DISCLAIMER: "Birds of Prey" and characters are copywritten by Miller/Tobin
Productions, Warner Brothers, DC comics et al.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Anticipation
By trancer
That's what Harley loved the most. The anticipation. The unknown, wondering, imagining, desiring what the next course of action would be. Of course, the anticipation was all she really had. No one ever really met her expectations. No matter how hard she wanted, coaxed, dictated, demanded. No one could hit that spot, hit every note in a perfect symphony of flesh and sweat, pain and pleasure.
But, she kept trying. Kept anticipating. They bent her, beat her, fucked her but no one had ever broken her, even her sweet Mr. J, to Harley's chagrin. And she waited, anticipation leading to a vicious cycle of hope, disappointment, to frustration and back around again.
Even now, on her knees on the cold stone floor, hands bound behind her back, wearing nothing more than a collar, the anticipation kept her warm. The seeds of disappointment sprouted like weeds in the back of her mind.
Eventually, the door to her cell opened. Head still bowed, she gazed through her bangs at dangerously high heels supporting impossibly long legs. Heels clacked loudly on the stone floor.
"I hope you're not another disappointment," she drawled, pulling the long coat off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Eschewed the normal black bodice for one colored entirely in hues of green. "There've been soo many disappointments these days."
"I'll try my best," she clipped, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Quickly, deftly, she was on her. Hands, threading through Harley's hair with a vice-like grip, yanked Harley's head back. She stared into deep, emerald eyes, surrounded hair that rolled off her shoulders in waves of crimson. Harley heard the hitch in her voice, felt the shiver that trembled down her spine.
"I didn't tell you to speak, now did I?" The green eyes sparked with an insanity that made Harley's toes curl in delight. "And before you answer, I don't like Mistress or Madame, that's soo passe." She released her grip, stood before Harley. "Call me Ivy. Now, choose your safety word."
Harley tilted her head upwards, the anticipation coursing through her veins, coloring her skin, tingling the insides of her thighs. The anticipated that maybe, just maybe, this Ivy would do her right. She smiled and licked her lips.
"More."
The End