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The gardens at Arkham Asylum were meant as a therapeutic outing for the low-security inmates, sitting on the only patch of the land’s beachfront that wasn’t mined by rocky shoals. 

There was a waving stand of sea oats at the high tide mark, solitary palms curving gracefully against the sea and sky. There were dense clumps of big-leaved seagrapes, palmettos, sturdy hibiscus shrubs, and feathery Australian pines. Mr. Freeze had come this way as he’d escaped, only the land showed no sign of his usual lack of subtlety. If anything, the once pristinely manicured lawn was now verdant and overrun, looking more like the Serengeti than the quaint Victorian pastoral Batman would’ve expected from long experience and many visits. That should’ve told him something.

“Ivy.”

She hung from a number of vines that called to mind a sex swing, or even bondage, as they roped around her joints and erogenous zones and allowed her to lazily sway in the wind like a collection of ripe fruit, any of which might be plucked at leisure. Ivy tossed her mane of luxurious red hair over her shoulder, sending out traces of her perfumed pheromones with it. Like extensions of her crimson tresses, they threaded their way to Batman’s nostrils. He had meant only to investigate Mr. Freeze’s escape from Arkham Asylum, but apparently this woman had set up a trap for him, her control over the Arkham orderlies keeping the news hidden and leaving him unprepared for an encounter with her.

"Do you know what I’ve always liked about you, Batman? I mean aside from your rock-hard abs and what I’m sure is a tireless tongue… even if you are the strong, silent type.” She grinned, turning her head and burying her smile in one coil of her abundant hair. “Which I also quite like.”

Bruce doubled down on his stoicism, his control, trying to ignore her utterly, all but the threat she represented. In truth, he actually enjoyed it when she tried to seduce him. Her passionate words seemed to match the color of her red hair. Her green eyes flashed like emeralds, her generous breasts heaved under the tight bodice she was wearing and looked as though they would almost burst through the confines. She had a genius intellect, it was true, but with a voluptuous body like hers, she was hard to take seriously. It was all he could do to keep himself from stripping her clothes off, much less pay any attention to her familiar tirade.

He gazed appreciatively at her seductive form, his eyes taking in her lushly ripened breasts with their taut little nipples straining against the shiny latex that seemed to try and suffocate her voluptuous body as it refused to be as tightly bound as the corset attempted. Below it, her panties were as insubstantial as creeping vines growing over a status, and her sensuality was more disconcerting than ever with thigh-high boots leading up to the pale handspan of flesh bared between the leafy tops of her boots and the thin sheen of rubber that covered her pubis. The rubber clung like a tight-fitting glove to her flesh, displaying her flat abdomen, then tapering down to her slender waist. Her neatly flaring hips and smoothly rounded buttocks were equally well-encased in her tight, daringly brief thong. My God, he thought, she can’t possibly even realize how sexy she is! She's driving me crazy. Her legs were long and slender, the thighs suntanned already, even though it was only early spring, and his gaze had drifted down to concentrate on them.

"You never call me by my slave name. Not to my face, at least.”

"Why did you free Mr. Freeze? Who are you working with? Arkham has precautions against your pheromones alone.”

Ivy sighed in exasperation at his all-business tone, knowing exactly what it meant. She opened her legs wider, pulling on a vine curled around her big toe, and its corresponding end decapitated one of the sprinklers. Water spewed out, coming down in a drizzling glaze that gave Ivy’s latex costume an even more luscious sheen, and made her pale skin gleam darkly.

“Mmmmm… do you know what a gynoecium is, Batman? Well, my gynoecium’s on fire for you right now. How about it? Come commune with nature…”

Batman’s head swam. The constant low-level pheromone output that Ivy put out as if addicted to men fawning over her now dramatically increased, trying to slip Bruce a mickey. But her aphrodisiac hadn’t worked on him since he’d synthesized an antidote from her blood, years ago. He could ignore it. What he couldn’t ignore was how beautiful she was.

Ivy hung there, luxuriating in the stinging spray, slowly relaxing even more than she had been. The steady surge of water made her skin glow with excitement.

Ivy was proud of her body. She thrust her tits upwards, cupping a heavy mound in each palm. Her corset was so low-cut, so thin, so tight that it was like it wasn’t even there, and her wet flesh slipped against what confines there were, threatening to emerge like a flower in bloom. There weren't many women with bodies as good as hers, and Ivy knew it. The tips of her fingers slipped under her neckline and toyed with her nipples as a slight smile curled up the corners of her full, warm lips.

Only Batman ignored the fullness of her lush thighs and the tight curl of her waist. Only Batman failed to appreciate the rounded perfection of her firm ass, the smoothness of her long legs. Even her moist cunt failed to excite him, and it was driving Ivy mad.

“I’ll let you… mmmmmm… explore forbidden parts of the jungle… places I’m sure Catwoman doesn’t allow trespassing…”