Nearly two months passed with Dr. Quinzel and the Joker learning more about each other during their scheduled therapy sessions. Harleen believed that in order to generate trust within a patient, she would have to reveal a little bit about herself in the process. Meanwhile, she learned virtually nothing about the enigma that was the Joker, and she confessed to herself that the mystery only added to his appeal.
Joker had been pulled out of solitary and placed into the residential unit during the week of their first session. He had a fresh new haircut, with a little length on the top. The barber did not want to comply initially as he planned to buzz it like most other prisoners. But Harleen flashed her gorgeous smile and asked him for this favor, to which he capitulated. She didn't use her beauty very often, but knew that she could get what she wanted when she wanted it. He was offered a shave but didn't need one as apparently he had a reduced his ability to grow hair on his face. His teeth were checked—"No cavities," the dentist said, unsurprised as most of his teeth were encased in metal anyway. Harleen also had a doctor check him for infection or poor healing of any wounds as the asylum was notorious for poor hygiene.
At least now he is in a regular cell with more amenities available to him, she thought to herself, happy with the fact that he was out of solitary.
Joker also seemed a bit more comfortable interacting with Harleen. He would avoid her questions and mainly demand that she answer his, but she felt that they were really beginning to build trust even though he would insist that she get out of his head. She revealed to him her path to obtain her doctorate, explaining that she chose psychology because she had a deep passion for helping others. She sensed that he didn't buy it, however; he was very astute and was becoming more so as the drugs began to taper, she determined. She swore that she would never reveal to him her true motivation for the field, which involved watching her father fall into a deep mental illness from which he never recovered. Harleen had experienced this type of affliction herself, but worked hard to keep her head above water. She disclosed that she was a gymnast throughout high school and college and that she enjoyed running and painting. On the other hand, Harleen knew that Joker liked money, silver and gold, tattoos, fast cars, and killing people when he didn't get his way. He told her some stories about his work, his team, and how the police force was on his payroll. "A temporary inconvenience," he told her when she presented him with the fact that he was captured and placed in Arkham. She worked with him to provide him methods of anger management and dealing with situations in which he had no control, though she was never certain that he was actually internalizing any of the information.
She also sensed that Joker was loosening up around her, maybe even caring for her in his own way. She found him studying her hands or her hair, as if he had wanted to reach out and caress her. He never could because his hands were always strapped in his jacket. During the seventh or eighth week, however, Harleen asked the guards if they would be able to deliver him to the interview room without the jacket, just to see how it went.
"How are you feeling today, Mr. Joker?" Harleen asked, just as she asked at the start of every session like a broken record.
Joker was seated at the table in his regular spot, leaning back in his chair with his hands on top of his head. He was looking at the ceiling when he responded, "Not too bad, doctor."
Harleen sat down, hoping that he would have looked at her as she moved across the room. She found herself wearing sexier clothing with each session as she wanted the Joker's attention. On this day, she wore blue wedge heels, a dark blue skirt, and a patterned blouse with the buttons opened to her cleavage. Of course, she wore her white lab coat to convey a sense of professionalism.
"You're looking hot today, Harley," Joker stated, never breaking eye contact with the ceiling.
"Please, Mr. Joker. You must call me Dr. Quinzel. Or Harleen if you absolutely must..."
"Harleen. Hmph," he responded in retaliation. "I like Harley. Harley Quinn. It has a good ring to it, don't you think?" He turned his gaze from the ceiling to face her. He knew that just looking at her would arouse wicked thoughts and cause his body to stir. "Your hair is down. I like it," he said while raising his forehead muscles where his eyebrows should be.
"Th-thanks," Harleen said, flustered, not expecting the compliment. She found herself looking at the man across from her, and, for the first time, he was not wearing a straitjacket. He looked somewhat commanding in his gray, long-sleeved Property of Arkham shirt and his typical navy Arkham sweatpants. She could tell that his slender body was muscular under his clothing and found herself imagining him with his shirt off, massaging his tense arm and chest muscles. Her lower abdomen twinged and her face flushed hot, which reminded her that she was a professional and she had to stop thinking these thoughts. Distracting herself, she asked, "How do you feel with your hands free today? If it goes well, maybe we can make this commonplace." She flashed a warm smile at him.
"I have to tell you, I'm really likin' this, Doc." He paused. "Now, if only we could do something about my feet," he said, shaking his shackles causing the metal to clank together.
"Well, maybe someday if you're good," she responded.
"Oh?" Joker tilted his head and looked at her, as if she had just propositioned him sexually.
Ignoring his insinuation of sex, Harleen returned to looking at her file as she had a few things she wanted to discuss during the session. "Mr. Joker, please tell me about how you are feeling now that we've had a few weeks since we changed your course of..." Her voice trailed off as Joker watched her pink lips moving, getting lost in the moment.
All he could think of was reaching over to hold her face and kiss her. He imagined pushing the table out of the way and approaching her, his feet unfettered. He would lean down and gently kiss her soft lips as she looked at him in surprise, causing her to tingle between her legs and throughout her body. Pulling her up out of the chair, he continues to kiss her while stroking her long, blonde hair. She reaches up underneath his shirt to feel his hard chest and abdominal muscles, becoming turned on at their strength. His hands move to her shoulders, pushing the lab coat off her arms and to the ground. Ripping her blouse open, buttons fly in every direction, revealing her beautiful breasts. With hands like magnets, he grabs them, rubbing and pinching her erect nipples through her lacy bra with his fingers. Continuing to kiss her, he reaches behind her in a tight embrace, feeling for the zipper on her skirt, which opens in one quick motion. Her skirt falls to the floor revealing an almost naked Harleen. Joker, hard as a rock, decides he must have her immediately, and he knows that she wants it too. He reaches into her panties and rubs her very wet slit with his fingers, dipping slightly inside of her opening and using the wetness to gently caress her clit, causing Harleen to gasp in pleasure and making his cock even more erect.
Driven by the yearning in his loins, he pushes her panties to the floor and pulls his own pants down to reveal his very aroused cock. He picks her up, her legs straddling his pelvis, and walks her to the edge of the table where he places her down. Sweaty and anxious to feel her surrounding him, he kisses her hard and uses her hand to help guide him inside. God, you're so wet, he whispers in her ear as he pushes in harder and rocks his hips into hers. Within minutes, Harleen throws her head back in rapture, having been so hot and ready for him that any touch of his sends her over the edge.
Oh, Daddy, she exclaims, sealing Joker's need to explode inside of her, his groin aching with fire, he—
"—Mr. Joker?" Harleen inquired loudly, pulling him out of his reverie. His hands immediately moved to his crotch under the table to cover his enormous erection, not that it would be seen. "Are you there, Mr. Joker? I was asking you about your medication and how you are doing."
"Oh, uh, it's good," Joker said, swallowing hard as he realized that he was staring at her with his mouth open. "It's all good," he reiterated, quickly finding his normal composure. "Look, I think I should go. I'm feeling a little tired today," he lied while pressing on his hardened member, hoping it would go down.
"Oh, okay, if you're not feeling well, I understand. I hope the reduction in medication is not having too many adverse effects on you," Harleen stated with a bit of disquiet in her voice. She took a few minutes to look through her records to make sure she wasn't missing anything. She stood up from the table and looked at him, interested in how his eyes seemed softer in appearance than they ever had before. She smiled her perfect smile at him. "I'll see you next week, then. Hands free next time?"
His mind immediately flashed to his freed hands fondling her naked breasts. The scent of her delicious perfume filled his nose. "I hope so, Doc. I hope so."
And, with that, Harleen left the room and allowed the guards back in. Walking over to the Joker, they found him completely compliant and permitting them to easily put his handcuffs on and unlock his shackles from the floor.
"Gee, if you were this calm all of the time, we wouldn't hafta shock ya," the head guard said into his ear, referring to the highly regulated practice that Harleen could never verify was actually occurring. The Joker gritted his teeth and growled like a dog.
"There it is!" the guard proclaimed. "Let's get you back to your cell. It's been a while since you've had a date with the machine in the basement! We'll have to correct that tonight!"
*****
The guards walked Joker back to his new cell not far from the interview room and locked him in. Fuck, he thought. The medications he could handle as well as the physical abuse from the guards, but the electroshock therapy had to end. He wondered if Harleen really didn't know about the procedure. There's no way she doesn't know, he asserted. He thought for a moment and decided that she genuinely cared about his health, thinking about all of the things that she had done for him in the past two months. Maybe she really doesn't know...
He leaned against the door and looked around his room. He had a few more amenities in this room, though not much: bed, toilet, sink, desk, chair, mirror, books, a change of clothes... He imagined his clothes on the floor next to Harleen's. Her apparition seated naked on the edge of his bed, her legs open.
He gets on his knees between her legs with his face licking her slit, her hands holding his head steady. He moves his kisses up to her breasts and begins sucking her nipples as if his life depended on it. His hard dick is poised at her entrance, drenched with her juices and ready to take him in...
The thoughts swirled in his head, making his heart pound and arousing him to the point that he needed to finish. Pulling down the front of his pants, he grabbed his cock and leaned back against the door, his chin turned upward. Stroking faster and faster, his mind was flooded with images of Harleen and the perfection that she embodied—her brain, her body, her personality, her smile, her ass, her tits, her soft, wet pussy. The veins in his face and neck protruded and his eyes closed as he quietly groaned, reaching his orgasm while thinking about how he wished he could enjoy this pleasure with Harleen.
After cleaning himself up with some tissues, he laid down on his bed shirtless, his face toward the ceiling. Smiling to himself, he thought about what he would do if he could break out again. I did it before, I'll do it again, he assured himself. He would show Harleen what life is really like. He would set her free. And he knew that she would be the key to his freedom, he just had to figure out how.
Pondering this for a while, his thoughts again turned to Harleen. He could not remember ever feeling this way about a woman before. His thoughts about her seemed to hijack his brain and he couldn't stop. He would take her to his mansion. He would invite her to his bed where he would fuck her. He would fuck her in the hot shower. He would fuck her on his desk. He would fuck her in the pool, in the kitchen, on the couch, on the floor, on the car, on the counter... the options were limitless, and he became aroused yet again. Slowly pulling his hand along his shaft, he imagined that Harleen was with him on the bed, riding him, bucking her hips, holding her breasts, and moaning, J, oh J, you're gonna make me cum! His pelvis tightened with an electrified shudder extending up his shaft as he ejaculated onto his stomach. Reeling in the afterglow, he steadied his breath and concluded that he definitely needed to share this feeling with Harleen. He had never felt more energized than when he was with her. And he hoped she would feel the same way...
*****
Joker sat at his desk finishing off the tasteless dinner provided to him by the orderly through the opening in his wall, almost like a mailbox. There was nothing to do in his small room. Absolutely nothing. He occasionally was given a magazine or newspaper by the orderlies or Harleen so he could have something to occupy his time. Fortunately, for him, he was able to keep tabs on his men this way. He knew that Frost, his right-hand man, had been able to keep the Joker Empire going through various money-making strategies. The incompetent police force had no clue. Other than the occasional reading, eating, and meeting with Harleen, his only other outlet was exercise. He was able to leave his cell for one or two hours a day for leisure activity. Some chose to use the library or sit in the courtyard. Joker always chose to lift weights in order to keep up his strength and then shower.
After relaxing for some time at his desk, he decided to get up and do some push-ups in front of his bed, switching from two arms to one. His body was sweaty and strands of hair fell in front of his face as he envisioned himself above Harleen, with her body on the floor below him. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Her treatment method did seem to work as he felt more clear-headed than ever now that he was off the psychiatric medication. The electroshock "therapy" had decreased significantly since Harleen started seeing him, but he could handle it. It wasn't necessarily the pain of the shock—though the guards turned the machine to its highest level—it was the numbness, confusion, and memory loss that really affected him. He didn't like not being charge of his faculties. If he were a crazy lunatic, he wanted it to be on his own terms.
A sound at the door caused him to stop and stand up, his muscles red and engorged from the exercise. Three guards entered the room and rushed Joker with a bat. They had come to fulfill their promise of providing electroshock therapy that evening. Joker was able to get a powerful punch in on the large one with red hair, smashing him directly in the nose, which started to bleed immediately. Winston, the name tag said on his uniform. He was the head guard who was always involved in brutalizing Joker in some way. The man with the bat attempted to swing at Joker's back, but Joker jumped out of the way and kicked him in the chest.
Winston, crouched on the ground holding his nose with blood dripping on the floor, gave the order to the third guard.
"Do it," he said.
The guard promptly tased Joker, whose electrified body convulsed and dropped to the floor. Now that he had almost completely tapered off his psych medications which caused disorientation, the guards no longer had the upper hand on him when it came to surprise visits. Joker was strong and they knew it, as evidenced in this interaction. They hoped the taser would work, which it did. It gave them enough time to quickly move his body to the gurney they had left outside of his door.
Winston grabbed a towel and held it to his bloody face proclaiming, "We ain't gonna hold back tonight, fellas!"
*****
They carted his strapped body on the gurney down the patient elevator to the sub-basement. It was quiet. It was always quiet in the asylum, but it was particularly quiet in the sub-basement. The walls were old cinderblock with yellowed paint flaking off. The hallway had many offshoots into wings that hadn't been used for several decades—except for the one with the electroshock equipment. They turned left down the hall, then right down another hall, then left through two swinging doors and into a large dark room. They stopped next to a metal table with the electroshock machine, its outdated knobs and buttons clearly demonstrated that it was at least 50 years old. Winston joyously grabbed the paddles as he powered up the machine to the highest level.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" the Joker's laughed split the air in the quiet room. "DO IT!" he commanded them, his blue eyes enraged. "DO IT!"
"You got it, fucker," Winston roared as he put the paddles on Joker's temples. The shock made his body convulse violently even though he was strapped in.
"HAHAHAHA, you're killing me, Win!" Joker shrieked, his head rolling back and forth as if he were enjoying the torture.
"This dude is fucking insane," the guard with the taser said. It was his first time witnessing the event.
"No shit! That's why Edwards has us do this." Winston replied, referring to the chief of administration in charge of the patients and who was also Harleen's direct supervisor. Winston needed no convincing from Edwards to provide this treatment to Joker. Do it discreetly, he remembered being told. Winston gathered several men in his crew that he knew he could trust—and who had no respect for Joker.
He turned up the power on the machine, shocking Joker once more. His body convulsed again and he continued laughing, punctuated by gasps and coughs.
Winston hated the man and he hated that Harleen was giving him so much attention. Winston admitted to no one that he was infatuated with her, and, to his dismay, she never seemed to notice him. She's just so professional, he declared to himself. I just know she would be different around me if we didn't have the relationship clause as employees, he thought, reminding himself of the fact that the hospital would not condone any sexual relationship amongst employees. He tensed his lips and sneered, thinking about how caring she was toward the Joker. Fucking prick! He screamed in his head. He had an idea...
"Oh, I'm just following orders, Mr. Joker. Dr. Quinzel has now ordered me to give you treatment several times a week. I don't think she really cares about you," he hissed, trying to twist Joker's perception. Though he was just a guard, he learned from Dr. Edwards that electroshock can cause patients to feel confused and have trouble with their memory. And he was doing his best to implant nonsense into Joker's brain. Unfortunately for Joker, it was working.
Joker laid on the table, his body seizing with each application. The confusion was setting in as he was imagining Harleen in the room at the mere suggestion of her name. Current was sent through his brain again and he felt himself slip away into something like sleep but not. He heard distorted voices. Maybe we should give him a lobotomy, whaddya say?... Here hold this, I wanna get a selfie... Fucking asshole... We need to do this more often...
Joker's brain was not able to comprehend reality anymore. He couldn't think any thoughts and he could only feel rage. He couldn't even remember where he was or what he was doing. Ancient memories arose and then dissipated like they were a dream. He didn't realize that he was lying on the floor in his cell until hours later when he felt a cool liquid on his foot. He lifted his head to see that it was Winston's blood that had pooled on the floor. Too exhausted to do anything, he put his head back down and fell asleep.
*****