
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2629247.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Batman_and_Robin_(Comics)
  Relationship:
      Richard_John_Grayson/Pamela_Isley
  Character:
      Richard_Grayson, Poison_Ivy, Batman, Batgirl
  Additional Tags:
      Rape, Dark, Evil, Scheming
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-17 Words: 1361
****** Survivor ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     In attempt to take down the bat, Poison Ivy gets his sidekick in her
     clutches.
He wasn't sure what happened, exactly. But now he knows that his head feels
dulled and his eyes are hazy. Are they even open? No, but they're struggling to
lift apart.
His hands feel bound, but he can't be sure. All of his senses feel like a truck
is sitting on them. Resisting against his bindings, his eyes finally flutter
open.
Across from him, where he now realizes he's bound to a mental patient table, is
Pamela Isley (AKA Poison Ivy) with her lab coat facing him. He continues to
pull at his bindings, which through dulled vision he now has deduced are vines,
but he finds no release. He does successfully attract her attention.
She drops her glasses on the glass chemistry table and spins abruptly to face
him. "Well, well, well..." She trails off, stroking a streak in her long,
auburn hair.
"Letting me go will make things easier for you," he claims through slurred
words.
She ignored his plea and proceeds to approach him. Looking around, he notices
that he's naked aside from his mask – which he faintly feels on his face. She
is too, aside from her dainty lab coat.
Struggling to choke out, "What's the deal here?" He let's his tired muscles
relax involuntarily.
She continues to silently study him. Then, without warning, she places a hand
on his chest. "What's this scar from?" She asks, pointing to a lengthy jagged
mark three inches above his right nipple.
Finding it hard to lie, he answers, "When I first started," pause, "Harvey Dent
taught me a tough lesson about goofing off on the job. He had a knife and then
that happened."
"Mmm," she moans, almost sympathetically. "The ones on your back?" She'd
noticed them when she tied him up – a stretch of burn patterns on his spine.
"They're Chinese symbols that were branded on me when I completed training."
"What do they mean?" She asks.
He swallows and struggles to keep his eyes open, "They're your greatest
strengths. Agility, Intelligence, Heart."
Curious, she asks, "Does Batman have these marks too?"
"Yes," he answers curtly, "They're Strength, Will, and Honor. He has one extra,
which isn't allowed, but it's Guardian. He's deserving of a bunch more but
rules are rules and he doesn't break them often."
She smiles faintly at his hero worship complex, but then goes back to an evil
grin. "Do you know why you're here?"
He holds up a finger from bound hands, "I've pieced together that it's about
Batman. You probably got together with the other crooks and decided to hurt him
where it counts – me."
She slow claps, "Good work, detective. Does that earn you a new scar?"
He laughs sleepily. "You're still going to lose. You always do."
She burns red. "You're wrong! Oh how you mock me now!" She screams and huffs.
He can't think of a quippy response in time. She's just brushed her hair out of
her face and is now roughly groping him.
"What-" he struggles, "Stop."
She doesn't. She keeps touching him. He struggles as much as he can against his
bindings.
"Please," he whispers. Her left hand gets fiercer, but on the other hand, her
nails dig into the flesh of his abdomen. "Ahh," he groans, painfully weak.
She tries to roughly coax him into a reluctant erection, so she begins moving
faster. His indomitable will is weak with whatever she's drugged him with, so
it's not that much more work before her wish is granted.
"Please, stop," he says faintly and tries to reason.
She spits on him. Then again. Blood drips from his torso like a faulty shower
head.
He closes his eyes and tries to think, but comes up empty. Nothing in his head
makes sense and he can't formulate an escape plan.
She's unbuttoned her lab coat enough for him to see everything, but he looks
away to the window. He hopes his mentor will crash in anytime now; but he
doesn't. Batman doesn't get there in time.
She keeps stroking him like an animal until she's pleased with herself. He
gives up begging her to stop eventually.
She kicks back the table he's on and climbs atop him. He feels extra vines dig
into his wrists, drawing blood while she tries to draw semen.
Tears form in the lenses of his mask, but they dry and he tightens up. His
thoughts come back because she got careless. She got wrapped up in herself too
much and forgot to re-drug him. Now his thoughts are clearer. He can tell she's
enjoying herself in an evil way above him. He can tell that his body is a
bruised and bloody mess. He knows she's nowhere near done with him. Most
importantly, he knows where she's hiding his equipment.
In the reflection of her discarded glasses, he sees his gear piled up behind an
otherwise opaque cabinet. But all too soon, she's finished again and she's
slapping him, then confusing him, with drug-laced nails.
Next, she climbs to his face.
He can still tell she's gorgeous. Her legs are long and her female regions are
highly prominent. Her nipples are olive green and her strong, curly hair is
crisp auburn red. She's wearing decorative vines around her body. He always
assumed it was jewelry. He can also tell she doesn't get out of her lab much by
the way she's enjoying riding across his face.
His senses fade back in after another hour, so he begins thinking about his
vine bindings. VINEdings, if you will.
He knows his face is immensely wet and his mask is nearly soiled with her
sexual fluids, but he can think again, so he makes the most of it.
Every time she feels pain or panic, her defenses drop for a second. If he can-
Slap. Confusion. Disorientation. More grinding. More bleeding.
She goes back to his lap and begins bucking again. His whole body is dulled and
tense at the same time, but he can't fully register why or how.
Again, time passes. He's groaning in agony from all the lashes and tightly
gripping thorns. He doesn't waste time in biting her wetness when she brings it
to him again. Her plants loosen for a brief moment and he sits up quickly.
She slaps at him, but he's already grabbed a nearby medical platter to block it
with. Still, the sheer force knocks him off the table and to the dirty green-
tinted tile floor.
He groggily pushes himself up and turns to find her in his slowly focusing
gaze. She's outside the range of his easing tunnel vision, so he breaks for his
equipment.
All he can grab is a gauntlet, but it's the left one – meaning it has his
WayneTech arm pad computer. He gets enough time to turn it on, but not enough
to attempt further escape. She's standing behind him with a pipe – knocking him
to the ground unconscious.
Fragments of vision come in and out. He sees her above him again. He sees her
window shattering. He sees nothing for a moment. Then he sees Bruce; not
Batman. The cowl is gone. Then his bindings are too. He loses consciousness
again.
It wasn't supposed to go down this way. He wasn't supposed to lose his virtue
at sixteen. But nothing can be done now, can it?
He was right, by the way. She did lose. They all did. It may have weakened
Batman for a second, but he got really pissed off after that. There wasn't much
else to say about the 'Ivy Incident' other than that it was a moment they
wouldn't soon forget.
And when the eighteen year old Barbara Gordon heard, she freaked out –
threatening to kill Poison Ivy herself. Batman talked her down, however.
Nothing about this job was safe, but that's what made it what it is. Sometime
in the future, Gotham will find justice. Just not now. That's why they fight;
that's why they endure; and that's why they get back up when they fall. And
eventually, he wakes up in the searing palace of Wayne Manor with a fourth
scorched accolade branded on his skin – Survivor.
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