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A Bushel and a Peck	By : wanderingselkie Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 3230 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own anything under DC comics - I also own no parts or covers of the song 'A Bushel and a Peck'. I make no money off of this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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He needed to possess her.
She was his - His alone.
Not a mutual lover, not an equal.
An Inferior, a possession, a slave to his every whim.
And he had marked her as such.
Of course, he'd have to re-cut it often,- as soon as it became the light pink of a healing scar, he'd have to re-do all of his hard work, and he'd get to see her sweet blood.
He could just kill her, it'd make things so much easier, no more cutting, no more having to appease her, no more of her obnoxious new jersey accent . . .
It'd be nice to have quiet for once.
He needed either to get rid of her or to fuck her, dominate her, hurt her, violate her.
She had gotten to him.
Somehow, she had gotten past his walls, past the exterior of the dark, twisted clown. She had wormed her way into his soul and discovered the small parts of him that retained some sensitive humanity.
He had never intended to reveal that to anyone, least of all her.
She was HIS, goddammit!
That goddamn song was playing in his head.
He needed something to drive it out - pound it out.
And the bat was tracking him.
He couldn't leave.
Or kill Harley. He had nowhere to dump the body that Batsy wouldn't find it. A dead Harley would (unfortunately) only draw attention.
Damn.
He needed to do SOMETHING, or he'd go insane. He'd shot enough henchmen recently.
"Harley!"
He heard a muffled squeak, then the soft padding of her feet, slowing as she approached the door.
"Yes, Mistah J?"
"Come here, Harley." He said, with a steel voice.
She walked over to him, looked at him with her big baby blue eyes.
"Harley."
She whimpered and turned big puppy eyes on him.
He pulled her to him, kissed her hard, biting her lip, pulling her hair.
He tasted blood.
And smiled.
The Joker violently ripped off Harley's dress (well, one of his shirts) sending buttons scattering.
"On your knees."
He didn't give her a chance to be gentle - he slammed into her mouth, gagging her, dominating her.
He withdrew from her mouth and directed her to sit on the bed.
He spread her legs and pressed them over her head, taking advantage of her loose, flexible hamstrings.
The Joker slammed into her, showing no mercy. He bottomed out and groaned as he felt her clench around him and shriek in pain.
"Please--"
"Quiet."
She continued to beg and plead, so he ordered again. She would disobey a direct order once, and after that, he knew he could do anything he wanted.
There was nothing she could do but lay there and take it as he pounded her relentlessly, deeper than he knew she could really take it.
He could tell she was trying so hard to stay quiet, teeth digging into her lower lip. On a particularily wicked thrust, she let out a quiet moan. He dropped his head to her ear and murmured in a saccharine voice, "You want to make me happy, don't you?"
She nodded.
"Then SHUT UP!"
He picked up his pace and the force of his thrusts, making her eyes tear in pain. He wanted to test her, wanted to have an excuse to abuse her more. Joker sank his teeth into Harley's neck, sucking, grinding until he tasted blood. She stayed quiet. He was impressed.
"Good girl, Harley."
"Thank you, Mr. J..."
"Did I say you could TALK?!"
She shook her head 'no'.
And he smiled, fucked her harder, faster.
She was his, alright. And he knew that, no matter what, she'd always come back.
He had trained her perfectly.
"Baby, you're such a loyal little girl, such a good little Harley..."
He could tell that she was going to break, so he gave her more, all he had. He wanted her to break, to cry, scream - he needed an excuse to hit her, slap her, beat her.
The joker started slamming harder - hurting her, until she couldn't take it anymore.
And screamed.
He slapped her across the face.
"I can't... Please..."
This was what he wanted - total submission, willingness.
He could feel her body relax underneath him, and he knew that no matter what he did now, she would take it, gladly.
He pulled out of her.
"You almost had this inside you. You let me down." he said, spilling his come on the bed.
Harley was almost crying.
He had succeeded at what he set out to do.
Teaching her that he was her MASTER above anything else - not a lover, not a gentle caress. He was a hard fuck, or nothing. If she couldn't learn that, she didn't know anything about him. He felt bad, a little, but more triumphant that he'd have total obedience from her (for at least a few weeks).
Harley began to sniffle, spoiling a perfectly good mood.
Possibly the most annoying sound known to man, the whimpering of an injured henchgirl.
"Go clean up, pooh. No one likes you all messy."
Harley pulled herself up and walked out.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, such a mess..."
The Joker shook his head.
And as he began to strip the bedsheets, he hummed what had become his song for her.
I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, a hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap, a barrel and a heap and I'm talkin' in my sleep, about you. (A Bushel and a Peck - Doris Day)
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A Bushel and a Peck