A Bushel and a Peck

Why had he said that?

He told her he loved her!

That was like giving her license to walk all over him.

He hoped she wouldn't use that.

He'd teach her a lesson.

Tomorrow.

The Joker woke to the feel of a hand stroking him through his pajamas. He opened his eyes and flipped Harley onto her back, pinning her arms and legs.

"Did I say you could do that, Harley?"

"No - but - Mistah J, I thought..."

He punched her across the face.

After she recovered from the blow, she got up and started backing away from him. 

"Puddin- what'd i do? I've been good!" 

His leg snapped out and slammed into her gut.

She fell and he climbed on top of her and began punching, slapping, hurting every inch of her that he could reach.

Her baby blue eyes filled with tears.

The Joker reached for his gun and pushed the barrel into her mouth. He began to thrust it, scraping the roof of her mouth, hitting and bruising her throat. 

"Harley, harley, harley. You certainly enjoy my gun.... Was that your intention when you so rudely awoke me this morning?

Her lips were bleeding now.

He withdrew the gun and licked her lips, tasting her blood. 

She flinched away from him and shook her head 'no'.

"Oh, pooh, you've had too much?"

He softly caressed her cheek, and when she leaned into him, he slapped her. Hard.

Tears were streaming down her face now. 

Her already large eyes got even huger when he drew a switchblade from its holster and began to play with it.

She knew what was coming.

With a swift movement, he flipped her over and rubbed his thumb over the smooth flesh of her pale ass.

"Puddin'?"

Smiling, he lowered the knife to her skin, carving a straight line.

Harley screamed.

He finished the cut, and moved onto the next, delighted by the contrast between her milky skin and the scarlet blood. 

M

Harley was crying in earnest now, completely terrified by what he was doing.

I

"Please!" She begged, until the words ran together.

"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...."

N

She was squirming, and he delivered a hard slap to her ass before starting the next series of cuts.

E

There. Now she was marked. His, and his alone. 

He picked up his gun and held it to her temple.

Cocked it.

He could hear her breathing speed up, hear the whimper in her throat.

And squeezed the trigger.

BANG

And with a puff of smoke, a flag burst out of the barrel of the gun. 

He smiled and stood up, whistling that tune as he walked away, leaving Harley battered and confused, in a puddle of tears and blood.