Chapter 3: Forced Bloom
The cell door screeched open with a violence that jerked them both awake. A figure was thrown inside, landing in a tangle of limbs and vibrant green on the cold floor. The door slammed shut, the bolts crashing home with finality.
The woman uncoiled herself with a serpentine grace that was unnerving. She was all sharp angles and lush curves, skin the color of deep moss after a rain, hair a cascade of lustrous crimson. Poison Ivy. Her eyes, like chips of peridot, scanned the cell, taking in the rusted bars, the flickering bulb, and finally, the two journalists huddled together on the cot. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips.
“Well, well,” she purred, her voice like honey dripping from a thorn. “Looks like I’m crashing your little pity party.” Her gaze swept over their disheveled clothes, the intimacy of their pose, the lingering rawness in their eyes. “And it seems the party got started without me.”
Lois was on her feet instantly, pushing Iris behind her in a protective gesture that felt both instinctual and futile. “Ivy. What kind of game is this?”
“No game, little reporter,” Ivy said, rising to her full height. A faint, sweet scent, like blooming nightshade and damp earth, began to emanate from her. It was subtle at first, a mere hint in the ozone-charged air. “Our host seems to be collecting interesting specimens. I just made the list.”
Iris clutched the back of Lois’s shirt. “What’s that smell?”
Ivy’s smile widened. “That, my dear, is me.”
Lois’s mind screamed a warning, but it was a distant echo. The scent was weaving its way into her senses, clouding logic with a thick, floral haze. She shook her head, trying to clear it. “Stay back.”
“Or what?” Ivy took a step forward, the sweetness intensifying, becoming cloying, irresistible. “You’ll write a strongly worded editorial?”
The air itself seemed to thicken. Lois’s knees felt weak. The memory of Clark, of Barry, receded as if sinking into a deep, warm lake. All that remained was the present, the scent, and the mesmerizing woman approaching them. Her anger melted, replaced by a sudden, dizzying flush of heat. She took a stumbling step forward.
“Lois, no,” Iris whispered, but her own protest was weak. Her grip on Lois’s shirt loosened. Iris inhaled deeply, a strange, dreamy look softening her features. “It… it smells so good.”
“That’s because it is,” Ivy crooned, reaching out one elegant hand. Her fingertips brushed Lois’s cheek, and a jolt, like a static shock fused with pure pleasure, shot through Lois’s entire body. She gasped.
Resistance was a concept that belonged to another world. The pheromones wrapped around their willpower, smothering it effortlessly. Lois felt a desperate, physical need well up inside her, so powerful it was painful. It was nothing like the complicated, defiant passion she’d shared with Iris. This was simpler, more absolute. A chemical command.
“Come here,” Ivy commanded, her voice low and hypnotic.
They crawled to her. There was no shame, no thought. It was a primal response. Lois pressed her face against Ivy’s thigh, inhaling the dizzying fragrance from the skin-tight green leaves that clung to her legs. Iris was at her other side, nuzzling her hip, a soft, whimpering sound escaping her lips.
“Good girls,” Ivy murmured, threading her fingers through Lois’s dark hair and then through Iris’s short crop. “Forget your boys in tights. They can’t give you this. They can’t make you feel this… free.”
She guided Lois’s face upward, and Lois looked into those ancient, knowing green eyes. Any last shred of protest died. Ivy’s mouth descended on hers, and it was like being kissed by a poisonous flower. Her lips were soft, but her tongue was demanding, claiming Lois’s mouth with a practiced skill that left her breathless and aching. The taste was of berries and something dangerously addictive.
Ivy broke the kiss and turned to Iris, capturing her mouth with the same devastating efficiency. Iris moaned into the kiss, her hands coming up to clutch at Ivy’s waist.
Then Ivy stepped back, her gaze burning with predatory satisfaction. “Now,” she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Show me what you learned from each other.”
She sat on the edge of the rusted cot, a queen on a throne of decay, and parted her legs. The invitation was obscene and irresistible.
Lois moved first, driven by a need that superseded every molecule of her identity. She dropped to her knees before Ivy, her hands trembling as she pushed aside the strange, living-feeling foliage that covered her. Underneath, Ivy’s skin was impossibly smooth, radiating a gentle heat. The scent was overwhelming here, concentrated and musky.
Iris knelt beside her, her eyes glazed, her breath coming in quick pants. She watched as Lois, with a reverence that felt both alien and inevitable, leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the soft, green skin of Ivy’s inner thigh.
“That’s it,” Ivy sighed, arching her back. Her hands buried themselves in their hair. “Don’t be shy.”
Lois’s tongue traced a path upward. Iris mirrored her on the other side, her lips and tongue following the same path. They were twin acolytes serving a toxic goddess. When Lois’s mouth found the center of Ivy’s heat, slick and swollen, she didn’t hesitate. She dove in with a desperate hunger, her tongue laving and probing with a fervor that was not her own.
Ivy cried out, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Yes! Just like that.”
Iris, urged on by the sound, found Ivy’s clit with her mouth, suckling and flicking with an eager, frantic energy. They worked in a clumsy, simultaneous rhythm, their faces buried between Ivy’s legs, their chains sometimes clinking together. The air was filled with the sounds of wet, eager mouths, Ivy’s sharp, encouraging gasps, and their own muffled, desperate moans.
Lois was lost in the sensation, the taste, the smell. It was consuming her. She felt Iris’s hand brush against her arm, and the contact sent another shock-wave of need through her. She reached out blindly, grabbing Iris’s hand and lacing their fingers together, squeezing tightly as they serviced the woman who held them captive in a way the cell never could.
Ivy’s climax was a violent shudder that racked her entire body. She threw her head back and screamed, a raw, botanical sound that seemed to make the very walls tremble. Her hands clamped down on their heads, holding them in place as she ground herself against their faces, soaking them in her release.
When she finally stilled, pushing them gently away, both Lois and Iris collapsed back onto the floor, panting, their lips and chins glistening. The chemical fog in their minds cleared slightly, leaving behind a horrifying, crystal-clear embarrassment.
Ivy looked down at them, her expression one of languid satiation. “See?” she said, wiping a strand of crimson hair from her damp forehead. “Much more interesting than a pity party.”
She lay back on the cot, stretching like a contented cat, leaving Lois and Iris on the floor amid the chilling aftermath of their violation. The drone’s red light watched, unblinking, from the corner. This time, there were no defiant words. There was only the crushing weight of what they had been made to do, and the terrifying, secret thrill that still hummed in their blood.
The hum of the drone was a mockery now, a mechanical witness to their unraveling. Lois wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the taste of Ivy still clinging to her lips like a shameful secret. Iris stared at the floor, her breathing ragged, as if trying to piece together the fragments of her will.
Ivy watched them from the cot, a languid smile playing on her lips. "The resistance is the best part," she murmured, her voice a low thrum that vibrated in the charged air. "Watching it crumble."
Lois’s gaze met Iris’s, and in that shared look, the embarrassment curdled into something else, a desperate, shared need that the pheromones had unlocked. The memory of their first time together in the dark was now tangled with this new, forced intimacy. "Iris," Lois whispered, her voice cracking.
"Don't," Iris said, but she was already moving, her hand reaching out to grasp Lois’s arm. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt through Lois’s spent body. The chain between their wrists felt lighter now, a tether not to captivity, but to each other.
Ivy chuckled softly, shifting to get a better view. "Go on. Show me what you're really made of when no one's pulling your strings."
Lois pulled Iris close, their foreheads touching, the world narrowing to the space between their bodies. "Fuck her," Lois breathed, her words a hot promise against Iris’s skin. "Fuck this place. This is for us."
Iris nodded, her eyes dark with a mix of defiance and desire. Her hands fumbled with the button of Lois’s jeans, the fabric rough against her trembling fingers. "I need to feel you," she gasped, yanking the denim down over Lois’s hips. "For real this time."
Lois helped, shoving her own clothes out of the way with a frantic urgency. Their skin met, slick with sweat and the residue of Ivy, but this was different. This was theirs. Lois pushed Iris back onto the grimy floor, following her down, their legs tangling. The cold concrete bit into Lois’s knees, but she didn’t care.
"Tell me what you want," Lois growled, her mouth hovering over Iris’s.
"Everything," Iris begged, arching her back. "Just fuck me, Lois. Please."
Lois didn’t need more encouragement. She spat into her hand, the crude gesture feeling oddly right, and slicked her fingers before pushing two inside Iris in one hard, claiming thrust. Iris cried out, her nails digging into Lois’s shoulders, her body clenching tight around the intrusion.
"God, yes," Iris moaned, her hips bucking to meet Lois’s rhythm. "More. Harder."
Lois set a punishing pace, her fingers pumping in and out, the wet, slapping sounds echoing in the small cell. She leaned down, capturing Iris’s nipple in her mouth, biting down just enough to make her gasp. The chains on their wrists rattled with every movement, a metallic counterpoint to their ragged breathing.
Iris’s hands scrambled over Lois’s body, pulling her closer, needing more contact. "I want to taste you," she panted, trying to maneuver Lois on top of her face. "Let me."
Lois shifted, kneeling over Iris’s mouth, her own focus returning to the hot, wet core beneath her. Iris’s tongue was eager, licking and probing with a frantic energy that made Lois’s head spin. She ground herself down onto Iris’s face, moaning as the pleasure built, a tight coil in her gut.
Ivy’s voice cut through the haze, cool and amused. "Look at you two. Animals."
Lois ignored her, her entire world reduced to the feeling of Iris’s mouth on her and her own fingers working inside Iris. The dual sensations were overwhelming, a feedback loop of pleasure and power. She felt Iris’s body begin to tremble, her moans becoming choked sobs.
"I'm close," Iris gasped, her words muffled against Lois’s skin. "Don't stop."
Lois drove her fingers deeper, curling them just right, and felt Iris shatter around her. The convulsions were violent, a raw, uncontrolled release that left Iris limp and crying out. The sensation pushed Lois over the edge, her own orgasm ripping through her with a guttural cry, her body shuddering as she collapsed onto Iris.
They lay there, entangled and breathless, the air thick with the smell of sex and sweat. Ivy watched from the cot, her green eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She didn't speak, but her presence was a verdict on their shared degradation.