This sort of thing had never happened to Harley Quinn before.
Well, maybe that wasn't all that surprising. She'd only been Harley Quinn for a short while after all.
So it was more accurate to say this sort of thing had never happened to Harleen Quinzel before.
Then she got confused. So maybe it had never happened to her at all? If she wasn't Harleen Quinzel anymore, but Harley Quinn, did that mean the things that had happened to Harleen were a part of Harley, or did they no longer count?
She wasn't sure, so she stopped thinking about it.
The point was, she wasn't used to this sort of thing.
Mistah J was Busy. Again.
Today he was reading. He was reading and eating a cheese and jam sandwich (she had made for him) and chuckling to himself. He had ordered her to go to every library in town and get him every book on animal research she could find. She hadn't bothered to ask him why, she'd long ago learned that never yielded good results. She'd just done it, in a short red wig and a long purple velvet dress, as unlike herself as could be.
And all afternoon he had been reading. Yesterday he had been tinkering with robotics. He had wanted kittens then and when she had scrounged through various alleys and cardboard boxes and found a decent litter of them, he wanted recording equipment and for her to make the cats miaow. And to record them.
Today her hands were covered in dozens of hairline scratches.
Anyway, the point was he was Busy again and this meant he was ignoring her.
No, she wasn't used to this sort of thing at all.
She'd spent the first half of her life being ignored so by the time she was in high school and had a year off from gymnastics to recover from an injury, she was determined to rectify the situation. Given that she wasn't training three hours a day, six days a week anymore she had a little more time to kill and rather obligingly got a sudden growth spurt that resulted in a pair of pretty little breasts pushing through her sweaters.
And that was when she'd noticed the boys. More to the point, noticed the boys noticing her.
Not that she was a bad girl. (Or not that Harleen was - Harley was very bad after all!) But she quickly learned the usefulness of a bright smile and a tight top, how handy a pair of fluttering eyelashes and a well-placed compliment could be. And she never gave it away. Oh no. Neglect had not made her stupid, after all. It was always in trade. Quid pro quo. If they had something to give, she'd give something in return. It was never random or desperate. She weighed the options, considered the pros and cons and made her decision.
What she really wanted, after all, was the attention. And she didn't have to give anything away to get that.
She got used to it. It became the 'story of her life' as was said. She was always wanted, desired, coveted. She rarely wanted any of them very much, if at all. The reins were in her hands and she tugged them however it suited her.
Now all that had changed.
Now the story was being rewritten and she wasn't sure she liked the edits. When she stopped being Harleen, somehow the bridle was all of a sudden over her head and she was the one being jerked and tossed this way and that.
It had its charms. And she'd do anything for her Puddin'. And now that she was Harley Quinn, she knew there'd never be another for her and that was delicious too, except that now all of a sudden, Harley knew what it was to want, to want so much she couldn't think of anything else and anything else she did think of somehow just ended up reminding her of how she wanted him and what she wanted from him.
She had needs.
And she wasn't used to them not being fulfilled.
She certainly wasn't used to being ignored.
Certainly not when she was wearing a beautiful white merry widow covered in tiny red flocked hearts, with matching ruffle panties and stockings. Not when her breasts were pushed up and together and her round bottom pushed out the ruffles so nicely. Not when she walked in with swaying hips, tossing a lock of blonde hair over one shoulder and leaning up against the doorframe with a curve in her spine that could knock her back out.
It didn't matter what she was used to, it was still happening.
Or not happening, as the case were.
"A-heeem…" she sang and he turned a page in his book, a little spot of jam in the corner of his mouth. Awww. That made her feel gooshy inside. She wanted to go over and lick it off. Ooh, yes, that might be the perfect way to get things cooking…
So that is what she did. She sidled over, feeling her breasts bounce, keeping her hips in a sway in case he happened to look up. He did not.
She reached his elbow, rubbed up against it. He turned another page. She lifted a hand and brushed back an errant lock of green hair. He took another bite of his sandwich. Finally, she leant over, and flickered her tongue against the corner of his lip, tasting strawberry. He froze.
Then he pushed her away.
She stumbled back a few steps, gained her balance. No problem. He'd done that before and he was gentler than usual that time. So he must be in a good mood. She could work with that.
She sidled up behind him and slipped her hands over his shoulders, gently beginning to knead. He tensed up, rather than relaxed, his shoulders shooting up to his ears, his back hunching over. On the page the book was open to there was an entry about cats, an experiment done on learned aversion.
She leaned forward and kissed his ear and his hands tightened into fists, jam squirting out the end of his sandwich crust. Her heart sunk. He'll hit her in a minute. That she doesn't mind, but she won't get what she's after and she wants it so bad.
Then it occurs to her. She's going about it wrong. She's expecting her Puddin' to be like regular guys when she already knows he's far beyond them. After all, she didn't spend all those years learning how to wrap people around her finger without picking up a few things…
"Ya know, Puddin'," and he flinches at the sound of her voice but she continues on brightly. "I figure you must got somethin' pretty out of this world in the works, what with all the plannin' you've been doing."
This is a subject he's interested in and he relaxes somewhat and deigns to answer.
"Indeed, I have, Harley Girl." and chuckles and encouraged she continues.
"I've been wracking my brains tryin' to figure out what it could be."
"Don't hurt yourself." he remarks dryly and she wraps her arms around his neck and giggles.
"Well, I had to quit after awhile anyhow because I just couldn't figure it. I'm not brilliant like you are." She coos and he makes a sort of wiggle, lifts his chin a little. She's said what he thinks and he's placated by it.
"I can't even imagine what it must be like to be as smart as you." She purrs into his ear yet careful to keep her voice disingenuous, and feels his face shift as the first glimmer of a smile slides up it. Her heart leaps. How she loves to make him smile! "It dazzles me, ya know."
"Well, that's only to be expected," he sniffs, and joy of joys, he lifts a hand from the book and wraps it around hers, where are they linked together on his chest. "You haven't got the slightest idea what I've got planned, have you?"
She shakes her head, nuzzles him. "I figure it's got something to do with cats though."
"Mensa must've sent your invitation to the wrong address."
She doesn't ask him who Mensa is. "Has it got something to do with B-Man's silly kitty?"
His smile grows wider and a deep, throaty chuckle rumbles. "Weeeell… it might, at that. Heh."
He's let the book drop to the floor and she knows she has to be careful now. She can't just lie to him, butter him up. He's too canny for that. He always sees through it. No, what she has to do is use the truth and use it in such a way it turns his thoughts towards what she wants.
She gently pulls one hand free of his grip and lets it trail down his front, breathing in his ear as she does so. "You remember that time we had her all trussed up and ready to mince?"
His chuckle is sheer wicked delight. "Ooh, yeah."
"Batsy sure got his cape in a bunch over that, didn't he, Puddin'?"
Joker was kneading her hand in his now, grinning diabolically as he recalled the little caper. "He sure did, Pooh. I thought he was gonna pop his ears off."
"Did I ever tell ya how much I enjoyed that?" she really had. It wasn't so long after they'd got together after all and there she was rubbing elbows with the famous Catwoman! "Knocking that troublemakin' feline on the noggin and tying her to the processing belt, watching her squirm and hiss and spit and wiggle," Joker was panting a little now, chuckling maniacally as Harley's hand dipped lower, toyed with his belt buckle. "Tickling her under the chin. Did I tell you I did that, Puddin'?"
Joker's eyes were lit from within, a cold blue fire. "No, you didn't, you little minx!" and he swivelled his head around to her, his expression eager. She nodded, a sly smile on her own face.
"I sure did. I scratched her ears and tickled her chin. I clipped off the sharp ends of her gloves and she nearly popped a vessel! I even asked her if she'd been fixed. I said it was very irresponsible of Bats to let her run around like she did if she wasn't and good thing we were taking care of the problem before there could be any more stray Birdboys and Bratgirls runnin' around."
Joker's laughter was loud and delighted. "You never told me that!"
She was pleased, flushed and glowing, and tugged his belt loose. "You inspired me, Puddin'. It was all you. I was so excited, waitin' there for you to come back so we could watch her go into the mincer and make a nice big batch of cat food for the Bat. I bet the others were soo jealous when you told them."
Joker had shifted around in his chair to face her and didn't seem to notice her hand had undone his fly and was worming its way inside.
"Pah! Those losers! I had to sit there and listen to them rave on about giant coins and exploding pumpkins and big birds for pity's sake! Almost got 'im, they claimed! I can't believe they're considered to be in league with me, baby. What struck me," she had his hardening cock in her hand now and was massaging it steady and firm, careful to keep her face on his, adoring and attentive, utterly enraptured in what he was saying. "was the singular lack of imagination. Almost got him by what - killing him? Big deal! You kill him, he's dead, it's the end of the game. Oh no, Baby, Daddy's the only one who really gets it. "
"Daddy's so clever. He's so brilliant," she encouraged, licking her lips and looking at him from lowered lashes. "It really puts his Harley in gear to watch him work, watch how well he plays with the big bad Bat. I bet he's got something even more fantastic planned for Batsy this time."
He'd suddenly grabbed hold of her, gripping her buttocks in both hands, kneading them so hard her eyes watered, but things were moving in the right way so she just gasped a little lustfully and squeezed his cock even harder.
"Once Catwoman gets a load of what I've got in store for her, I'll have her doing exactly what I want her to do and watch old Guanoman eat his heart out!"
"Will I get to play too, Puddin'? she fluttered her lashes and gave him her very best bad girl smile. He growled and she suddenly found herself on the floor, with him pinning her down, his knees pushing hers apart.
"You'll have your part to play, Harleykins. But for now, Daddy's got another load for you."
"Oh, Mistah J!" she swooned, "You're sooooo sexy when you're bustin' the Bat! No one does it like you, Puddin'! Your genius makes me hot."
Joker's eyes bulged a little and he leant to give his infatuated moll a vicious, nipping kiss that had her reeling with bliss.
"Oh Harley." he sighed, tearing her pretty new panties aside with a lascivious grin, not even looking at them. "You really know how to push my buttons."
She squealed in delight.
No, she wasn't used to this sort of thing but she was a quick learner.
In the end, it was all about getting what she wanted and doing what it took to get it.
Maybe Harleen Quinzel only knew one way of being desired and exerting control.
Harley Quinn just found another way.
You don't seduce the Joker through his cock. You do it through his ego.