**
Jim Gordon was pulling yet another all-nighter at the police station, anxiously flipping through all of the Joker's old murder files on the computer. He was jittery. His arm shook erratically as he picked up his coffee mug and brought it to his lips. His body was shaking from a number of things. Lack of sleep, nerves and the fact that this was his sixth cup of coffee that evening were some of the reasons. His poor wife Barbara entered his thoughts. He knew she was home in bed right now, crying her eyes out alone.
"What have we got tonight Jim?" Batman's raspy voice reached Jim's ears.
Jim swiveled around in his chair, holding his chest. "Jesus. Can you please stop doing that? You nearly gave me a heart attack."
"Well I don't think all that coffee you've been drinking will help with that," rasped Batman.
"This is no time for humor," Jim said wearily. "I'm going over the Joker's old files. And believe me, there are a lot. And God knows what other crimes he committed that aren't listed in the files. I forgot about a lot of these. This is jogging my memory now. I remember this one. Patrick McGregor found dead at his bar, hanging from the ceiling fan. Gunshot to the head with multiple stab and burn wounds, and the Joker's trademark Glasgow smile," Jim winced as he read the whole report.
**
Flashback...
"I'm tellin' ya I dun't kno' anything, please lads!" Patrick McGregor pleaded in his thick Irish accent, tears invading his eyes from pain. "Please boys, I...Aaaah!! Jesus Christ! Mother Mary!" He yelled out in anguish as the Joker took a torch to his stomach, burning into his bare skin.
Patrick's arms were tied to a rope that hung from the ceiling fan at his pub 'Mr. McGregor's Bar and Grill.' Now he dangled shirtless before the angry interrogating Joker, with Croc standing menacingly behind him. No one else was in the bar, and Croc and the Joker made sure to barricade the doors shut while the Joker tried to get answers out of this man. "Now, now, you must know something Mr. McGregor," the Joker said calmly, and stopped burning him for a moment.
Mr. McGregor's head drooped down, sweat glistening off of his forehead. He looked like he would soon faint. He shook his head weakly. The Joker clicked his tongue. "Yeah...yeah you do Patrick. Patrick McGregor," The Joker spoke in a tone one would use on a child. "You and little Joey are mates aintchya? You must be. Your little group sells his little group happy pills all the time don'tchya? And vice versa. You got a nice little trade going on between the Irish and Italian mob eh? Nice little get-togethers. How sweet. Two completely different groups coming together like that, it almost brings a tear to my eye," The Joker mocked.
"I don't...I don't know where he is," Patrick answered in a strained voice, sounding as though he were on his last leg.
"Burns not working for ya? Croc, do we have anything else to use?" The Joker asked. Croc went to the back of the bar and grabbed a beer bottle off of the shelf. He smashed it onto the counter and handed the broken bottle to the Joker. The Joker fingered it in his hand with an evil smirk. "You Irish sure do like your beer don't ya?"
"Please I..." Patrick let out another agonizing wail as the Joker twisted the broken bottle into his chest.
"Well I think we're making progress now don't you Croc?"
"Heh," grunted Croc, his mouth stretching into what appeared to be a grin.
The Joker grinned uncannily. A few months ago, Jack would have been disturbed by the fact that he was taking so much pleasure out of someone else's pain. But now, as the Joker personality was getting stronger and stronger, his normal human emotions were diminishing, and now all he saw before him was a scummy little mob man. He saw a man who had corresponded with his enemy on a regular basis, and with that thought he felt Mr. McGregor deserved all the pain that he could dish out.
"Still not talking huh? You have that much of an allegiance to those assholes, or do you think they'll really torture you worse than this? Huh? I think I really gotta get tougher then don't I? I got to if I wanna be a match for those guys hmm?" Patrick's head hung limply. "Speaking of which," The Joker took out a knife from his pocket. He grabbed Patrick roughly by the hair and brought the blade up to his lips. "You wanna know how I got these scars?"
**
"After that there was Rodney Davidson, found beaten to death in his own bathroom," Jim read off the next Murder to Batman.
**
Flashback...
The Joker was kneeling over Rodney Davidson forebodingly. Rodney's arms flailed about violently as the Joker had forced his head into his own toilet. The Joker ripped his head back up by his hair, and Rodney struggled for breath. "I'm telling you I don't know anything! I don..." The Joker sighed and forced his head back into the toilet water.
"You know, I can do this all day," The Joker spoke carelessly.
"Heh," grunted Croc, who stood in the bathroom doorway with his massive arms crossed casually.
**
Jim Gordon grimaced as he read off the next murder. "And then there was Anthony Fienberg, a lawyer, found dead in his garage, killed by his own power saw."
**
Flashback...
"Hmm, Tony, Tony. Can I call you Tony? Or do you prefer Anthony? Or the formal Mr. Feinberg? You lawyers are kinda snobbish aintchya?" The Joker stood heedlessly in front of Anthony Feinberg as Croc held the struggling lawyer in place. "And you're a lawyer for the big boys arentya? Mob boys? You worked for the Biscotti family for years didn't ya? Got some of them off scott free, escaping several life sentences. You must be one of the best. And I'll bet they paid you a pretty penny too. I mean good lord. With the size my old apartment was, you could have fit ten of them in your garage here alone. Ya got an awfully nice little mansion here."
"Go to hell freak," the lawyer spat. "You have any idea what shit you're getting yourself into? I could have you put away in solitary confinement for life. You'll be fed a spoon full of beans and one slice of bread a day, and I'll have them make sure you never leave your straight jacket. Not even to take a piss. If you have any ounce of brains, you'll take your silverback here and get the fuck off my property," He winced as Croc yanked his arm back, causing his muscles to crack.
"Boy, you lawyers are pretty tough arentya? I guess you have to be. Especially if you're a defense attorney for the mob," The Joker sauntered over to the large power saw in the middle of the garage. He tapped the blade with his gloved finger. "And what's a lawyer doing with a power saw? You must like to build things as a hobby huh? Or do you teach woodshop on the side? Maybe you can show my friend here and I how a power saw works?" The Joker snickered mirthlessly and he plugged in the power saw then turned it on.
The lawyer's eyes widened and Croc smirked as he began to push the smaller man towards the saw.
"Wait," The lawyer said in a defiant voice, struggling against Croc's massive strength. "Wait!"
**
After reading how Anthony Fienberg was killed, Jim closed up the files on the computer. "Oh god," he put his face in his hands, running his fingers through his unwashed hair. He hadn't even given himself time to take a shower in a couple of days. "Oh god...I don't think I can do this anymore. Reading about all those people he killed. Where is this really getting us? All we've learned so far is that he seemed to get sicker with each murder. Killing a man with his own power saw? My god.....Stacey," Jim trailed, tears threatening to invade his eyes again. "What could he be doing to her? I think I'm going to be sick."
Jim felt a strong comforting hand rest on his shoulder. Batman frowned down upon his friend. At that moment, the Batman felt powerless. Jim Gordon was supposed to have nerves of steal. He had years of experience in the police force, and he was now the commissioner. He was trained to handle his emotions in situations like these, and to work well under stress. But now here was the commissioner of Gotham city about to have a complete mental breakdown. "My god...god," Jim mumbled miserably, his face still buried in his hands. He lifted up his glasses and rubbed off a single tear that dripped out of his tear duct.
"What is this research really telling us other than the fact that the Joker is a sick son of a bitch and that he could be doing god knows what to my girl?" Jim asked out loud, feeling utterly hopeless.
"Well there is one pattern that I did notice," Batman rasped, trying to be a consoling as possible. "Out of these gruesome murders he committed, how many of those victims were women?"
Jim raised his head. "What does it matter? He killed Rachel Dawes. I'm sure there are female cases in his files somewhere. Those are ones I'm afraid to read about."
"How many women other than Rachel Dawes and a few others in law enforcement did he kill?" Batman asked. "And he doesn't seem to murder people now as gruesomely as he did in these cases. There must have been some motive for him to butcher those men in such a heinous way."
"Since when does the Joker need a motive?" Jim almost snapped. "And yeah, you're right. He doesn't seem to murder people with power saws anymore. Now he'd just rather strap them to explosives, or better yet, blow up entire buildings. Maybe he got bored with single killings, and figured out he could kill much more using bombs," Jim said sarcastically. "I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm on my last nerve," He sighed.
"It's alright," Batman rasped, patting Jim on the shoulder. "But the Joker usually announces his plans. He seems to want everyone to know what he's doing. And he always gives them a choice. It's like a game to him. And the rest of us are his pawns. But women victims....there aren't many on his list Jim. And I don't believe there has ever been a known case of him butchering a woman like he butchered those men."
"Well...then let's hope to god he doesn't decide to start now," Jim said gloomily.
**
Flashback...
"An odd stream of murders has been appearing all over Gotham. Fourteen victims have been found dead over the past several weeks in various parts of the city, all bearing a gruesome Glasgow smile carved into their cheeks." The newsman spoke on television. "One of those victims was officer Daniel Adams who served ten years at the Gotham County Police department. What's even more bizarre is that officer Adams's body was discovered late last night, hanging from the flagpole in front of the Gotham county police department. Police are still investigating on when and how this could possibly happen when officers were on duty twenty-four seven. We now take you live on location with Laurie Woods. Laurie?"
The camera switched to a brunette reporter who was on location at the police department. "I'm here with Officer Barnes standing in front of the Gotham county police department where Officer Daniel Adams was found dead at approximately 2:00 A.M this morning. He was hanging by a noose that was attached to the flagpole that is normally used to proudly display the American flag," she turned to the chubby middle-aged officer who was standing beside her with a bewildered look on his face. "Tell me Officer Barnes, who do you think is responsible for this atrocity?"
"Beats the hell outta me," The cop grunted in his east coast accent. "Who ever did this is one sick fuck though...he...what? Oh I can't curse on T.V. Sorry...sorry. Well he's one sick son of a gun I'll tell ya that. Adams's cheeks were sliced open with a knife. Made him look like he had a bloody red smile. And he had a Joker card nailed to his forehead. What, does this guy think he's pullin' some kind of prank? What a sick weirdo. I tell ya, he's one brave fucker if he thinks he can...oh sorry, sorry."
"And how do you think the murderer could get away with this at one of Gotham's busiest Police stations?" The newswoman asked.
"Last night was a slow night," The cop grunted. "Bob was supposed to keep watch in the front. I'm not sure what the hell he was doin', but in the manner of thirty or so minutes the killer managed to kill Adams, carve a smile into his face, nail a Joker card to his head, and hang him from the god damn flagpole without anyone seein' him do it."
"I was told that you sent Officer Adams out on a donut run, is this true?" The Newswoman asked.
"Hey like I said, it was a slow night," Officer Barnes responded casually. "Adams was pulling the graveyard shift. It's hard pullin' the graveyard shift sometimes ya know? So we sent old Adams out on a coffee and donut run, you know, so's we could stay awake. Sent him out at about 1:10 in the morning. He was found dead around 2:AM. So somewhere between the hours of one and two the killer managed to do this and not get caught. I think someone was asleep on the job. And it wasn't me. I was minding the prisoners in the back," The cop growled.
"It is very bizarre. I hope you catch the killer," Said the reporter before turning her attention back to the camera. "Back to you Mike."
"Thank you Laurie. I'm now getting word that there was also a note pinned to the Officer's body along with the Joker card. I just got handed a transcript of what the note said. I'll read it here for the audience at home."
He began to read off of his card. "Schemers, liars, mobsters, law enforcers and citizens of Gotham. I shall be a slave in your sick little world no longer. For years I was a victim like the rest of you, fed these sickening lies that made me believe I had to follow societies rules, enforced by a government that didn't give a flying iota about it's people. My whole life I strived to live the American dream, a filthy lie that politicians invented to further brainwash the mindless sheep. No more. I've taken the law into my own hands. And I've decided to introduce a little anarchy. Starting with the corrupt piggish police force. I'm sure the other pigs will be glad to know that little piggy Adams got to have a nice glazed donut before I gutted him."
"Signed The Joker, an agent of chaos."
The News reported scrunched his face as he completed the transcribed letter. He looked back up to the camera. "Well...there you have it. The Murderer calls himself the Joker. If you have any information on these killings at all, please call this number. That's 353..."
The Joker smirked as he watched the T.V through the window of an electronics store. His makeup was off, and he had the collar of his purple jacket flipped up to hide his scars. His thick hair was hidden under a purple hat that he currently wore to further hide his face. He grinned smugly to himself, remembering the look on that officer's face right before he killed him. Stupid pig.
The Joker had watched him leave the police station that night. He knew he was on graveyard shift. He followed him to the donut shop and after the cop had left the shop with the goods, that's when he and Croc ambushed him. The Joker wasn't very surprised that the cop was an easy kill. He saw the weakness in his eyes the night of his wife's death, when he and his Partner Thomas Biscotti arrived on the scene to clean up Joey's mess.
Too bad they hadn't sent Officer Biscotti out on a donut run.
**
The Joker heedlessly carried a tray of cake and ice cream up the stairs for his delirious little pet. He grumbled to himself, still thinking about how fun it would be to gut open that little twerp Doctor Crane and stuff him full of straw, turning him into a real scarecrow. He'd nail him to a pole and stick him up in his yard as a lawn ornament. Despite the fact that he did prove useful, he still never failed to irritate the Joker.
The door of the bedroom creaked open, and Stacey lay curled up in bed as the Joker entered the room again, holding her cake and ice cream in his hands. His scowl immediately disappeared upon opening the door and he now beamed down upon Stacey, his chocolate eyes sparkling with endearment. "Because my little bunny has been such a good little girl today, daddy J has decided to serve her some ice cream along with her cake," he smiled softly.
Stacey smiled back, her sapphire eyes revealing that she still wasn't 'all there.' She sat up in bed and hugged the bed comforter around her naked frame. The Joker set the tray in front of her on the bed, and poked at the ice cream a little with the spoon. "I hope you like vanilla ice cream," The Joker grinned.
"I think I recall that I liked chocolate more," Said Stacey. "Daddy J? I can't help thinking about my...dad again and..."
"Didn't I tell you to stop thinking about that creep?" The Joker cut her off. He scooped up a spoon full of ice cream and forced it to her mouth. "Now there will be no more talk about Gordon and his pet flying rat. Eat your ice cream doll."
Stacey tried to speak but her words were muffled as the Joker forced the spoon into her mouth. Some of it dripped down her lips, and the Joker sniggered then picked up a napkin and dabbed her face with it like a parent would a child. Stacey made an odd look, as if something was a little off about the taste of her ice cream. "What's the matter angel? Don't like French vanilla?"
Stacey only scrunched her nose in response and it looked as though she were about to spit it out, but the Joker pressed the napkin forcefully to her lips. "Ah, ah, swallow, swallow, that's a good girl," The Joker ordered, forcing her to swallow the ice cream. How could she taste it? Did powered medicine have a taste? Perhaps he didn't mix it in well enough. Did he give her too much? No he couldn't have. He gave her the prescribed dosage.
Stacey smacked her lips with a disgusted look, taking in the odd taste of the ice cream. "Are you sure that's French vanilla? It has a....weird taste to it. Tastes kinda lumpy too. Can ice cream go bad?"
"I don't think so sweetie pie," The Joker smiled. "I think you just hit your noggin pretty hard. But I want you to finish your ice cream because it's good for you."
"Good for you? But...."
"Yes indeed. Very good for you. Why do you think they give ice cream to kids at the hospital after they've had an operation? Now eat your ice cream doll."
"But...mmff," Stacey's words were muffled again as the Joker shoved another spoon full of ice cream to her lips.
"Swallow darling," The Joker ordered. As he said those words, another distant memory flashed through 'Jack's' wriggling brain.
Jack walked through the door of their tiny little apartment after another long night at a club, dealing with some drunken hecklers. He had been looking for a steady job, but hadn't found one yet. Instead he took performance slots at various nightclubs, hoping that at least one would hire him to stay on permanently. He had barely crossed over the threshold when Emma launched herself into his arms and welcomed him home with a crushing hug. "Oof!" Jack grunted, as Emma's dainty limbs wrapped around Jack's skinny waist. Jack chuckled and patted her head. "If I were to guess, I'd say someone's happy to see me!"
"I'm always ecstatic to see you Jack, you know that!" Emma beamed up at her tall husband. "I'm so lonely here at night. And it's creepy around here! I swear I keep hearing noises. I think the guy above us is loony. I keep hearing him talk to himself."
Jack smirked and ruffled her hair. "You're just imagining things doll," He then noticed the large chocolate cake that was displayed on the little table in their small kitchen. "And what's this?"
Emma giggled, and tugged Jack over towards the cake. "Baked it all for you Jack. Well for the both of us I guess. Today we have officially lived in our newlywed home for three whole months!" Jack read the message on the cake. 'Happy Three Month Anniversary Jack' was written in white frosting.
Jack's mouth stretched into a toothy grin. "You baked that all by yourself? I'm impressed."
"Hey!" Emma playfully socked him in the arm.
"I thought you hated cooking?" Jack chortled.
"I did too," Said Emma. "But there's not much else to do in this dinky little apartment when I'm not even allowed to go out by myself is there?"
"I suppose not," Smiled Jack. "Well I have to say, this is a hobby of yours that I can get used to. And I must say, for a first try your cake looks like it came out pretty darn good."
"It better have," Said Emma. "It took me all night to make!"
Emma cut a slice of cake for them both. "Whipped cream?" She asked Jack as she shook the bottle of whipped cream.
"Please," Jack smiled, and Emma sprayed some cream on his cake. Jack leaned against the bathroom counter and ate his cake standing up. "My god, it's delicious. Excellent work little bunny."
"Thank you," Emma gleamed, quite proud of herself.
Jack turned his attention to the letter organizer that was set on the counter beside him. His eyebrows furrowed as he caught site of a certain envelope then he set his plate on the table. He fingered through the letters and pulled out a DWP bill. He gritted his teeth and twirled around, shooting Emma a dangerous look with his normally soft brown eyes. "Emma!" Jack growled. Emma was standing and happily eating her cake. She jumped and nearly dropped her plate when Jack yelled her name.
Jack glared at her, and held up the DWP bill in his hand showing it to her. Emma's eyes widened. She shuffled in place, and her face turned beet red. "I...uh...erm...well..."
"Emma Napier!" Jack barked. "You were supposed to mail this last week! It's going to be late again! For the third time! I trusted you to mail this!"
"Well, I uh...I had other stuff going on. I was busy and..."
"Busy doing what?!" Jack roared and tossed the envelope on the table. "We've been over this how many times already? We can't afford to be sending late bills all the time Emma! Not to mention that it's completely destroying my credit! But you wouldn't know anything about that would you? I mean I trust you to do this one thing..."
Emma set her plate on the table and crossed her arms haughtily. "Jack I'm not even allowed," She quoted the word 'allowed' with her fingers. "To go outside. How do you expect me to mail a stupid envelope?" She huffed.
"We both know that it only takes walking down the stairs and putting it in the mailbox for the postman to pick up Emma," Jack growled. "You're not even taking this seriously are you?"
"I just think you're overreacting."
"Overreacting?!" Jack roared and Emma flinched. "Emma, money is running thin as it is. Each time they get these bills late, they charge us a late fee. Don't you get that?"
"Alright, alright. Yes, yes I get it! I get it dad!" Emma mocked. "I'm sorry dad. Won't do it again dad." She stuck her tongue out at him. "It's already done. Nothing we can do about it now! Yeesh what a grouch!"
Jack buried his face in his palm. "Acting like a dad am I?" Jack sighed. "I don't think you do get it Emma. You're mocking me when I'm trying to explain to you how serious this is. That's something a little girl would do! I think you just haven't grown up yet."
Emma huffed. "Well at least I don't act like a grumpy old fogy like you! I mean shit!"
Jack shot Emma another glare if disapproval, and for some reason it sent a chill up her spine. "That's it!" Jack grumbled, and he threw open one of the kitchen drawers behind him. He fumbled through the drawer.
"Jack? What are you doing?" Emma asked, watching in bewilderment as he rummaged through the drawer.
"Aha!" Said Jack when he found what he was looking for. He slammed the drawer shut and turned around to face Emma again. He now held a wooden spoon and he was slapping it in his palm. "Oh Jack, spank me when I'm a bad girl. I want you to punish me when I'm bad," Jack quoted what Emma had told him in the past. "You like your spankings don't you? Well I don't think I've given you a real spanking yet. And I think you deserve one now," he waggled his finger at her in a 'come hither' motion. "Come here."
Emma's eyebrows crinkled as Jack slapped the large heavy spoon in his palm. Her mouth was agape. "Oh no Jack. I like it when you use your hands sure. But you're not using that thing on me!" Emma snapped.
"Who says I'm doing this for your pleasure?" Jack said seriously. "I'm really upset here Emma and I think you really need to learn a lesson from this. I'm going to punish you for real. Because I think you truly deserve it. So come here. Now," he ordered with a warning tone in his voice. No sign of playfulness was apparent on his face, and Emma felt herself gulp. She had never seen Jack so serious before. Especially when he was about to spank her. He always had a playful smirk on his face, but now his face remained grave and unmoved. His handsome features were contorted into a look of determination. Like he was a man on a mission, and that he was going to complete that mission wither Emma liked it or not.
Emma was suddenly nervous. So why were her panties soaking wet? Why did it feel like her legs were about to give out from under her do to a sudden rush of arousal? God she really was a freak! Any normal girl would have said 'back off buddy or I'm calling the cops!' Emma however, had a sudden urge to jump his bones. The only thing that went through Emma's mind now was how incredibly hot Jack looked, standing there with such a commanding presence. She still didn't want him touching her with that heavy wooden spoon though. For that she would put up a fight.
"Are you going to come here or am I gonna have to come get ya?" Jack asked, still overly serious. "Believe me Emma. You're not gonna like it if I have to come get you little girl."
Only the table stood between Jack and Emma. Emma slammed her palms on the table and glowered at Jack, her body language showing clear defiance. "You're not touching me with that thing Jack," she hissed.
"We'll see about that," Jack said with fortitude. He began stomping towards her. It was a short trip around the small table and Jack was on Emma like a flash. He grabbed her small wrist firmly. Emma reached for the can of whipped cream on the table and without warning she shot a load of it right in Jack's face. Jack turned away, and slowly wiped the cream off of his face, licking some of it off of his fingers.
Emma now giggled uncontrollably. "That's what you get!" she chuckled smugly.
Jack wasn't laughing. After he had wiped all of the cream off of his face, he turned back to Emma and glared down at her, his face still unmoved. "You still don't think I'm serious do you?"
Emma immediately stopped giggling. "Jack, lighten up will you? You're..." Emma squealed as Jack abruptly lifted her up over his shoulder with one arm. Emma pounded on his back and kicked her legs frantically. "Jack, Jack! Put me down! I'm not even in the mood for this!"
"Not in the mood?" Jack chuckled mirthlessly. "That's funny, because neither am I. But it has to be done."
Jack put the spoon between his teeth and pulled the dining room chair out from underneath the table. He pulled it over to the middle of the room then set Emma back down on her feet. Emma immediately started fighting against him, and she tried to yank the spoon out of his hand with a growl. Jack yanked it away and lifted it up above her head to where she couldn't reach it. "Ah, ah," Jack scolded. "You think you can fight me for it? How cute."
"Jack give that to me! You're not using that! You're not..." Before Emma knew what hit her, Jack had sat himself down in the chair and jerked Emma over his lap. Emma dropped the can of whipped cream on the floor below her face then proceeded to struggle with all the strength she could assemble.
Jack held her down effortlessly and he could almost laugh in endearment as he watched his poor little wife struggle with every ounce of strength she had in her small body. "Emma. Relax baby doll or you're just gonna tire yourself out."
"Jack! Oooh you better not use that thing!" Emma growled, but once again her body was deceiving her. She felt her pussy tingling and throbbing.
"What's that?" Jack mocked. "Since when do bad little girls get to give orders? In my book it's never!" Jack threw up her skirt and yanked her panties down to her knees. Emma felt the cool air blowing against her wet feminine folds.
"Jack," Emma said nervously. "You better not..." she felt the spoon crash down on her bare behind. "Ouch! That really fucking hurt Jack!"
"Good," Jack said tersely. He swatted her bottom with the spoon again. "And stop cursing. It's unladylike." Emma growled and fought against him. Of course it was useless.
"You're going to send the bills out on time from now on, aren't you little girl?" Jack asked Emma while swatting her bottom in earnest.
"Yes, ouch! Yes Jack! Dammit!"
"And you're not going to fight me on this anymore are you? Or defy me when I tell you to do something?"
"Yesss Jack!" Emma squealed in pain. "I mean nooo Jack! Ow!" Jack was partially worried that the neighbors might hear her wails through the thin walls and call the cops on him for suspected domestic abuse. It would be interesting to see how he would explain this to a police officer. Explain that he spanked his wife when she was naughty? Yeah that would fly in court. Of course he knew Emma would stick up for him. After all, she was the one who introduced him to this in the first place. And Jack realized that he was perfect for it.
Jack walloped her for quite sometime. He was about to swat her again when he stopped in midair. He heard quiet sniffling coming from Emma's direction and his heart sank. Was she actually crying? Oh no. He wanted to teach his girl a good lesson but his intention wasn't to make her cry. Was he really spanking her that hard? Jack immediately dropped the spoon on the floor and pulled Emma up off of his lap.
Her eyes were red and puffy, and tears were dripping down her cheeks. "Emma? Oh Jesus. Come here," Jack cooed and he forced her to sit on his lap. He cuddled her against his chest and gently wiped her tears away. "My god, I had no idea you were that sensitive little bunny."
Emma had to be a masochist. That's what was running through her head at that moment. My god she had to be. She felt her feminine moisture dripping down her legs as Jack whispered comforting words into her ear. During her spanking, she had been kicking her legs so much that she had kicked her panties completely off. If it were possible, her pussy throbbed even more as she felt Jack's warm hand gently rubbing her bottom.
"I'm sorry I was so hard on my little..." Jack stopped mid sentence as he felt Emma's small busy hands rubbing his crotch through his jeans. Jack's lips curled into a tiny smirk. "My god," Jack clicked his tongue. "You really are something aren't you?"
Emma was now breathing hard in his ear, still sniffling at the same time from her crying fest. "Jack," Emma panted. "Take me now. Please. Please take me now Jack," she whimpered.
Jack fought back the enormous grin that threatened to reach his face. "Hmmm. That spanking didn't seem to have the desired affect that I was hoping for did it? Instead of a sorry well-punished little girl, I get an overly aroused sex kitten. I'm gonna have to rethink my strategy here."
"Please Jack," Emma breathed.
"Hmm," Said Jack. "No, no, no. Not yet. I think you're still being punished. I don't think you've quite learned your lesson," Jack pulled away from her a little bit and gazed into her pretty eyes. "Get on your knees," He said gently. "Now."
Emma felt another gush of wetness flow out of her pussy. She shakily got down on her knees between Jack's legs. Jack stared down at her masterfully. He was so attractive to Emma at that moment, and she just wanted to worship him. She wanted to beg him to take her. "Unzip me," Jack ordered. Emma did what she was told and unzipped his pants, releasing his already incredibly hard member before her eyes. "Put it in your mouth," Jack ordered softly.
Emma began to lick on it, but then she quickly darted away from him for a moment. "Emma," Jack said warningly. "What are you...?"
Emma giggled to herself and grabbed the can of whipped cream off of the floor. Then she shook it and sprayed some on his penis. "This'll make it taste better."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying it doesn't taste good already? Why you little...oh Christ," Jack grunted as Emma took his large manhood into her mouth. She enthusiastically licked the cream off of his penis. My god, she was quite good at that! Her mouth attacked his penis for quite sometime, until Jack gently pulled her off of the floor, and eagerly ripped her clothes off.
Emma was so aroused she couldn't speak. Jack picked up the can of whipped cream off of the floor and smiled mischievously down at Emma. "Two can play at this game."
He gently pushed Emma's naked body over the kitchen table and forced her to lie on her back. Jack chuckled as he sprayed whipped cream on her nipples and pussy and a little on her stomach. His mouth attacked her stomach and Emma sucked in her breath, as his tongue tickled her belly bottom. He made a growling noise as his lips suckled on her skin. Then he made his way up to her nipples, where he eagerly licked them clean and suckled on them.
Then his lips trailed down to her legs, and Emma jolted as she felt him licking her very sensitive inner thighs. Emma almost exploded as his mouth invaded her pussy. He suckled on her feminine folds until every ounce of whipped cream was gone. He made sure to lick it clean. His tongue darted over her sensitive nub, and Emma shuddered in pure ecstasy. She felt a total explosion of pleasure that was so strong she expected the table to shatter beneath her.
Jack then entered her. He pounded her as she still lay submissively on the table, groping her breasts. Emma admired how beautiful Jack looked as he stood above her masterfully. He looked like an angel. A dark blond chocolate eyed angel. Jack felt his dominant primitive male instincts come forth after he felt Emma climax again during his hard pounding. After she had finished her orgasm, he yanked her to where she was sitting upright again, and forced her mouth over his penis.
He was so tall that it took little effort for her to bend down and suck on his penis while she sat on the table. She felt Jack's hands grabbing her hair and he pushed her head up and down. He was behaving a little rougher than usual. But Emma had to admit that she loved it. She adored it when his overly dominant side came out, that side of him that he would sometimes suppress.
Finally Emma felt him explode in her mouth. She felt his warm fluids running down her throat. She tried to pull away, but Jack forced her to keep her head there. "Ah, ah," Said Jack. "Swallow baby. Swallow, swallow, That's a good girl."
"Swallow, come on now, that's a good girl," The Joker chanted as he forced Stacey to finish her ice cream. He could see her pupils begin to dilate. This stuff had better work the right way or he'd make sure to personally stuff that annoying little 'Scarecrow.'
**