Batman: Green Light (Patreon)

With his sample of the wild rose retrieved without incident and a cure worked up for Harvey, Batman turned his attention back to Pamela Isley. He knew what he should do. She’d tried to commit murder; he should turn her into the police. But being a vigilante gave him certain latitude. Although clearly deranged, Pamela was brilliant… and beautiful. And so far, her homicidal rage was reserved for those who made a species extinct. It might be that she could be redirected into being more sociable… if given the right incentive.

As useful as the Batman could be, with some consideration, he decided this was a better job for Bruce Wayne.

***

Pamela Isley awoke to a strong pounding at the door to her greenhouse. She scowled as she got up, able to hear the knocking well over the gentle music she was playing to lull her children into restful sleep.

“Arrogant man,” she muttered, throwing a robe on over her naked body. “He’d better have a good reason to wake my babies…”

She shut off the music as she left her sleeping quarters and made her way hurriedly—so as not to prolong her babies’ discomfort—to answer the shuddering door.

“Bruce Wayne?” she gasped in surprise, seeing who it was—and instantly adopted the more pliant mien he’d be familiar with from her dating Harvey Dent. “What are you doing here? Is Harvey alright?”

“He’s fine,” Bruce assured her. “Well on the mend. I guess whoever slipped him that poison doesn’t really know what they’re doing,” he joked with a genteel smile.

Pamela fumed, but only inwardly. On the outside, she smiled with relief. “That’s good to hear. I want to visit him as soon as possible. But…” She yawned theatrically. “In the morning. I imagine they wouldn’t let me in now, no more than they would last time.”

“No, I suppose not. I’d just hate for you to worry. Can I come in?”

“I actually—”

Bruce shoved past her. “You’re too kind,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and using the branch of one of her trees as a coatrack. Pamela gritted her teeth as he looked around at his environs. “Harvey told me how much you like plants. And I see they like you too. You must have a real green thumb.”

“Plants respond well to love and affection,” Pamela answered, her arms crossed. “They’re a lot more reasonable than people that way.”

“Oh?”

“Some guys, no matter how nice you are to them, just can’t take a hint.”

“That must be frustrating.” Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets. “You, such a beautiful woman, but everyone playing games with you. No one being open with you. Not like plants.”

“No, not like plants.” Pamela reached her hand out to stroke the leafs of the branch forced to bear the man’s jacket. “All they need is water, good soil, and sunshine. They know how to make do without always going after more and more and more.”

“Then again, I guess that means they don’t know how much fun ‘more’ can be.”

Pamela set her hands on her hips. “What are you doing here, Mr. Wayne? I’ve tried to be nice because you’re Harvey’s friend, but it’s late and you’re keeping me up.”

“Sorry, I’ll try being direct. I thought you might like to know that my company has bought several lumber concerns in Brazil.”

Pamela was caught up short. Her mask slipped; she spoke in a stunned monotone. “Lumber?”

“Yes. I now own quite a number of logging camps in the rain forest. I was thinking of shutting them down…”

“Yes!” Pamela cried enthusiastically, even shrilly, coming towards Bruce like a stampede. “You must! You have to!”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “No. I don’t have to. I could throw some real money to those lumberjacks—if I wanted to—and get them working overtime instead.”

Pamela almost screamed in protest, but she caught herself. Bruce was toying with her—trying to manipulate her—she wanted to murder him with her bare hands for playing around with the fate of so many innocent trees, but if she killed him, some other corporation would just take over his properties and keep the clearcutting going. She had to try something else…

“You’re trying to make a deal with me,” she said darkly.

“More like ‘coming to an understanding’. You’re a lovely woman, Pamela. Very charming, very smart. But I don’t think you’re right for Harv. I think he’d be better with a girl who’s less… complicated.”

“Is that it, then?” Pamela snapped, so red in the face she barely even noticed how he was nodding towards knowing what she’d done. “I break things off with Harvey and you stop cutting down the rain forest?”

Bruce shrugged. “No… more like you break things off with Harv, I don’t tell him that it was you that poisoned him.” He held up a finger. “And before you panic and try to kill me, you should know I have the proof of what you’ve done in some very safe hands. If anything happens to me, the police find out about you.” He leaned over to smell a flowering plum tree. “You have a lovely garden, Pamela. I’d hate to see a bunch of beat cops stomping around in here, putting their bootprints on everything.”

Pamela bit her lip, anger giving way to fear. The bastard had her! Maybe she should kill him anyway, just for the satisfaction, if she was going to have to go on the run regardless…

“I’m glad to see you’re being reasonable,” Bruce continued. “You’re a bright girl. I’d like it if you could keep being smart.”

“I’m afraid I’m a little too stupid to see why a billionaire would need to blackmail me. I have nothing you want.”

“Wrong on both counts,” Bruce said. “You have something every man wants. And I’m not blackmailing you. We’re going to come to a nice, civil arrangement. Quid pro quo. We both get what we want.”

Now she knew the game. It would hardly be unpleasant—Bruce was a handsome man and she hadn’t heard even the greasiest tabloid imply he didn’t know how to handle himself. She just hated being outmaneuvered by the fucker.

“Let me guess,” Pamela smirked icily. “I suck your cock and you let me go? I thought you did well enough with the ladies on your own to keep from having to coerce them.”

“Oh, I do,” Bruce assured her. “That’s why I’m not going to lay a finger on you.”

Pamela’s eyes widened. “You’re not?” she asked, struck by surprise. From playing dumb to propositioning her to now rejecting her, Bruce’s changeable nature was giving her whiplash. Throwing her off her game. She hated the thought that he was manipulating her and it was working.

“No,” Bruce told her firmly. “But you feel free. Come over here, Pamela.”

Pamela slowly walked up to him, padding on her bare feet across the grass. She stopped when she was just a few inches away. Looked into his eyes directly.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Pamela rasped.

“It’s simple… even those of us who don’t have a PhD can get it. For every time you orgasm, I’m going to shut down one of the logging camps in the Amazon.”

Pamela spat out a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Bruce taunted her. “Go ahead. There are twelve camps in all, so this is going to take a while. Best if you get started now. I’d hate to make you miss too much sleep.”

“What… what makes you think I won’t just fake an orgasm?” Pamela gasped.

“I’m something of a detective. I know the difference between the real thing and a fake. Go on now, Pam. Show me how you play with your cunt.”

Pamela trembled with involuntary excitement and then nodded her head.

“All right, Bruce,” she said softly, realizing that her best way forward was to play along. She could get back at him later. For now, she would be pliant, malleable, his perfect little sex slave. “I will. I’ll show you just what I do when I’m being naughty… with my wet little pussy…”

She sat down on a nearby table and moved back slightly, then stretched her long legs out in front of her. Opening up her robe, she slowly moved her hand down over her naked skin.

“This is how I start,” she purred. “By feeling all over my body. I love the feel of my own touch… the feeling of being touched… it makes my cunt all wet…”

Bruce swallowed, feeling his cock bulging harder and thicker as he watched Ivy’s autoerotic ministrations. Some of her arousal, he knew, was just play-acting, but on some level he was getting through to her. What Ivy was doing couldn’t be faked, not entirely.

Pamela ran her hands through her hair, then slid them down her beautiful face, down her neck to her chest. She stopped at her breasts, fingers squeezing the warm, firm mounds. Her fingertips rounded her nipples, felt them harden, and pinched them, pulling on them, then pressing her hands down on her swollen tits. She moaned with pleasure as the sensation surged inside her, and was a little surprised at how good it felt.

Having someone as odious as Bruce Wayne watching her in this private moment should’ve put a damper on the erotic mood, but instead, she found herself more turned on than ever. Her cunt was flooding with juices, almost ready to give Bruce the orgasm he’d demanded from her, but she realized she wanted to take her time and show him everything. For some unknowable reason, her body was responding to Bruce’s inquisitive eyes as it never had to a man before.

Pamela thought about how much happier her life might have been if she’d found someone before who was interested in her like this, whose interest she returned. She would’ve taught him everything there was to know about how passionate she could be. She would’ve let him do anything he wanted to her, because what he wanted was to love her and make her feel good. But if there were any men like that, she’d never found them. And Bruce couldn’t be such a man, no matter what her body was doing under his searching gaze.

But he was as interested in her as she could ask for, from any man. Bruce watched her with fiery eyes that wouldn’t have looked away if the world was ending. Then he started to unbutton his shirt, still watching as she showed him what gave her pleasure. She saw his broad, hairy chest and imagined it pressed to her large breasts as she got the fucking every woman longed for.

God, why’d he have to be such a bastard? She couldn’t possibly like being enjoyed by such a man. Maybe if she killed him after, like a black widow, she could consider her dignity intact even having given into him so promiscuously.

She ran her soft fingers over her belly, feeling the churning sexuality there, the emptiness of her cunt deep below. She dipped her middle finger into her belly button. It was a cute little hole, Pamela thought, but she had a better one, and that was what Bruce was interested in. She saw Bruce pull his shirt off, then undo his belt. She closed her eyes and moaned at the sound of his clothes hitting the floor. She could still feel his eyes on her naked body.

“Mmmm, Bruuuuce,” she sighed. “I love to take my time, to feel all of me before I finally touch my cunt. Women always like to take their time. That’s why most men aren’t good lovers; they like to rush. Just want to stick their cocks inside a girl until they come, and usually it’s before the girl can even get started. Are you like that, Bruce? Or would you take your time with me?”

Bruce grinned at her lewd words. He could tell Pamela thought she was deceiving him, but really she meant this seduction far more than she even knew. “I’d take my time. There’s a lot of you to play with and I’d want to be sure I enjoyed every bit. You could feel me too, of course. Even if you rush.”

Pamela groaned, unexpectedly aroused by his words. Her fingers trickled over her legs and she petted herself on the insides of her thighs. Heat poured out from her crotch. Pamela fell back on the table she was perched on, running her fingers closer and closer to her bare pussy.

“Ohhh, Bruce,” she mewled. “Watch me now. Watch carefully. I’m gonna show you how women touch themselves—how to get us all excited.”

“That’s good, Pamela,” Bruce whispered back to her, his voice aroused, but tightly controlled. She found it soothing, as though he were purring sweet nothings into her ear. “Show me. Show me everything. Show me how you want to be touched before a man fucks you.”

Ivy slid her fingers through the red hair that so lovingly marked her slit. She sighed this pleasure as the pads of her fingers made contact. There was heat in her cunt and softness in her pubic thatch and she knew that this was what every man wanted to find in a woman—softness and warmth.