.

She got lucky with the gas mask. After her Joker used it to knock out Batman so he could get to work setting up the IV, Harley figured that all of the gas had been used up. Fortunately she found another canister when rummaging through the drawers of the desk in the manager’s office and soon she was going to put it to good use.

Harley thought back to that night to mentally prepare herself. It was the night that changed her life forever.

* * *

Over the course of the six months after she and the Joker had made their base in Arkham City, the Joker’s condition worsened. He soon became so obsessed with his master plan that he paid Harley little attention until he eventually stopped giving her any at all—not even the tattoos she had inked onto her caught his notice. She didn’t matter at the moment; her Puddin’ was dying and he wanted to go out with one last laugh. In the end, it was a good thing he paid her less and less attention, because she was the bearer of bittersweet news: she had become pregnant.

Harley was one of the fortunate few who could carry a pregnancy to full term and never show it, not that Joker would have noticed anyway; he never once acknowledged her absence when she suffered the occasional morning sickness. Explaining her odd behavior was one less thing she had to worry about, and it was a good thing, too, because she had a bigger issue to deal with: who the father was.

The night of her conception was when they had entered Arkham City that first night. Yes, she had her tryst with Batman, but he wasn’t the only guy who fucked her that evening. The finale of her punishment for not staying out late enough involved her Joker raping her. He called her all kinds of nasty names, told her what a worthless piece of gutter trash she was, and told her all the ways she would deserve to be sexually violated if she ever disobeyed another one of his orders…all while pumping her full of his cock and jizz.

When she realized her pregnancy, Harley set about performing a prenatal paternity test, confident on whom the father was. She snuck a sample of the Joker’s fingernail clippings one day and was off the next to visit a doctor she had connected with, through the Broker, who would perform the test with no questions asked…so long as there was a gym bag full of money sitting on his counter.

She had left and returned on one of the days when her Puddin’ was paying her no mind at all, so naturally he had suspected nothing was amiss with her. When the results reached her weeks later through an expendable courier, she ripped open the envelope, confident in the outcome.

The results came back negative. Joker wasn’t the father of her child.

Harley was in shock for the rest of the day. By that point the Joker had even stopped clamoring for food, he was so obsessed with his grand plan. She made her way to the funhouse and looked behind an upturned bumper car to find the crib she had smuggled in. It occupied her field of vision for hours.

Over the next few weeks, she tossed various ideas in her mind. The Joker wasn’t going to die—he’d pull something out of his ass at the last minute and he’d be cured just fine. In fact, he was already in talks with Mr. Freeze to get started working on a cure. Her Mista Jay was going to survive, and when the Bat was dead by plan’s end she was going to tell him about her happy surprise: the Joker, Jr. she had in her oven.

If, however, the unthinkable happened and the Joker did die, then she would find a way to come clean with B-man. Regardless, she found herself walking about the steel mill on air and found it hilarious that she was carrying Batman’s love child. Her spirits were raised higher than she could ever remember them being. Even though the Joker drew closer to death with each passing day, she was happy.

In one of her more exceptionally cheerful moments, she figured out a fun way to tell Batman about her pregnancy. The old costume she wore when the Joker had taken over the asylum rested in the manager’s office. Harley knew Batman would be coming around sooner or later, so she left the pregnancy test she had taken at the foot of the mannequin for him to find—the Joker was so obsessed that he never noticed.

Unfortunately, for every happy moment there was a tragic one. Batman had arrived on the big night, just as Joker knew he would, and everything went according to plan. There was a slight snare when she was tied up by some lady she didn’t know, but Harley was able to eventually free herself and make it to the theater in time to see her Mista Jay walk out cured and with the Batman’s head on a lance. Triumphant.

But it didn’t happen that way. When she saw Batman carrying the corpse of the only man who ever loved her, something within her snapped as her heart shattered. She numbly made her way back to the steel mill, ignoring everyone who spoke to her along the way, and retreated to her personal office, which was in a back room that had a crane in it.

She sat there for what felt like months, but was probably only a few hours. Chaotic thoughts swirled through her mind—thoughts she had no control over and, at times, didn’t even know what they were. The room spun, she had a massive headache, but she was saved by a purifying idea that her thoughts eventually congealed into.

Since the Batman killed the only gift he ever gave her, she was going to return the favor. Then she would let him know who was boss.

Opening one of the lockers in her office, she pulled out a brand new outfit that she had yet to wear and removed it from its wire hangar. Tossing the clothes to the floor, she straightened out the hangar, placed it on the table, and removed her pants and underwear. She then sat down in the chair, grabbed the hangar, spread her legs, and went to work.

* * *

Harley couldn’t remember much more after that. She recalled going to Ivy’s lair and asking her to pee into a cup, not wanting to explain why. She couldn’t remember how Ivy took the request, but Harley made her way back to the steel mill during the early morning with a full cup in hand, using the urine to sabotage the remainder of her paternity tests. The Clown Princess then set about to strew the test results about the crib she had brought into the manager’s office, daring Batman to not get the message.

Next she tore through the office, looking for just anything. The only objects of interest she found were the gas mask, an unused canister of knock out gas, and a Joker-painted Scarface doll that her Puddin’ had somehow smuggled off of Arkham Island. When she knew the mask was still good to use, a devious plan formed in her mind. As she mulled over it, she took the Scarface doll and placed it in the crib with everything else, giving it a flair of dramatic emphasis. She knew Batman would appreciate that.

When she heard the cops come, though, she got herself as far away from the manager’s office as she could and was caught trying to leave through the front gate of the building itself. It wasn’t too smart, but it bought her some time. They sent her to Blackgate, where she used her connections to procure the items she needed to finish her plan.

Harley eventually broke out, gathered her materials, and set up shop in the shipyard behind Sionis Industries. The cops would come, the henchmen that had remained in Arkham City would swear allegiance to her and kidnap the cops, and then Batman would arrive to save the day.

And she would be ready for him.

One of her goons informed her that the secret entrance had been opened. She gave the guys with the keycards express orders not to return tonight, so there was only one person it could possibly be. She continued with her plan, knowing the Bat would take the shot from her Bat Killer, and had his body dragged to the shrine room.

“Leave us,” she ordered.

One of the goons eyed her uncertainly. “Uh, but don’t you want us to get him in the statue while he’s still unconscious?”

She looked at him coldly. “Don’t worry; he won’t be waking up for a while. Come back in three hours; he’ll be ready for ya then.”

The moment it was just her and Batman in the room, Harley went for the mask and gassed the unconscious crusader. If the potency indicator on the canister was correct, the Batman wouldn’t be coming around for a good while, which gave her ample opportunity to carry out her plan.

She then picked up the cigar and rolled it around in her fingers before grabbing a cigar cutter from the control panel and nipping the tip. The panel also held a box of sulfur free matches. Harley lit one and used it to completely burn the head. As she waited, she said, “You know what this is, B-man? It’s called a Gran Habano and it’s one of the rarest cigars in the world. This one big brown dick set me back $200 grand; got if offa Pengy…I’ve been saving it just for you.”

She tilted the cigar at a 45 degree angle and slowly rolled the tip over the flame before lifting her veil and bringing both the cigar and match to her face. After her initial puff, she made slow, even draws as she rotated the cigar, still above the flame, between puffs. The flame then went out on her and she lit another match, continuing the process of puffing and rotating until she eventually used a puff of smoke to blow out the match.

“Have you seen the way fish breath lights ‘em? He uses a fucking lighter and just sucks on it! For someone who considers himself an aristocrat, he sure does know jack shit about living the lifestyle. And people think I’m stupid!”

With the cigar now lit in her mouth, she move to Batman’s body and tugged on his trunks. It took her great effort (and plenty of falls to the floor), but she managed to get them removed and then she started working his leggings. The legs split at the seam that ran down the back of his legs, but she was able to run the split to the pelvis and open up the crotch, where Batman’s limp, but fully extended nine-inch cock greeted her.

Harley then proceeded to undress herself. As she did, she continued, “I have big plans for ya, bat-brain—plans that involve us attaining eternal peace. But, should you survive, since you have a knack for it, I want you to walk away from this experience knowing one thing: who your owner is!” Her thigh high boots, bustier, pants, sleeves, gloves, and underwear all made their way into a pile on the floor. The only remaining items she wore were her black veil, J-charm choker…and a special pair of stockings she had been wearing under her outfit.

She showed off her stockings to her unconscious guest. “Like them, B-man?” She bent down and ran her hands along the reinforced toe and heel of one foot before gently clawing the rest of her way up. “I saw how you looked at me when I wore them in the asylum. It’s the same pair; I’ve been keeping them safe for a special occasion.” Harley removed the cigar that was still in her mouth and blew a puff of smoke. “And this is it!”

The clown lowered herself to her knees between Batman’s legs and, with the cigar still in hand, she proceeded to lick and suck on her adversary’s shaft until he became fully hard. Harley then got into position, forced herself completely on him, and screamed. She put the cigar back into her mouth and began to violently ride Batman’s cock, alternating between thrusting her hips back and forth and grinding them in a circle.

“How does it feel, you fucking asshole?” she asked, never breaking her stride. “My Joker is dead when it should have been you! He was the only hope this city had and you just let him die! Did you stand there, dangling the cure over his head, and make him beg and plead for his life? Did you laugh when he took his final breath? Did you finally get the joke?”

She moved onto her haunches and began pounding up and down on his cock as hard as she could. She saw Batman’s lips twitch a little, but the caped crusader was otherwise unresponsive. Harley, meantime, began to laugh with each pounding. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha!” She removed the cigar from her mouth to make exhaling easier. A few minutes later, the clown felt Batman cum inside of her.

Growling in rage, she removed herself from his shaft, moved between his legs, and planted one of her stockinged heels into his balls. Batman let out a slight moan of agony, but he still remained unconscious. “Did I give you permission to cum yet?” Harley screamed. “We’re going to do this again, B-man, and this time you’re not gonna cum until I’m ready for ya.” She looked at her leg, which was still embedded in Batman’s genitals and noticed his dick was becoming flaccid. A wicked smile crossed her face. “Sine ya like my stockings so much, how about I use them to get you hard again? I really shouldn’t be so nice, but given what’s about ta happen, I’ll cut you a break.”

She put the cigar back into her mouth, plopped down in the open area between his legs, and stretched out her own until she was able to wrap her feet around his shaft. As Harley manipulated Batman’s dick with her feet, she felt him gradually get hard again. After about five minutes the unconscious Bat was ready to go again.

Harley stood up and remounted her victim, removing the cigar band afterward and tossing it aside. She then returned to thrusting her hips back and forth. As she worked Batman’s cock back up, she groped her lovely tits and played with them, feeling herself become wet with each motion. The clown hadn’t anticipated her own arousal, but she wasn’t going to fight it, either. Removing the cigar from her mouth again, she replaced it with one of her breasts. She licked and sucked on the nipple as she felt the pit in her stomach begin to grow.

A few minutes later Harley came all over Batman’s cock, her thick, creamy juices crawling down his shaft once more. When her orgasm had subsided, she said, “Now you have my permission!” She pounded him until he shot his jizz deep inside of her. When he finished, she used her cunt muscles to push as much sperm out of her as she could, coating his shaft with them. Afterward, she put the cigar back into her mouth long enough to take a long, slow drag from it, leaned forward onto Batman’s chest, and blew a large cloud of smoke directly into his face.

Harley dismounted her prey and tried to roll him over. When she couldn’t, she opened his legs and bent them at the knee. She then looked at the cigar and said, “Oh damn. The ash fell off.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh well. I hope that was good for ya, bat-brain, because it’s the last bit of fun you’re going to have for a while. Time to show you who’s property you are.” With that, she took the cigar and used his asshole to extinguish it as hard as she could. Batman made some slight grunts of pain, but true to the knock out gas’s effects, he remained ever unconscious.

Harley then climbed up his body and moved her hands to his mask. She touched it, ready to remove the cowl and reveal the identity of the person behind it, when suddenly the Joker’s voice echoed in her mind. “No one’s who you think they are, m’dear. Why spoil the fun?”

She closed her eyes, raised her head, and took a deep breath. “OK, Puddin’. Just for you. It was your last request, after all.” Tossing the Gran Habano aside, she grabbed the tattoo guns and repositioned herself between his legs. She bore a wicked smile as she set herself to work.

* * *

The henchmen returned at the three hour mark and found everything to still be in its place and were amazed to find that Batman was still unconscious. “Put ‘im in, boys; he aaaaall ready for ya!” They picked him up and dragged him into the spherical container.

When the Bat was safely secured in the airtight chamber, one of the goons asked, “What were you doing all this time?”

One of the tattoo guns was lying at her feet. She kicked it over to the brute and answered, “Marking my territory. The Bat is now the proud owner of my diamonds.”

He glanced at Batman, spotting the bit of exposed flesh on his face. It was still clean. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but where?”

She gave him a very toothy grin. “On his dick.”

He flinched. “Ouch! Remind me to never piss you off.”

Her grin became wider. “Oh, don’t say that until you know where I put out the cigar.”

Her plan was coming together. If everything went well, neither of them would survive past the next few nights. If it went wrong…well, now she had some insurance.
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Gotham Sirens, Arkham Sex