The Lighter and the Scissors

"That was exciting!" I said with extra emphasis.

"Yes, I've got more for you, though."

"Hmm, what more have you got, sweet lady?"

"Come and see."

Part 3

The second the door closed behind us, Cleo came at me. Grabbing the back of my head, she pulled me to her, plunging her tongue into the cavern of my mouth. Her two-inch nails dug into my neck and shoulders. My reaction was to try to keep pace with her onslaught, but it was a losing effort. Her aggressiveness made me yield to her control, as it was far above my level of experience to oppose. I wanted her. I craved everything she had to offer, and I knew the price I had to pay was capitulation. I was merely an understudy co-pilot on the jet fighter she was flying.

"I am hungry; you will feed my needs," she spoke into my ear in a husky voice, deepened by heavy breathing. This feisty panther then grabbed my costume at the collar, savagely tearing the silk material, shredding it in several jagged lines down to my waist. I do not doubt that she had designed this show of aggression to obliterate any remaining resistance I might have. I was ready to go down whatever path she took me.

"Take off your clothes, but leave the mask on. When you are naked, go over to the blanket and kneel."

I did as I was told. I knelt in the center of the plush blanket that covered most of the living room floor. There were numerous pillows strewn about the area. Cleo had left the room for a moment, returning with a black riding crop in her hand. She put the tip of it under my chin, forcing my head up to look at her.

"Pay attention; I'm going to tell you how it's going to be. You're going to get a lot more than you've been dreaming about all night because I will be in charge. I allowed you to be the dilettante on the dance floor; you will not be one here. If I were to let you lead, the best that will happen is that you will demonstrate your inexperience, and that won't do. I am in command; I will call all the shots. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Very good. If you go with the flow, you will reach the stars instead of the moon. Now, listen carefully! Cleo is giving you an order. You are forbidden to have an orgasm until I give you permission. Is that thoroughly understood?" She spoke the words in a demanding, authoritative tone, but I believe it was the hypnotic power of her piercing eyes that brought the message across most. That is the only explanation I have for my ability to obey this impossible command.

"Yes."

"Good. Men are incompetent, always rushing, unable to control their urges. I will teach you to slow down. You will learn that the journey is far more important than the destination."

She began to undress. I knelt there in awe, watching her every movement. She was putting on a show, but it was not a striptease. Her motions were too subtle, too refined to be put into that category. It was a slow revelation of beauty, an unwrapping of mystique. The Catwoman confidently peeled away her costume veneer to unveil the naked form of a woman who knew her power. With the mask still on, she stood there, hands on her hips, proudly displaying her body to a captive audience of one. She slid her hands up and down her sides in a drawn-out fashion, increasing the mounting sexual tension.

"Be still."

The Empress kneeled in front of me, her face inches from mine. My eyes surrendered to hers, allowing them to see deep into my soul without any reservation or fear. I was gone. There was no ego for me to protect. My spirit flowed freely into hers, combining in a mystical dance that demanded a physical consummation to reach a complete union. She put her lips close to mine, lingering for a tantalizing minute before connecting with the lightest possible touch, signaling our eyes to close. Her head moved imperceptibly side to side so that the surface of our lips met with the slightest brush of skin. I wanted to press forward, but I was quickly learning the sensual possibilities of patience. She stepped up the pressure at a snail's pace until the tips of our tongues began to slide softly against each other. Time and thought disappeared, condemned to non-existence in this vacuum of pleasure.

We ended up flat on the floor, absorbed in a kissing marathon that raised our passion to a steady simmer. Eyes closed in total silence; our consciousness was limited to the sensitivity of our dueling tongues and fingers gliding over receptive skin. My lover was teaching me the intimacy of touch, awaiting my mirrored responses to be sure I learned the lessons.

"Wear this for a while." She wrapped a black blindfold around my head, tying it tightly in the back. "Lay still. Do not think, just feel. I will take care of you."

There was a brief moment of doubtful acquiesence. Among my list of recognized phobias was a lingering childhood fear of the dark and claustrophobia that had several times caused me to have asthma-like attacks, but those emotional ghouls were kept at bay by the pleasurable ministrations of this extraordinary woman. She moved slowly over my body, starting at the neck, journeying down, touching, kissing, licking, biting, stimulating every nerve and fiber in my body. I left the room, the house, the planet, traveling above the clouds, above Everest, above the stratosphere to float in the domain of heavenly ecstasy. I had never imagined that such a state of being was possible.

The session continued with Cleo slithering upward, positioning herself astride me to slide down in one smooth motion. I gasped as her heat surrounded my manhood. Neither of us moved. We were silent except for the sound of our deep raspy breathing. My dominant partner broke the stillness with microscopic movements that developed into a steady rhythm, providing stimulation over the length of my shaft. My desire was raging, but her veto power on my release kept me back from the edge.

"Stick with me, baby. Savor the moment," she whispered in words barely audible inches away.

I reached up to touch her. My hands coursed over her body, tracing the soft curves. I cupped her firm breasts in my hands, twisting her nipples with light pressure. She moaned while involuntarily increasing the gyrations of her hips, climaxing in a reserved manner as if saving her energy for a future expenditure.

After this brief loss of conscious control, she slammed her hands down onto my shoulders, her nails digging deep into my flesh, tearing cuts several inches long. I cried out in pain as I grabbed her wrists. She immediately broke loose, forcing my arms down, pinning them to the blanket. When my resistance ceased, she put her right hand around my throat.

"I'm not a lady, Richard. I never could be. Sometimes I feel like I'm not even human. Right now, I'm a combination of a caged animal, a Neanderthal witch, and a lascivious slut that needs to be taken hard in the woodshed. And you're going to fill my needs, every one of them, tonight. I want everything you got: your strength, your energy, and your stamina, all of it. Drill me as hard as you can! Leave Richie and Bruce Wayne at home; give me the best that the Dark Knight has to offer!"

She slid off of me. "Keep the blindfold in place. Take me from behind, doggie style. Show no mercy. Be my stallion. And remember, you are not to come until the time is right. Sacrifice your needs for me. And oh, here, breathe deep." She stuck the bullet under my nose for two quick blows.

"I am ready. Come and see. Come to me!"

I was ready too. As I moved into position, the thought hit my brain that my whole life had taken place solely to get me to this moment, that this was indeed to be a life-changing event for me. All night long, she had been grooming me, programming me to follow her down, to fill her needs and desires. I was willing to sacrifice everything to do it. The doses of stimulants and testosterone secretions primed me for action, with my entire being focused on delivering the goods. I felt strong. As is well known, my family is renowned for its devotion to athletics. I had kept up the tradition, but not surprisingly, I veered away from team sports. My game was long-distance running, a solitary pursuit that had built up my legs and lungs, giving me great stamina. I was determined to put it all out there for her.

Being blind, I fumbled momentarily in the dark, but I soon found the target. There was no attempt to be loving, no effort to be a gentleman who pleases his partner with a soft touch. I would obey her commands. The sex was to be primordial: base, barbaric, barely above the animal level. I grabbed Cleo by her long hair to put myself in a leveraged position from which I could thrust with maximum force. The insertion was deep, with colliding flesh the only barrier to deeper penetration. I allowed myself a warmup time to develop a steady rhythm before going full bore. There was no stopping the train now. Every muscle in my body burned energy like a furnace being fed at top speed.

Cleo cried out as her nails dug into the pillows on which she had an iron grip. She grunted to the pounding she was getting; before forming the primal gutturals into a stream of obscenities that propelled me onward. I felt a savage urge to hurt her, to punish her, to release the pain buried in her soul, to bring her to the heights of sexual rapture. I grabbed at her, squeezing and twisting her flesh in my hands, pulling her long hair with a ripping force, yanking at it, jerking her head back and forth to match the rhythm of the fucking she was receiving. Sweat poured out of us, soaking us, mixing our primitive scents together. We were one, finding ourselves in the agony and the ecstasy of tortured passion.

Without question, the stimulants propelled us past the boundaries of our physical limits. Never before or never again will I be able to draw out the vigorous exertion of power I found that night on her midnight rug. It was beyond any possibilities of which I would have thought myself capable. Yet still, we kept going with my waiting for her green light. I leaned forward once to get a brief respite, digging my teeth viciously into her shoulder, tearing the flesh, eliciting a scream saturated in pain.

"Release me, release me, Richie, release me! Take me, baby, take me, take me, take me!" I let loose with all I had left, launching the two of us into a shared explosion that convulsed our brains with nuclear effect. With the final thrust, we collapsed into a sweat-soaked heap, exhausted, breathing heavily, neither of us capable of moving or speaking.

She awakened me climbing on top of me. As soon as my eyes opened, she attacked, slapping and smacking me in the head, stunning me with the force of her blows. A moment later, she stopped, looking into my eyes, smiling mischievously before breaking out into laughter.

"That was beautiful, Richie, truly beautiful."

"Yes, it was."

"I'm not done with you. There is more if you want it. I've saved the best for last."

"I can't see how we can possibly top that."

"Have I disappointed you yet?" She took out the bullet, taking two blasts, before sticking it under my nose to give me two doses.

"No, I just can't see how we can go beyond where we've just been."

"Come and see."

Part 4

Cleo led me into a large room in the back of the house. It was unlike any bedroom I had ever seen before. It was so unusual that I will describe it in some detail to give the reader a sense of the eerieness I felt upon entering it. Black was the dominant color in this singular chamber. A deep piled wall-to-wall black carpet covered the floor. All the wood furnishings: two dressers, a stool, the ceiling crossbeams, and the wall moldings, were painted in gloss black enamel. An ebony grandfather clock stood in the corner, its swinging gold pendulum slowly ticking away the time that flies.

The only other piece of furniture was a king-size brass bed. To provide contrast with the rest of the room, the decorator had covered the mattress in bright red silk sheets with matching pillows and frilled skirting. Mirrors overlaid the four walls, top to bottom. The ceiling itself contained nine rectangular mirrors enclosed by the cross beams, with a small crystal chandelier hanging from its center. There were also four light fixtures with red coverings, but these weren't lit, nor were the long fluorescent bulbs at the tops of the walls.

The feature that stood out the most was the brilliant white St. Andrew's Cross leaning against a corner beam at a sixty-degree angle. The bottom foot plank and the two cross members at the top were firmly anchored to the floor and walls. It seemed a strange addition to a room already steeped in peculiarity.

"Welcome to my private enclave, Richie. I come here for two reasons: when I want to escape from the world, or when I wish to entertain a lover deserving enough to share with me the ambiance of this special room."

"I am honored to be held in such high regard, Madam Cleo."

"Yes, I do regard you very highly. We have revealed a lot tonight. It's been an exhilarating evening, has it not?

"Absolutely."

"Yes, and I did promise you a few minutes ago that we can take it even higher. Are you sure you would like to go there?"

"You are making me an offer I can't refuse."

"Yes, but this is personal, not business, so you can refuse if you wish. The thrills you may experience here are not without risk."

I laughed. "My god, Cleo, everything we've done tonight has been risky, taking me far above the prison of the comfort zone I know. I'm wide open, honey, ready for whatever you have in mind. Let's go there. I will fly with you!"

"Very well then, we shall proceed. Go to the cross, and stand on the footboard. Align your legs with the lower half of the X. Raise your arms and cover the upper half."

"Shouldn't you whip me before you nail me to the cross?" I asked, attempting some sadomasochistic humor.

"No, that would get blood all over the carpet. We can't have that. No, I'm going to tie you to the cross. Much less of a mess."

Now, in light of what was about to happen, the reader may well ask how I could be so foolish to allow myself to be tied to this cross. The answer is that I saw no danger. Undoubtedly the drugs, alcohol, and sex had affected my judgment, but more important was the fact that I had come to trust this woman completely. From the get-go, she seemed to know me, often in ways better than I knew myself. This seductress had a way of drawing me out of my shell, of making me want to take the next step to a higher level. Cleo dared me to look head-on at things I was terrified of so that I might conquer them. We were opposites, yins and yangs in the guises of Batman and Catwoman, brought together by Fate to complete each other's needs. In a life suppressed by fears and anxieties, she had shown me a way to break free. I had no concerns about being restrained. It was just another door to walk through on this road of exploration I had discovered.

Cleo took out a white bucket from the dresser, along with several lengths of red cotton rope. She stood on the stool, and within a couple of minutes, had my left arm tied tightly and securely to an upper branch of the cross. I could not move it an inch. I admired her knot-making dexterity, a skill she had clearly developed to the level of an art form. After immobilizing my right arm, it was a matter of no more than five minutes before this rope mistress had both my legs and feet bound to the cross. She paused for a moment to admire her work, nodding her head in satisfaction for a job well done.

An incredible feeling of euphoric numbness descended upon me. Being in bondage made me feel safe and warm, as if in a cocoon. The sensation surprised me as I would have expected the opposite, a desperate yearning to be freed. I was buzzing, and I liked it a lot.

"Ahh, it's good to see you're still on alert. We need you to be that way. Here, let me put this on you." She rolled a stiff rubber loop down the length of my cock, all the way to the hilt. It was very tight.

"What is that?" I asked with a hint of concern in my voice.

"It's a cock ring. It squeezes your veins and tissue. It will keep you hard. We need you as hard as possible for this scene."

"I like the sound of that, but it feels like it's building up pressure. Is that safe?"

"Quite safe. Like Viagra, it only causes a problem if the erection lasts several hours. We won't keep it up that long."

Cleo then shut off the chandelier while switching on the long tubes edging the ceiling. These were black lights, which bathed the room in an ultraviolet luster, making the chamber seem darker. They also changed one's perceptions of color. The bedsheets took on a more subdued tint while the rug appeared to glow slightly, its sheen reflecting the light. The most dramatic effect was on the cross, which gained the aura of a halo around its surfaces. Next, she turned on the four one-hundred-watt white bulbs encased in the red glass domes, which now began to rotate slowly. Because the glass used to make these domes was of uneven thickness, the red light came out in distorted waves. The mirrors reflected them, dousing everything in the room in shades of ghastly scarlet dancing in the steady stream of UV. This surreal effect was frightening to behold.

"I need to get a few things. I"ll be back in a couple of minutes. Don't go anywhere."

I saw the humor, but I couldn't laugh. It was disturbing to be surrounded by this bizarre lighting scheme, twisting my perceptions with a saturation of the colors of blood and death, while I was helpless on the cross. I told myself it was only a game this mystical sorceress was playing, that I needed to relax and regroup, but the scene made me feel like I had been cast into a dungeon in Dante's Inferno.

The Mistress of Ceremonies came back in with a basket of items, which she placed on the dresser. She sat on the stool with an unlit cigarette in her mouth and my lighter in her hands.

"You know, Richie, this lighter got my attention big time when you first took it out. It has it all: vibrant colors, precision artistry, and a fascinating history. The other thing that impressed me was your boast that it never fails to light. The lighters I use often need to be flicked several times to ignite. It amazes me that they put in so much effort to make this lighter operate perfectly every time. Are you certain it never misfires?

"Yes, I can't remember it happening even once." I was puzzled by all this, wondering where she was going with it. She was speaking in a strange inquisitorial tone that I had not heard her use before.

"That is so interesting. Let's test it out. What would you be willing to bet on it lighting a certain number of times in a row; let's pick a lucky number, say... thirteen?"

"I'd bet anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Hmm... how about everything then?"

"Sure, why not?" Something was happening, but I didn't know what it was. She was confusing me. It was not only the conversation that seemed strange, but Cleo herself had become bland and unsmiling. Her voice was flat.

And I was tied up.

"Ok, Richie, I accept your bet. Let's get it rolling. Let me light my cigarette with the first flick." She pushed down on the igniter, producing a blue flame which she quickly sucked into the tobacco. "There. One down."

"What do I get if I win, Cleo?"

"What you put up... everything."

"How is that?

"I will release you. And if we're in the mood, we can celebrate on the bed."

"And if I lose?" I now had a growing gnawing feeling that something was amiss, but I didn't know what. I was tensing up like an anxious rabbit who knows the hawk is watching.

"Surely you're not admitting of that possibility, Richard. Bettors should be cautious when calculating odds but confident once the die is cast. Now, before we try for number two, I want to ask your opinion on an issue. You have had a sophisticated upbringing, unlike mine. You've had a good education, unlike mine. You know fine wines, I don't. I have this bottle here that I bought a week ago. It has no label, and I'm afraid the seller may have ripped me off. He said it is Amontillado, but I have my doubts. I was planning to show it to Luchesi at the Tentacles tonight, but he didn't show, and I found you there instead. Can you tell me if it's the real thing?"