Adult-FanFiction.org : Comics

The Joker's Concubine	By : Jokersconcubine Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 17805 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Her eyes shot open in the darkness. She opened her mouth to scream but a hand clamped down on it. She frantically looked up into the near darkness, willing her eyes to adjust. She heard his haunting laugh echo through the room. “I got bored, so I decided to come back.” Her heart lept into her chest, even as she felt him climbing onto the bed and straddling her naked form. He came back.

Slowly, she began to make out his shape above her. The moonlight through the window shone on his brilliant white face. He removed the hand that covered her mouth. She slowly felt a sharp edge pressing against her throat. “If you scream, or if you move, I’ll kill you now. Understand?”

“Yes," she whispered tersely, feeling the keen edge pressing against her flesh.

“That’s more like it. Now, I’ve come to have…a conversation with you. And you’re going to be honest with me, and cut all the bullshit. Because if you don’t, then I’m going to cut you into about a thousand little pieces.” She breathed in deeply, realizing that he absolutely meant every word he said. “And don’t lie…because I already know the answers to these questions.” He relaxed the knife and rolled off of her.

He stood up and turned on the bedside lamp. He wore only his trademark violet trousers and a blue patterned shirt, unbuttoned half way. He sat in the large easy chair in the corner, his face half bathed in shadows. “Come here.” She stood up on wobbly knees and walked to him. “Sit.” He patted his knee.

She rested herself lightly on his knee and faced him. He slid one hand around her slender waist, pulling her to him. Tucking the knife back into his pocket, he softly brushed her hair back. He leaned forward and nuzzled his painted face lightly against her neck. Her body quivered as she felt his scarred lips brush the tender hollow of her throat. Why was he being so gentle? She expected anger and cruelty from him, not this unusual tenderness. Where was the man who had threatened her life moments before?

She felt the back of his hand brush softly against her nipple and caress it’s way down her belly. He slid his fingers over her hip bone and down her thigh. She breathed sharply against him as his hand slid slowly between her legs. His fingers probed gently at her outer folds, as his tongue darted against her neck. She could feel his erection pushing against her through his pants. She made some small noise of pleasure as he pressed deeper into her. He placed his lips against her ear, and every tiny hair on her body quivered.

His voice came low, and filled with passion. “Tell me about your past.” Her body stiffened almost imperceptibly and she closed her eyes.

“I…left home young. I had a falling out with my parents, so I left. I had nowhere to go and no way to feed myself. So I did what I had to survive. I lived that way for years, right up until the night you found me.” She moaned as his finger dipped deeper into her pussy and wrapped her arm around his neck. She was grinding herself against his hand, as her aching need intensified.

“That’s not the past I’m talking about.” He removed his hand from between her legs and held his slick fingers against her lips. “Clean them, “ he whispered. She tasted her own juices on his thick fingers. He pushed them deeper into her mouth as her tongue swirled over them. He leaned forward and for the first time since the night he propositioned her, she felt his lips on hers. She tasted the thick paint he wore as his tongue touched hers. His mouth moved against hers as he asked, “Now go back further…” She leaned against him, caught between the pleasure she was feeling and the dark door that was trying to open in her mind. His hand moved over breast, rubbing her erect nipple. “Tell me…You know you want to tell someone. You’ve wanted to tell someone for years and you’ve held it inside you and let it rot you from the inside out.”

His hands were soothing as they roamed over her flesh. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “Start at the beginning.” She took a deep breath and swallowed back the tide that was threatening to wash over her. He shifted his weight, and settled his warm hands over her own.

She did not speak for a long moment as she looked down into his eyes. “My mother-” she croaked. She cleared her throat. “My mother was…a religious woman. She was…a good woman. The kind of woman I could never be.” And with those first words, the flood gates burst. She found her voice then, the voice that she had kept under lock and key for 10 yrs.

“She tried when I was young to raise me right, to teach me good from evil and right from wrong. But I think she always knew.”

“Knew what?” he inquired.

“That I was…broken. Born bad. She told me the night I started my period that I was in Satan’s hands now…That all women were in Satan’s hands, and had been ever since the Garden and the Apple. She told me that if I was strong, and pure, and virtuous that I would fight him off. God would protect the girls who were good enough, who loved him enough.

“But I wasn’t strong enough. Satan had his hands wrapped around me even then, because he always knew I was his. I think my father saw that in me.” She paused. The Joker’s eyes were glittering up at her, and his words came back to her… I want to look under your mask. I want to peel back the layers of it, like filleting flesh from your pretty face. I want to play with your pain and your torment and sate myself on your inner hells.

“Go on,” he urged.

“One night, he and my mother had a fight. I don’t know what about, but I heard them yelling before I fell asleep. Later that night, I woke to hear the door opening. I figured he was only checking on me.

“He came in and sat down upon my bed. He whispered my name, and I rolled over to look at him. He touched my face and said, ’Desiree…my Desiree, such a beautiful girl. Do you know what Desiree means? It's French for desired one.’ ” Her face tightened into a grimace of pain. The Joker never took his eyes off her, but he shifted oddly in his chair again.

“He told me he was lonely, that he and Mamma had been fighting again. He said he just didn’t want to sleep alone, and surely I wouldn’t mind if he stayed in my room just the way he used to when I was a little girl. He crawled into the bed and wrapped his arms around me.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. But he knew. He just…knew…about that rotten thing inside of me. The Devil was in my room that night and he told him.

“ I laid there afterwards, with the smell of his cheap Brut aftershave all over my room. I stumbled out of my bed and puked into the little trash can beside my desk. I retched until nothing came up but clear liquid and then I crept down to the first floor shower, and stayed there till all the hot water was gone. I scrubbed my skin until it was raw and red, trying to get that smell off of me but it wouldn’t come clean. To this day, I can’t smell Brut without having to run to the nearest restroom.” Desiree sighed as the Joker began lazily trailing one rough finger up and down her thigh.

“I washed the blood out of my sheets by hand. I had the most beautiful white, lace sheets and it seemed to take hours to get all that blood out. I remember feeling like I was in purgatory, that I would be spending forever just washing that sheet over and over again to pay for my sin. But eventually, the last trace of red was gone, and I put them in the dryer. I sat down on the floor of the laundry room, my back against the rumbling machine, and cried.”

“I prayed to God to take me back from the Devil. I didn’t want to be the daughter of Lot, tempting him into my bed. But God had washed his hands of me. I hadn’t been good enough to earn His love or His protection.” She choked back a sob. The Joker’s hand had ridden further up her creamy thigh, resting on her hip bones. She felt that hardness in his pants pushing against her again.

“Was it rough? Did he hurt his darling little girl?”

“No. No, it wasn’t like that. But it went on for a year. Once, twice a week. He never spoke of it outright…He just pulled back the covers and snuggled against me and told me what a beautiful girl I was, his Desired One.

“I-I never told him no. I must have been a whore and a slut even then, because I never told him no. And after a while…sometimes-” her voice cracked and she turned away.

His hand tightened on her leg, and she felt him grind against her. “Yes?”

“Sometimes…I…enjoyed it.” He loosened his grip upon her.

“I felt so dirty afterwards, so evil. And the guilt was eating me alive. I went to church three times a week. I read the Bible every night, even sleeping with it under my pillow as though it would ward him off like some magical talisman. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed but nothing changed. I finally realized that God had once and for all turned his back on me. He didn’t care any more. Maybe he never did.”

“And let me guess?” he asked. “Mommy Dearest found out? And she blamed little Desiree for everything didn’t she? It was all your fault. Because you were evil.” She gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head.

“And after that you left, and you did the only thing you knew how to do. The only thing you were good at. And the longer you were out there, the more you saw him in every man you met. And you realized that you only enjoyed the fucking when it was painful. When it was humiliating. When it hurt enough to drown out all those little voices in the back of your head. When it was degrading enough to absolve you of all your dirty little guilt.”

“But every time you enjoyed it, you felt horrible afterwards. Not just because of the nasty things you had done, but because you knew you didn’t deserve to enjoy it. Right?” She turned away. He tightened his grip painfully on her leg again.

“Yes!” she gasped. She buried her face in her hands but he pulled them away. The bulge in his pants had grown painfully solid.

“You’re turmoil is so…beautiful. I love it. The pain in your eyes, it‘s so…amusing.” He ground his himself against her and grunted. “Hmm…But you know Desi, it was never about you, or him, or any of your little fairy tale Gods and Demons. It was never about you being ‘bad’.”

“If I wasn’t bad then, I am now. I’ve done bad things for years.”

“So what? What makes it ‘bad’. I do ‘bad’ things all the time. The Universe doesn’t care if you do bad things, Desi. The Universe doesn’t believe in right and wrong and good and evil. It contains destructive forces and constructive forces, and it lets them both loose with complete impartiality. The Universe doesn’t care that your Daddy did naughty things to you. It didn’t care that Mommy blamed you for it. And it doesn’t care that because of those things, you’ve developed a liking for the most brutal and sadistic of pleasures. There is no morality in all this, because morality is a joke. I’ve told you this before. The only morality that exists is what you lay down to sleep with at night. You can let your inner darkness ruin you or you can embrace it as the beautiful, destructive partner that it really is.”

He stood up, pushing her off his lap. She yelped as he grabbed her arm and wrenched it painfully behind her back. He led her towards the bed and shoved her onto it. She fell there among the pillows, her breath ragged and shallow. He pulled his knife from his pocket and flipped it open. He tossed it onto the bed beside her prone form and began to undress.
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Joker's Concubine