“What?” you instantly bellowed, absolutely arranged by this quite demeaning deed.
It was finally those three words that finally broke you out of your stupor, that finally brought you back to the grim reality of it all.
Your struggles became reinvigorated as well, the vines sensing your struggles grow tenfold within seconds. But alas, Ivy had anticipated your resistance to this quite unorthodox request.
In a split second, vines shot out of the crevices from the degraded floor and quickly wrapped around you in a floral web, binding your wrists behind your back and rendering you utterly defenseless, much to the delight of the plant queen.
“You heard me,” she purred seductively, before standing up and extending her bare foot towards you.
Despite your struggles, the vines curled around your neck, before forcing your neck downwards, and subsequently your vision dropped to Ivy’s (admittedly) well pampered right foot.
With several vines adorned around the naked limb like tattoos, her slender arch created a visible shadow on the ground. The bright red nail polish adorning each of her shapely toes was a perfect companion to her floral green skin color, a surprisingly fitting contrast of red and green that certainly warranted a lingering yet curious from your lingering eyes.
Even Ivy noticed your lingering gaze and cooed softly as she sensed your hesitation. “As I told you long ago lover, no one can resist Poison Ivy. Not even you.”
Your eyes narrowed as you glared back at her in solemn defiance. “I’d rather kiss the dirt six feet under.”
She made an offended sound as she cocked her hips to the side in an overly seductive pose. “You’d rather die than do such a painless, harmless little thing as to kiss my foot?”
“What do you really want, Pamela? What's your real game here?” you growled angrily, still struggling against her floral webbing.
“Why, my dear Dark Knight,” she purred. “I only want you to admit the truth that’s so apparent even the World’s Greatest Detective must admit: that I am better than you. And what better way to show that than to kiss the feet of your obvious superior,” she declared pompously, her hubris almost as palpable as the humidity.
“I may be dying, but I’m not that desperate. You’d have better luck getting Harley to abandon the Joker than me prostrating myself just to satiate your ego,” you snarled.
A twitch in her domineering smile betrayed a twinge of sympathy for the former Arkham Asylum psychiatrist turned psychopathic jester for the Joker. Poison Ivy had always had a soft spot for Harley Quinn, which could only be expected considering their similar backgrounds.
Usually, that was a weakness you could exploit but the plant queen quickly saw through and with a snap of her fingers the serpentine vines coiled around your already battered torso once again.
“Oh, but you are desperate, Batman. Why else would you come to me to give you an antidote for the Titan? You could’ve thawed out that snowman Victor Frieze in Penguin’s little museum if you wanted a possibility of a cure, but you knew that only my purity could cleanse you of the Titan strain. I really am your last hope now aren’t I?” she replied snidely, clearly relishing the control she had over you both physically and verbally.
“Not.....that.....desperate,” you maintained through gritted teeth as the vines continued restricting against you.
Kneeling down in front of you, she playfully ran her fingers across your left cheekbone, the bruise left by Harley’s baseball bat still throbbing as her fingertips touched it. Her presence mere inches away from you caused you to instinctively flinch, as the aura of pheromones around her attacked your senses on all sides and immediately began affecting your perception of the red haired vixen.
Your near indomitable will always cancelled out Ivy’s pheromone suggestion before, but in your weakened state of mind and every ache and sore in your body now exacerbated thanks to the Titan coursing through your veins you were now becoming more and more susceptible to her influence.
“Tsk tsk Batman. You could make all of this pain, all of this hurt go away. Just like that. All you have to do is pucker up, and give Mother Nature a little kiss. What’s so bad about that?” she grinned, her lower lip curling into a pout as you strained yourself not to lunge at her.
“I-I can’t,” you finally grunted, just barely fighting off her control much to Ivy’s utter amusement.
“Can’t or won’t, darling? You can’t degrade yourself, but you can let Strange and his army of meat-sacks take over your city. Your precious Gotham, left ripe for the taking by those murderers and rapists. All because you wouldn't kiss my feet. You’d rather see your city burn then humble yourself. You know, for all of your self-righteous talk you’re just as arrogant as me, Batman,” she sneered vindictively, her words piercing your skin like knives.
Perhaps it was your impaired judgement thanks to her pheromones, or maybe it was the Titan formula finally seeping through into your disciplined psyche thanks to all of the poisoned blood pumping through your veins but somehow you found an unsettling truth in Poison Ivy’s words.
For all your bravado and unwavering nobility in the face of death, it would all mean nothing if you were to succumb to the Titan formula. Hugo Strange would initiate Protocol 10 as planned, which would no doubt create cataclysmic consequences for Arkham City. The Joker would have his last laugh as dozens in Gotham General perish from his poisoned blood. Countless innocent political prisoners and Arkham City staff within the prison would also be hunted down like animals and killed for the entertainment of psychopaths like Victor Zsasz and the Riddler.
All because you were too proud to lower yourself this one time.
Much as you would hate to admit it, the redhead’s words struck a rather notable chord with you and you couldn’t ignore it. You were sacrificing the needs of the many whom you sworn to protect just to preserve your own dignity, when it should be vice versa.
The needs of the city must always come before your own. Always.
Her smug grin only grew wider as she saw the mental tug-of-war take place over your conflicted face. “Having second thoughts, are we?”
The resignation in your voice, after moments of expedited soul-searching, told her the whole story. “You’ll keep your end of the deal, Ivy. The cure for a kiss.”
Tilting her head sideways, she playfully wagged her finger at you before leaning in even closer.
“Silly Bat, I already told you. You’ll do exactly as I say, and like it. Once I’m satisfied, you’ll get your cure,” she chided.
You quickly bit back a retort, realizing that at this point she had the higher ground and that it would be very advantageous for your own self-preservation and subsequently the protection of Gotham to simply acquiesce with her degrading demands.
"For now at least," you reasoned to yourself.
“Fine,” you grunted reluctantly under your breath, averting her gleaming eyes.
Refusing to give her the satisfaction initially, she quickly cupped your chin with her fingers and forced you to look her square in the eyes.
“Say it again, darling. I want to see the words come out of your mouth,” she snarled through gritted teeth, her lips curling into a smug grin as she could almost smell the defeat radiating off you.
Despite it all, you defiantly shot her your infamous soul-piercing glare that would render any superstitious and cowardly criminal weak at the knees. Unfortunately, due to current circumstances it lacked its usual fear factor.
“You win,” you spat out venomously, barely containing your contempt for the plant queen. “I’ll kiss your feet.”
And just like that she let your chin droop down and stood up with a triumphant smile, visibly pleased at your capitulation.
“See, that wasn’t so hard was it, darling? You and your false bravado, always making things more difficult than they need to be. We both know you came to me for a reason, Batman. Because you need me. Only I can make you whole again. But my generosity comes with a price, and I fully expect to enjoy the fruits of our bargain,” she declared, her hands on her curved hips.
Your eyes reluctantly dropped to her painted toes, pressed down against the dirt as her heel lifted off the ground. Glowering at the limb you would soon pay oral tribute to, your eyes couldn’t help but admire her near immaculate blood red nail polish, her petite arches, her baby smooth heels, her everything.
“Tell me, Dark Knight, and be honest. What do you think of my red nail polish?” she taunted just to rub it in further, arching her foot upwards so you could see her slender toes pressed against the ground. Despite your humiliating position, even you couldn’t deny just how aesthetically pleasing the color was especially contrasted against her floral green flesh.
“You like it, don't you love?” she added coyly, no doubt noticing the lingering stare you gave her extended foot.
Swallowing a lump of saliva as well as whatever remaining pride you had left, you mustered up your response.
“Yes,” you grunted feebly.
“Yes what?” came her amused response, her hands on her curved hands as she struck another voluptuous pose.
Seething in silent fury, you could only grit your teeth in frustration. “Yes......mistress.”
“Good boy!” she cooed approvingly, lifting her right leg above your cowl and playfully patting the base of your mask with her foot. You did nothing but scowled as she slowly traced her painted toes down your face, yet another humiliating act that caused her to snicker inwardly in triumph.
After trailing down your chin, her toes touched the ground again, stretching and scrunching against the dirt floor anxiously as they awaited your literal lip service.
“Now kiss my toes, Batman. All of them,” she demanded in a dominant sneer, her words hovering above you as you lowered your neck and proceeded to:
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