The Banker's Date, part 3
May. 10th, 2009 09:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielWith that, the Joker returned his attention to Sophia’s lips. He nibbled and sucked at them in between long, sweet kisses. At one point, he heard her let out a low, shivering moan. Pulling away, he looked at her. “Enjoying yourself?”
“You fucking shithead.”
The Joker grinned quickly and moved away from her. “I need to get as comfortable as you. My clothes don’t feel right anymore, so they need to go.”
He kicked off his shoes and removed his socks. Then came the long purple overcoat, made twenty pounds heavier by all the knives he had stashed in its numerous pockets and hidey-holes. Next was his dress coat and vest. Then the Joker removed his shirt. Sophia took note of all the scars that marred his upper body. They were all different shapes and sizes, too many to count at a glance. He was wiry, but muscular, and his chest and shoulders were nicely formed despite all the scarification. What had been done to him? She wondered. Or what had he done to himself? The last thing to go was his pants and boxers. He had nicely shaped legs and buttocks. Sophia couldn’t believe she was even thinking this, but she was. His penis was erect. She’d seen larger, but none so aesthetically lovely as the Joker’s. He was uncut. The foreskin stretched out to reveal the soft, glistening head. His penis was framed by a patch of lightly curled dirty blonde hair. Closing her eyes, Sophia turned her head away. She felt the Joker crawl back onto the mattress beside her.
“C’mere c’mere c’mere,” the Joker murmured as he reached and around and took Sophia’s pointed chin to pull her face back around to him. “Sh-sh-sh-sh. Look at me. No, now, look at me. Open your eyes, Sophie.”
Sophia opened her eyes and met the Joker’s dark brown stare. Something in the look he was giving her softened Sophia to the Joker, despite his kidnapping her and in the process of raping her. She felt that all-too-familiar tingling at the center of her sex and she instinctively tried to bring her legs together to try to scratch the itch. When she did, the knots around her ankles tightened and she winced. The Joker sat up and re-loosened the rope. He then lay back down, moving as close against Sophia as he could. She felt his hard-on resting against her waist. Again, he just looked at her.
“What do you want?” She asked him.
“You,” the Joker replied, and he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue lingering in the right corner of his mouth. “From the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”
He kissed her, this time letting his tongue probe between her lips until it found hers. His kisses felt so good to her, Sophia let go just a little and let her tongue play and dance with his. His taste was almost neutral, but had a strange sweetness about it. Maybe his toothpaste or a breath freshener, she wasn’t sure. Pulling back, the Joker just looked at her again.
“What?”
“You’re a bankerrr, obviously good with numbers.”
Sophia nodded reluctantly.
“Then you must be a wiz at 69,” he giggled. Before she knew what he was doing, the Joker had spun around and had buried his face between her legs. When she gasped from the feel of his tongue and lips working magic on her clit and pussy lips, he wasted no time shoving his cock into her mouth.
“MMMMFFFFFFFFFF!! MF MMFF MMF MFFFF!” Something told the Joker that the banker was cursing him for all he was worth, and that was quite a lot if the piles of money surrounding them were any indication. He didn’t care, though. Every time she called him another incomprehensible name, it was like heaven on the underside of his cock. He made sure to give her room to breathe, and curse, but only enough to keep the interruptions to his rhythmic thrusting to a minimum. Colourbox’s “Pump up the Volume” was playing on the iPod and that was always an excellent fucking song in the Joker’s opinion.
Sophia tasted exquisite. She tasted of ripe womanhood in all its glory, thanks to sitting in an unventilated basement for most of the day. The more he buried his face into her, the harder the Joker became and the closer to cumming he got. When Sophia began another muffled tirade against his cock, the Joker couldn’t take it and he spilled his load down her throat.
He immediately pulled out and repositioned himself between her legs, not missing one single beat. He jammed two fingers into Sophia’s cunt and the tip of his thumb into her asshole before she could even begin to call him every name in the book. He tongue worked at her furiously. The combination proved to be too much for Sophia and she growled loudly in orgasm. The Joker held his fingers still inside her, savouring how her walls closed in around them, sucking and milking them as if they were his cock. He peered over her belly and saw her looking down at him, and he smiled widely, licking his glistening lips.
“Was that good for you, Tortilla Chip?”
“You fucking asshole!”
“No?”
“No! Yes! That’s racist. And it’s rape. You’ll pay. Just wait ‘til I get free from you. I’ll have the cops here before you can dismantle your pet rat’s habitat!”
“Blahblahblahblabbityblabbityblab. Do you ever not talk unless there’s a cock down your throat-t? And what makes you think I’m gonna cut you loose hm? Didn’t think at all, didja? Hm…”
A silence grew between them.
“Okay, I take it back. Just let me go and I won’t say a word. If anyone asks, I’ll say that you were nothing but hospitable to me and that you’re getting nothing but bad press. Okay? Just let me go. P – please?”
“Not used to saying that-t, are you? Pleeeeez? Pret-ty pleeeez with a cherry on top-p? Be nice and I’ll think about it.” The Joker clicked his tongue at her to emphasize his statement. He sat up and scoped Sophia’s prone body before closing his eyes and humming along to the song playing on his iPod. Then he began to sing.
“Ridin along in my Calaboose
“Still tryin’ to get her belt-t unloose
“All the way home I hellld a grudge
“But the safeteee belt, it wouldn’t budge
“Cruisin’ and playin’ the radio
“With no place to go.”
He opened his eyes and looked at Sophia again, waggling his eyebrows to the beat of Chuck Berry.
“Chuck and I have something in common,” the Joker intoned. “We hold grudges.”
Another long silence developed between them. The Joker traced a finger up and down Sophia’s right leg and still the music played on. He didn’t move and never stopped his finger from going up and down her leg as he sang song after song. “Bedbugs” by the Squirrel Nut Zippers, “Be Still My Beating Heart” by Sting, “Take Your Time (Do It Right)” by the SOS Band, and “The Logical Song” by Supertramp were all serenaded by the Joker. As “The Logical Song” finished and “Vicious Traditions” by the Veils began, the Joker took his cock in his left hand and began to pull on it.
“I don’t know the words to this one. Kinda hard to sing anyway. The boy has a voice on him.”
He continued to trail his finger up and down Sophia’s leg while pulling and squeezing his plumping cock. He used his foreskin to rub himself and, when he pulled back on it, he revealed the purple hooded head. Sophia found herself mesmerized by his penis, and she thought back to how it felt and tasted in her mouth. She was surprised by his cleanliness and the sanitary musk his balls had given off. And he tasted only slightly salty. When he came, his semen was deeply musky, but also sweet. If she were in a different situation, Sophia could easily find herself making love to this man forever. Despite herself, Sophia grew aroused by the thought of it.
“Why lookie there. A wet spot.” The Joker drew in his chin and eyed Sophia through a lowered brow. He tut-tutted her and smirked. “Are we readying ourselves for the fucking to come? It’s funny how our own bodies betray us, isn’t it, my sweet little deposit-t slip?”
“Go to hell.”
“We’ll go together, howzabout? Got a hand basket buried in one of yourrr many bank-k vaults?” The Joker laughed at his own retort and moved his body to rest on top of Sophia. He kissed her tenderly on the mouth. She could feel the scars on his lips, but they did nothing to deter their softness. It was this about him that aroused her the most, how a psychopathic criminal could have the softest lips ever to touch her body.
As if he knew what his kisses were doing to her, he continued his onslaught until he heard her moan. Then he began using that talented tongue, making her own dance to the low frequency rhythm of their bodies. The Joker’s weight on Sophia’s own compressed her chest just enough to limit her ability to breathe properly. Somehow this heightened her awareness and arousal even more and she felt the slippery result of it between her legs. She wanted free of her bonds so she could wrap her legs around him. What was she thinking? She knew what she was thinking and, right now, she didn’t care.
“Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” by the Eurythmics was playing and the Joker moved his hips to the beat of the song. She could feel the head of his cock searching for her and, despite herself, Sophia began to move her own hips in hopes of helping him find her. Oh, and he did. As Annie sang “Hold your head up!” the Joker drove himself into Sophia, tossing his green hair back to reveal his painted face in an expression of pure pleasure. Sophia instinctively pulled her arms and legs forward in the effort to cling to him and the ropes grew tighter around her wrists and ankles. The pain was exquisite, adding to her own undeniable ecstasy.
The Joker put his arms under Sophia’s shoulders and curled his hands around them so his fingers were right above her collar bones. He looked down at her and said, “Ready?”
Before she thought, Sophia nodded. Smiling, the Joker pulled out about half way, then slowly sank into Sophia. He repeated this a number of times as he looked her right in the eye. The slow movements and lack of rhythm had Sophia in a dither. She needed to feel an actual thrust. She needed his weight on her clit. She needed to be…fucked. After an interminable time of the Joker’s leisurely motion, he repeated himself. “Ready?”
And Sophia nodded. The Joker bent down and kissed her while, at the same time, pulling most of the way out of her, then thrusting back into her hard. Sophia broke the kiss with a loud cry. Using his grip on her shoulders as leverage, the Joker continued his hard thrusting, and he returned to kissing Sophia, taking her breath to mingle with his own. Her inability to breathe on her own combined with the force of the Joker’s thrusts threw Sophia into a cascade of orgasms. He trembled and writhed beneath the Clown Prince, tightening her bonds even more, and her scream was muted against another insistent kiss.
After several minutes and wave after wave of orgasm, Sophia began to quiet down, the Joker was still going strong. The pleasure she’d experienced was beginning to turn to discomfort. She was overly sensitive after such a physical high and didn’t want to be touched anymore. But the Joker had different ideas. He did seem anywhere near finishing as he drove into her, pummeling her. His fingers dug painfully into her shoulders and she could hear him grunting into her mouth as he continued to kiss her, sucking on her tongue. Sophia wrested her head from his and said, “Stop, stop it!”
But this only made him go faster. The Joker took her face in his right hand and forced it back to his. “Look at me. Look at me! Don’t not look at me while I’m fucking you.”
“I can’t go anymore.”
“I…*grunt*…can.”
It was only when Sophia began to cry that the Joker seemed aware of what he was doing. It was her tears that drove him over the edge. He thrust impossibly hard into Sophia and grew very still, his face wincing with his own painful ecstatic orgasm. Sophia could feel him throbbing inside her and she felt the semen pour out of her and onto the mattress, leaving her ass sticky with the Joker’s emission. This brought back the thought of his taste and, despite her pain, she grew aroused again. Fighting the feeling, Sophia stared up at the Joker, whose breath was coming out in staggered pants. His green-tinted hair was damp and dangled in Sophia’s face. He made no move to pull out of her; instead, he let himself go flaccid inside Sophia until he fell out of her naturally. He remained on top of her, staring at her doll face.
“You’re bee-yoo-ti-full,” he purred, his head swaying to the music. It was the Smithereens’ “Blood and Roses.” Sophia said nothing. She merely watched the Joker enjoy his music and the moment. When he finished with the song, the Joker continued. “I’m going to untie but, first, do you wanna know how I got these scars?”
Sophia shook her head while the Joker nodded his. “Yeah. Yeah you do. Don’t turn your head away. Look-k at-t meee. Listen.”
The Joker entwined his fingers across Sophia’s breasts and rested his chin on his hands. “See these scars? These ones that stretch out from the corners of my mouth? Welllll, I wasn’t born with them, if that’s what you thought-t. No.” The Joker looked up and bit his lip, as though in deep thought. Then he repeated himself. “No.
“I was a callow youth working my first job and creating for myself a sizable nest egg. Friends and family alike suggested that I should get myself a bank account-t in order to protect my money. So. I took my nest egg to Gotham First National Bank-k,” he said, bobbing his head to and fro for emphasis. “And there I met my very first banker. He took my nest egg and told me not to worry about a thing, that my money was in good hands. He told me that he was going to invest-t my money and make me even morrre money. And you know what? I never saw my money again!
“I made repeated visits to the bank to find out what had happened and to see if there were any conceeevabullll way of getting my money back-k, but I was met with animositeee, claims of ignorance, and downright-t rude-ness. My last official visit to the bank came on a sunny Monday morning. I was off from work and hoped to speak with the banker who had taken my money to begin with. Lucky meee, the crook was there. So I confronted him about my nest egg. He told me to get out of the bank or he would have me thrown out. I told him I wanted my money back on the spot. He called security and two meaty officerrrs came to escort me out-t of the building. I didn’t go quietly, oh no. I demanded justice!
“I got physically thrown out of the bank building. Me! Hard-working, upstanding citizen J – thrown out of the bank for wanting his money back, can you imagine? But the kicker was that, when the bank’s goons threw me out, I lost my balance and tumbled down the marble stairs, yes those same ones you walk up to go to work every morning, and out into the street where I was hit-t by a bus. The impact cracked several bones in my body and the glass front of the bus. A shard of that glass sliced a permanent smile on my face. I woke up in the hospital where I stayed for well over a month. I came out penniless, jobless, and forever disfigured. So. Please do take it per-son-nal-leee when I tell you that I fucking hate banks and bankerrrs.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to you,” Sophia said. “But I can assure you that it was a mere fluke. Nothing like that would happen with someone like me. In fact, I was going to suggest that you may want to invest some of the money you’re keeping here. Keeping money like this isn’t safe. What if there were a house fire or you were robbed?”
“Then, my pretty banker, I would simply go out and rob-b anotherrr bank-k.” And, with that, the Joker took the knife he’d used to cut Sophia’s clothes off and jabbed the sharp point into her skull, right at the hairline. Sophia seized and writhed beneath him until she eventually became still and her eyes rolled up, displaying nothing but white. “Then again, maybe a bank deposit is exactly what I need to make…”
Licking and smacking his lips in thought, the Joker rose from Sophia’s body and dressed himself, humming to “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” by Queen. Once he was dressed, he called for Sidney.
“Sidney, we have some work ahead of us. It’s going to be disgusting and bloody. Are you up for it?”
How else was Sidney supposed to answer? “Sure, boss,” he said, looking at the dead banker on the mattress and thinking about the second Hellraiser movie.
The next morning, before the Joker turned in for a quick nap, he turned on the TV to see what the news might be. There was everyone’s favourite GCN reporter once again spinning another yarn. He really hated that ugly bastard, Mick Engel. You’d think that GCN had no other news personalities, he was the only one ever reporting the news.
“Sophia Carteres’ body has yet to be found. Again, reporting live from the main branch of Gotham First National Bank where a grisly discovery was found on the marble steps leading up to the bank. Ms. Carteres’ skin, stuffed with defaced bills of varying amounts, was left on the steps of the bank overnight. It was positioned to hold a sign that said PLEASE DEPOSIT THIS TO MY ACCOUNT SO I CAN COME STEAL IT ALL OVER AGAIN. THANKS, THE JOKER. The D.A.’s office has already stated that, when the Joker is once again caught, he will be brought to swift justice on this offense alone. Police are canvassing the area for Ms. Carteres’ body. Ms. Carteres is survived by two sisters and two brothers, and her father Javier Carteres, who plan on a memorial service tomorrow evening.”
The Joker cackled. “I wonder if they’re gonna display her hide during the memorial service? I – I wonder if the bank will let them keep the money stuffing long enough to have an open casket?”
He laughed so hard, he gave himself a cramp. Curling up to ease the cramp, the Joker fell out of bed, which prompted a whole new series of cackles and guffaws from the Clown Prince of Crime. He laughed himself to sleep, wondering if the Batman would be pissed enough about this latest “abominable act” to come out and play on the dark streets of Gotham. Until he did, the Joker had no doubt there were more Sweet Sophies out there, ripe for the picking.
©Tracy Angelina Evans
Darth Shriek
10 May, 2009
In memory of Heath Ledger, Prince Conor and the one and only Joker.
