Tickle-Me Harley

The blur was all around her again. A constant, electric hum accompanied it, like the subtle buzz of a power station. Flash was screwing with her, daring her to do something stupid. In most cases, Harley's first, second, third, fourth and fifth instincts were to do something stupid, so that was what she did. She lifted her left leg slightly and tentatively went to take a step forward, and the response was a shift in the blur: a glint of shining blue plastic that zipped out from among it, came in close between one leg--still raised--and the other, and smacked her teasingly on the pussy. "Ouch!" Harley made a face that was half-shock, half-disgust, lowered her leg and reflexively let go of her shirt to press both hands to her tingling kitty cat. Like a set of blinds rolling upwards, Harley's shirt snapped back to its normal position--just below her navel at the front, just barely tickling the topmost curves of her cakes at the back. She put her knees together and suppressed the urge to cringe, looking nervously up at the constantly shifting field of red before her. This was old territory for her, very old. She hadn't been played with like this since before Arkham City, before the Asylum...back with...
Harley flushed at the memory. The slapping, the tickling, fuck, the tickling...she'd never told anyone. It was private, too private even for the shrinks at Arkham, too private for anyone except herself; she still thought about it sometimes, despite everything. God, did she think about it. Now was not the time, though, yet here she was...mostly naked, already humiliated, rapidly getting moreso. The rest of her squad were on the other side of the field, alternating between firing into it and cursing loudly about the ineffectiveness of them firing into it.
"What do you reckon we should do?" Boomerang scratched his head, examining the red blur curiously.
Deadshot stared. "Are you serious, man? You're supposed to be the guy's nemesis! The fuck do I know about The Flash? You ever see this shit before?"
"It...I...I ain't never seen him do nothing like this before, mate! Maybe this Brainiac drongo gave him some new freaky powers or something!"
"Yeah, or maybe you're such a pushover he ain't never needed to break this out to deal with your dumb ass before," Deadshot shook his head. "We need to do something before he gets bored of playing with his food and decides to start cracking skulls. Shark!"
Shark raised his hand. "Present!"
"Cover me."
"Cover you what?"
"Just..." Deadshot closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "When I do what I'm about to do, you start distracting Flash."
"Ah," Shark nodded sagely, then raised his hand again. "Question."
"Alright, listen man, before you say whatever you're about to I need you to understand that this ain't school and I ain't your fuckin' teacher. If you have a question you just hip-fire that shit, I don't need no preamble, we clear?"
"Yes, we are very clear!" Shark gave a thumbs-up. "But back to the question at hand: How will I distract him?"
"You're asking me what you are gonna do to distract The Flash?"
Shark blinked. "Yes."
Deadshot massaged his forehead. "...I dunno, man. Throw something at him."
"Yes, I will throw something at The Flash!"
"Alright, cool." Deadshot turned away and rolled his eyes. Next, he slipped away from the two and ducked into a crouch, creeping across the street while hiding behind upturned dumpsters or bits and pieces of cars or motorcycles. When he was all the way on the other side of where Harley was trapped, he waved King Shark down and gave him a thumbs-up. "Distraction," Shark mumbled to himself. "I am the distraction!" Without warning, Shark surged forward and leapt high into the air, his tattoos glowing eerily as he rose. The blur thinned, then stilled. The Flash came back into the view, staring silently up at Shark as he reached the apex of his jump. "Well, look at that..." he said, putting his hands on his hips. "Flying Shark..."
Deadshot sprang into action, firing from his wrists at Flash. There was a loud splurt and Flash cried out in pain and alarm. Furious, he spun on his heel, phasing subtly in and out of corporeal form in time with the rhythm of Deadshot's shots. "You...shot...me..." he raised his arm, examining a raw, bleeding graze on his forearm. "I'm gonna rip your fucking lungs out through your asshole, Floyd."
Meanwhile, Harley saw her chance and, without a second thought, started sprinting. Flash heard the slapping of bare feet on concrete and spun back around, just in time to see Harley running up to the nearest storefront--a launderette--and trying the door. To her dismay, she found it was locked, able only to rattle it uselessly in its frame. She looked behind her and saw those bright, purple eyes staring back. The window next to the door was half-open, just wide enough for someone to fit through. Maybe. Deciding to risk it, she hurriedly went over to it and jumped up and began climbing up into it, wriggling and panting as she went. She was halfway through before she got stuck, and to her eternal shame and frustration, saw that the culprit were--what else--her cakes. Harley made a distressed, whiny noise and kept on struggling, trying to get through before it was...
Too late. Flash arrived right behind her, gazing admiringly up at the clown princess' pale, doughy rear-end, and more besides. Harley swallowed so hard it felt like that dangly thing in the back of her throat would go with it. "Uh...h-hi...M-mister Flash!" She could barely see him over the curve of her own butt cheeks. He was holding something in his hand, something other than that fly-swatter he'd just been toting. She tried to get a better look and caught a glimpse of...were those...feathers? No, no they couldn't be...because that would mean he knew about...and he couldn't. He couldn't!
"Ticklish, Quinn?"
He could. Harley shook her head frantically. "H-hey, wait a second now Mister Flash, sir...we can...we can talk about this, can't we? Like...like serious adult-types?"
Flash grinned and stepped forward, extending his arm until the feathers touched lightly to Harley's other lips. "We could...if you were that type. You're not, though. Trust me, I know. Everyone does. You've always been a joke, Quinn...it's why you're here, it's why your fat ass has you trapped in this thing...and it's why I'm doing...this," he moved his hand up and down, a subtle, airy buzz playing across Harley's pussy. A nervous chuckle escaped her, she wiggled her hips. "C-come on, Flash! You...you...you wouldn't embarrass a girl like...like this...w-would you?"
Flash pretended to think about it, then nodded eagerly. "Uh-huh, I think so." The tickling intensified. Harley squirmed, "W-wait...wait...plea...pleaaa-hee-hee-hee-hee!" she broke off into a torrent of girlish giggles. "Ohhh, no...no, no, no...you gotta stop, that's not...not riiiiight," the giggles kept coming back, the pitch going up and up as Flash kept going. She took several deep breaths, getting more and more flustered as it intensified. "Pleaaaaase! I didn't...ooohhh...I didn't....didn't...didn't...do nothin'!" Her eyes eyes were screwed shut, and each pause was punctuated by a kick of her leg, a sharp intake of breath, and a twitch of the mouth. "I didn't...I didn't! Harley whined brattily. "I..." She hesitated, trying to hold back a flood of old memories and a series of phrases that kept dancing on the tip of her tongue. "I...I...I...I'm a..." She cringed pre-emptively. "I'm...a g-good girl." There it was. The dam was broken. All those years of work, all the locking away of those parts of herself, all the insisting things would be different...all for nothing. "I'm a...I'm a good girl. I didn't because I'm a good girl and..." she **** her own mouth closed and let out a muffled moan. He had her now, and he knew it, so he pushed further. No-holds barred. Using every bit of his speed, Flash mercilessly tickled every last inch of Harley's ticklish pink pussy, drawing peal after peal of shocked, squeaky laughter from the captive clown. The whole time she kept kicking her legs back and forth, accompanied by moans and snort-squeals. "S-s-s-stop," she whined. "I'm a good girl! I am!"
"Are you?" Flash laughed. "Are you sure?"
Harley nodded. "Uh-huh! Hon--honest!"
"I'm not so sure," Flash said, pushing it further. "Squeal for me, would you?"
Harley obliged, although she hardly had any choice. Harley squealed at the top of her lungs. She squealed until her voice was a squeaky mess, she squealed until both her face and pussy were glowing, and then she squealed some more. The whole time she felt herself getting closer and closer, and the thought of saying it made her blood run cold. That was the last thing, the very last. She felt it getting closer and closer, and fought it every step of the way. Don't say it, she kept telling herself. Don't. Don't. DON'T But it just kept inching closer. Harley clenched her fists and beat them against the window, she screwed her eyes shut and groaned. She fought and fought, until she could almost feel it physically balancing on the tip of her tongue. "D..." it started. "D...d..." No! He's not, Harley! No one is! Not anymore! "D-d-d..." Her mouth wasn't obeying instructions, the light, gooey hotness the tickling was making her feel was too much, it was overriding everything else. "D...D...Da..." She was using everything she had left to hold it in. "Da...da...d..." Harley tried, she tried so hard, but ten more seconds passed and her resolve only got weaker. A faint, defeated, "I h-hate you!" Was the very last thing she managed before it came rolling out of her mouth. "DAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDYYYYY!" She screamed. "DADDY! DADDY! DADDYDADDYDADDYDADDYDADDY!" She kept running one foot over the other, her pussy dripping like a faucet. She was so wet, and she hated it! Flash laughed and laughed, and gave her one last round of intense tickling, which **** one last new reaction from her: "Daddy!" Harley screeched once more, the feelings so intense she momentarily went cross-eyed. At last, she came, arching her back and, on top of everything else, briefly squirted a weak stream of something clear and aromatic from her kitty cat. "G-g-g..." she took a great, big breath. "Guhh..." Harley exhaled and went limp, pussy still dripping.