His Harlequin

“Time for your medicine, honey,” Nurse Harleen Quinzel intoned as she unlocked her favorite patient's door. Sure, he was a psychotic murderer, but after several years of being surrounded by Arkham Asylum's melancholic maniacs, a guy with a sense of humor had a certain appeal. Even if his idea of humor did involve making pencils disappear into faces. Actually, what disturbed her more was that sometimes the things he said actually seemed to make sense to her. And considering his greasy hair and freakish make-up, she really couldn't understand why, but there was something incredibly attractive about him.
Since he had been so cooperative over his past few months in Arkham and he seemed to respond best to Quinzel's nursing, his doctors agreed that she could administer his medication one-on-one, a decision she secretly hoped he was just as pleased with as she was. She tucked a stray blonde strand behind her ear and straightened her starched white dress as she entered his padded room.
“I had a dress like that once,” The Joker said, without looking up at her. He was sitting on the floor, shuffling a deck of beat-up cards.
“Oh yeah?” She smiled.
“It looked better on me,” he said, not taking his eyes off the cards.
“Oh.” She frowned.
“Body suits are more fitting for girls like you,” he said, licking his lips. “Make your, em, assets look bigger. Even when they're almost non-existent. Like yours.”
She pursed her lips and looked at the floor. “Well, I'll keep that in mind. I gotta give you your medicine now.”
She filled her syringe and knelt beside him. “Would you roll up your sleeve for me?”
“Yes'm.”
He watched as she pushed the needle into his flesh. She glanced up when she was done to find him staring at her face.
“I didn't hurt you, did I?” she asked.
He raised a brow and grimaced, showing off the long scars cut into his cheeks.
“Oh, right.”
“Did I ever tell you how I got these scars?” He pushed on them with his tongue.
She shook her head no.
He put down his cards. “You see, I had this girlfriend, little blonde thing like you, who had a fetish for bondage. So one night she says she wants to try something new. I like to make her happy, so I let her tie me up and blindfold me. But then she starts nicking my chest with a razor blade.”
He trailed a finger over Harleen's blouse.
“See, I'm a good boyfriend, and I trust her, so I let her keep going. But the nicks get deeper.”
He pushed his finger harder into Harleen's chest. She inhaled, and caught a slightly stale musk about him.
“And pretty soon she's moved up my neck and then to my chin.”
He traced her collarbone, pushing around her jugular and up to her chin. Her heart began to race.
“Now I'm trying to stay relaxed, but I know she's getting out-of-control, so when she gets up to my mouth I start saying our safeword, 'Butterflies! Butterflies!'”
He trailed his other hand against her leg, just under the edge of her dress. She dropped the syringe.
“So she takes off my blindfold and says, 'Don't your butterflies need wings?' And then-”
He pulled her mouth against his with one hand, slid his fingers against her panties with the other. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, biting her lower lip and rubbing his thumb over her clit. She sighed and pushed against him, lifting her chin so he could nip at her neck.
“It's awfully drafty in here,” he rasped against her ear. “Maybe you should close the door.”
She got up and pushed the door shut. When she turned back around, he was sitting expectantly against the wall, his legs spread apart and his dick sticking straight up out of his purple fly. He licked his lips. She stared at him.
He looked down at his dick. “You're not going to suck yourself, are you?”
She sat down beside him and wrapped her lips around his head, sucking gently, letting her saliva drip down over the shaft. He groaned and let his head fall back against the padded wall and his eyes roll back into his head as she took more of him in and out of her warm, wet mouth. After a few minutes, he reached down and grasped her breasts, pulling her up onto his lap; her mouth made a smacking noise as he pulled her away from his cock.
He lifted up her dress, revealing white cotton panties with a little cartoon puppy on the front.
“Well, isn't that darling?” He teased.
She blushed deeply.
He thumbed the panties off, leaving only a soft little tuft of blonde hair and a very wet pussy exposed. She moaned softly as he ran his fingers up and down her moist folds. “Now listen, sweet cheeks,” he purred, sliding a finger into her pussy, “I want to go all the way, I really do, but the thing is, I'm not exactly a top performer in this dirty little cell.”
He pushed her onto her side and hovered over her, his cock pressed against her entrance. “So I need a favor. I'm a man of my word, and I promise I'll fuck you so well that memory you have of your uncle touching you is going to get a little fuzzy. But you have to promise to get me out of here.”
She whined and tried to pull his hips closer with her fingernails.
“Ha-ta-ta!” he said, slapping her hand and pulling away. “Look at me.”
She looked up at his face. There was no smile.
“Swear it,” he demanded.
She didn't answer.
“Swear it!” he roared.
“I swear!” She was trembling. “I promise, I'll get you out of here. Just please-”
“Please what?” He smiled, brushing his dick up against her.
“Please fuck me.”
He grinned for a moment. “Yes, ma'am,” he said and drove himself into her. He held her down by her pony-tail and bit her neck while he dipped in and out of her slick cunt, savoring the moans she unsuccessfully tried to hold back as she wrapped her legs tightly around him. He reached down between them and fingered her clit, bringing her to the edge of her climax and then easing up, chuckling when she whimpered in frustration.
“Do you want to come, Haaaarleeeen?”
“Ye-es...” she whined.
“Ye-es?” He mocked her in her octave. “Ye-es?”
“Yes please, Mr. Joker.”
“You're gonna get me the fuck out of here?” He pulled her hair.
“Yes, anything!”
He thrust hard into her several times, stroking her clit. He felt her squeeze tightly around his dick, and shivered as she moaned into his ear. When she was nearing the end of her wave, he pulled out and groaned as he came on her starched, white dress. He lay heavily on top of her, her legs still spread and both of them panting for several minutes. Finally, he stood up and zipped his fly. He gingerly picked up her panties between his thumb and index finger and dropped them unceremoniously onto her lap. She slid them back on and pushed her dress down. He was straightening his shirt when he felt two little arms slide around his waist.
She sighed. “That was amazing, Mr. J.”
He turned and made a face. “'Mr. J?' What are we now, lovers?”
She smiled up at him.
After a moment, he grimaced back and patted her on the head. “Now, you just hold up your end of our little agreement and we'll see what happens.”
“You got it, sweetie.” She winked cheerfully and walked to the door.
He rolled his eyes and started shuffling his cards again. “You might wanna change that dress.”
“Nah, Mr. J.” She grinned as she locked his door. “I'm holding out for the body suit. And I think I know the perfect one.”