Marry The Knight Ch. 02

She'd come. And he hadn't.

In all her previous male encounters, Ivy hadnevercome first. No matter how romantically her paramour presented himself, he always wound up rutting with her like an animal and lasting as long as a fruit fly. But Bruce was still there. A useful, well-cared-for,reliable... tool.

The man himself bent his head as reverently as a priest in prayer, gently kissing some of the dew from between her breasts. She knew from experience that it was sweet as syrup, without the tartness present in the sap between her legs. "I hope you enjoyed that, Ivy. Enough to repeat it, even."

Ivy sensed a challenge in the smirk that he tried not-hard-enough to hide. A faithful tool, but one that didn't quite know its place. She would teach it to him as he died, and on his grave she'd plant a mighty oak to commemorate his one real contribution to nature.

***

Once Harley had finished her breakfast, she thought of pushing her plate under the bed. That'd been her usual housekeeping method back when she and Ivy had stayed over at Eddie's hideout. She would let the dishes pile up until Ivy yelled at her, or got one of her pheromone buddies to clean them up.

Now, though... it'd probably make Bruce pretty happy if he saw that she cleaned up after herself.

Wearing nothing but her Tweety Bird boxers and the top half of a standard-issue Arkham jumpsuit (she'd kept it because it was so comfy), Harley went over to the nearest kitchen, where she put her plate by the sink. Then she went to the pantry.

As she should've known, there was only boring,healthyfood there... but there was also a grocery list hanging out in the open. She quickly grabbed a pencil and added every cereal she'd seen during the ad breaks of her Saturday morning cartoon.

Then she realized she could make Bruce even happier.

Rinsing her plate and silverware off in the sink, she scrubbed them clean and set them in the dishwasher, and then returned to the bedroom for Ivy's. As Ivy hadn't eaten her pancakes, Harley gobbled them down for her. Pam was an environmentalist, right? She would've hated waste.

Soon, Ivy's plate and silverware had joined Harley's in the dishwasher. Harley thought about how pleased Bruce would be with her when he saw how she'd kept his pad nice and tidy. In fact, she'd like to see Ivy make him that happy!

***

Ivy was determined not to give Bruce that power over her again. She would bring him to a quick, hard orgasm, feed him the leaf, and only then allow herself—allowhim—to enter her.

She stood up (shuddering as her freshly-fucked pussy met the greenhouse's damp air), and reseated herself in Bruce's lap, crossing her ankles behind his back and nestling her sex against his still-erect manhood.

Like a potter at a wheel, she caught the snake in her hands. She felt it jump between her palms as she gave Bruce what amounted to a lapdance—grinding herself into his body until she was as close as moss to a tree, rubbing her hard nipples against his chest, even nuzzling the sides of his neck with her soft lips.

Finally, she heard the softest whisper of his breath quickening.

This was it.

Riding his thighs, she manipulated his cock over the outside of her pussy, its head poring over her labia and up to her inflamed clit. It was getting to him. She knew it. She could see the beads of sweat on his forehead as she sweetly caressed his cock with her sex, an electricity seeming to crackle between them—softly, gently building, a low-level hum that grew and grew.

"You're going to come for me," she announced, squeezing his powerful cock and feeling it almostresisther. She loved its heated, concentrated stiffness, but only because she took it as a sign of her power over him.

"After you," he said blithely.

She pressed him firmly against her, parting her lips on his shaft, riding up and down over every little vein. At the tip, there was the slippery feel of his precum. She enthusiastically rubbed it between her palms like she was moisturizing. Rubbed them both, masturbating herself as she jerked him off, trapping his cock between their bodies as she rubbed them together, moaning obscenely as she fingered herself instead of letting him penetrate her. Hearing the strain of his bonds as he tested their strength.

He was weakening. A little more, a little more...

She was inches from his face, her lips parted, her eyes locked with his when he kissed her for the first time. His tongue in her mouth like that was all the penetration he needed, an incrediblepassionthere, a power that she couldn't contain, that she could only ride and shape and accept into herself—All too soon she felt her embers flaring into a roaring flame once more.

Ivy would've thought that her last orgasm would've left only ashes, nothing more to burn, but Bruce poured gasoline all over her. Her back went rigid and her groin bloomed with heat and when she finally went slack, it was only to collapse atop him.

His body was soft, oiled with sweat, a bed she could coil up on and indulge her sated weariness—all but his manhood, nudging insistently against the flesh of her thighs.

Bruce smiled sweetly. "Had enough?"

"How can you ask me that?" Ivy demanded, her impatience shining through. "You haven't even come yet!"

"I can always do that with Harley."

Face twisted into a snarl, Ivy grabbed him by the base of his cock and impaled herself on him.

***

After a round ofSaint's Row The Third,Harley decided to take an afternoon nap. When she woke up, she decided to go on Amazon and order some toys. If she didn't spruce the place up, it could get awfully dull in Wayne Manor.

***

Now Ivy rode Bruce so hard that every swing of her hips rammed his back into the tree trunk. Leaves were falling down around them in pointed contrast to the violence of the coupling they surrounded. The tree itself groaned with the stress it was enduring. Ivy didn't care. She had to conquer Bruce. He had to be hers, damn it!

She relented only to tease him, pleased with the fevered gasps her respite brought as her hips continued to roll on his pelvis. Then she raked her nails through his chest hair as she surged against him again, so hard that her breasts slapped against his face, going too fast for even their exquisite softness to be painless. She could tell his resistance couldn't last.

Ivy's eyes drifted close and her world became silence, just the staccato chorus of her jaw working its little exercises to try to contain the pleasure. It didn't work. She let out a squeal that had her opening her eyes to see if Bruce had heard her. And he had. His face was grinning and filled with pleasure. She realized her own cheeks had pulled into a smile.

And so, either out of vexation with him or fear of her own growing response, she stopped dead. Every delicious movement of her body around his cock stilled. She waited for him to beg.

He didn't, just sat there, evenly meeting her gaze, seeming to luxuriate in the tightness of her hot cunt without ever caring if she'd continue. So she rocked just a little, an idle motion designed to tease and tantalize. It certainly did for her, lightning shooting through her blood.

Bruce exhaled softly, but made no other reaction, content to enjoy her ministrations.

Her hands ran soothingly through the soft hair of his chest, trailing over the marks her fingernails had made. His nipples were as erect as her own, and she played them between her fingers. His head drifted back, a dreamy smile on his face as he rested against the tree—like she was giving him a massage.

It was maddening, insulting,unfair. She had power over him, but only what he gave her. Aside from that, he was immune to all her tricks, her poses, her ploys. He was her prisoner beneath her, but he'dchosento be.

And it turned her on. That frightened her more than anything.

She could leave right now. She almost did, easing herself off his turgid erection, feeling her pussy tingle as it was abandoned. Every perfect inch of him left her one at a time. And the fire in her belly that had done nothing but spread and spread began to die.

"Nnnnnh!" Ivy cried, throwing herself back down onto his cock, her head thrusting back in the ecstasy of sudden fulfillment, her crimson hair falling back to tickle at the small of her back. It was impossible to resist. Her hips darted up and slammed down, taking even more of his relentless cock inside herself.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Ivy," Bruce moaned out, the first chink in his armor, an admission of weakness that threw fuel on her fire.

Losing all her composure, Ivy's mouth dropped open and her eyes bugged out in the O-face that Harley had so much fun teasing her about. Her orgasm fired inside her, but wasn't enough. In rapid succession, Ivy bounced herself atop Bruce's cock another half-dozen times, then dropped her hand between her thighs and frantically flicked her clit until a second explosion took her. This time, she felt a liquid rush and heard a gushing splatter as her sap squirted from her, all the way to Bruce's chest.

"Yessssssss," Ivy rasped, sweat dripping from her heaving breasts as she lost her balance, having to throw an arm back to support herself as she floated down from her climactic high.

Bruce's cock was angrily hard inside her, pinning her in place.

"Satisfied?" he asked, a tranquil smile greeting her when her eyes finally opened.

Ivy's voice emerged from her afterglow sickly sweet. "Not until you are, husband." She assumed her sarcasm was lost on him.

***

Awake from her nap, Harley went to some of her favorite forums and whittled away the afternoon responding to those who criticized her by posting aggressive .gifs. Stupid Bronies had no idea whatMy Little Ponywas all about.

It was only when she sighted one of those pop-up ads asking her to take a survey about Bruce Wayne's double wedding that she thought of where Bruce and Ivy had gotten to. Probably doing something boring, like going over their pre-nuptial agreement.

***

In the greenhouse, the quiet was almost tranquil. The screaming orgasm and frenzied mating of the last bout had been forgotten. Ivy had decided that this time, she would allow herself one gentle orgasm from Bruce Wayne before she really got down to the business of killing him. And so her well-rounded ass moved in gentle, rhythmic circles, around and around in a perfect O, letting her feel all of Bruce inside her. First here. Then there. Everywhere.

The meditative sounds of the greenhouse's few machines and those of the animals that had been permitted inside melded with the liquid sound of Bruce's cock within Ivy's dripping womanhood, with the fleshy rasp of their thighs rubbing together, with the low purr of Ivy's breathing as she absorbed the pleasure Bruce gave her like a plant would take in water.

"Oh yes," she muttered in a loving litany. "Oh, that's it. That's it. Just like that. Just like that..."

Bruce's chest worked like a bellows, his strong breath gusting out of his body and rumbling back in. With Ivy twined around his torso, staying where she'd collapsed the last time, each breath shifted her body around, lazily moving her lips to new place to kiss and suck. She found his mouth on one pitched intake of air, cutting off that steady breath with her soft, wide lips, her hands playing at his neck and hair.

His passion was—pleasing for her to contemplate. The way he seemed hungry not just for a beautiful body, but forher... reminded Ivy of Harley, in a distant way.

Soon, his kisses left even her breathless. Breaking free and clutching the back of his neck, she forced him into his cleavage, where he kissed each nipple as they were offered up, caressing her breasts with his mouth. When she centered him on one, he sucked on it so hard he might've been trying to devour her. Even Harley didn't usually lavish such attention on her breasts, not once motorboating them ceased to amused her.

It felt so good that she had to push him back, running her hands from his thick arms to his flat stomach—now noticing the muscle, the occasional scar, all the little pleasures of his body. And he kept looking at her, bold and unafraid, butrespectful. Loving, even. "I've never been with a woman like you before. You're so gorgeous... and you're so amazing. It's like a dream. I'm fucking the most beautiful woman in the world. I'm fucking Pamela Isley..."

She kissed him and his body came alive, jumping to plunge his cock deep into her, driving her up like he meant to crash her into the ceiling. He was only allowed the one kiss, then she returned him to her breasts, where the rough stubble of his cheeks and hard suction of his mouth had become quite pleasurable. She watched the ripple of his muscles as he drove himself into her; the transfixing thought that all that power was hers to command. He'd given it to her. His wife.

Suddenly, for all her power, all her control, she found herself paralyzed. Unable even to moan out the orgasm that possessed her. She sat atop him, her throne, panting and trembling while her body was racked by spasms. She could only imagine how he felt, his manhood inside her battered by pressure and violent warmth, her arms hugging him violently as he pumped furiously into her cunt. At last it was over. She could fill her limp body with breath. He rocked her from side to side as she came down from her latest climax, her penetration a persistent reminder of his victory.

Ivy ended up staring over his shoulder into nothingness, her heavy breasts stirring against his chest with labored breathing. Her arms and legs useless, her body sucked down against his like kelp after the floodwaters had receded, she wondered if perhaps she hadn't approached this the right way. Clearly, he had some issues with giving up control. Perhaps if she let him take the wheel—just until he died, of course—that would do the trick.

"Bruce?" she asked, cloyingly sweet. "Would you like to be on top?"

"If you don't mind."

"No, no--not just this once."

She didn't remember she had tied his hands until he'd ripped free of them. Then he had her in his arms, so powerful she felt trapped but also something else as he rolled, forcing Ivy under him. She landed on her back, the powerful buttress roots under her shoulders and knees like the armrests of a throne, and Bruce kneeling between her legs. He lifted her endless legs, kissing each as he draped them over his broad shoulders, then took hold of her hips and pulled her onto his waiting cock.

What did it matter if I screamed?Ivy would think, when she was capable of thought a few minutes later. It wasn't like there was anyone around to hear her.

Then a heated kiss would break through the last of her walls, leaving her defenseless against the onslaught of pleasure that crashed down on her like a flood. Her hips bucked like a wild animal and her fingers dug into the rich soil under her as she wailed his victory over her, louder even than her cry of penetration had been.

When she was capable of thought, more than a few minutes later, she would try not to think about that.

***

After another nap taken in the aftermath of her midday sugar rush, Harley awoke with a hunger for more than SweetTarts. Calling the pizza number next to the phone, she delighted in discovering that the local pizzeria delivered pizza, cinnamon sticks, breadsticks, crazybread, chicken wings, chicken poppers, soda, and very big cookies. If only the pizza place delivered high explosives, she'd never shop anywhere else.

Harley ordered one of each, and a veggie pizza in case Bruce and Ivy wanted some. Veggies. Yick.

***

Ivy stretched happily and reclined under Bruce. When she felt his cock brush against her leg, she took it as a comforting promise. "What are you waiting for, hubby? You haven't come yet."

"You said just once."

"Did I? You must've misheard me."

***

Harley remembered a dark time in her life, when she'd had to watch her weight. Then Ivy gave her a shot that let them play together. There were some minor side effects, like superstrength and enhanced agility, but mostly, Harley could eat as much as she wanted and stay flat as a pancake.

"Guys, pizza's here!" she announced after having three of everything. No answer, even tothat. She decided to go look for them. They were probably wondering where she'd gotten to anyway.

***

Ivy lay under Bruce, burning and ice-cold and everything in-between. She gasped when she could breathe at all. She knew she'd had an orgasm recently—she could still feel fresh come on her inner thighs—but had no idea how long it'd taken her to recover from it.

Had it been dark out when they started?

"That wasalright," she stressed, reaching a hand up to caress his chiseled face—he hasn't even broken a sweat. "But next time... harder and faster, okay? And rough. Very rough."

"I could hurt you."

"Oh, do try."

***

Skipping through the halls of the mansion, it occurred to Harley that the reason Bruce didn't want pizza might be theonlyreason someone wouldn't want pizza. She broke into a run. Hopefully Ivy wasn't killing him without her!

***

Facedown on the grass, surrounded by the claw marks where she'd gouged at the earth in her ecstasy, Ivy looked over her shoulder and saw Bruce regarding her with smug concern. Screw it. He had the right to feel smug after that.

"That all you got?" she asked hoarsely.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to break for lunch. I could bring you some refreshments if you'd like to rest a moment."

"Fuck that. Get down here and do your husbandly duties. And don't stop this time." She licked her lips. "Not until I scream."

***

As Harley had expected, being a smarty-pants, they were in the greenhouse. Harley could hear Ivy yelling, even if the actual words were muted by the glass walls. She hoped Bruce hadn't forgotten to water one of Ivy's plants. That always made Ivy yell at her.

Harley opened the door to the greenhouse and stepped inside. Pushing aside a few palm leaves, she stopped dead. Struck deaf and dumb by what she saw.

Ivy laid flat on the grass like a throw rug, spread-eagled, her hands gripping tree trunks on either side and her legs shooting straight up like a Rockette routine. Bruce laid atop her, naked, pumping himself up and down like it was exercise. He buffeted Ivy's voluptrous body with unrestrained violence, each time sending ripples through Ivy's generous curves. Her ass rippled, her breasts bounded, even her hair flew as her head shook in ecstasy. Her lips joined the act too, bursting out "Yes!" and "Fuck!" at every penetration. And Harley could see why.

Almost a foot of Bruce's moisture-coated shaft dropped into Ivy with each thrust, though the thick base remained untouched no matter how wide Ivy's legs spread. She was getting the cock—long, thick, and decidedly hard—that Harley had been denied the other night. And Bruce was kissing the moist lips that Harley thought were all hers, his hands sliding over Ivy's writhing body like he owned it.

Harley felt a shock of betrayal, an urge to run to her room and cry into her pillow—if only she could talk to Mistah J. He'd understand.

She couldn't stay. If she stayed, she would only be hurt more by what she saw. She kept watching, though. She had to see how far the betrayal went. Would he fuck Ivy's tits? Her mouth? Her asshole? Harley had to know...

***

Far away and understandably unnoticed, the house phone rang and rang. Finally, the answering machine got it with a cheery recording Harley Quinn had already programmed into it. After the self-made radio jingle was over,beep!

"Hello, Mr. Wayne? Vicki Vale, Channel 5 News. Sorry to bother you at home, but as a fellow One Percent Fertile, I'd love to know your thoughts on the ongoing infertility crisis. My viewers are dying to know if you intend to marry more women, and if so, who? Perhaps I could interview you over dinner...?"