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Reacquainted

By: bigredmama



Aiden Teirney walked into the The Oasis bar, where he was to meet his best friend and business partner, Jared Trumane. He arrived an hour early, to get himself mentally prepared to face not only his past, but also the feelings that threatened to swallow him over the last year. He walked up to the bar and sat down on a stool. 

Immediately, the bartender came up to him, "Hello there. Haven't seen you in here before, have I? The name is Jeremy. What can I get you?" He was a friendly enough fellow, Aiden thought, and ordered a beer. 

He wasn't much of a drinker, but he felt that some alcohol might calm his nerves tonight.

He couldn't believe he was so nervous about meeting Jared, but after the way they separated over a year ago, he only hoped they could put the past behind them and continue being friends. 

The two of them, along with a group of five other boys, grew up together in Philadelphia, and were inseparable from an early age. The old adage of peas in a pod fit the group perfectly, or least that's what their parents had always told them. 

The bond between Aiden and Jared was especially strong and continued when they graduated from high school, deciding to attend University of Pennsylvania together. It seemed as they got older, their relationship developed a more intimate tone and it was clear the boys were moving from a simple friendship when they began sharing women their sophomore year at Penn. This relationship continued throughout their college years, and it became blatantly obvious to each other that the threesomes were a way for them to connect, sexually. 

Aiden reflected on the past. In hindsight, it was obvious their attraction had blossomed from a touch here, a caress there, all in the name of pleasuring a woman, to the scorching first kiss in their senior year. 

It started during one of their infamous ménages. Both men were fucking the woman in tandem. Aiden could still remember feeling his cock rubbing against Jared's while inside the woman. It was the most sensual feeling he'd ever experienced and he never wanted it to end. He looked over the woman's shoulder to find Jared watching him, eyes glazed with lust, tongue brushing his lips. Aiden reached up to cup Jared's face in his hand and stroked his cheek with his thumb. Jared leaned into his touch, and at that point, Aiden remembered feeling his orgasm build as Jared moved his free hand to Aiden's, holding them together. As their thrusting became more frantic, Aiden felt the need to get even closer to Jared and he leaned in and gently caressed Jared's lips. It was a tentative kiss, but then their tongues began dueling and thrusting into each others' mouths, mimicking their motions inside the woman. Their fucking became rougher, with each man holding onto the other as if it were as vital as their next breath, the kiss being broken only when both men came. Once the orgasmic bliss subsided, both men found it difficult to accept their passion for each other and instead pushed it off as a by-product of the lust for sharing the woman and the "liquid courage" they had imbibed before the act. 

After college, they completed officer candidate school and entered the Marine Corps. Being a natural leader, Aiden moved quickly through the ranks, receiving his Captain's bars in a fairly short period of time. Jared made it to First Lieutenant and served under Aiden's command. They'd continued to share women during leave, and subconsciously increased the amount of contact they had with each other during the ménages, fondling and touching each other only briefly, but nonetheless intimately. 

The thought of Jared touching him instantly made Aiden hard, and he moaned rather loudly. He'd been so lost in his own thoughts he forgot he was sitting at a public bar having a drink. He looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear him, when he spotted Jeremy looking straight at him. Embarrassed about his lack of control over his emotional response, he lowered his head once again and waited for Jared.

*****

Jared sat in his car, scared, yes scared to face his childhood friend. He couldn't believe he was concerned about meeting the man he'd seen every day for over thirty years. They'd started their security business the same year they were discharged from the Marines, and had a good working relationship with each other and their clients, until just over a year ago when things had, according to Jared, gotten out of hand between them. 

He leaned back in his car seat, remembering the events that led up to his current dilemma. They'd been working late in their office in South Philly, trying to hammer out the details of a contract for a new security client. This guy was a bastard. He changed his agenda so often, it made it impossible for the security crew to anticipate any potential issues that may arise. Both men were agitated for not being able to provide a solid plan for the team, and they ended up picking fights with each other. 

Jared didn't remember who said what or who took the first swing, but within minutes, they were rolling on the floor, punching each other. He recalled looking up at Aiden, who was bigger and better at hand-to-hand combat, seeing some unnamable emotion flicker across his eyes. The next thing he knew, Aiden was no longer punching him, but instead, had his arms pinned to his side and was lowering his head to Jared's lips. Following a moment of panic, passion and lust rose quickly, pushing away the urge to fight. He remembered that kiss as if it happened yesterday. Aiden nibbled and sucked on his bottom lip in a manner that had his hips thrusting upward, increasing contact with Aiden's jean-clad erection. He let go of Jared's lips and arms long enough to remove his shirt, displaying the well toned muscles of a man who spent the majority of his life doing hard work, despite his ivy-league education. 

Adrenaline-fueled lust had Jared raising his hands to touch the rippling muscles made bare above him and pulled on the small gold nipple rings, eliciting a moan from Aiden's throat. He moved his hands down to touch the remarkable stomach muscles, twitching beneath his fingers, then slowly moving to unbutton Aiden's pants. After popping the button, his gaze moved up to Aiden's face to gauge his reaction. Aiden's eyes were glazed over with lust as well, Jared continued and unzipped his pants, but not before he rubbed his hands over the glorious erection growing above him. When he finally got the pulsing cock free, Aiden moved off him to remove his shoes and pants. 

Jared was mesmerized, getting caught up in the steamy looks he was getting from his friend. Shaking himself out of his erotic trance, he removed his own shirt, shoes and pants. When Jared was naked, Aiden climbed back on top of him and smashed their lips together for another searing kiss. At the same time, Aiden slid his cock over top of Jared's. The feeling was remarkable, and better than their ménage experiences. Jared remembered getting caught up in all the sensations, the pre-cum from both hard cocks lubricating the motion while their hands caressed each other's bodies. Aiden reached between them and grabbed both their cocks, squeezing them together as best he could given their girth, eliciting a moan from them both. Wanting to drive him wild, Jared moved his hand down Aiden's back and grabbed his ass, pulling them still closer. 

Suddenly, Aiden rolled, giving Jared the top position, letting go of their cocks, he began rubbing his hands down Jared's back, cupping his ass. Aiden's fingers moved to separate Jared's cheeks, while they continued to rub against each other. There was no more rational thought, only feelings, as it had been several months since Jared had been with a partner, so he allowed Aiden's fingers to begin their assault, dipping first one , then two fingers into the tight rosebud. It was all Jared could take with Aiden thrusting his cock against him and fucking his ass with his fingers, his cum shot onto their stomachs and chests, only to be followed by Aiden's moans of completion.

When both men caught their breath, Jared remembered the uncomfortable feeling of not only being with a man, but with his best friend, so he moved off Aiden and made excuses why they could never be together again.

Jared dressed quickly, barely noticing the devastated look on Aiden's face as he left the office. It was only a few weeks later that Jared announced he was moving to California. He told Aiden he was planning to move for a couple months, to develop customers on the West coast, but neither of them believed the lie. He found a few months into his escape that 2000 miles wasn't far enough to suppress the ache he felt in his chest every time he talked to or thought of Aiden.

*****

Jared took a deep breath and got out of his car. He got to the bar entrance, took another deep breath and walked in. The Oasis had been open for a few years and was located in a large warehouse-type building. There seemed to be space in the building for other business ventures, but it appeared only the bar was open this early during the week. He scanned the room and quickly found Aiden sitting at the bar, eyes closed, beer gripped between his hands. He watched as Aiden opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Jared knew this man so well. He knew Aiden was as terrified as he was to be meet face to face.

Walking up to his friend, Jared said in a soft tone, "Hey Aiden. Can I sit down?" He tried to keep his voice from shaking, but wasn't successful. Thankfully, there was music in the bar loud enough to drown out any imperfection that might give away his nervousness.

Aiden spun around, almost knocking his beer over the in the process, "Ah, yeah, sure. Want a beer?" He flagged down the bartender, "Jeremy, can my friend here get a beer please?" With a nod, he went to task at getting the beer.

Neither man looked at each other right away, the tension palpable. When Jeremy returned with Jared's beer, he looked between the two men, opened his mouth, closed it and then said, "Look, if you guys need anything, give me a holler."

Aiden looked at Jared, puzzled, trying to figure out what Jeremy was talking about, and that was enough to break the ice between the two men.

Looking back down at his beer, Aiden said "How long are you back in town Jared?" 

"Yeah, I'm, well, I guess I'm back for good. I mean, I sold my place in California. I'm looking for some place to live back here. I'm staying at the Residence Inn in Center City for now. My stuff is in a storage unit until I get settled." Jared took a deep breath. He wanted Aiden to be happy he was back, but all he got from him was trepidation. After the way he left, Jared guessed it was better than getting punched in the face.

"Sorry boys, couldn't help but overhear. I have a room upstairs for rent if you're interested. It's a loft actually. Insulated real well so you can't hear the noise from the bar or the club." Jeremy looked between both men, calmly waiting for an answer.

"Wow, that's really nice of you, ah..."

"Jeremy Stone. I own the bar and the building. What do you do for a living, son?"

Jared looked at Aiden and then back at Jeremy, "I, uh, I mean we, Aiden and I have a security business, uh, I mean we..." he couldn't find the right words to overpower the guilt he felt for walking out on his business partner in an attempt to squelch the feelings between them.

Calmly, Aiden explained, "What he's trying to say, Jeremy, is that we own a security business together. We started it right out of the service and as of now, employ four other men. We offer personal security for VIPs. Jared's been on the West coast expanding our business footprint and just moved back to town. That's why he's looking for a place to stay." Aiden looked at the other man, letting him off the hook, for now.

"Well, if you're interested, I can show you the loft. Like I said, it's pretty big." Jeremy waited. Finally, Jared nodded his head in agreement. "Let me just get someone to watch the bar. I'll be right back."

After finding someone to take over for him, the three men walked to the back of the bar to a well-hidden door, which led to the staircase and to the apartment. 

"There's three entrances to the apartment, this one through the bar, one from the street, and one from the private club." He opened the door to the loft, without further explanation.

The front door led to an enormous open space, which included a living are and a large kitchen. There were doors off each side of the main living space. "Those doors lead to the bedrooms. There are four, two on each side. There's two full baths, one on each side, as well. If you're interested, you can make any changes you want to the place, as long as you don't alter the appearance of the building from the outside. Rent is $3,000 per month." Jeremy stood back and let the men wonder through the apartment.

Jared and Aiden were amazed at the space. Aiden walked immediately to the windows in the front room, which overlooked the street and several shops. He stood there for a few minutes, taking in the view, and then looked up to see the windows went from the floor to the 15 foot ceiling. "Nice view. Jared if you don't want the place, I'll take it." He turned around to find Jared wasn't in the room anymore, so he went to find him. It didn't take much to see Jared was in the bedrooms off to the right of the living space, checking out the walk-in closet. "So, what do you think? This is a great place." Jared was thinking very hard about something.

He took a deep breath. "Aiden, I love it, but I don't know if I can afford it by myself." Aiden looked up and saw hesitation in the other man's features. His heart leaped at the possible meaning of his words.

Taken aback, "What are you saying Jared?" Aiden was acting a bit too hopeful. 

The other man waved his hands in a dismissive manner, "No Aiden, I'm saying that maybe this could be our business headquarters until we get more clients. Things didn't go well in California, as you know, and so I think if we conserve money, we can make the business more successful. You can get rid of your apartment and move into the rooms across the way. We can make the spare rooms into offices and the living space is big enough for a conference table."

"Yeah, I guess we could." Aiden was deflated but he didn't want to completely ruin this for the both of them. He figured it was going to be the best offer he would get from Jared and he'd have to make due. "Ok, let's do it."

*****

Jared was by himself, again. He'd had a lot of "alone time" since he and Aiden moved into the loft a month ago. Aiden was purposely distancing himself from Jared, spending a considerable amount of time downstairs at the bar with Jeremy. It irritated Jared that Aiden avoided being alone with him after working hours, and that Aiden became good friends with the older man. He was tired of hearing the stories of Jeremy's adventures. Jared became angrier each time he had to listen to another tale, wondering whether Aiden and Jeremy were becoming a couple. "Fucking Jeremy." Shaking his head, the thought of Aiden being interested in another man created a foreign feeling, and Jared found himself rubbing his chest over his heart. "No, no, no. We're just friends, that's all" Then it hit him. Hanging his head, not in shame, but in acceptance, he was jealous of the two men's relationship. He enjoyed Aiden's company and missed being with him. Even though he knew he would eventually like to settle down with a woman and have children, he still began to recognize the love he felt for his best friend and the closeness he realized he'd been missing this last year. It was frightening to finally, after all these years, understand he needed his friend's love more than anything right now.

Suddenly, the door to the loft burst open and Aiden came bounding into the living room. "Jared, what are you doing right now?" Before Jared could answer, Aiden continued, "Jeremy's invited us to the club, you know, the private club here in the building. He owns that too and says we'll have a good time there. Do you want to go with us?" His eyes were glistening with excitement and Jared could see the pulse thumping in his neck.

"Calm down Aiden. What kind of club is this? I'm not going to any dance club that's for sure, although there'd be plenty of women there." 

Aiden frowned. "No, it's not a dance club. It's, um, well, it's..." he took a deep breath, "it's a sex club. It's called Fantasy & Fetish, or F&F, as Jeremy calls it." Aiden's face deflated by the second, assuming Jared wouldn't go to a sex club with him.

"I don't know Aiden. I mean..."

"Come on Jared, you don't have to have sex to go, we can just watch. I know you like to watch as much as I do." He took a deep breath and his tone suddenly changed, "Look, if you're not going to go, fine. I'm going with Jeremy. You can stay up here all by yourself. Whatever." Waving his hands dismissively, he moved towards his bedroom to change clothes.

Jared shook his head, knowing damn well he wanted to go to the club with Aiden, so he followed suit, getting changed and walking back out to the living room before Aiden was done putting on a new shirt. When Aiden came out of his room, he looked at Jared, obviously suppressing his happiness, as this was the first time they had done anything together since Jared's return.

*****

Aiden was the first one down to the club. Jeremy waited outside the door for them. Since it was a private club, only members were allowed in and there were bouncers at all the exits to make sure no unwelcomed people entered. When Jared finally got there, they walked into the main room, and Jeremy gave them a quick tour. "This is the main stage room, obviously. As you can see, we have performers on stage throughout the night, and patrons are welcome to enjoy themselves here on the floor or they can rent a room if they choose to be more discreet." He pointed to a hallway off the stage where the private rooms where located.

Aiden was spellbound. All around him, men and women were participating in various sex acts at the tables, on the bar, and on the stage. He was mesmerized by the group of people on the stage having an orgy and he wasn't able to move from where he stood. He always enjoyed watching others have sex. His cock went instantly hard. It was a hedonistic paradise. His gaze swung to Jared, who was a bit red in the face, but when Aiden looked lower, he could see that he too was turned on by all the sex. 

Jeremy broke the silence. "You guys want to grab a table or go to the bar?"

Jared looked a bit dumbfounded so Aiden spoke, "I think we should go to the bar. It, um, ah, appears to be less, um crowded." In route to the bar, they were bombarded with the sounds of sex; Aiden couldn't help but moan himself. Jared was the last person he'd been intimate with and that was over a year before. 

"Aiden, I don't know if this is a good idea" Jared whispered as they found stools to sit on at the bar. He turned and looked into Aiden's eyes, seeing the rising lust from the overstimulation around them.

"Jared. I haven't been with anyone for over a year. I need to get laid tonight. If you want to go back upstairs, by all means, go. I'm going to have some fun." Aiden looked away from Jared and found two women at a nearby table. One was a voluptuous brunette, dressed in a short button-down dress, she was sitting on the chair, legs spread, almost straddling it. The other woman, a sweet looking petite redhead, was already naked and standing between the other girls' legs, leaning over to unbutton the girl's dress, while her tongue ran up and down the brunette's neck to her breasts. Aiden watched the redhead as she slowly pushed the dress off the brunette's shoulders to reveal large, round breasts with big nipples. Aiden moaned, wanting to join them, as the redhead had gotten the rest of the dress unbuttoned and was now feasting on the brunette's breasts.


Reacquainted Passion



Hearing her name being called, Lorna stood up and turned round. "Sorry I'm a bit late," Martin said as he closed the distance between them, "the traffic was absolutely horrendous!" They hugged and exchanged a brief kiss, then stood back, each looking at the other.

"Oh, you're forgiven, I guess," she replied with a smile, "But I was beginning to feel stood up."

"Like I'd ever do that to you," Martin said. "You haven't changed a bit," he added as he cast an appraising eye over Lorna, smiling the same slightly lopsided smile that she had always found so endearing. "And don't bother lying to me by saying I haven't either."

"Don't worry," Lorna replied with a wicked grin, "I wasn't going to." She stuck her tongue out then added, "You are looking well though," as she stepped forward to hug him again.

They ordered their drinks and found a quiet table. As they drank, they reminisced about the times they had had together when they were students, about what mutual friends had done, and how their lives had changed in the years since the had last seen each other. As they talked they moved, imperceptibly closer to each other. Occasionally, Lorna would rest her hand on Martin's thigh, or lift it to brush a stray hair from his face. Every now and then, Martin would brush his foot against hers and lean into her as she talked. Neither of them seemed to notice these little intimacies.

"You know," Lorna said absently, "you still have really lovely eyes. I've always loved those deep brown eyes of yours."

Martin laughed. "I do remember you mentioning that on occasion," he replied. "Any other bits of me you had any particular fondness for?" he added with a mischievous grin.

Lorna actually blushed. "Oh hell yeah," she replied, "there were definitely other bits of you I really liked. Bits that turned me on and made me feel really good."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," she said coyly. "In fact," she continued with a very pointed glance in the direction of his groin, "it would appear that that bit of you seems to remember too."

It was Martin's turn to blush. "Don't worry," Lorna said soothingly, "I'll take it as a compliment, for now..." Without warning, she leant forward and kissed him.

The kiss became passionate. Martin responded to Lorna's touch, pressing his lips firmly against hers. Suddenly he broke away. "Lorna... I can't... I mean I shouldn't... I'm sorry, I..."

"Ssh!" Lorna said soothingly, putting a finger to his lips. "It's all right. I want this," she purred softly, "don't you?"

"Well yes, I mean no, I mean... Oh damn Lorna, yes I want it but...I mean... Well, you're married."

"So? He's not here and you are. I'm not going to tell him," she replied, "and, besides, it won't be the first time you've had me when I've been with someone else, will it?"

"No, true," Martin admitted, "But this is different. We were younger then and you're married now."

"Married, seeing someone, what's the difference? You know me, I've never been very good at monogamy and you've always had an effect on me and you still do. From the moment I first saw you again this evening, I knew where it would end up."

"I... I don't know, Lorna. Somehow it feels different, to me anyway."

"Look," she said soothingly, "Brian's a good man and he knows about my weaknesses and indulges me. Actually, it's a two way thing; we indulge each other. The success of our relationship is that we both know what to turn a blind eye to."

"Well, um..."

Lorna cut off any further protests with another kiss. There was an almost audible snap as the last barriers of his resistance crumbled and he began to respond with increasing passion. Feeling her passion flare, she pushed him away. "Let's get out of here so we can get properly reacquainted," she whispered huskily, her cheeks flushed with arousal.

Rising to her feet, Lorna took Martin's hand and quickly led him out of the bar and through the corridor to her room. Once inside, they tumbled on to the bed, their lips pressed firmly together.

As they kissed Lorna's fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his firmly muscled chest. She let her fingers explore and gently caress his skin as their lips pressed ever more firmly together.

"Oh Lorna," Martin moaned softly then began to nuzzle her neck. Lorna felt him begin to undo her blouse. His hands slipped inside to gently, lovingly cup her breasts, still contained inside the soft, silky material of her bra. Tilting his head forward, Martin began to kiss the swell of her breasts. As he did, Lorna reached behind her back to release the bra clasp. She struggled out of her blouse, still kissing and nibbling his neck as his tongue licked over the exposed area of her breasts, moaning softly as she felt his lips warm against her soft skin.

With her blouse lying crumpled on the bed, Martin pushed the straps of Lorna's bra down over her shoulders. It fell away. "Ooooh," she gasped as he ran the flats of his hands over her nipples, teasing them gently as they stiffened between his fingers.

Martin dipped his head lower and began to lick and suck on Lorna's breasts. A warm feeling began to spread over and through her as she let her hands fall to his lap and began to undo his trousers. "Ohhhh, Martin!!!" she gasped as he cupped her breasts in his hands and began to nibble gently on her nipples.

Lost in a haze of aroused anticipation, Lorna's fingers sought out Martin's cock and released it from its confinement. She stroked it lightly, feeling it stiffen in her hand as Martin's tongue traced a path back and forth across her breasts, making its way from one nipple to the other; her excitement mounting with each timeless second that passed.

Lorna managed to disentangle herself from Martin and slid off the bed, positioning herself between his legs.

"Hmmm, this brings back memories," she said, giving Martin a cheeky wink as she took his cock in her hand and began to stroke it lightly. She leaned forward and began to run her tongue up his shaft.

"Oh Lorna," Martin sighed as her tongue swirled around the head of his cock and lightly flicked over the slit at its tip. Lorna licked her lips then opened her mouth as wide as she could. She stretched her lips around his thick shaft and slid as much of it as she could into her mouth.

Martin sighed as Lorna worked her lips slowly up and down, sucking hard as his cock slid in and out of her mouth. He gasped as her tongue swirled over and around the swollen head. "Oh fuck, Lorna," he moaned as she took him deep, "that's so, so good!"

With her lips stretched wide around his thick shaft, Lorna found herself only able to suck his cock for a few minutes before her mouth began to ache. Reluctantly she let it slip from between her lips. She leaned forward, pressing herself firmly against him. Martin's cock nestled between her breasts. Pushing them together, Lorna began to rub them up and down the length of his shaft.

"Oh fuck that feels good," sighed Martin as he wanked him with her breasts.

"I'm so glad you think so," Lorna replied, her lashes fluttering playfully over her ice-blue eyes, "I seem to remember you used to love fucking my tits."

Squeezing her nipples as she worked her breasts up and down the sides of his prick, Lorna felt her own desire begin to swell. At the bottom of each stroke the tip of his cock was directly in front of her mouth and Lorna flicked her tongue over it, bringing appreciative gasps from Martin's mouth.

Up and down, over and over, his cock slid along her cleavage. Drops of pre-cum oozed from his cock and Lorna lapped them up eagerly, savouring their hot, salty flavour.

"Oh Lorna!" Martin groaned as his cock throbbed between her breasts. "I can't take any more," he moaned, "I have to cum."

Lorna's pussy throbbed, crying out to be filled with Martin's cock. His impending climax heightened her own almost overpowering sense of arousal. Somewhat ruefully, from the way his breath came in gasps and the way that his cock twitched between her breasts she realised that he was too close to boiling point and the hard, satisfying fuck that she craved would have to wait. She smiled up at him. "Cum in my mouth," she said softly before wrapping her lips around the head of his cock once again.

Sucking hard and flicking her tongue over the sensitive slit, Lorna began to wank him with one hand. As her fingers pumped up and down she gently squeezed his balls with her free hand. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh Lorna!" he moaned as his cock began to twitch even more violently. Lorna felt Martin's body stiffen. His fingers clutched the edge of the bed, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to hold back as long as possible.

As Martin fought to delay his release, Lorna took her hand from his balls and began to finger her pussy under her skirt. She slipped her fingers inside her knickers, their fabric already soaked with her juices that flowed freely over her fingers as she began rubbing her clit with increasing urgency.

Suddenly, she felt his balls contract. With her fingers wrapped around his shaft Lorna felt his cum surge up through his cock. As the first jet of his hot fluid erupted into her mouth, Lorna drove her fingers into her pussy, igniting her own orgasm.

Shaking as her climax gripped her, Lorna swallowed quickly as a torrent of cum pumped from Martin's cock and into her hungry mouth. Jet after hot, sticky jet shot over her tongue as she endeavoured to swallow it all while savouring the sensations of her own release.

The flood from Martin's cock eventually slowed to a trickle. Lorna's fingers skilfully milked the last remaining drops of cum from his cock. She let it collect in her mouth, savouring its flavour before swallowing it down. Her jaws ached as she let his cock slip from between my lips. Her body still trembled as she let the energy of her own climax slowly dissipate.

Martin smiled down at her. "Fuck Lorna, that was wonderful," he said. "You've no idea how much I needed that."

She smiled back. "Glad to have been of service," she said as she got up and sat next to him on the edge of the bed. "I trust my abilities haven't diminished with age?" she asked coyly.

Martin kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Not at all," he replied. "In fact, if anything, you were even better than I remembered." He kissed her again then added, "I hope your husband realises just how lucky he is."

Lorna smiled. "Don't worry, he does," she replied with a smile. Then, effecting an almost convincing look of angelic innocence she added, "Why do you think he married me in the first place? It certainly wasn't for my cooking skills!"

"That's probably true," Martin replied with a wicked grin. "You always could manage to burn water," he added.

"Swine!" Lorna cried, playfully slapping Martin's shoulder.

"It's true, admit it," Martin teased, "I don't think I've ever known anyone quite as inept as you in the kitchen." He paused, planting a kiss on Lorna's forehead. "At least where cooking was concerned," he added, "You were quite creative in other areas as I remember."

"Heartless beast," Lorna cried, almost but not quite managing to sound genuinely hurt.

"Guilty as charged," Martin replied. He kissed her cheek softly then said, "And now, I guess I should repay the compliment."

"Yes you should," she replied, "and since I'm going to have to wait for you to get hard again before you give me the fuck I need so badly, the very least you can do is give my pussy a good tongue lashing."

Martin laughed then kissed Lorna again, slowly at first but with ever increasing intensity. With their lips locked together, he gently pushed her backwards until she lay flat out on the bed. Martin kissed his way down Lorna's neck then along her shoulder and down to her breasts. As his tongue licked over their surface, his hands moved down and began to pull at the waist of her skirt. Lorna raised her hips slightly, letting her skirt be pulled down her legs to her ankles. With a deft kick it was sent falling to the floor. Martin leaned forward. He kissed her stomach as his hands tugged at her knickers. Lorna squirmed against the bed, helping him to remove them. In seconds, they too had been added to the pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

Martin sat back briefly and smiled as his eyes feasted on Lorna's neatly trimmed pussy. Lorna smiled back. Opening her legs, she exposed her smooth lower lips to his gaze. Catching his gaze, her desire burning in her eyes, she ran a finger between the folds of her pussy, spreading her enflamed, wet labia, opening herself up to him. Her body squirmed involuntarily at the contact; her warm juices coated her finger.

Martin grabbed Lorna's hand and raised her finger to his lips. He seemed to savour the taste as he sucked her finger into his mouth. "Mmmmm Lorna, you taste delicious," he said, "every bit as god as I remember."

Before Lorna could muster a reply Martin moved between her legs and lowered his face to her pussy.

"Ohhhhh mmmmm," Lorna sighed as Martin's tongue slid between her moist lower lips and licked along the length of her slit. He flicked his tongue over Lorna's clit, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through her before beginning a leisurely exploration of her pussy.

Lorna squirmed with pleasure as Martin's tongue probed every fold of her pussy. She moaned as he sucked gently on her labia. His touch was soft and sure and Lorna savoured the sensations.

As Martin's tongue lapped up her juices Lorna's body writhed with pleasure. She began to play with her breasts, cupping them in her hands and squeezing her nipples as Martin's tongue expertly drove her towards her climax.

Martin sucked Lorna's clit between his lips and began to flick his tongue over its tip. She felt a familiar warm glow begin to spread from her womb to engulf her entire body. The walls of Lorna's pussy began to contract and she bit her lip as she held on, letting the pressure grow.

As Martin's mouth drove her onwards, Lorna began to whimper softly. Her earlier climax had only served to whet her appetite and her body craved the release of her impending orgasm.

Desperately, she held back, trying to prolong the pleasure as Martin feasted hungrily on her pussy. The contractions grew stronger, spreading to her womb, becoming increasingly intense with every stroke of Martin's tongue, yet still she held back, denying herself the release her body demanded.

As Martin's tongue beat relentlessly against her throbbing clit, Lorna squeezed her breasts together, pinching her nipples as her hips began to buck. Feeling as if she was going to explode as she held on with every ounce of her will. Lorna's head tossed from side to side as the contractions in her pussy and womb increased in intensity. Her clit throbbed unbearably under the relentless beat of Martin's tongue; it seemed like every nerve in her body was on fire. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh, mmmmm," Lorna moaned as the pressure became too much to bear.

As Martin sucked hard on Lorna's clit, drawing it into his mouth, she let herself go. Her back arched; her body shook violently, "Oh yesssss!" she moaned as she surrendered myself to a convulsive climax.

Wave upon wave of pleasure washed over Lorna as her orgasm took hold. Every touch of Martin's tongue sent another bolt, like an electric shock, coursing through her body. "Oh fuck! Oh yesssss!" she cried as her climax rose to its peak. Unable to control her violently trembling body, Lorna somehow managed to give voice to her desire. "Fuck me, Martin!" she cried, "I want to feel you inside me. Oh fuck me, Martin. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me now!"

With her eyes still clenched tightly shut Lorna felt Martin move up her body. He left a trail of kisses over her stomach, across her breasts, up her neck as he positioned himself above her. The tip of his cock pressed against Lorna's entrance. The anticipation was intense and she struggled to make herself relax. "Ooooh!" she cried as the head of Martin's cock began press slowly past her swollen lower lips and into the enticing wet warmth of her waiting pussy.

The walls of Lorna's pussy stretched to accommodate Martin's thick cock as slowly, inch by inch, he joined his body with hers. She spread her legs wider, pulling her knees up to let him in deeper. She murmured deliriously as she felt his cock filling her, stretching her wide as he slid deep inside.

Martin kissed her. "Oh Lorna that feels good," he sighed as he began to move his hips. His cock slid in and out with long, slow strokes. He wasn't a heavy man but he pinned her to the bed as he drove his cock into her with strong, powerful thrusts. Lorna's fingers dug into the skin of his bum, urging him to fuck her harder. Her pussy felt deliciously full as Martin's cock pounded in and out, faster and harder with every thrust.

"Ohhhh... Oh God, Martin! I'd forgotten how good your cock feels inside me," Lorna moaned, "You feel so hard. My cunt feels so full. Mmmmm." She began to move her hips so that she met him on the deepest part of his stroke. The walls of her pussy stretched and flexed around his shaft as their bodies moved together.

They rolled over their bodies still joined. Lorna sat back and began to ride his cock, moving her hips up and down, impaling herself on him over and over again. He reached up to play with her breasts, squeezing her nipples as her pussy slid along his shaft. She leaned forward until her breasts bobbed in front of his face. She moaned as he squeezed her breasts in his hands and flicked his tongue over her sensitive nipples.

Lorna began to lose herself to the sensations once more. The walls of her pussy tightened around Martin's thick shaft as she rode his cock with growing abandon. "Oh Martin! That feels so good!" she breathed as she surrendered herself to a third orgasm. "Fuck me!" she cried as her climax consumed her, "Oh Martin, fuck me hard!"

Martin reached up and pulled Lorna towards him, burying his face between her breasts as her body shook. Lorna squeezed her breasts together. "Suck my nipples!" she demanded, "Suck them hard!"

"Ohhhh! Ohhh fuck yessssss!" Lorna cried as somehow, Martin managed to take both nipples into his mouth at once. "Oh Christ! Oh FUCK!" she cried, grinding herself against him as her climax grew in intensity.

Suddenly, she slid off. "Take me from behind," she urged as she got on to all fours.

Martin positioned himself behind her. Gripping her hips, her quickly slid back inside her.

"Oh God! That really feels good," she moaned as Martin's thick cock began pounding her from behind.

Leaning forward, Martin grabbed Lorna's breasts and began squeezing and twisting her nipples. Lorna reached back between her legs to rub her clit as Martin's cock powered into her.

Almost at once, Lorna felt her orgasm reignite. The sensations were even more powerful. She thrust her hips back, impaling herself on Martin's cock as waves of pleasure coursed through her. "Martin! Oh fuck, Martin! I'm cumming so hard! It feels so, SO good!"

With every thrust of Martin's cock, the force of her orgasm grew stronger. With each contraction of her womb, the need to vocalise her release increased. The feelings were so intense that she had to bite the pillow to muffle her cries.

The intensity of her orgasm drained the strength from her body. Lorna slid off Martin's cock and slumped on to the bed. From somewhere she found the strength to roll on to her back. "Get on top of me again," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Lorna's body still shook as Martin plunged into her again. "Harder! Oh harder!" she moaned.

Martin began to fuck her with increasing force. Every thrust of his cock made her cry out for more. "Yes! Oh Martin, yesssss!" she moaned as she gripped his bum, trying to push him in deeper still. She pulled her legs back, resting his feet against Martin's arse as he fucked her with increasing urgency. She reached up to play with her breasts once again, increasing her pleasure as Martin's cock continued its relentless pounding of her pussy




Reacquainted Passion



Lorna's body was on fire. Her passion peaked again as Martin thrust into her with merciless intensity. He was breathing hard and his balls slapped against her with every stroke. He was getting close. Lorna flexed the walls of her pussy against his cock as she prepared myself to receive his load.

Martin's body stiffened. "Lorna. Oh Lorna! Oh... Oh... Aaaaahhhhhh!" he moaned as, with one final thrust, he began emptying his load inside her. He collapsed on top of her, his hips still thrusting. With every thrust another jet of cum was fired deep into her pussy. When, with his load finally spent, he rolled away, Lorna was left with a huge empty feeling in her now tender pussy.

Martin's cum began to trickle from her pussy. Lorna pressed her fingers to her mound, letting his thick, warm cream flow over them. She then slowly raised her fingers to her lips and sucked them into her mouth, savouring the rich, salty flavour. Hungry for more, she moved down the bed until she was level with his cock, then began to lick him clean. The combination of cum and her own juices was intoxicating. As Lorna licked and sucked, her fingers strayed to her clit and began to rub. The effect was immediate. Lorna's body tensed and, with a low moan, she let one last small but intensely powerful orgasm wash over her.

"Fuck me, that was even better than I remember it ever being," Lorna whispered breathlessly as her climax slowly subsided. "You are still an amazingly good fuck."

Martin laughed. "I could say the same thing about you," he replied, kissing Lorna's cheek as she snuggled against him.

They lay, for a while, in each other's arms. Finally, with a yawn and a stretch Lorna kissed Martin lightly on the forehead then stood up and made her way to the shower. When she returned to the bedroom Martin greeted her with a smile.

"Do you have to leave?" she asked, giving him a seductive wink.

"No, not really," Martin replied.

"Good!" she said, "Well, go and get yourself cleaned up, then you can come back to bed and keep me warm all night."



Reacquainted Pt. 01



1.

The glass door had a faux-bronze handle and the words "Has Bean's" stenciled on it in some non-specific ye-olde font. "Cute," thought Jennifer Sutcliff, nee Ludlow, as she paused in front of the suburban strip-mall coffee shop; "kind of moronic, but cute." She could feel her heartbeat in the back of her throat. "Oh heck, Jen, get a grip on yourself!" She was neither timid nor indecisive, as a rule, so why was it proving so difficult to open the wretched door. "Just go in and talk to the woman."

She pushed open the door forcefully; too forcefully. It thwacked against a six-foot potted ficus just inside the shop, and a string of carriage bells attached to the push-bar on the other side of the door jangled angrily. Had Jen been given to swearing, she'd have indulged, but instead she contented herself with forcefully expelling a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Then she glared around the small room—coffee bar with pastry case catty-corner to the door in which she stood, condiments and utensils on a narrow table against the right wall, then two armchairs and a low table in an open space to her right, and two four-tops and three doubles against the picture window to her left—as if defying somebody to complain about the noise.

The place seemed to do a pretty brisk business for three-o-clock on a Wednesday afternoon, and the thwack-jangle had not in fact attracted much attention. An elderly man sitting alone at the closest four-top met her eye for a moment before returning placidly to his newspaper, but the rest of the clientele seemed engrossed in chatter, laptops, lattes, and something new (at least to her) by Mumford and Sons on the sound system. Some half-a-dozen souls had braved the late Spring humidity on a quest for caffeine, or wi-fi, or both. A pair of twenty-something guys in cargo shorts and t-shirts sat in the armchairs and played with identical I-phones. A tiny girl—five-foot-nothing, and rail thin in a white oxford shirt and khakis; dark hair and olive complexion: Italian, Spanish, maybe Persian—patiently explained something or other to a handsome if perplexed-looking young man in jeans, an un-tucked Hawaiian shirt and a haircut that made him look like a Marine. The old man read his paper. And a very beautiful, very tall dark-haired woman in skinny jeans, a sleeveless leaf green blouse, sun glasses and earbuds took the occasional sip of an iced tea, and devoured a scone as if it were the first thing she'd eaten in a week. The tall woman sat at the double furthest from the door. She did not stand as Jen walked past the pastry case and put her hand tentatively on the back of the opposite chair. Instead, she took a paper towel from her lap, dabbed the remains of the scone from a full, almost pouted lower lip, removed the earbuds, and took off her sunglasses to reveal eyes as green as the blouse she wore.

"Jennifer Ludlow, right?" The voice was low with a little rasp to it; a whiskey voice, maybe a bedroom voice, but cool now, polite and a little wary. "It's been a long time. Sit, please." The woman had no discernable accent; she sounded educated, professional. The "Sit" had been clipped, almost peremptory, the way you might address a willing, if not particularly bright beagle. But the "please" had taken some of the edge off the command...some.

"Thanks, maybe I'll grab some coffee, and then I will." Jen tried a smile. It felt awkward, as if she had to order each individual facial muscle into place. "You're Magnolia Sutter, or do you prefer..?"

"Mags is fine."

"So not...um..."

The tall woman sighed. "When I have you handcuffed naked to a flogging post and I'm beating your pretty little ass with a riding crop, you may call me Mistress, or Goddess, or whatever I decide is appropriate. For now, Mags is fine. Is that what we're here to discuss, by the way?"

"Shoot! What? No...um, no it's not exactly...I mean it's not me, or at least...oh heck. Look, this may be a huge mistake. Let me get some coffee, and I'll try to explain. Can I get you anything?"

The other woman smiled, pleased by the offer, although Jen couldn't help thinking that Mags—which would take some getting used to; Jen had never seen a woman who looked less like a "Mags"—might also be enjoying the effect of her little bombshell. Jen didn't much like being laughed at, but decided to let it go. In the circumstances, the question had not been unreasonable. "Since you asked," said Mags, still smiling, "I'll have a large iced tea, sweetened, and another one of these white chocolate cherry scones. Thank you." With the last two words, the smile had vanished. Gratitude, even for something a trivial as a drink and a pastry, was apparently not a subject for mockery. "What a strange mixture of coarse and classy." thought Jen to herself. "Was she like this in school?" She couldn't remember.

"No surprise there," thought Jen, as she got in line behind a couple of middle-aged country-club-y woman who had just come in from a game of tennis, if the white polo shirts and sweatbands were to be believed. She and Magnolia Sutter had attended the same high school for two years. Jen's father, a colonel in the Air Force, had been transferred to a training facility not far from a tony but affordable parochial (all-girls) school during the summer after her sophomore year. But the two girls hadn't been friends. They hadn't been enemies either, although Jen, like most of the rest of her class, had been envious both of Magnolia's beauty and her brains. Everything had seemed to come easy to the tall brunette: grades, sports (Magnolia had lettered in swimming and volleyball), accolades, boys...especially boys. The girl had gone through the local boys' school like...well, heck, like a gorgeous, black-Irish beauty in a blue blazer, plaid skirt, Mary-Janes, and white knee socks through a sea of sexually curious, hormonally-addled, teen-aged males. She'd dated football players and stoners, Goths and geeks, the lead in the school play and the head of the Christian Fellowship. Strangely, while she could hardly have been called exclusive, she never got the reputation for sluttiness some of Jen's less charitable friends felt she deserved. For her own part, Jen had been jealous—of course she'd been jealous—but she'd had the good grace to feel guilty about her jealousy, and she'd made a conscious effort to be polite to Magnolia Sutter, when they'd crossed paths.

Which hadn't been all that often: Magnolia had been a gifted sculptor, and spent much of her free time in the arts studio, fashioned from a converted rectory at the edge of the school's property, while Jen and all her friends had hung out in the choir room in the basement of the science building, under the indulgent eye, and critical ear, of Sister Siobhan. Through the magic of social media and the interwebs—a phrase that her best friend, Cora Bolinger had picked up somewhere—she had remained in touch with several of her fellow choir-members. And one of them, Ashley Carmichael, nee Barnes, had tweeted about running into Magnolia at an exhibition of her work at a local gallery. Ashley had a rich husband and had bought one of Magnolia's more expensive pieces, had posted pictures of the work—an elaborate basket-like confection of brightly painted wooden snakes—on Facebook. And it had taken no more than a basic Google search for Jen to discover that Magnolia Sutter was indeed a promising young sculptor with a growing local reputation, and also that she worked as a dominatrix, under the name Princess Anastasia.

At the time, Jen had been frankly shocked and perhaps a tiny bit intrigued, or at least curious. She was astonished at the ease with which she had discovered her former classmate's...well, could you call it a "day job?" It hadn't taken much ingenuity: Magnolia talked quite openly about her alternate identity in an interview she had done for the local artsy weekly. According to the article, she had made a living as a dom for some time before her art had begun to sell, and since sales of her work were still somewhat sporadic, and since she had a thriving local...practice?...she continued to be involved in the local bondage scene, even accepting the occasional new client; although the fact that she had begun to make money as a sculptor allowed her to be considerably more selective than she had been in the past.

Local bondage scene? The notion had shorted a couple of Jen's circuits. At first, she didn't want to think about it. Then she really did want to think about it: she was desperately curious. Who? Where? When? For eff's sake, how? Would she have friended Magnolia on Facebook, or would she have proposed a meeting merely to see about satisfying that curiosity? Maybe, but then again, maybe not.

"Can I help you?" The barista's pleasant, slightly bored voice derailed the proverbial train of thought, and Jen took a moment coming back to the present before placing her order.

When she got back to the table, Jen handed Magnolia the tea and the scone. The other woman thanked her again, tore off a large chunk of scone, took a big bite, and closed her eyes.

"Hungry?" asked Jen. The question sounded bitchy and ungracious, and she regretted it even before she saw Magnolia frown. "Sorry," Jen said quickly. "That was...um..."

"Yes, it was," her companion replied, "but since I don't remember you as a particularly discourteous person, and since you have just apologized, we'll let it go." She smiled: "I just love these things. They're the reason I come to this place." And with a contented little hum, she took another healthy bite, and a sip of tea.

Jen had been alternately embarrassed by her own rudeness, stung by Magnolia's blunt rebuke, and a little flattered that the other woman remembered her as courteous. 'She's like nobody I know,' she thought to herself. 'And look at the way she eats! She really is enjoying the heck out of that scone.' Cora would have giggled and muttered something about it going directly to her hips. Ashley would have ostentatiously left half of the scone on her plate, and wailed about carbs. Magnolia Sutter ate with pleasure: eff the carbs, eff the hips, and, if her reaction to Jen's unfortunate descent into snippiness was any indication, eff you too if you had a problem with any of the above. 

Jen took a sip of her coffee: "You're making me want one of those things."

Magnolia swallowed the bite she was chewing, and dabbed her lips with her napkin: "Next one's on me then."

"I'm afraid that was the last of them."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the woman seemed genuinely distressed, "Would you like what's left of this one, then?" She offered her plate on which maybe a quarter of the pastry remained.

Jen smiled, a small part of her pleased to have regained some moral high ground. "It's kind of you, but I'm really not hungry. You just seemed to be enjoying it so much."

"I am. Pardon me a moment." She devoured the last of the scone, took a sip of tea, and sat back. "Well, I was." She smiled. "Thanks again for the treat. Now is there something, or are we just getting reacquainted?" 

"No, no." Jen was suddenly furious with herself. She was never inarticulate, but now that they had come to it, she found she had no idea how to broach the subject she had come to discuss. "Mags, I'm terribly sorry. This is really not...um...shoot. Look, may I, er...may one consult you in a...um...professional capacity."

"As a sculptor?"

"Um...no."

Magnolia's smile was gone. "Ah. Well, that depends. I tend to avoid casual discussions about my work as a dominatrix. I'm disinclined to gratify idle curiosity. And of course I never discuss specific clients. I'm also not accepting or training any new slaves just now, although I can recommend some excellent women, if you're interested in becoming..."

Jen interrupted quickly. "No, it's nothing like that. It's just...well, there's something I'm not sure if I should...do, or maybe arrange, for my husband, and there's a potential...um...sexual component to it, and I...well, I guess I'm looking for some advice."

"I'm afraid I'm neither a marriage counselor nor a therapist."

"I'm not in the market for a therapist!" Jen snapped. Then quickly: "Shoot, sorry, Mags, I didn't mean to be...it's just...oh...heck. Look: may I just sort of lay out my situation for you? It won't take long. And if you can't help me, so be it; I'll pay you for your time, if you'd like."

The other woman sighed: "That's kind of you, but it's not necessary. I'll tell you what: since I was selfish enough to eat the last scone, I'll listen for," she checked her watch, "another half hour. Then I'm afraid I really do have to go. I doubt that I'll be able to do much for you, but you never know. If anything occurs to me, we can exchange phone numbers and talk more about whatever it is later, alright?

Jen gave her companion a grateful smile: "That's very nice of you. Thank you very much."

"You're quite welcome. Now, what's on your mind?"

2.

Officer Theodore Patrick Sutcliff did not consider himself either a complex or a particularly imaginative man. He had attended public school in the small Midwestern town in which he had grown up. During his senior year of high school, he had lettered in track and baseball, failed in a bid to be elected Student Council Treasurer, and graduated in the middle of his class. He considered college, but decided to enlist in the Army. Two years later, with help from the post 9-11 GI Bill, he enrolled at a state university, and three years after that, he graduated with a degree in Law Enforcement. He moved east to accept a position with a suburban police force. He'd enjoyed his training, and liked the new job. The one incident which he considered truly remarkable in his life happened a little more than a year after he hit the streets as a beat cop.

That day, he and his partner, a stocky good-natured local boy who rejoiced in the name Serge Sanderson (and whose life's ambition was therefore to become a sergeant) had been sitting in an unmarked Crown Vic across the street from a park watching a couple of teenagers doing not much. There was talk that the kids were pushing a little weed around a nearby high school, but they weren't doing it just at the moment. Theo was pretty sure the kids had made the Vic and were therefore waiting for an old lady they could ostentatiously help across the street. No drugs here, officer; we're just on our way to the church social.

The radio burped, and Sanderson took the call: a woman in a Camry had been t-boned by some scumbag who'd run a stop sign; corner of Beech and Monroe. They were less than half-a-mile from the intersection. They radioed for permission to break off what they optimistically thought of as the "surveillance", and headed for the scene of the accident.

The Camry was almost certainly totaled; the other car had plowed into the right rear door, and the Toyota had spun out into a telephone pole. At some point, the right rear wheel had come completely off the car, and the chassis looked as if some giant hand had tried wringing it out like a sponge. By some combination of luck and high safety standards, the driver seemed to be uninjured; she'd apparently climbed out of the car under her own power. She'd been sitting on the curb, and when the uniformed officers got out of the car, she had stood and started over to them. She was small, almost dainty, and—Theo thought maybe the word was "energetic"; it was kind of fun to watch her move, even to watch her stalk over to the Vic as if she bore it some sort of grudge. She was blonde, her dark golden hair held off her face with a blue Alice-band, which was, in turn a few shades darker than her large cornflower blue eyes. Her skin was fair and a few freckles dusted her cheeks and her small upturned nose. Her face was an oval, just slightly tapered to her chin: small mouth, full lips, a slight figure, teacup breasts under a pale blouse, trim legs under a severe grey A-line skirt. Officer Theo Sutcliffe made a couple of preliminary observations in his mental notebook. The "victim" of this particular "incident" was beautiful. She was also royally pissed off.

"About goddamn time!" She was in Serge's face. He'd been driving, and had the bad luck to get out of the car on the street side; nothing between him and the furious woman but a couple of now-deserted lanes of suburban blacktop. He was also almost a head shorter than his partner—Theo was 6'3"—and the fact that the lady had to look up at the 5'8" Sanderson seemed to daunt her not at all. "What the hell takes you guys so long? There's—what—150 people in this effing hick backwater..." In retrospect, Theo decided he had probably fallen in love the first time he'd heard Jen Ludlow say "effing." "The dirtball is probably halfway across the goddamn state by now! So what the hell are you going to do about it?"

Serge took a step back, and Theo wondered for one insane moment if he were going to go for his gun, or at least his pepper spray. In fact he went for his handkerchief, and used it to wipe the sweat—and perhaps a little spit—off of his face. Theo decided the time had come for him to back up his partner. "Ma'am, we're going to get some information from you. That way we'll know who to chase. And then we're going to do our level best to catch the guy who did this to you. Now, do you feel able to answer some questions, or do you need a minute?"

"No, shit...ah, shoot! Sorry, no. I'm fine. At least, I'm not fine, but I'm...ok...what do you need? Should I...?"

"No, no. I'll ask, and you answer, alright? Now, why don't you start by telling us what happened..."

Given the nature of the incident, she hadn't done badly: dark sedan, maybe black or dark blue, she thought American; lone male driver, maybe Caucasian, maybe Latino, almost certainly not African-American, couldn't absolutely swear no other passengers; come to that, couldn't absolutely swear male; might have been a short haired woman; out-of-state, or at least unusual, plates—first letters or numbers SO or maybe 50; had been travelling north on Monroe, run the stop and caught her just behind the right rear door. She'd spun out, hit a telephone pole, airbags deployed, but her head must have been travelling away from them. In any case she hadn't sustained any injuries more serious that some bruising on the back of her forearms. She declined an ambulance trip to the local emergency room, even after both officers had recommended starting a paper trail in anticipation of a potential lawsuit. Didn't want to sue anybody; couldn't effing afford to sue anybody; just wanted the a-hole's insurance to take care of her effing car.

She hadn't done badly, but it was nowhere near enough. Despite her unkind observations as to the size and character of the town in which they lived, there were, in fact, some 80,000 people there, and another 100,000 or so in the surrounding metro area. If the black-or-dark-blue sedan had been stolen, they might get lucky, but the overwhelming likelihood was that the driver of the car owned it but didn't have insurance. He could fix it, garage it, or dive it out of the area, and there was precious little they could do to find or stop him. They took her statement and contact information, called a local tow service to get the Camry to a body shop, where her insurance adjuster could pronounce it officially totaled, offered her a ride—which she declined—and said they'd do their best.

Back in the Crown Vic, Serge sighed. It was his turn at the computer. Both men loathed paperwork. "Waste of time, but at least I'll get to write another meaningless report which nobody will read. I'll just keep looking on the bright side."

"I'll write it up." said Theo.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll write it up."

Serge stared at his partner in astonishment. "Just so we're clear here, you are actually volunteering to spend the rest of the day going blind in front of that stone-age piece of crap"—(a three-year-old Dell they shared with four other cops)—"making paper on another guy we're never gonna find?"




Reacquainted Pt. 01



"Uh huh."

"Even though we both know it's my turn?"

"Sure."

"Ok, I owe you a donut. Thanks, man."

Theo wrote up the report. He investigated the incident. He canvassed neighbors. He checked with body shops, junkyards. He sniffed around the local ERs and doc-in-the- boxes on the off-chance that the hit-and-runner was himself hurt. He never got a break, and he never did find out who done it. Early one evening, three weeks after the incident, he called Jennifer Ludlow—he'd memorized her number—to report his lack of progress. She picked up her phone on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Miss Ludlow?"

"Speaking."

"This is Officer Sutcliffe..."

"Um, sorry, who?"

Theo had had very little experience with women up to this point in his life, but even he knew this last was not promising. "Officer Sutcliffe, ma'am? My partner and I responded when you were hit...um...in your car?"

"Oh, right. I'm sorry. Um, were you the tall one, or..."

"Yes, ma'am, I'm the tall one."

"Oh, good. That might not have been...never mind. What's going on? Did you find the creep who totaled my car?"

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry, but we haven't. We'll keep the file open, but I wanted to let you know it doesn't look good. I don't know where you are with your insurance company, but you might just want to put in the claim and get what you can. Even if we somehow find the guy, we might not be able to prove it, and he probably doesn't have insurance anyway, so, um..."

"And you called to tell me this? To report, like, total failure?" Theo winced. "I mean, thanks, I guess."

"No...uh, that's not actually why I called."

"Oh?"

"No, er..." Theo decided that he was going down in flames and had absolutely nothing to lose. Perversely that made his next question easier to ask. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Silence. Theo didn't think she'd hung up. Then: "Um...you're asking me out?"

"Yes."

"So telling me that you couldn't find the guys who smashed my car, was that...uh...small talk or something?"

"No, no. I mean, I needed to tell you that too."

"Not much of a line, is it?"

"Ma'am?"

"A pick-up line, officer; I mean, do you get a lot of women to go out with you by telling them you're no good at your job?"

Theo supposed he deserved that. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I just...have a nice..."

"Wait, wait. Now I'm sorry. That came out harsher than I meant it to. But...I mean, seriously; do you often...um...date women you've met...professionally." That sounded all kinds of wrong. "I mean...I don't mean hookers or...shit, shoot!"

"I understood you, ma'am. No, I don't. Or I never have...um...asked a lady out like this."

Jen found herself smiling. The whole situation was goofy, but she'd liked that he'd said "lady." And she didn't have much going in the way of a social life. She tried to bring the cop's face to mind. He was kind of cute, right?

"You're sure you're the tall one?"

3.

"Within a month we were dating, and within a year we were married. We're what, 28?" Mags nodded, but said nothing. "So Theo and I have been together for almost 5 years. Wow!": this last more to herself than to the woman sitting across from her. Jen looked up. Mags was silent, still, and attentive. Jen resisted an urge to look at her watch. She'd been promised half-an-hour. "Here's where I have to get a bit...personal. Please let me know if I'm making you uncomfortable."

Magnolia smiled at that. Less than a week ago, a local orthodontist had paid her an absurd amount of money to put a diaper on him, and then to paddle his ass as a punishment for wetting it. She doubted that pretty little Jen Ludlow-Sutcliff had the vocabulary to make her uncomfortable, much less the life experience. 

Jen read the smile as permission to continue. She took a breath: "Theo and I were both virgins on our wedding night. I guess that's a little weird in this day and age." She paused, wondering how much context Mags would need to advise or help her, then she continued: "It wasn't as if either of us had planned it that way; at least, I hadn't. Maybe Theo did, a little; his family is pretty religious, but maybe not. I never asked, so I don't know. Anyway the point is that we learned everything we know about sex from each other." Another pause; Jen waited for some kind of comment. None came, so she soldiered on.

"I love Theo, and I have no doubt that he loves me. I...well, I love sex with my husband. He feels wonderful...um...inside me. Sometimes I...climax, and sometimes not. He always does, of course. And if he does it before I do, he touches and kisses me while I...oh, you know: take care of myself. God, this is strange. I've never talked with anybody about this before. I'm making it all sound kind of clinical.

Now Mags did speak: "Not at all. You don't have much of a sexual vocabulary, I suppose, but all in all you sound like a somewhat inexperienced woman who loves, and enjoys sex with, the man she married."

"Thank you, I guess. That's pretty much what I am."

"So what's the problem?"

Jen frowned a little, as she thought about how to respond. "That's part of my...I mean, I'm not even sure there is a problem. Maybe I should start by saying that we don't seem to...do some of the things other couples do, I think. Like oral sex: I tried taking Theo's...you know...in my mouth once, but I might have done it wrong, or maybe it just made him uncomfortable. And I don't really feel good about him licking me down there either. Frankly I think I'm a little self-conscious about the smell. Anyway, some of my girlfriends talk about it like it's really terrific; they'd rather receive than give, I think, but we don't talk about it much, and I don't really miss it, since I've never had it."

"How often do you have sex?"

"Oh, depending on his watch schedule, three or four or five times a week. We really do enjoy it."

"Always in the same position?

"Mostly. Sometimes Theo likes it when I get on top, but I like it better when he is. He's...that's to say his...um...it's kind of thick, I guess. I mean I don't have much to compare it to, but it can hurt a little when I ride him."

"Do you use birth control?"

"Condoms at first, but then I got on the pill. Skin on skin just feels better. And it's easier for me to...that's to say I'm...um...wetter, when it's just him."

Magnolia tried surreptitiously to check the time on her cell phone. She had errands to do: bank, dry-cleaning, post office, pharmacy. It all had to get done, but none of it was urgent. She had imposed the half-hour limit on her old classmate on the assumption that Jen would do the usual more-or-less discrete prodding about the local scene, and Mag's life as a dom, etc. She hadn't expected the somewhat tentative personal/sexual biography, particularly from a woman whom Mags remembered as confident and mature, if a little square. Now she found herself intrigued, not by the narrative itself, which was ordinary enough to border on cliché, but by why Jen was trotting it out. Where was she going with all this?

Jen had caught her glancing at the phone: "I'm sorry, Mags. Do you need to go?"

"Forgive me for a minute. Let me send a quick text...there. I've just bought myself a little more time. Please continue."

Surprised, but pleased to find her time limit extended, Jen continued: "Anyhow, like I said, I'm happy...that's to say we're happy with our sex life, limited as...well, as some people might consider it. At least I thought we were happy..."

"Until..." prompted Mags.

"Well, until I found my husband's porn stash."

"Ah." Mags couldn't help being a little disappointed. "Most men have one, you know. It's not unusual, and it doesn't necessarily mean he's not perfectly happy with what's on offer at home."

"Oh, I know that." said Jen. She said it quite casually, and once again, Mags was intrigued, without knowing exactly why. What was so compelling about this pleasant woman and her cookie-cutter sexuality? "It wasn't the fact of the stuff that troubled me," continued her former classmate, "it was the stuff itself."

Mags: "I see. What kind of stuff are we talking about here?"

Jen: "That's why I thought you might...I mean it's not exactly what you, or what I kind of imagined that...but maybe...I don't know."

4.

Theo had another week on Second Shift: 3:00 pm-1:00 am. Jen being a 9-to-5-er (Office Manager for a small firm which developed industrial real estate), Second was her least favorite. When Theo worked First, their schedules meshed almost perfectly, and even when he worked Third, they usually managed to hook up for an evening meal—dinner for her, breakfast for him—and the occasional quickie. But Second just sucked; he was asleep when she left, and she was asleep when he came home. So for the two weeks out of every seven that her husband was on the Terrible Two, she spent her evenings seeing friends, catching up on projects around the house, or just puttering.

It had been toward the end of last year. A friend of a friend was getting married. The bride had gone to elementary school with Jen. Did she happen to have any old pictures, class photos, anything? Jen had said she'd look, and one evening, after goosing the heat a bit, she headed up to the attic to hunt for a box. 

Jen and Theo had married young, and neither of them had had much in the way of stuff, so their attic, a large, low-ceilinged room lit by dormer windows during the day and a couple of bare bulbs at night, was not particularly crowded. What was there—a few pieces of redundant furniture, boxes with household papers, a few boxes of books (hers) and old jazz lps (his)—tended to hug the walls. Access to the attic was through a trap door in the guest bedroom, and by means of a drop down ladder attached to the attic floor. On the night in question, Jen had headed up into the attic, turned on the light and made for a row of file boxes along the back wall. She'd intended to label the wretched things, but kept forgetting, so now she had to hunt through tax forms, some professional files, a few of their less fortunate wedding presents, the books and the records, before she found the box with the...

Her eye was drawn to a stack of two file boxes she hadn't remembered seeing before. They were half hidden under a drop cloth and some painting supplies. She hadn't put them there, so they must be Theo's. None of her business, really, but what was with the painting supplies? They'd been in the house for a little less than two years, and while they had talked vaguely about painting here or papering there, they hadn't made any definite plans. She didn't give it much thought. She just wandered over, put the drop cloth and roller pans on the floor, and lifted the lid of the first box.

5.

"It was full of dvds, and what looked like home-burnt cds in little envelops and colored plastic cases. At first, I thought they were just movies and music. I saw titles like Batman, Iron Man, The Avengers, Spiderman, maybe. I pulled one out—I think it was Superman, or maybe Supergirl, I don't remember. Anyway, the picture looked...off. I mean there was this muscular guy—so Superman, I guess—in the blue tights, with his hands on his hips and what not, but instead of a big "S" across his chest, he had an "X." So it was porn—I mean obviously, right; Superman porn, Batman porn, and all the rest of it. I do know how they don't get their butts sued off. Anyway, I took a couple of the little home-burnt things and played them on my laptop. And they were...I don't know how to describe it, like lower-rent versions of the same thing: women (mostly) in colorful costumes and masks, and—forgive me, but this is what made me think of you, because I had just read that interview in "Art House"—some of the women were tied up, and being...um...done by guys in the mouth, or from behind, or maybe even...all the way behind. But in some it was men being tied up, and this one guy was being whipped by this girl in lingerie and cat-ears, and his...his penis was in this kind of cage. I...don't know. I didn't know exactly what to do. I felt like I was supposed to feel one way: maybe outraged or angry or...who knows? But I didn't. I felt a little sad, I think; maybe a little curious..."

Mags said: "Were you at all turned on by anything you saw?"

"Not then, really. Or maybe I should say 'not yet.' It sort of blew my mind, some of what was...being done. But I wasn't repulsed or anything either. I just...felt like I didn't have a mechanism, or a context, or...you know what it was like?" 

Mags waited.

"It was like being handed the book that everybody's been reading and urging you to read, but the copy you've just been given is in Russian, or Chinese or some language with a completely different alphabet, and you can't even begin to...like there's no way in."

"What was in the second box?" asked Magnolia. Jen looked up into the other woman's face. Mags' expression, like her voice, was calm and interested. She wasn't smiling, and for that Jen was profoundly grateful. Her companion didn't seem to be either dismissing or patronizing her.

"Magazines mostly; some comic books, but not titles I recognized. I mean I don't know much about comic books, but I didn't see Superman or Spiderman or any of the famous ones. There were some Playboys, some Penthouse, and some other less...like High Society was one title, and I think there were a couple called Oui and Chic. And there were some...kind of paperback comic novels, and some of those looked like they were from Europe. I'm pretty sure one was in Italian, or maybe Portuguese..."

"And did they deal with the same kind of comic book content: people in costumes and masks and what not?"

"Yeah, same stuff. The magazines would usually have a photo set on some kind of superhero theme, or maybe they reviewed a video or interviewed the porno actress playing Batgirl or Catgirl or whatever."

"How much of it did you look at?"

"Over the course of that week, I probably watched parts of a few of the dvds—I watched the Superman one pretty much all the way through—and a bunch of the shorter clips. And I read a couple of the comics and graphic novels, I guess you'd call them; the ones that were in English, anyhow."

"Has Beans" was beginning to fill up, as the first of the after-work crowd drifted in for their evening lattes. Mags looked around: "How about we walk over to the park, and maybe stroll along part of the path around the golf course? We'll have some shade before the sun gets too low."

Jen looked up. Her thoughts had turned inward as she re-visited her discovery of the boxes and her response to them. "Um, sure, that sounds nice, but do you have the time? I mean, I thought you had to be someplace..."

"To tell you the truth, I said that to give myself an out. I'd expected to be...well perhaps I should say that I didn't expect this conversation to...go in the direction its going."

6.

The day was warm, but not unpleasantly so, and the shade helped. The two women wandered along, mostly oblivious to the stares they received from the occasional passing jogger or dog-walker. They made quite a sight. Two beauties: one with dark hair and pale skin, tall and lean, leggy but curvy, with a bosom like the figurehead of a ship, the other honey-blonde, smaller and slighter, with the quick and athletic stride necessary to keep pace with her taller companion's graceful lope. Popular with the exercise crowd, the path along which they wandered was crowded in the morning, but now, as the sun glided between scattered clouds low in the west, the two women had long stretches of their walk to themselves.

Mags asked: "So you watched a few of the discs. How was that? Or perhaps I should begin by asking if you've ever watched porn before."

Jen shrugged: "I've seen some, mostly in college. These days, with the internet, it's tough to avoid. As to quality: I mean who knows? The smaller clips ranged from cheesy Halloween costumes and painted paper backgrounds to...I don't know. Some of them looked pretty good; I mean well lit, money spent on costumes and...equipment. Like the little cage the guy's...penis was in. I mean that couldn't have been re-purposed, right? That's a thing, isn't it?"

"Sure. It's called a chastity cage, or sometimes a cock trap..." Jen snorted, as if she was trying not to laugh, and Mags smiled. "I own a couple, as a matter of fact." Jen couldn't control herself and succumbed to a fit of giggles. Eventually her companion was chuckling too. "They are kind of funny, I suppose, although...I've been told they can be very uncomfortable, if you know how to use them."

"You see, this is why I wanted to talk to you. I don't think I know another human being who could bring him or herself to say...cock trap...oh, hell..." Jen collapsed onto a convenient tree stump, howling.

Mags supposed her professional dignity should be affronted, but in her almost five years as a dom, she'd been paid to do and say some tolerably silly shit. And it's really hard to stay angry at anybody laughing as hard as little Jen Sutcliffe had for the last minute or so. At last she began to get herself under control.

"Sorry," she panted, "Mags, seriously, I didn't mean..."

"Please don't worry about it. Frankly I prefer your reaction to some of the more puritanical responses to my interview. One particularly bloody-minded collection of prudes even tried to picket a show I had at a local gallery, and we wouldn't have been able to do a thing about it if one of them hadn't got into a shoving match with a patron. The police eventually arrested them for something...disorderly conduct? I wonder if your husband was one of the officers."

"I'll ask him, or maybe I won't, given what we're talking about."

Mags waited. Eventually Jen got up, and the two women started walking again. "I guess one of the big questions I wanted to ask you...cripes, this really feels strange. I mean how would you even know, right? He's my husband."

Still Mags said nothing.

"So obviously Theo has an...interest in this kind of comic book/superhero..."

"A fetish." Jen stopped walking and bit her lower lip. She looked like she was about to cry, so Mags continued. "Don't be afraid of the word. Your husband's not a pervert or a sexual deviant, or at least not more than most men. Fetish just means a specific sexual interest. People have all kinds. Men who are turned on by women's feet—or I suppose women who are turned on by men's feet, although I've never met one—are called foot fetishists. Guys who like ladies in sexy underwear are lingerie fetishists. Your husband has a bit of a comic book fetish. Or maybe it's the spandex. There are guys who are into leather, or rubber, or spandex. It's not all that unusual. Actually, given his line of work, it even makes some sense."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, what are superheroes, really? Costumed crime fighters: men and women whose physical and mental powers make them better able to fight crime, or to commit it. I mean you never hear of some guy getting bit by a radioactive sea turtle and using his powers to become the world's greatest accountant. These guys are essentially fantasy versions of your husband. And then there're the women. Comic books are designed primarily to appeal to adolescent boys, and the women are usually pretty sexualized, right?"

"I guess I don't really know. I was never into comics."

"Browse in a comic book shop one of these days. It's like no woman was ever born smaller than a D-cup; superheroines, super-villainesses, damsels-in-distress: they've all got the wasp waist, the round ass, and the big tits."

"So you're saying Theo gets a charge out of imagining a world where he rescues ladies with big boobs...?"

"Look," Mags began, and then she stopped to gather her thoughts. "I mean I don't know much about police work, but I think it's more complicated than that. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me that many people who become cops do so with really good intentions, right?"




Reacquainted Pt. 01



"Sure. I think Theo thinks of it as sort of a continuation of military service; you know protecting citizens at home as well as abroad, that sort of thing. And there are...wow, I know three ex-soldiers on the force, and that's probably not all of them."

Mags: "But then there's a lot of burnout too, right? I mean, here are a bunch of folks who want to do good, who want to take the bad guys off the street, but...well like with your car, maybe they can't find the guy, maybe they know who did something, but can't put enough together for an arrest. Then they bust somebody and the bad guy beats whatever it is in court. That's got to be incredibly frustrating; you're always hearing about cops, particularly on the big-city forces, dropping out, or cutting corners, or sometimes committing suicide. I'm sorry if I'm being reductive, and you'd know much better than I do, but it's a tough life, isn't it? Everybody relies on you, but nobody likes you. 

Jen: "Gosh, you make it sound...I don't know. Theo doesn't bring much of that home. I think he's still...I mean, he still believes." 

"That's pretty impressive, actually. But now, look at this fantasy world we're talking about. Crime fighters are acknowledged heroes, celebrities even. In fact the biggest personal problem they have is concealing their identities from legions of adoring fans. Even the bad guys are...important, you know? They're plotting to take over the earth or destroy the human race or whatever. Or they're these slinky, sexy ladies like Catwoman or Poison Ivy or that blue chick from X-Men. And the heroes defeat them, and resist them, and go home to their adoring girlfriends with the big tits and pouty lips, instead of staying late to process some dead-end jackass who tried to take down a parking meter because he needed to feed a crack habit. A guy like your husband—if you're right, and he still believes...maybe there's a psychological tie-in. Guy sometimes feels a little powerless in the face of the system; tough to blame him for fantasizing about being Captain America."

Jen mulled that over in silence for a while. She smiled. "I suppose. Tell you the truth, I've never thought of it like that." Then a new thought struck her: "Um...Mags, no offense, but I'm kind of surprised that you're so pro-cop. I mean don't you operate in a kind of legal gray-area yourself, I mean...look, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're a kind of sex-worker, aren't you?"

Mags took a deep breath. 'God damn it!' she thought, but didn't say aloud. 'I really was starting to like her.' She had less than no patience with the kind of narrow assumptions people made about her profession: dom equals pervert equals sex-adict equals whore equals...the list went on. She lived in a small city in a politically conservative part of the country, and she had gone public with what she did for a living. She hadn't had many friends before the interview, and she had fewer now, and almost none of them were women. And now her old classmate was apparently as close-minded and provincial as those bible-thumping hypocrites who'd tried to close her show.

Or maybe not. For God's sake, the poor woman could barely bring herself to say 'penis.' She probably had almost no idea what a dominatrix actually was. She forced herself to smile, and then heard herself being far harsher than she had intended. 

"You are wrong, and I intend to correct you. Yes, I suppose I am a sex worker, under the broadest possible definition of the term, but I am not a prostitute, and what I do is entirely legal; licensed, even, in some states. A dominatrix will, for a negotiated fee, tie you up, spank you, whip you, verbally abuse you, tease you, and/or demand that you perform demeaning or humiliating tasks. Depending upon a client's wishes, and again for a price, she may or may not perform any of the above services—or others—in revealing or sexually provocative attire. However: she, or at least I, will not physically partake in the performance of any sex act, nor will she stimulate a client, manually, orally, vaginally or anally, am I making myself clear?"

Jen was completely taken aback by the force of the rebuke, and now it was her turn to fight to keep her temper. She was getting sick of apologizing to this bizarre and contradictory woman. However...she had apparently made an inaccurate and offensive assumption, and she had spoken out of ignorance. And she had really been enjoying talking to Mags. The woman seemed to have some perspective on her...situation, some insight which Jen suspected might turn out to be valuable. With an effort, she swallowed her pride...once again.

"Magnolia, I'm very sorry. I really know nothing about...what you do or why or how you do it, and if I've said something..."

Mags hadn't been expecting it. She was sure she'd blown it: been too harsh, too prickly, or arrogant or... For just a second, she was so relieved that she could feel the beginnings of tears behind her eyes. "Please, Jen...stop. Oh Lord, now I'm sorry. I can be a real bitch sometimes. It's funny: that's what a dom is, really: a professional bitch. I like to think I can leave my work at the office, if you know what I mean, but sometimes..." She sighed, and sat down on a path-side bench. "Listen. I think I like you. At least I am enjoying your company, and that's more than I can say for most of my acquaintance. Can you forgive me for...well for being a patronizing..."

Jen: "Bitch?

Mags: "Yeah, ok, bitch." Both women laughed. "Are we ok?" Jen nodded. "Then maybe we should get back to the issue at hand: your husband?"

Jen: "And his...fetish for superheroes, or comic books, or spandex, or whatever it is? Yeah, maybe we should." She was silent for a while, then: "Mags, what I think I really wanted to ask you...I mean why I got in touch with you in the first place, and maybe you can't even answer but...ok: is this...something he just thinks about, or does he actually want...does he?...It's a fetish, right? So does that make all this a fantasy or does he actually want to...like, do something with, or about, all this?"

Mags sighed: "Honestly, Jen, there's no way to know without asking him. I will say that in my experience the more elaborate the fetish, the more difficult it is to realize in a way that doesn't disappoint the fetishist. I mean, if your guy was into feet, you could let him play with or kiss your feet, or stimulate him with them, or wear high heels or boots or whatever tickled his fancy. And that might really...enhance your sex life. I mean you and Theo may not have had much in the way of sexual variation, but it sounds like you've had enough sex to know that there are times when you're doing it because it feels nice and you love each other and it's Thursday, and then there other times when it's like you're hungry for it, and you can't keep your hands off each other, and you go off like a fucking rocket ship before he's got half his dick inside you, right?"

Jen sat still for a second, trying to catch her breath. She and Theo had certainly had very intense and pleasurable love-making sessions, butt she had never heard the act described with such...gusto. The thought made her giggle, and she finally managed to say: "Um...right." She looked up and found Mags staring at her. The taller woman's mouth was quirked into an amused half-smile.

"You know you might have yourself a little fetish for dirty talk."

Jen huffed. "Anyway, you were saying? So if a fetish is simple..."

"Right," continued Mags, returning to her point, "but Theo's fetish seems to involve scenarios, maybe even role-playing, and that can be difficult to realize, particularly if you're attitude to sex is..."

"Square?"

"Actually, I was looking for something like reverential, or maybe just...serious. Look, two people who consider sex a beautiful and sacred act which they perform as the physical manifestation of their love might have a long and fulfilling sex life. But they may not necessarily experiment much: no bondage, no toys, no costumes, no porn. But then let's say the guy develops a fetish. Nothing crazy, maybe he get's intrigued by a hooker he sees on his commute home from work. He starts thinking about how exciting and kind of naughty it would be to pay a pro for sex. Now this guy is a loving husband, and he doesn't want to cheat on his wife, so one day he comes home with a little red miniskirt, and a cami-shirt or something, and he says 'Hey, Honey, tonight, would you put this on, and maybe over-do the make-up a little and pretend to be a hooker, and I'll pay you twenty bucks for a blowjob?'

Mags paused. Jen was silent, so her companion continued: "You see the problem, right?

The path now divided in front of them. A right turn would bring them through a small stand of trees and back around to the other edge of the golf course. But an access road led directly ahead into an area of undeveloped county land, which stretched away, wide and flat and empty towards a ribbon of Interstate some eight or ten miles to the west. Jen said: "Oh, sure. I mean, potentially...I see all kinds of problems..."

"Come on," said Mags. "Let's turn around. It's getting late."

7.

Second week on third shift; 10:00 in the morning and Jen was at work. Theo usually made it home between 8:00 and 8:30 depending, kissed his wife, if she hadn't left yet, and fell into bed, but this morning he had been restless. He and Serge had come on at 9:00 last night, and for ten long hours they had responded to one potential Drunk and Disorderly (resolved by the time they got to the bar), and one possible domestic intrusion which turned out to be a impossibly fat and bad-tempered possum trapped in an aluminum trash can. The partners had caught up on paperwork, drank coffee from the Dunkin' on the corner, played far too much Candy Crush on their phones, and spent most of their on-duty hours bored witless. Now Theo was awake and disoriented. He didn't really have the energy to do anything productive, and he knew he should get back to sleep, but...well, heck. There was one thing he could do to relax.

Before becoming a cop, Theo had probably seen less porn than his wife. Of course guys in the army had all kinds of stuff: magazines, DVD's and laptops with...well pretty much anything. But Theo had been "raised right" as his grandmother used to say, which had meant school, sports, Scouting, and Sundays at the First Presbyterian Church of Christ Triumphant. As an adult he found himself at church far less often than his parents, and particularly his grandmother, would have liked, and he was fine with that, but that didn't mean he'd been comfortable sitting with a bunch of sweaty guys around a 12" screen watching some lady get it on with farm animals. After he'd fled that particular gathering, there had been the inevitable heckling, which had gotten out of hand and led to the inevitable fight, which he had won, decisively. Things calmed down in the barracks after that, but nobody invited PFC Sutcliffe to look at any more porn.

Then one day, a little less than two years ago, he'd been part of a squad that executed a warrant on a guy. The mutt in question, a known scumbag, had been running what amounted to a 7-11 of small-time illegal and semi-legal stuff out of a personal storage unit. He'd been busted for something like his 143rd DUI, or driving without a license or whatever, and vice decided to take him off the streets for a while. Somebody got a warrant for the unit, and he, Serge, and another couple of patrol guys—Dave Street and Marty Lefkowicz—had clipped the lock, and rolled open the door.

They'd found a little of everything: some weed, some questionable looking cocaine, a little prescription stuff, some handguns—serial numbers filed, dirty, basically crap street weapons—some hunting knives, 8 or 9 radar detectors, new in the box, and a whole lot of porn: DVD's, magazines, sex toys, bondage gear, some other weird stuff. The four cops called in, got told to wait for some Crime Scene guys, who'd look for some direct link (preferably the mutt's prints) to the drugs.

Lefkowicz got some surgical gloves out of the car, passed them around. The four of them weren't supposed to touch, but Street and Lefty sort of drifted toward the porn. Porn was legal, right? No harm in looking. Theo didn't care one way or another, but he did look up when Street whistled.

"Jesus Christ, will you look at this!"

Street was holding up a DVD in its case: Batman. Batman? The photo on the front made it look like...was that..? It looked liked Adam West from the old TV show. Theo had watched the reruns on Saturday afternoons when he was a kid. He'd had a huge crush on Batgirl, and Catwoman, and...

"Hey, Dave, let me see that."

"You got your gloves on?"

"Yeah, yeah, give it here." 

Batman it was, or at least...had to be, right? The costumes were just too close. There was Batman and Robin and Batgirl on the cover—she was blonde instead of a red-head, but still—and that was the Joker up in the corner. Can't mistake that guy, and on the back...holy sh-...er...wow!

Panels, like a comic book, but with stills from the movie: up in the top left, there was Batgirl, in her cowl and mask, with her lips around the tip of some guy's...and the guy was...he looked huge! Bottom left, there was Catwoman in the black slinky bodysuit with the mask and the ears, and then just across on the right, there she was again, naked except for the mask with one in her mouth and one in her...Theo wanted to look away. He thought he wanted to look away. But if he wanted to look away, why the hell wasn't he looking away? Lefkowicz reached over and took the box out of his hands.

"C'mon, Sutcliffe, close your mouth; you're gonna catch flies."

Marty Lefkowicz was an equal-opportunity pain in the ass. Nobody really resented him because he gave everybody grief. Now Theo said: "Go chase yourself, Lefty."

But Lefty ignored him. After a moment starring at the DVD, he started over toward Street. "Hey, Dave, check and see if there's more like this." Then softer, almost to himself: "Looks legit, but I don't know. Maybe..."

Theo came over. It was like the damn thing was magnetic or something. "Marty, what're you thinking?"

"Hm? Oh, hey. Theo, you don't buy a lot of porn, do you?"

It didn't feel like Lefty was busting his chops, so Theo answered truthfully. "No. Why?"

"Yeah, me neither. Well what I'm wondering is, like...is this legally produced or is our asshole running some kind of studio somewhere? I mean, if the Batman people...the comics people...do they know about this, because..."

Dave Street interrupted: "OK, I got a couple of the Batman, a couple Superman...uh Spiderman...there's, um, well it looks like a Star Wars, Avengers, holy shit, Scooby Doo?"

"Scooby Doo! Are you shitting me?"

"Marty, I shit you not, come and look."

Lefkowicz handed the Batman case back to Theo, and walked over to his partner to browse titles.

The DVDs had been legit, commercially available. The mutt hadn't made them. In fact the cops couldn't prove he hadn't bought them. So the little scumbag had gone down on the drugs and the guns, and the porn went into some evidence locker somewhere. Theo never saw it again. Or, more specifically, he never saw those particular discs again. But a few weeks later, at the end of a Two, he'd driven out to the all-night adult novelty shop off the Interstate and found his own personal copy of that Batman disc. Then a few weeks later, Superman, and then he'd found some amateur stuff on-line, and... Now he climbed out of bed, padded over to the guest bedroom in his boxers and a t-shirt, stood on a chair and reached for the ring on the trap door to the attic.

8.

Mags lived downtown, in a 2-bedroom railroad apartment above what had once been a 5-and Dime. Like many downtowns in the south-eastern Untied States, this one had tried and failed to reinvent itself at the turn of the millennium. Condos, boutiques, hip restaurants and clubs; nobody came. The little city just didn't have much appeal for younger people, and most left as soon as they could, scattered as if by a benign cyclone to Indianapolis, Saint Louis, Memphis, Little Rock, or Atlanta. Airmen from the base—which was still operational, by the grace of God and an energetic and hawkish congressman—spent most of their off-duty time and money at a collection of more-or-less salubrious strip malls a mile from the gates. So the sidewalks rolled up around 5:30, as the municipal workers and the merchants and restaurateurs who served them headed out to homes in small suburbs and neighboring towns, and downtown became...what? Quiet, but not empty; dead but not really dangerous: a little sprinkling of the poverty, homelessness, drugs and street crime endemic to most American cities, but not much; not really. A woman could walk the streets alone after dark in most places, most of the time. Mags did, a whistle around her neck, and a can of pepper spray in her purse, but she'd never needed either thing, and when, a week after their "Has Beans" reunion, she invited Jen Sutcliffe to dinner, she mentioned neither whistle nor spray as the two women strolled through the empty streets in the aftermath of a late afternoon thundershower.

A week ago, they had exchanged cell numbers and email addresses, mutually pleased to discover how much they had liked each other. Then, just as she was about to open her car door, Jen had turned and sighed: "And I'm still not sure what to do about Theo's...whatever it is. Did anything...occur to you"

Mags had been surprised, although she didn't know why. They'd spent much of the afternoon talking about and around the topic of Theo, sex, porn, fetishes, etc., but somehow Mags had assumed that the talking had been...what, enough? Talk it through, wrap your mind around it, get past it, right? Jen was not sexually sophisticated, so it had to have come as a shock to her that her husband used porn, but really...many, hell, most men look at porn, and the sun still rises in the east and sets in the west. 

"Do you still feel you have to do something about it? I mean, the kind of stuff we're talking about...do you really think it's doing your marriage any serious harm. He'll probably outgrow it soon enough. Might be best if he never found out that you'd..."

But Jen had interrupted. "Sorry, Mags,"—she was smiling slightly—"This might sound kind of funny coming from me. I'm not sure I have to do anything about it, but chatting with you has made me wonder if maybe I want to do something about it. Look, would you just give it some thought?" Jen continued. "I mean like: what would you do, if a man you loved was interested in...this kind of thing?"

So Mags had thought about it. And now, the two women were strolling past a park, through the cool, crisp evening air that sometimes comes after a storm. Jen spoke, as if picking up the conversation from a week ago, as if no time had elapsed: "I think you called it 'realizing' a fetish, right?" 

"It's not a technical term or anything," said Mags evenly, "realizing a fetish, fulfilling a fantasy..."

"So how would you do it; if you were me, I mean?" Jen paused and smiled at the look on her friend's face. "Come on, Mags, don't look so concerned. I'm supposed to be the prude here, remember?"

Mags smiled, but her voice was grave. "Jen, I just don't know the man. In...transactions (God, what a horrible word) like this: personalities and inclinations? All that stuff matters. For instance, is Theo more dominant sexually? Does he tend to start things off, or do you? Does he like to be seduced, or teased, or is he more of a caveman; you know: 'Woman, on your back, and spread your legs!'—that kind of thing?" 

Now Jen laughed out loud. "Probably more of a caveman than the other thing, but I don't really know," and she was suddenly pensive, "I've never really seduced him, I mean...I don't think...shit." She didn't correct the profanity. "Why is all that so important anyway?"




Reacquainted Pt. 02



These notes were intended to precede Part 01, but I made a mistake in formatting. This story began as a potential Halloween Contest entry, but grew too long in the telling, so I've split it into chapters. As those of you who have read the first installment know, there is no sex in Part 01. There is a little here in Part 02, and there will be considerably more as the tale progresses.

This story is dedicated to Christina, Larkin, Tara, and Missa.

10.

Theo opened his eyes and looked at the bedside clock: 9:38 AM. Weekend free, two weeks of uno starting Tuesday; life was good. And he was hard. Not unusual, first thing in the morning. It'd been something like five days since they'd managed an evening quickie: forever for them. As the rest of his senses caught up to his brain, he realized, without rolling over to look, that Jen wasn't lying beside him. He couldn't hear her breathing, or the pages of the Janet Evanovich novel she'd just got out from the library. And he couldn't feel that wonderful left over warmth which meant she'd just got up a couple of minutes ago. He loved to roll over into the warm spot just after she left. If he was quick, his nose might pick up just a touch of the scent of her body. The thought made him harder still, and he sat up in bed.

"Hey, Babe, you around?"

Her voice came to him from downstairs: "In the kitchen. You up?"

You bet your little round bottom, thought Theo. Then: "Come up her for a minute, would you?"

"Now?"

"Yeah, if you're not in the middle of anything."

"Give me a sec."

He heard her run some water in the kitchen sink, and then her footsteps as she started up the stairs. Theo dropped his boxers, and—completely naked—waited in ambush beside the door. As Jen stepped into the bedroom, he grabbed her around the waist, lifted her off her feet—at a muscular 225, Theo could throw his sexy little wife around like a beach ball without drawing a deep breath—and tossed her on her back on the unmade bed. She shrieked in surprise, and pushed herself up with her elbows, but before she could say anything, she saw him standing over her naked with his...

Mags called it a "cock", and the word just plain turned her on. It sounded kind of nasty, like something one of those porn girls would say. Looking at her handsome husband—broad shoulders, thick pecs, tight tummy, and that big, beautiful...cock. 'Oh yes,' thought Jen to herself, 'Honey, I want your cock.' She tried it out in her head: 'I want you to make love to me...I want you to fuck me—oh, God, that's dirty—to fuck me with your big cock!' Theo heard none of it. He saw her blue eyes get a little bit wider, and he heard her whisper: "Oh, wow!"

"Babe, if you don't want to, say so now and we won't, but it's been almost a week, so...you got about five seconds, and if you don't say no, I'm gonna tear those panties right off of you, and...you know."

"Oh honey," purred Jen, "I am so not going to say no!" She quickly pulled the oversized t-shirt she slept in over her head—she knew how much he liked to kiss her nipples while he made love...No, darn it, while he fucked her...while he fucks her...holy cow, just thinking about the word was getting her wet. Then she leaned back on her elbows, and raised her legs, pointing her toes toward her husband. "Get' em off, quick!" she whispered.

Theo knelt on the bed, gave Jen's big toe a quick kiss, making her giggle as he reached down to pull her white bikini briefs down her soft, shapely legs. As soon as they were gone, she opened her thighs slowly and deliberately, and watched as his eyes took in the dark blonde thatch of her curly pubic hair—she wondered if he would like her shaved, like the porno girls. He crawled up her body—he always began by kissing her, and just before his lips brushed hers, he breathed: "Lord, Jenny, you are so beautiful!"

Her mouth opened, and she squirmed and hummed as she felt the tip of his tongue exploring her mouth. Then she thrust her hips up against his erection, and when he reared up on his elbows, she said: "Oh please, Babe, just...just do it! Now!" At the last second she'd been unable to... "Oh GOD!" she screamed as he pushed himself all the way into her, and she felt his...slapping against the bottom of her...this was...she groaned as he began to thrust in and out of her...so good, and so stupid not to be able to say...not to even know the words... "Omigod, omigod, omiGOD, that feels so good...no, Babe, hard...do it...do me...hard! And fast! Ohyesyesyes!!"

Her mind and her body felt like they were going to split apart. She didn't often...oh come on, come on! Wait, that was the word! Cum: she didn't usually cum while he was inside her, but now, yeah, now...and then she was saying it out loud. "Now, Honey, now, Baby, now, now, now...N-ahh, ahhh! Ahhh!" Her body pulsed and shook, and she could feel Theo above her thrusting hard and deep, and warm, and wet, and she heard him moaning through gritted teeth, as he emptied his...cock—a few extra little spasms as she thought about the word, and the thing, and the whole...fucking experience, or experience fucking, and then his lips were on hers and her tongue was in his mouth and he was trying to kiss and talk at the same time, and his noises eventually resolved themselves into words: "Sweetheart, oh lord that was...I love you, love you so much..."

And Jen kissed him back, and said: "That was incredible, Baby!" And it had been, and she wanted to do it again and again, and for the first time in...well, ever, she thought she might want to do it kind of...more.

11.

"Wait a minute, Mags. I'm confused. What are you...is that a yes or a no?"

Her new old friend had sighed. "You know, I wouldn't even be considering this if I'd had any real action myself in the last..." she paused to think about it, and then she almost wailed: "Oh fuck me! two years?"

Jen was appalled. "You haven't had sex in..."

"No, I've had sex," grumbled Mags, "if you call three or four self-involved arty fuckin' wine and cheese gallery party wannabes... Honest to God, Jen, I don't know where I find them, or where they manufacture them, come to that. Best I've had recently was a woman; another dom, actually. I don't mind switching off sometimes, and she had this...you know what, never mind. The point is, there is no way I should be even considering what you're proposing, but I am. I can't help it. There's something about this superhero thing that...I don't know, feeds something in me too, I guess. But there's one thing.

Jen was still back with the other woman and her...what had she..? "Wait a minute, what? Sorry, one thing—ok, what is it?"

"You have to be part of it. We do it—him—together, or I'm not doing it at all, got it?"

"But Mags, I'd be...I mean I don't know...that's why..."

"Jen, hush." There was that tone again: stupid beagle redux. Jen should have resented the hell out of it, but somehow she didn't. Somehow she found it comforting. Holy cow, thought Jen to herself: Mags must be one hell of a dominatrix. 'Yes, Mistress' she thought, but didn't say out loud. She hushed. Mags continued.

"I know you're scared, but you're going to learn, ok. That's what going to make it good, and right, and if we get it right...it's a risk, Jen, but if we get this right, it is going to blow your mind! And his everything else! Call me in a week. And don't make any plans for Halloween."

And now, as she lay naked in her unmade bed, hazy and satisfied and a little sore from love making, Jen Sutcliffe wondered why Mags wanted her free on Halloween, and how she was ever going to make it to next Friday, which was when she would find out.

12.

"Costumes, of course!"

Jen was momentarily at a loss. "Costumes? I don't..."

Mags looked exasperated. "Halloween gives us the perfect excuse to... You know what? I'm going to start at the beginning." She smiled, and then sighed. "And I'm not going to be a bitch about it either. At least not yet..." Jen found the smile which accompanied that last bit a little frightening, and a little exciting."

"We're going to role play with Theo. We're going to act out a sexual scenario, like a play on the stage, OK?"

"But I don't..."

Mags interrupted: "But you don't know how, I know. And I'm terribly sorry for interrupting you."

Jen had to smile: Mistress Mags and her noblesse oblige.

"In fact, neither of you knows how, and that might've made things tough. But Theo's fetish kind of gives us a way around that."

"Mags, I'm not following any of this."

"I know, Honey." Mags sighed again. "I'll explain, but...honest to God, Jen, I should never have agreed to any of this in the first place. No, don't worry. I'm not backing out." Jen closed her mouth without saying anything. "It's just this weird convergence of...so many things." A little smile, and then she continued. "A few years back, I was a struggling sculptor, and I do mean struggling. I wasn't selling anything, which meant I couldn't buy materials, which meant I couldn't plan new work. And I was pretty much engaged to this decent, not particularly imaginative guy; med student, so he didn't have anything either—I learned to do shit with ramen noodles that would curl your hair. Anyway, Don and I got along well enough, but we'd fight about sex. I always wanted more of it than he did, and I wanted to try things, and talk about it, and seduce him, and tie him up, and talk dirty, and let him spank me, and be rough with him, and let him be rough with me, and...."

"And he didn't want any of that?" Jen hadn't really needed to ask.

"No, he was a good Christian boy." There was no rancor in Mags' voice, no sneer, no judgment, just a little bit of pain. "Raised in the bosom of the Lord. He liked sex, I think, at least he never had a problem doing it before we were married, never insisted on me not using birth control or anything. Once a week," she giggled a little ruefully, "missionary position."

"And it was good, Jen, it really was. He was a handsome man and a kind lover. He made sure I got mine, as he used to say. And I thought I loved him, but I knew it was never going to be...enough, I guess."

"Anyway, one weekend I found myself at this little arts and crafts festival—tiny little place you've never heard of, five-six hours south of here. And I started talking to this woman. I think she'd begun as a painter, but now she was doing these incredible collages with all kinds of found stuff. We hit it off, and that night," apparently the memory struck Mags as funny; she had to break off and laugh hard for a few seconds. Then, when she'd found her breath: "we kind of fell into bed together. It was cheating, of course it was, but it didn't feel like it somehow, and she had these..." she was giggling again, "oh lord, she had these little rhymes: 'No cock, no big shock. No dick, no big shtick. No dong, nothing's wrong.' And she was from Philly...so....it was like: 'No doo-wong, Nuttin's wroo-wong.' Oh shit, I can't do the accent..."

In retrospect, Jen decided she shouldn't have been surprised. When she really laughed, Mags laughed like she'd eaten that chocolate-cherry scone: eff you, if you had a problem. But good lord, the sounds she was making: squeaks and yips and wheezes and huffs! Jen was chuckling (how could you not?), but she was also profoundly glad that Has Beans—they were back again—was mostly empty.

Eventually Mags found her breath, and looked into Jen's slightly startled face. "OK, oddly enough, Don and I didn't split up because of my laugh." She was giggling again. Jen looked at her uneasily. "No, sorry, it's just that Fran—she was the collage maker—told me it sounded like...like..." She leaned forward with her hands over her mouth, trying to contain another outburst.

Nothing was going to be accomplished until Mags got it out of her system, so Jen patiently asked: "Like what?"

"Like a coyote getting gang-raped by a flock of parakeets!" said Mags very quickly, and she was off again. Jen decided that however bizarre Fran the collage-maker's world view might be, her description of Mags' laugh was right on the money.

13.

Theo back on the Terrible Two; the days were getting shorter, and the nights were turning cold: late September, beginning of fall, he and Serge cruising a little north of downtown. His phone chimed. Email from Jen:

Hey Handsome!

Stan from work is having a Halloween party on the 29th. It's a Saturday night. The theme is Comic Con. You're supposed to interpret that however you want to, so funny costumes, gangster costumes, comic book characters. I guess pretty much everything works. Can we go? Pretty please??? (I'm batting my eyelashes, and pouting!) I have an AMAZING idea for costumes! Check the schedule and let me know.

Hogs and quiches, xoxoxoxo,

J

Theo chuckled. Serge: "What?"

Theo: "Ah, one of the guys Jen works for is throwing a Halloween party, and Jen wants to go. She has some couple costume thing in mind, I think."

Serge: "That's like a month away. You gonna go?"

Theo: "I guess, if we're not on that night."

Serge: "Just send me pictures, OK?"

Theo: "What? Why?"

Serge: "Win/win proposition: either Jen dresses in something sexy," Theo frowned, "or it's a horse costume, and you'll be the back end. Captain's been suggesting it for months"

Theo: "Serge, go jump at a duck, will you please?"

Serge: "Lord above, I'd like to thank you for sending me Sergeant Friday for a partner. I fucking love insulting a guy who doesn't swear!"

Theo: "Who the heck is...you know what, never mind."

14.

Mags finally got herself back under control: "Well, you've heard the laugh, you know the worst." She grabbed her side. "You know that actually hurts? Forgive me, Jen, but where was I?"

"Um, Fran, I think?"

Mags sighed: "Oh yeah. Well, Fran was the one who introduced me to the Scene, and who suggested I become a Dom. She herself was very submissive sexually; she loved to be ordered around, forced to service me, and she genuinely loved to be flogged. I couldn't believe it at first, but nothing got that little slut's pussy wetter than me laying into her with a riding crop."

"Holy...Mags!"

Mags turned at looked at Jen, who'd been rendered speechless by the language, or the image, or some combination of the two. The taller woman's eyes seemed all of a sudden much greener. Jen watched as those eyes travelled slowly down her body. A predatory little smile played around her friend's lips as the eyes lingered on Jen's breasts, high and firm under her sweater. Then the eyes began a slow ascent back up to Jen's face, and it was as if they painted her chest and cheeks with a pink heat. She could feel herself blushing as the glowing green eyes once again locked on hers. She said again, softly: "Mags..."

"Don left me when he found out." said Mags quietly. She didn't sound particularly sorry about the break up. "Found out that I was working as a dominatrix, that I'd cheated on him. He was angriest over the fact that I'd cheated on him with a woman. Seemed to take it as a personal reflection on his manhood, which I suppose it was, in a way."

"I always thought the idea of two girls turned guys on." Jen's voice was still a little shaky. She wasn't sure why she'd said that; maybe just something to say.

"How do you think Theo would feel about it?" asked Mags.

15.

"Honey, this is amazing! Where did you get it?" Theo was holding up his costume. It was pretty cool, but it also looked kind of small.

"On-line; go try it on. Make sure it fits." Jen was barely holding it together. With the plan in place, she had real trouble thinking about anything else, and when she did think about it... Some days she had to change her panties, twice. She really hadn't known anything about the characters they were going to be playing, so Mags had made her do a little research. She'd Googled, looked clips on Youtube, even gotten a book of out of the library. She'd had no idea there were books about this, much less that their little local branch had one.

Theo came back into the bedroom. "Um..." he looked a little sheepish, and he had a goofy smile on his face. He hadn't put on the mask or the cape, just the jumpsuit and the shorts, and the wide yellow utility belt. "What do you think? I mean it is pretty tight..."

Jen had never...considered her husband's body. She thought him handsome and sexy and all the rest of it, but she had never compared him to, well, to anybody. But she'd been watching clips from the old TV series, and...the guy who starred in it was ok, his body was kind of non-descript: not flabby or anything, but Theo... Theo had long arms with ropy muscles. His biceps and forearms made little grooves in the tight gray fabric. His powerful shoulders bulged like a strongman at a county fair, and she could see his abs, count his six-pack. His thighs looked thick and strong. Her eyes followed them upwards and she had to suppress a giggle. The dark blue shorts looked like a pair of granny-panties, high and tight across his muscular little butt. He looked delicious. Jen just wanted to eat him with a spoon. Or she wanted to lie back on the bed, spread her legs and beg.

"Holy hard bodies, Batman," she said in her best plucky sidekick voice, "you look amazing!"

Theo laughed a little self-consciously. "Thanks, Girl-Wonder. So, are you Robin, or..." his breath caught for just a moment, "Batgirl, or something?"

Jen was watching him carefully, without trying to be too obvious about it. "Oh, no, I don't think I could pull off the spandex. I did some research, and apparently the original Batman had a girlfriend called Vicki Vale, so I'm just going to wear a pretty white dress and let you save me from the super-villains."

"I think you'd look great in spandex, but I also kind of like the idea of rescuing you, and taking you back to the Batcave, so you can show your gratitude!"

"Theodore Sutcliffe, you are a pervert!" Jen was secretly delighted, although not entirely surprised, to find that the costume made him think of sexual scenarios. "But," she continued, "I suppose if you are brave and strong enough to rescue me from Blake the Bore and Liam the Lech, not to mention Dumb-and-Slutty-Receptionist Girl..."

"Wait a minute. You're not talking about Debbie?"

"No, Debbie's on maternity leave, didn't I tell you? We've got this airhead of a temp. Anyway, do you like it?"

"Do you?"

"Uh huh."

"Show me how much." His voice had sunk to a growl.

She wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her body against his. She felt him hardening behind the silly blue shorts. "Ooh, Batman!" She reached down, cupped the cheeks of his behind, and pushed his growing erection against the suddenly warm crotch of her jeans. He hardened further, and she whispered "My hero!"

16.

Mags called Lizbet, a graphic designer who owned a warehouse in a part of town devoted to business parks and minor industry. A weaver and quilter herself, Lizbet had converted the old building into a kind of artists cooperative. Walls and partitions had gone up to create studios of various sizes, storage spaces, and one or two multi-purpose rooms. Mags now rented a small storage space (her studio was her second bedroom), in which she kept the furnishings for a simple dungeon: a Saint Andrew's Cross, a table with a pivot, so that a client could be bound either upright or on his back, various restraints, hooks and tackles, a selection of toys, and most of her fetish wardrobe. She also rented space by the hour in the smaller of the multi-purpose rooms: a 20 x 40 foot windowless (but climate-controlled) box, with a single door, a small attached bathroom, and grey industrial carpet on the floor.

Lizbet's cell rang twice, then Mags heard her friend's clipped Minnesotan "'Lo?"




Reacquainted Pt. 02



"Liz, it's Mags. I need a favor."

"Hey, hon. Whatcha need?"

"Can I have the place to myself on the 29th?"

"Of October?"

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't be a problem. I'll just call the resident loonies, and tell 'em we're fixing the toilets or something. Dig's off to some show in Canada, and Pam's mom's sick, so that's two of the usual suspects out of the picture already. You using mp-2?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Any mess, you're shampooing the carpet, right?"

"As always. Usual rates?"

Lizbet paused. "Hey, what do you think of this?. I saw a piece of yours in a gallery on Garfield; looked like wire and...I'm not sure, maybe Fimo? Dog outside of a little doghouse kind of thing under the blue moon?"

"Sure, I know the one."

"Sell it yet?"

"Don't know. I could check. Why?"

"Well, it keeps barkin' at me. I just sorta fell in love with it. And what you're asking is like two years rent on the storage. If I threw in that you could use mp-2 no charge for...say a year?"

"Works for me. I like that little guy going to a good home."

"Well check and see nobody bought it. If not, we can start the deal in the new year, but I'll give you the 29th for free anyway.

"Thanks, Liz! You're an angel!"

"Yeah, well, I hope like hell that little fella's still there. And you still got to mind the carpet."

17.

On October 29, at 3:00 PM, Officer Theodore Sutcliffe received the following email at his personal address:

Trick or Treat,

Put on your Halloween costume and drive to 23758 Rural Route 14. Arrive at 7:00 PM; no earlier. Enter at the front and walk to the back of the building. To your right, you will see a door with a bat-signal taped to it. Knock and enter. You will find Vicki Vale shackled and one of your old adversaries holding a gun to her head. The gun is empty. If you feel the need to verify this for yourself, say the word "Red." Miss Vale's captor will then approach you and hand you the gun. After examining it, you may say "Red" again. If you choose to do so, your adversary will release Miss Vale, and the two of you may leave. You may also hand the gun back. If you choose to do this, you will be required to behave as if the gun is loaded, and your treat will continue. If during the course of the evening either you or Miss Vale wishes to end your experience, you have only to say "Red." That word, and that word alone, will end proceedings.

Hogs and quiches.

Theo stared at the screen of his phone. He thought about how he had reacted to reading the email. That in itself was unusual for him. He was not given to self-reflection. He tended to act first, and to sort things out afterwards. But..."Trick or Treat": was this a game, or a joke, or...a treat? He didn't recognize the sender's address, but he or she had referred to "Vicki Vale" not "Jennifer Sutcliffe." How would they know that was Jen's costume unless she told them? And the gun at her head: that had freaked him out, but not as...seriously as maybe it should have. It's going to be empty, right? Whoever this was says it's gonna be empty...

The gun was the problem. If he did as asked, and the gun was loaded...but if whoever it was already had Jen... Didn't feel like that, though. And anyway, all this...it was all too elaborate, wasn't it? Sure he was a cop, and people don't love cops, but he was a patrolman, for cripes sakes. He hadn't busted serial killers, or drug kingpins or anything. And there was the thing at the end: "Hogs and quiches." Jen had seen that on a greeting card somewhere. It was her special little phrase. She only signed things that way for him. Easy enough to find that sort of thing out, he supposed, but again...was he over-thinking this? Maybe this was just what the note said it was: a treat. The costume seemed to do something for her. And he...really liked being her "hero." But what about the party? And what kind of a treat could she have planned out on 14; that was like the back of beyond..."

18

"How does that feel?"

Banal question; bizarre situation: Jen's wrists were cuffed together with leather shackles closed by buckles. The cuffs were joined by a metal ring to which a metal cylinder, ending in a second, smaller metal ring was attached. Mags had used what looked like a rock-climber's carabineer to attach length of nylon rope to this second ring. She had then attached the rope to a hook in the ceiling a foot or so from the wall opposite the door. Her elbows could bend slightly, and she could turn her body around, but the hook had a clip which held the rope in place. Jen could struggle, but she couldn't move.

She wore a simple evening gown—not too expensive, Mags had insisted but not explained—white, strapless and cut low, but not too low. Gray and silver beading decorated the top of the gown and continued onto a single horizontal strap which crossed her back just below her shoulder blades. The same beading also ran across the top of her hips (the dress was effectively backless) continuing in a narrow strip just below her bustline. The two sliver strips above and below emphasized Jen's braless breasts, which thrust out high and proud against the nearly translucent fabric. From the bottom strip of beads, the chiffon fell in a column to pool around her feet. Comfortable silver flats, French-cut white lace panties, and that was it; her blonde hair floated loose around her shoulders, and she wore a light, natural foundation, blush, mascara and rose pink lipstick. The simple question was tough to answer. Jen felt...attractive; maybe even beautiful; but also vulnerable. The lack of a bra combined with the wispy fabric made her feel naked, and that thought terrified and excited her at the same time. She hedged: "How do I look?"

Mags looked her over, top to bottom. As once before, Jen swore she could feel a physical caress accompanying the woman's gaze, but when the eyes returned to meet hers, Mags was smiling kindly. "You make a lovely damsel, and I am definitely looking forward to distressing you, but," she took a deep breath, "first things first. I'm going to show you the gun, OK?"

Jen had been amused to learn that Mags had expected her to object to the use of the gun. As the wife of a cop, she was used to the idea of a gun in her house, and Theo had even taken her to a local range for a couple of quick lessons "Just in case," as he had put it. Now as Mags stepped gracefully to the small attached bathroom, Jen felt a little thrill of fear, like the anticipation before a ride on the big coaster at Six Flags. It had nothing to do with the gun.

Mags was dressed in a skin tight black catsuit, shinny black, but not as shinny as the zippered PVC boots (also black, with three-inch stiletto heels) which ended in the middle of her thighs. A loose belt of silver links hung from her hips, and she wore elbow-length black gloves tipped with evil-looking triangular gold claws. She wore her thick dark hair as loose as Jen's, although in her case, a band with two attached black cat ears, pinned in tight, held the hair off her face. Her make-up was dramatic: light foundation, a dark blush emphasizing the line of her cheekbones, dark gold eye shadow, liner, mascara, and deep red lipstick.

A Comic-Con accuracy nut might have objected to the neckline of Mags' suit. A zipper ran from neck to navel, and Mags had it open more than half way, displaying a deep cleavage between the curves of her generous breasts. And Jen could see that her friend wore neither bra nor panties. Her movements seemed designed to emphasize her curves. Even on the spikes, Mags moved with a provocative grace. She looked so effortlessly sexy that Jen felt a pang of envy, like a lost friend returned, as she watched her old classmate pull something out of a backpack resting on the sink.

Mags returned with a small pistol: an old Taurus .38 revolver with a short barrel. First she broke the cylinder, and shook the gun, barrel pointed up, to demonstrate that it was empty. Then she pointed the gun towards her own face. "The barrel's been sealed. Even if the gun were loaded, it couldn't fire, although it could explode, I suppose, which is why the firing pin has been filed down. I'm going to show you, but that will involve my pointing the barrel of the gun towards your face. Is that OK with you?"

"Sure, if the barrel's filled."

Mags showed her the gun, and Jen could see that the barrel was, in fact, no longer hollow. "It's a prop, but it was a functional gun once, and as you know, you have to treat these things with respect." Then Mags pointed the gun towards the far end of the room and cocked it. It made an audible click. She then pulled the trigger. The hammer fell on the empty chamber with a second loud click.

"It's harmless, you understand?"

"Yes."

"During the evening, I will be holding it to your head, and possibly even cocking it. Are you OK with that?

Jen swallowed. "Yes."

"Are you sure? We can find another way if it makes you nervous."

"The whole thing terrifies me; I'm not even thinking about the gun. I'm..." And suddenly, to hear fury and mortification, Jen found herself tearing up

"Do you want to call it off?" Mag's voice was neutral, dispassionate.

"No, but...Mags, you won't hurt me, will you? I mean really hurt me?"

Mags came over to her friend, bound and helpless and beautiful. She leaned in and kissed Jen lightly on the cheek. "I won't do you any permanent damage, but yes, I probably will hurt you some. You know about most of what I might do. I haven't told you absolutely everything, but you do know about the painful stuff, OK?"

"Uh huh."

"And you have the safety words, right?"

"Uh huh."

"And they are..."

"'Yellow', and you'll stop whatever you're doing and step back until I say 'green.' 'Red' and everything stops, we drop character, and if I want, we end the whole thing."

"Very good. Jen, Hon, do you want to call this off? It's OK if you do. I know it's scary."

"Mags?"

"Hmm?"

"Does it make me a bad person that I really, really don't? That I'm really scared and excited, that I don't even want to use my safety words, and I want you to...do all this stuff to me, and to Theo?"

Mags grinned: "You're asking a biased source; you know that, right?"

"Sure, but..."

No, Honey, it does not. It just makes you somebody who wants to try something new. But because sex is involved, all kinds of other shit come in to it: social and religious...taboos, I guess, and personal space and beliefs and all kinds of stuff, OK?"

"OK..."

"Tell you what. I'll go into the bathroom there, close the door, and put on my mask. When I come out, we'll play a little, just you and me; kind of like setting the scene. It'll give you a feeling for what we're doing, and if you decide you can't take it, you've got...what, an hour and a bit to call Theo and tell him...whatever: that the party was cancelled, how does that sound?"

"Kind of sounds like fun."

"That's a good little slut."

"Mags!"

"Hey, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck..."

Jen made an effort: "Fuck it and watch out for feathers!"

Both women giggled. Then Mags said: "You ready?"

Jen nodded.

19.

The tall brunette strode into the little room and stood, arms akimbo, gloved fists resting on shapely hips, surveying the scene in front of her. Her captive, a pretty little blonde, stood shackled to the ceiling across from the door by which she'd entered. She smiled, and the glittery black cats-eye mask leant an air of cruelty to her expression. Now she sauntered towards her prisoner, her hips rolling provocatively, as she paced back and forth, examining the wall near which the frightened blonde was bound. Three small hooks were set in a row a few feet to the left of her prisoner, at about eye level. The masked woman strolled back to the room from which she'd come, bent languidly at the waist to retrieve something from a duffel bag on the floor. The move was deliberate and taunting. Her captive was invited to examine and admire the muscles of her thighs, the peach-perfect roundness of her ass, showcased almost pornographically by the skintight black spandex. When she straightened and turned, her hands were full. She smiled again as she heard the little blonde's sharp intake of breath. Frightening the little bitch turned her on. Slowly and deliberately she stalked over the three smaller hooks, and hung a short, ugly revolver from the first, and a vicious looking cat-o-nine-tails from the second. Upon reflection she kept the long black riding crop in her right hand, and she tapped it meditatively against her thigh as she moved to stand in front of her victim.

"Comfortable, Princess?" the tall woman purred.

The blonde said nothing. She stared at her captor through huge blue eyes. Quick as a flash, the looped tip off the riding crop was less than an inch from the bound woman's face. She gasped. Gently but deliberately the masked woman tapped her prisoner's cheek three times. The blonde flinched at each tap.

"Answer" --tap- "when" --tap- "you're spoken to." --tap- "Or I'll tear that dress off and flog your pretty titties. Are you comfortable?"

"N-no," the blonde stammered. "I...I want you to let me go."

The masked woman ignored this. "So you're his little fuck du jour. My goddess, where does he find them?" Then: "What's your name, Cutie-pie?"

"J...I mean, um, Vicki."

"Not the shiniest penny in the poor-box, are you, Sweetie? I wonder what he sees in you. Skinny, stupid...what's the attraction?" She mused a while, one clawed finger tapping lightly against her lower lip. "Oh my! I'll bet you're just a pistol in the sack, aren't you?"

"I don't know what..." the blonde sputtered, but her captor cut her off. "Oh come now, don't be modest. What could a little finishing-school slut like you have to offer a man like him? Money? He could have a baker's dozen hotter than your skinny ass for the change he pulls out of his sofa cushions. And we've already established it ain't conversation. No, you must really turn his crank. Come on now, just between us girls, what does he like?"

"What are you...?"

"The Bat, Princess! What's his thing? Feet, watersports, rum, sodomy and the lash? No? Figures. Pure vanilla, right?" She took a step closer, and locked eyes with her victim: "I bet he likes to fuck this pretty face, though." she cooed. "Is that the attraction, Cupcake? Were you the high school blowjob queen? Did you swallow?" The green eyes came even closer, hypnotic behind the mask. A gloved hand came up, and a clawed finger scraped lightly down the terrified blonde's cheek. She could feel her captor's breath on her cheek as the taller woman whispered: "You do have a lovely mouth."

Then without warning, the masked woman grabbed her prisoner's face and kissed her hard. The bound girl squealed and struggled, but her tormentor held her effortlessly as she plundered the girl's soft mouth with lips and teeth and a long, insistent tongue. The blonde felt the claws withdraw from her flesh, to be replaced by the soft palms of the gloves, as the tall brunette began to caress her face. The kiss deepened; the blonde stopped resisting. She moaned softly. Her tongue began to push forward, slowly, tentatively. She began to kiss back. With a cruel little laugh, the masked woman broke away. The little blonde sighed: "Oh, Mags..."

CRACK!

A hand struck the bound girl low across the cheek. Her head whipped back, and before she could register shock or pain, her face was grabbed by the other gloved hand, the claws were back, sharp and painful, one on the right side of her face, four on the left.

"Don't play games with me, Princess," hissed a voice, low and dangerous. "You know who I am. Now, do you have something you want to say?" A pause, then the finger tightened, squeezing the blonde's cheeks harder, forcing her lips into an unnatural pout. "I asked you a question, bitch! Do you have something to say?"

Unable to smile or cry, Jen Sutcliffe, slowly shook her head.

"Good." The masked woman released her captive's face, and all of a sudden her voice was light and playful. "Now,"—the single syllable sounded like a small complaint from a spoilt Persian: n-rreow—"I think you should apologize." The brunette had noticed one of the blonde's nipples, puffed with arousal from the kiss, poking beneath the light fabric of the gown. As she spoke, she scratched it lightly through the chiffon with the little golden claw on her index finger. Her victim squirmed and moaned softly.

"I'm sorry, Princess, I didn't quite catch that..." More gentle scratching, more little moans, and then: "Umm, ooh, I'm...oh yes...I'm s-sorry."

The masked woman took the point of the blonde's nipple between her finger and thumb. She began by squeezing gently. "I'm sorry...who?" Slowly she squeezed harder.

"Oh God, please..." Then: "Ow, please stop, you're hurting me..." Then: "Ah! Please...I-I'm sorry...Catwoman!"

--To Be Continued



Reacquainted Pt. 03



20.

The jumpsuit was comfortable, and he could even get used to the mask, but the cape was a real pain in the neck. It wasn't attached to the mask—had it been that way in the comics?—and had to be tied separately, and he kept sitting on it and half choking himself. The boot tops felt kind of silly too. He was wearing them over a pair of lace-up rubber-soled oxfords: good comfortable cop shoes. If he had to move fast for any reason...

Theo had thought about showing the email to Serge, then thought about showing to his Lieutenant. He probably should have. What if there was really something? Man, he'd never pretended to be Einstein, but he was sure feeling dumb now, getting out of his F-150 in a stupid Batman suit in an empty parking lot ten miles from nowhere. But the lot wasn't quite empty either. That was Jen's Elantra, so she'd driven herself here, probably. He supposed that was a good sign, and there was another truck as well, a Toyota, couple of years old. Theo got a pen and a pad from his glove compartment and wrote down the license plate number. Should he call it in? Course he should. It'd take almost no time, and any information could be useful just now. Feeling self conscious, he reached back into his truck for his cell phone, called the plate in, waited a few, took the call back: 2010 Tacoma registered to a Magnolia Sutter, no tickets, no red flags, nothing.

"Well hell!" Swearing; Serge would have swallowed his Tic Tacs. Deciding he'd rather not be recognized, Theo untied the cape, put the cowl and mask over his head, and retied the wretched thing. Then he took his gun—Glock 22, .40: don't leave home without it—and headed around the side of the warehouse.

He found an unlocked door which led into what looked like a reception area. A construction paper bat signal, black on yellow, was taped to a door to the right of an empty desk. Feeling more foolish by the minute, Theo raised his gun, stood to one side and pulled the door open with his left hand. He saw a warehouse floor divided haphazardly into workspaces by everything from cinderblock to felt partitions. Pinned to one of the later he saw another bat signal. A note under it said: "Back of the building, first door after the water fountain." The gun, the bat-suit: Theo felt like a prize idiot as he headed to the back of the building, found the door with—whaddya know?—another effing bat signal taped to it. Underneath another note: "Please knock."

Theo thought back to the email. Behind this door was Jen, and somebody was holding an empty gun to her head. All he had to do was say 'red', and whoever it was would hand him the piece, right? OK, so, knock? Kick it in and lead with the gun? 'Your treat will continue.' Better be a hell of a treat. Officer Theo Sutcliffe raised a blue-gloved hand and gave three loud knocks.

21.

"Come in."

The voice was unfamiliar: female, low, a little husky, a sexy voice. Strange thought to have just then. For no reason at all, Theo decided not to lead with his gun. He'd hold it down by his side, but if this was just some kind of a joke... He pushed open the door, and walked into the room.

He saw his wife, her wrists shackled together and attached to a hook in the ceiling. She was wearing a white dress—her Vicki Vale costume, probably; she hadn't let him see it, wanted it to be a surprise. She looked...lovely. Behind her and slightly to her right, holding a small revolver under his wife's chin was...Catwoman?

His was startled to discover he'd raised his gun. He saw the other woman—Catwoman—react. She lowered the revolver to her side. She spoke. Four words: "Unnecessary. Remember the email." He lowered his gun, breathed deeply, said "Red."

Catwoman—he had to keep calling her that; he was sure he'd never seen her before—walked towards him. She was...it was as if she'd walked out of his most secret erotic dreams...she was beautiful...sexy...he didn't have the words. She moved gracefully, hips undulating in a hypnotic rhythm. The black catsuit looked painted onto her, and it was opened to...he watched her breasts bounce gently as she walked. He looked up to her face, saw her notice his stare. He blushed under the mask. She smiled. Then she handed him the revolver. He broke the cylinder: empty, as promised. He examined the gun, noticed the sealed barrel. 

"This is...useless. It's a prop, a toy."

She smiled and nodded.

"OK, first I'm going to check on my wife, and then I'm going to examine this room."

She nodded again.

With a gun in each hand, he walked towards his wife. She watched him come. Her eyes were bright and alive, but she seemed to be making an effort to keep her face free of any expression.

"Jen, did you write me that email?"

She nodded. No words; like Catwoman."

"Are you alright?"

Another nod.

"Are you here...um...of your own free will?" It sounded stilted, almost official.

Another nod.

"Is this...my treat?"

A small smile.

Theo stood, uncertain. Finally: "I'm going to take a quick look around." She nodded again.

He wandered around the mostly empty room: gray industrial carpet on the floor, three non-descript lighting fixtures on the ceiling, also some ring bolts and hooks, more of the same on the walls. It occurred to him suddenly that the ceiling itself was a later addition. At 10 feet high, it was much lower than the unfinished ceiling of the warehouse proper. He took in the flogger and the riding crop, both now hanging on hooks behind Jen. He noticed—and wondered how he'd missed seeing it before—what looked like a large hardwood table top canted almost vertically on some sort of mechanical base. Various chains and strips of fabric hung from it. What the...? After a moment he headed into the small bathroom, took at quick look into some trashbags—clothes in one, some sort of cushions in another—and examined a purse and the duffel, brought out a large folding knife, held it out towards Catwoman. "What's this?"

She smiled: "Remember the email. Trust me. Your wife does."

He looked toward Jen, who nodded.

Theo said: "If I give you this empty, filled toy gun back, we...um...do something...like play...or..." His imagination failed him. "If I say 'red' at any time during the evening, whatever we're doing stops. And the same for Jen, right? She can say 'red' too?"

Catwoman: "We'll call her Vicki, but yes, that's right."

"Am I going to...enjoy this?"

"I have no idea." Then she let her eyes travel slowly down the length of his body. Her gaze lingered on his thighs, then on his chest, arms and shoulders. Then she spoke softly: "I know I will."

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" At her nod, Theo left the room, went back out to his truck, and locked his Glock in the glove compartment. Then he came back into the room, and held out the Taurus. The little golden claws clicked as Catwoman took back her gun.

22.

Without another word, she turned and sauntered back to her captive. She stood slightly behind the bound woman, grabbed a fistful of blonde hair, and jerked her head back violently. Vicki squeaked in pain, and Batman started forward. But before he had taken two steps, the gun was again pressed into the hollow of her throat just below the chin. He froze. 

It was silly, he knew the gun wasn't loaded, but her moves were so quick, so vicious. He had checked, right?

"Just so we're all clear on the rules, Handsome: you will do exactly what I say, when I say, or I will blow what few brains your little bimbo has all over the nice carpet. Copy that, lawman?"

"OK, sure...just...don't hurt her."

"Aw...why not?" She giggled. "It's kind of fun, you know? You should try hurting her a little. You might develop a taste for it."

"Alright, you're sick!" He was shouting. Why was he shouting? And she was laughing at him.

"...and depraved and evil, blah, blah, blah. Stop talking, and listen."

He obeyed.

"Walk over to the platform." She pointed at the upright table. "At the bottom you'll find a pair or ankle cuffs. Take off your shoes and socks, and those idiotic boot covers, and the cape. You can leave the mask. Then bend down, put the cuffs around your ankles, and fasten the buckles."

"Wait a minute..."

"Do it now, or I'll hurt her." The gloved fist tightened in the blonde hair. Jen/Vicki made a little frightened sound. But she didn't say 'red.'

Slowly he moved sideways, never taking his eyes off the two women, until he stood in front of the table, or whatever it was. Then he did as ordered, taking off shoes, socks, boot covers, and cape and cuffing his ankles. The shackles were low enough to allow his feet to remain on the floor. He straightened, and saw that Catwoman had moved quickly. She now stood perhaps five feet to his right, the gun in her right hand still trained on Vicki. 

"Stretch out your right arm, NOW!"

His body responded to her shout without conscious though, and she handcuffed his right wrist with a pair of cuffs attached to a chain which led around the back of the platform. He raised his hand to see how much play there was in the chain, but she darted behind him, and he heard the chain rattle at the same time as he felt his arm dragged down to his side. She re-emerged from the other side of the table holding another pair of cuffs on another chain. She gave him an evil smile.

"Got you now, Batman." she purred. "Both ankles and one wrist, and I can have you flat on your back at the pull of a lever." She dropped the cuffs and sauntered back to the row of hooks, letting him watch the roll of her hips under the skintight spandex. Then she came back and stood directly in front of him, just out of his reach. "Now, why don't you be a good little superhero and let me cuff your left wrist, so you don't get any cute ideas. That way I won't be tempted to shoot your girlfriend."

"I don't think so." There really wasn't much he could do physically—the ankle cuffs restricted his range of motion more than he would have anticipated—but he felt like Batman wouldn't just...

"Pretty please?" Her fingers were toying with the zipper just over her cleavage. She pulled it down an inch. Her breasts were large, and thrust against the slackened tension. "More?" He said nothing. She said "Give me your wrist." 

He said: "Make me."

23.

"Make me." Mags could swear the two little words were rearranging her molecules even as she stood in front of him, teasing him with her breasts. Her blood boiled, her thighs twitched, her mouth was dry, her lips were wet, and her pussy, her cunt, her honeypot her fuckbox was melting like butter in a skillet. Mags had become a dominatrix for a couple of reasons. At first she'd thought she was doing it for the money, and the money had been nice. But she'd also known that the work reflected her sexual inclinations. She liked being on top, controlling, seducing; the active partner rather than the passive. In the almost three years since she'd begun topping, she'd been in potentially sexual situations with many partners: mostly men, but some women; old, young, tall, short, attractive, ugly, from all sorts of places and all walks of life. But she hadn't actually had sex with any of them. A major component of domination was denial. Dressed in pantsuits, school uniforms, twin sets, lingerie, rubber, and faux-fur, she had denied...had to be thousands of orgasms, and half of them had been—potentially—hers.

Professionally, of course, she'd had to. Doms don't fuck clients; prostitutes do. And whether you agreed with the law or not, prostitution was illegal. Mags loved most aspects of domination, but denial just plain sucked. So she'd looked elsewhere for satisfaction. Her last few lovers had come from the art world, and they'd been gentlemen: intelligent, handsome, gym-fit, more-or less wealthy. Like Don, they'd been good in bed, but not surprising, not spontaneous. And when she'd tried to push...

But now, things were different. The man bound before her was tall and powerfully built. He was confused and a little angry, but he was aroused. She could feel it pouring off of him, and she could see it too. The blue shorts were a little less tight than the nylon under them, but she had watched as she'd teased, and now she noticed...hmmm. That must be uncomfortable.

She grinned to herself. And she could do anything, everything with her big, handsome, hung prisoner. She could be capricious, cruel, or very generous with him, or with her, with both of them. No denial tonight. It was Halloween—or near enough—and she was Catwoman, and Batman had fallen into her trap. She had him and his little princess at her mercy, and she wasn't feeling particularly merciful.

24.

"Make me."

She looked him in the eye. Then slowly and deliberately—making sure he knew what she was doing—she let her eyes wander down to the bulge beneath the blue shorts. "Guess what, Princess?" she called over her shoulder, "I think your boyfriend's cock is getting hard. I've been showing him my tits, and I think he likes them."

Color rushed to his face, and she laughed in triumph. "You do like them don't you, Batman?" She dropped the cuffs, and reached up to cup her breasts beneath her catsuit, squeezing them, jiggling them, pushing them together to emphasize her cleavage. She pouted and purred. "M-rrow. Do you like them better than hers? They're bigger, aren't they? Is that why you won't let me cuff your other wrist? You want to 'cop' a feel?" She laughed again, as she watched his jaw set. His body writhed. His erection was probably really uncomfortable now, and he had a hand free, but he made no move to rearrange things. Instead, to her astonishment, he held out his left wrist.

"Oh that's purr-fect," cooed Catwoman. She stepped back, allowing her other captive a better view. "Have a look at this, Vicki-kins. You must suck a mean cock, Honey. I think he wants me to cuff him, so he won't be tempted to touch. Am I right, Bats?" She giggled. "Oh goddess, I am right, aren't I? You're afraid of what you'll do if I were to let the girls out to play, aren't you?"

"Will you shut up and cuff me already!" snarled Batman, through clenched teeth.

Maybe I don't wanna anymore." Her voice was high and girlish now. "Maybe I wanna get naked and nasty, and feel Batman mauling my big, soft titties. Maybe I want you to see how much nicer they are than your little slut's over there. Oh, I know!" The wicked grin was back. "We'll have a little beauty pageant: just two contestants and one event." She stalked into the bathroom, came out with the folding knife, and opened it with a click. She paused for a moment. "Anybody have anything colorful to say?"

Jen and Theo were facing each other over a distance of about eight feet. Their eyes met. Theo looked the question. In his mind, the knife had replaced the gun as his primary concern. Catwoman, whoever she was, was crazy; hotter than hell, smart, inventive, whatever, but crazy as a loon. Who acts like this, talks like this, outside of the movies? But Jen seemed to know this woman. Jen trusted her. Jen was here because she wanted to be, and he was here because Jen wanted him to be here too. Jen's lips were parted. She looked beautiful, terrified, maybe even turned on. She wasn't going to say a word. Fair enough. Neither would he.

Mags regarded them both. The moment passed; no safe word. She walked slowly over to Jen/Vicki, who watched nervously as the light caught the sharp steel blade. Catwoman was back, and she wrapped a long arm around Vicki Vale's slender waist as she examined the knife in her right hand.

"We're going to have a 'Best Boobs' contest, Handsome. Vicki's going to show you hers first. You'll like that. I mean, you've seen them before, but I'm assuming you like them. Then I'm going to show you mine. You can't touch hers, because I don't want you to, and anyway you've touched them before." Then, in a seductive purr: "But you can touch mine. It's only fair, right? You're the judge, and you should have all the information you need to make an informed decision."

"Now for the prizes: if you like hers better, all you have to do is say so, and I'll let you go: both of you, all done, free as little birdies. But if you like mine better...you stay a little longer, and tell me what else you like. Deal?"

Batman: "All I have to do is say I like...um...Vicki's better than yours, and we can go?"

Catwoman: "That's right, but you do have to...touch. Fair is fair, right? And it's not like you don't want to."

Batman: "Fine. It's a deal."

"M-rrow!" Catwoman looked at the bound blonde next to her, and licked her lips with her long tongue, making sure Batman could see. Then she came around in front of Vicki and put her arms around the smaller woman's waist. She leaned in and kissed the side of her captive's throat; then she dragged her tongue up towards Vicki's right ear. She traced the delicate curve with her tongue, and nipped the lobe. Vicki groaned. Mags breathed, as softly as she could: "How you holding up, Honey?"

Jen's eyes widened. She whispered: "Can I..." Mags kissed her lips, gently, effectively hiding Jen from the sight of her bound husband. "Just talk into my ear, low and slow. I'll hear you. You having fun?" Her lips moved back to Jen's throat.

"Oh God, yes!" Jen sighed. "Oh, Mags, you are so hot, and Theo is so...yummy, my panties...mmm, that feels good...my panties are drenched!"

Mags flicked Jen's ear again, eliciting another hum. "Good. Now in a minute, I'm going to cut away the top of your dress. Stay still while I'm holding the knife, but after that, struggle a little."

"Why?"

"Trust me, OK? He obviously adores you, but he's got a real damsel-in-distress jones too. Just go with me on this."

"OK. Are you going to use the..."

"Shhh. Trust me."

"'K." Then louder: "Stop it! Leave me alone. Take your hands off me...oww!

Catwoman's hand was back in the blonde hair. She pulled Vicki's head back, exposing her throat. Then she raised the knife, and let the blunt edge glide, very gently down the front of her prisoner's neck.

"Feisty little bitch you've got here, Bats." Then with a twist of her hand in the hair, she forced the smaller woman to look her in the eye. "Nice and still now, Kitten," she sighed. "Be a shame if my hand slipped and I had to shampoo the carpet. Blood stains can be a bear."

"No, please don't..." whimpered Vicki, but she held still as Catwoman put the knife to the neckline of her dress, and forced it outward, making a jagged tear in the beadwork. She then folded the knife, tossed it on the floor, walked around the now-squirming blonde, and grabbed the fabric on either side of the cut.

"Pay attention now, Handsome," Catwoman called, "we want an honest opinion, don't we, Cutie-pie?"

"No, oh God, don't...let go of..."

Vicki screamed as Catwoman tore the top of her dress apart, exposing her bra-less chest. Her breasts were apple-sized, pale, round and high, with tiny pink areolas surrounding fat red nipples, and they bounced enticingly as Vicki struggled to escape Catwoman's clutches. To no avail, the clawed gloves reached around, cupped and squeezed, as the mocking voice sounded close to her ear.

"M-rowrr! Ooh, Batman, I can see why you'd want to keep these around to play with! What pretty little cupcakes you have, Princess." Then: "Stop squirming, bitch! This is a contest. Act like a professional!"

Catwoman wandered over to Batman, keeping to his right. He had said nothing, but his body was bent slightly forward at the waist. Watching the beautiful brunette tease and torment his woman had made him angry, but it had also made him as hard as he could ever remember being. His cock was tangled somewhere between his underwear and the jumpsuit, and he was really uncomfortable.

"Aw, poor Puddin'," said her mocking voice over his right shoulder. "I'd take care of that for you, but I wouldn't want to prejudice the judging."




Reacquainted Pt. 03



Breathing hard through his nose, and gritting his teeth, Batman finally found the slot in the jumpsuit. With his left hand in his shorts, he managed to rearrange himself with his rock-hard dick lying flat against the bottom of his belly. When he finally straightened he was confronted by the sight of Vicki looking like a sacrifice to some pagan god of lust: eyes wide, lips parted, hair loose, breasts exposed. He wanted to save her. He wanted to...to...take her. He wanted to...he didn't even know. He just effing wanted." Then the voice spoke again.

"She's gorgeous isn't she? So dainty, so helpless, and so fuck-able!" The last word came on a whisper. Then: "Think she's wet? I do. I bet her little pussy is all wet and warm and ready. What would you do if I let you go right now? Would you even bother taking her down?" Then, just a breath in his ear: "Could I watch?"

"God, you're an evil bitch, Catwoman, you know that?"

"Your fault, Bats. You've had me in your bat-cuffs I don't know how many times, helpless, arms behind my back, tits thrust out, lips moist, cunt dripping, and you never laid a glove on me. A girl gets frustrated."

She sauntered back towards Vicki, back into his line of sight. "Moving forward with our little contest: Little Miss Priss does have an adorable pair of knockers, but in the interest of fairness, I think they should be displayed to best advantage. Let's get those cute little nipples nice and hard."

She bent forward, grabbing the little blonde around the waist. The position thrust her ass out, and she gave it a saucy wiggle, then she captured a nipple between her lips, and began to suck.

"Oh God!" squealed Vicki, forgetting for a moment that she wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. "What're you...oh that's...hnngh! Don't..." Catwoman released her right breast, tearing a sharp little "No!" from her victim before closing her lips around the left. Vicki's language broke down completely. She could no more deny the sharp jolts of pleasure which rushed through her breasts with every suck than she could forget to breathe. She gave herself completely over to sensation, making no more coherent sound than pants and yips. Then she felt her dress being rucked up over her thighs.

Catwoman hadn't planned it, but the little bitch was so worked up it seemed inhuman not to take advantage. As she lifted the white chiffon with one hand, the other worked its way between Vicki's legs. Finding a pair of soaking wet French cut panties, she slipped on clawed finger underneath the gusset, found her captive's slit, and moved slowly upward. Finding her target she flicked Vicki's clit with her claw once, twice, and then the woman screamed for real.

Vicki's body shook violently, and her nipple was torn from Catwoman's mouth. She wrapped the arm which had lifted the dress around the little bound body, as her other hand pushed once, twice, and three times, wracking spasms ripping through her victim with each pressure. Finally the orgasms passed, and Vicki hung, exhausted and barely able to support her weight. Her breasts glistened with saliva, and her nipples stood out proud and swollen, all but obscuring the tiny areolas.

25.

Theo stood and stared at his wife. He had been with her for five years. He thought he knew just about everything there was to know about her sexual responses. He had never heard sounds like that coming from her. He had never seen her body...it was as if she had been electrocuted. What had she done, the other woman, Catwoman? He'd seen her kiss Jen's breasts—should he be jealous? Maybe. His mind said maybe; his...his dick said 'do it again!' He'd never been this hard in his life. That was a solid fact...so to speak. But Catwoman looked liked she'd been holding Jen up by the...by her...by the middle of...oh, hell. What had she done? And could he figure out how to do it too?

26.

Jen hung by her arms. Her wrists and shoulders ached. Her body was in pain from all that contracting, but it was also...do you say 'in pleasure?' Jen was terrified; terrified it would go on and on, and at the same time terrified that it would stop. What on earth did Theo make of it all? She half opened her eyes and snuck a look at his face. He seemed to be staring at her. Tough to tell through the cowl, but... And he looked—no other word for it—he looked hungry. He'd never looked at her like that. It scared her. She liked it. Mags had done it. Mags was in control of this runaway train. Mags had made her cum...and scream...and... Jen wasn't going to stop it. Theo could, if it turned out to be too much for him. Jen just wanted more.

27.

"Batman?" The voice was sweet, sing-song, then: CRACK! A forehand slap jerked his head to the right, and CRACK! The backhand snapped him back to the left. He tried to reach for her, but the one hand was manacled, and she was out of reach of the other. She'd hit him hard, and he was pissed, but so—it seemed—was she.

"We had an agreement, Handsome." Her voice was ice. "You had a chance to gawp at her little girl boobies, now you need to pay some attention to me." Then: "Oh, what's the matter? Haven't you ever seen a girl cum like that before? Haven't you ever made her cum like that before?" Turning to Vicki: "Has he, Angel?"

No response.

"Pity. See if you can get that fucking supercomputer in your Bat Cave to teach you how to please a woman." Then: "Pretty Vicki's my little slut now, aren't you, dear? If I promised to do that again, you'd do absolutely anything for me, wouldn't you? You might even tell me some of your Bat-boyfriend's secrets, mightn't you?"

No response.

Catwoman's laugh was cruel. "Never mind; we can do the girl talk later on. We've got all the time in the world. Right now, I need Bat-stud here focused on the task at hand."

She turned her back to Batman and walked over to where Vicki hung, still breathing heavily. She reached out lazily and tweaked the bound girl's nipples, twisting until she heard a soft "Please, no..."

"Yours are nice. I like them. What do you think of mine?" She reached for the zipper between her breasts and pulled it down slowly. The stretchy fabric pulled apart slowly revealing more and more pale, creamy flesh, brown teardrop-shaped areolas with small pink nipples standing proud in the center. Vicki stared. Catwoman had beautiful breasts, generous round, firm, natural tits; the kind of boobs reserved for porn stars and Playboy bunnies, the kind of knockers men dream about, fantasize about, the kind rich men try to buy for their trophies, the kind for which men leave their wives. 

"Nice, aren't they?" purred Catwoman. "I think I'll let your boyfriend play with them a little."

She turned slowly to face the bound Batman. She walked towards him slowly, arms by her sides, her breasts bouncing gently with her movement. She came close, closer than she had yet come to his left arm which was still free. She moved slightly to his left, bent down, picked up the chain and the open cuffs.

"Remember the rules, Handsome?"

"I like hers better."

Catwoman froze. "I'm sorry, did you just say..."

"I like hers better. Can we go now?"

She cocked her head to one side, contemplating him. Then she sighed. "Oh Bats, I am disappointed in you. I thought you were a man of your word. You agreed." She pouted and purred: "Pretty please, Batman? Come on, just put your hand out and pet my pretty titties. You know you want to."

"No. I'm not touching you. I like hers better. Now let us go."

28.

Mags took a step back. She observed Theo. Did he want to end the game? He hadn't used the safe word. Did he remember it?

"Showing your true colors, are you, Bats?"

He smiled briefly. He remembered. He said: "Let us go, Catwoman. I'll give you an hour from the instant you cut Vicki lose. Run as far and as fast as you can, because the next time I catch you, I'll throw you in a six-foot cage with a ball of yarn and a litter-box, and tell 'em to lose the key."

It was her turn to smile. Good move, she thought; in character. Her smile became seductive. She cupped her breasts offering them to him in a final appeal. "You sure? We kitties keep out bodies nice and clean." She locked eyes with him, raised her breast to her mouth, stuck out her long tongue, and brushed it slowly across the tip of her nipple. She held his eyes, noticed his breathing deepen: "Unh...mmm, that feels so good, so soft, and tastes so sweet. C'mon, Handsome, aren't you just a little curious? Don't you want to know what a real woman feels like?"

He did. He wanted her with all the ardor of a teen with his first Penthouse. It took every ounce of control he had to stick to his guns. "I like hers better. We're going now."

She sighed. "You're no fun. But if you insist, I suppose I'll just have to..." She passed behind him on his left. At the last second she grabbed his wrist, cuffed him, and darted around behind the table to tighten the chain. He shouted and fought, but she'd done it too quickly. He was immobilized, strapped to the platform, helpless. She sauntered slowly around to face him. He looked furious.

"Catwoman," he growled, and his voice was low and dangerous, "you said..."

"I lied."

She waited, but he found nothing more to say, so she continued. "Not very chivalrous of you, Dark Knight: a beautiful woman offers her body to you, and you reject her, out of hand?" She headed over to the hooks on the wall, and took down the cat 'o nine tails. "I may have to teach you some manners."

The cat was a wicked looking thing: black rubber handle with nine thick red leather straps knotted at the ends. She sauntered over to him, flipping the handle in her right hand, allowing the straps to splat softly in the palm of her left. Her breasts, still exposed, jiggled as she tapped. She faced him: a vengeful goddess regarding a heretical acolyte. "What do you say, Bats, an even half-dozen?"

His eyes were equally cold: "Make it a dozen. I don't do things by halves."

The cruel smile returned to the eyes behind the mask: "Brave man. A dozen it shall be."

Then she picked up the folding knife, walked over to Vicki, and clicked open the blade.

29.

The shout came from behind her: "Wait, what are you doing?"

"I'm getting ready to give your little slut the dozen lashes you asked for. I'd have said six was enough myself, but I suppose you know what the bitch can take..."

"But I meant...I thought you were going to punish me."

Catwoman turned to him, the sweetest of smiles now decorated her beautiful face. "I am."

"But don't...you can't flog her with that thing."

"Of course I can." And when he continued to protest: "Shut your mouth, Bats, or I'll double the dose!" Then she turned to Vicki. "Stand still, Princess. Time to lose the ball gown." She turned the smaller woman around to face the wall, tucked the blade into the strap between her shoulder blades and split it with a single cut. Then she notched the strip of beading just above the hips, and tore the back of the dress down the middle, leaving her victim naked, except for her panties. The knife made short work of them, and pretty Vicki Vale stood, bound and exposed and helpless. Catwoman smiled cruelly, as she waved the flogger slowly before her victim's face. And Vicki's eyes became very wide, as she understood what was about to happen.

"No!" she whispered, "oh, no...oh please...not that. Please don't..."

"Shh, little Kitten," replied her torturess in the sweetest of voices, "I'm so very, very sorry, but your boyfriend insists."

"No!" shouted the bound man across the room. "Stop it! I don't want..."

Catwoman turned quickly and strode over to him. He flinched as she raised a hand, but she put a clawed finger gently against his lips and said, very softly: "Shhhhh, wait!" Then she turned back to Vicki. 

"How about it, Princess? Do you have anything to say before we carry out your sentence?"

30.

Theo stared across the room into his wife's eyes. He'd been about to stop it, about to use the safe word. He didn't want to see her beaten. He, Theo, did not want to see his wife, Jen, beaten. So why was his...why was he so hard?

He felt a hot jet of shame, like bile in the back of his throat. He looked away, looked down, looked at her body. She was naked. He watched her beasts rise and fall with her breath. He saw the thatch of wispy blond curls above her...her sex. Wait a minute, had she...the thatch looked smaller. He could see the pink of her opening. His eyes lingered, then he was ashamed again, and his gaze snapped back up. God damn it! That was no better. Her blonde hair fell loose and messy sexy around her beautiful face. Her blue eyes were wide and bright. Was she afraid? Of course she was afraid; that crazy Cat-bitch was about to whip her...whip her where? Her back? Her bottom? That thought didn't help much either. What the hell was wrong with him?

He cut his eyes to where Catwoman stood, a few feet away. She scared him. She was nuts. She was...so hot, with the black spandex or whatever clinging to every gorgeous curve of her body. Her green eyes met his, and she smiled. She looked down his body, between his legs. She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips as if to say 'What have we here?'

She moved close to him, closer than she had been. She cast a mocking look back at Jen/Vicki, and she leaned into him, pressing her naked breasts against his chest. Her clawed hands snaked around the back of his neck. He could feel her breath on his throat; then he could feel the point of her tongue, rough and warm and wet, as she licked gently from the side of his neck to the base of his ear. He moaned softly.

"Don't say it." She was breathing in his ear. Her voice was so soft, he couldn't be sure she'd spoken at all. "Let her decide. She'll stop it if she doesn't want it to happen." Then her hand left the back of his neck, moved slowly down his body, caressing, scratching, then ever so gently pressing against his erection. "And you want it to happen, don't you, Batman?" She rubbed him through the shorts and the spandex. She was still whispering, but the teasing was back. "Feels like you want it in a big way."

31.

Jen and Mags had practiced with the cat. In the week leading up to their little adventure, she had met Mags here at the warehouse, they'd snuck into the room, and she'd stripped down to bra and panties. Mags had cuffed her to the wall, rather than the ceiling, and then she'd introduced Jen to the flogger, brushing its straps softly across her back to begin with, and then making a brisk figure-eight pattern, slapping the top of Jen's back on the downswings. It had stung. Eventually it had really stung. But Mags had been talking the whole time: a dirty, teasing monologue, telling Jen what a little whore she was, and how she needed to be punished. According to Mags, Jen just couldn't get her mind off of sucking big fat cocks, and letting strange men fuck her pretty little pussy, and lick her asshole, and come on her tits, and she, Sister Magnolia, had to beat slutty Miss Ludlow for the good of her soul. Jen had howled and yelped and laughed. Then Mags had graduated to what she called "flicks." She held the tips of the straps and flicked the lash directly onto the panty-covered cheeks of Jen's backside: left then right then left again. That had hurt too. Mags had asked if she could take it a little harder, then a little harder still. When she'd stopped, Jen had been breathing hard, but she'd said: "I could probably have taken a little more."

Mags had smiled. "You might have to. I've got pretty good control, but I'm thinking my adrenaline will be pumping. Let's stop there for now. That was hard enough to make it look good, and your ass is going to be sore tomorrow. Be sure to rub some moisturizer on yourself. You sure you won't consider becoming my slave? You have the makings of a hot little pain slut."

"Um...gosh, thanks, Mags, but..."

"Kidding...kidding, oh lord..." The crazy laugh started again. "You should have seen the look on your face!"

So now, when Catwoman turned to naked, frightened, bound Vicki Vale and said:

"How about it, Princess? Do you have anything to say before we carry out your sentence?"

Naked, frightened, bound Vicki Vale didn't say a word.

31.

Catwoman turned her victim to face the wall. She called across: "Ooh, Bats, look at that adorable ass, all round and smooth like a little apple. Don't you just want to take a bite?"

No response.

"No? Maybe you're right. Doesn't look quite ripe, maybe we should wait until it gets a little pinker!" On the last word, she raised the flogger in her right hand, grasped the straps with her left, and brought them down with a loud 'SPLAT' across the left cheek. Vicki yelped in pain. Catwoman giggled.

"Count them, Cupcake! It's considered polite, and that way I don't lose track. If I do, I'll have to start all over."

"One."

SPLAT!

"Oh God! Two."

SPLAT!

"Three! Please stop, it hurts!"

SPLAT!

"Four...Damn you, you evil bitch, why are..."

SPLAT!

"Hey! Why did you..."

"Count, Princess! How many was that? Do you want me to start again?"

"No, please, please, please, it was five, FIVE!"

SPLAT!

"God it hurts. I mean six, six; why are you doing this to me?"

Her torturess laughed. "It turns me on, Kitten; makes me horny, gets my little pussy all wet and juicy. Hearing you scream and cry and beg: best foreplay in the world!"

"You're evil, do you hear me? You're an evil, cruel, sadistic, heartless..."

Catwoman strolled over to her victim, grabbed a handful of the blonde hair, and wrenched her head backwards.

"Sticks and stones, Princess. Now shut your pretty mouth. You've got six more coming, courtesy of your boyfriend over there."

She moved back into position and struck again.

SPLAT!

Vicki screamed.

"I don't hear a number..."

"Seven! Seven, dear God..."

"Does that look better, Bats? All nice and pink, and ripe?"

No response.

Catwoman shrugged.

SPLAT!

"Ow, ow, please...Eight!"

SPLAT!

"Nine!"

SPLAT!

"Ten! Don't, please, I'm begging..."

SPLAT!

"Eleven...it hurts...please, it really hurts!"

SPLAT!

"...twelve..."

"All finished, Kitten." purred Catwoman, as she turned Vicki back to face the room. She patted the blonde's ass gently, making her yelp softly. "Now thank me."

"Thank...are you insane?"

"Your cute little ass is all pretty and pink and fuckable, and my arm's tired. Thank me."

"Go to hell!"

"Think very carefully before you speak again. If I don't like the next words out of your mouth, I'll turn you back around and keep going until you loose count."

Vicki gasped, then: "Thank you for my flogging, Catwoman."

"Very good, Princess." The taller woman leaned in and brushed a light kiss against her captive's cheek. Then she whispered: "How're you doing?"

"Hurts."

"Do you want to stop?"

"Did whipping me really turn you on?"

"Oh yes!"

"Kiss me again."

Catwoman pulled her head back slightly to look into Vicki's eyes. Then she leaned forward and kissed the little blonde's lips. Vicki opened her mouth with a little sigh, deepening the kiss. The two women's tongue touched, explored, tussled. Vicki pushed forward, little pants and hums breaking from her as the kiss continued. Finally, Catwoman broke off, smiling down at her prisoner.

Slightly breathless, Vicki whispered: "Does that answer your question?"

32.

Catwoman retrieved her knife, open the blade and stalked back over to Batman. She ran the back of the blade lightly across his chest, stopping to tease a nipple beneath the stretchy gray nylon. "Did you enjoy that, Bats? Did it turn you on watching me hurt her?"

No response.

She stood slightly away from his body, making sure Vicki could see both of them. Then she reached down, and ran a gloved claw over the bulge of his obvious erection.




Reacquainted Pt. 03



"Purr-fect!" she growled, "Betrayed by your body. Poor little superhero! What happened to all those lofty principals? Gonna be tough fighting evil when evil gets your dick hard. I'm curious, Handsome, what did it for you? Did you like watching my big tits bounce while I beat your little slut? Was it her screams? I liked those. My pussy is so fucking wet right now, I might just cut that costume off you and climb on; use that nice big cock like my own personal fuck toy? Or was it that last bit," she turned to smile at Vicki, "when your sweet, innocent little girlfriend begged to be allowed to stick her tongue down my throat?"

As she spoke, Catwoman continued to stroke her prisoner's cock. From the tip of a claw, she had progressed to the pads of two fingers, and now she was squeezing him, feeling him grow longer and harder.

"Oh, Batman!" she breathed, "Is that a nightstick in your spandex, or are you just enjoying the show? Hold still now. I've been waiting for years to see the man behind the bat. I don't want to cut it off...yet, mrr-ow!"

She pinched a small fold in the fabric above his chest. Carefully and gently, she cut the spandex with the tip of her knife, then, working with the back of the blade against his skin, she began to tear off the top of his suit. She purred and cooed as she revealed first his powerful chest and shoulders, with their light dusting of black hair. She worked lower, revealing tight, muscular abs, muttering under her breath: "Lucky little bitch!" A quick slice through the waistband and the blue shorts fell to pool around one bound ankle, and then she was slicing away the fabric over his right thigh, widening the gap to reveal...

33.

Theo Sutcliffe was a big man: tall, broad shouldered, and—although he didn't know it; hadn't made a practice of comparing himself to other guys in the locker room or barracks—well endowed. His erect cock was long and straight and—as Jen had said that first day at Has Beans—quite thick. Mags giggled as it leapt into view, free at last from to the tight confines of the nylon. She could feel the moisture between her legs, the slight increase in her heartbeat, the rush of saliva to her mouth. Women responded to visual stimulation as readily as men did, provided it was the right kind of visual stimulation, and especially when they knew they would have a chance to do more than just look.

34.

Theo had no language left. There was, apparently, a trickle of blood left in his brain; just enough to fire the couple of synapses necessary to remind him that his most vivid adolescent fantasies were about to be... He barely noticed as she cut way his costume; his world shrunken to the sound of her voice in his ear, the sight of her body and her eyes behind the black mocking mask, and the feel of her hands on his...wait a minute. Where was she? His mind cleared for a second and he reoriented himself: shackled to this...table or whatever it was, Jen bound, naked, disheveled and incredibly beautiful, frighteningly sexy, maybe six-eight feet away from him, and a click...what? A click? What clicked? Where was Catwoman?

35.

Jen/Vicki watched Mags/Catwoman cut the costume off her husband's body, listened to her pornographic litany, and ached all over. Her ass—she liked the sound of that in her head—her sexy little ass; what had Mags said? Her fuckable little ass—hurt like hell, but that was the least of it. Her whole body, her whole psyche wanted, craved, physical sensation: sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, especially touch...but...maybe, maybe not especially...her imagination was completely out of control, images swirled around her head: Mags, Vicki, Batman, Jen, Theo, Theo's chest, Mags' breasts, her ass, her...pussy, Catwoman, flogging, Batman's cock, CatMags' tongue, VickJen lips, tongue, Bat-Theo, Batcock...sweat, wet, aches in the abs, cumming, shoulders...her shoulders hurt like...Mags...Catwoman, please, oh please, ohpleaseohpleaseohplease!

36.

Catwoman stepped out of the bathroom. She wore the thigh high boots, her mask and ears; nothing else. Batman and Vicki Vale stared at her body: slender arms, delicate hands, long neck, full high breasts, flat stomach, small waist, delicate curve to slightly flared hips, round firm ass, muscular thighs, long graceful legs, and her pussy: smooth and pale, her cleft a tiny line, dark against the soft pink flesh. In her ungloved hands she held a light chain attached to a leather band. She sauntered over to Vicki, green eyes locked on the little blonde's pale blues. She reached up, breasts rising with the motion, nipples hard and erect. She undid the clip holding the rope. Vicki's shoulders slumped, and she sank to her knees. Catwoman squatted beside her and undid the cuffs.

"We don't need these any more, do we, Kitten?"

Vicki said nothing. She stepped away from the ruin of her dress, and stood before the taller woman.

"Good girl!" purred Catwoman, as she fastened the collar around the smaller girl's slender throat. Then holding the chain leash attached to the collar, she led her pet over to where Batman stood, bound and naked except for his mask. The two women stopped less than two feet from the bound man.

Catewoman stared into Batman's eyes as she spoke to Vicki. "Would you like a kiss, Princess?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Ask me nicely."

"Please kiss me, Catwoman?"

"Very good, Sweetie!" Catwoman wrapped her arms around the petite blonde's waist. Vicki's head fell back; her lips parted. Catwoman moved her arms up Vicki's back as the two bodies came together, breasts brushing. With a last look at Batman, Catwoman stuck out a long tongue and thrust it between her victim's willing lips. Vicki moaned and leaned into the kiss, her mouth open wide, her tongue dancing and circling, appearing and disappearing as the two pairs of lips met and parted. Catwoman broke the kiss. Vicki's eyes stayed closed, and she mewed softly "No!"

"She's mine now, Bats. I'll play with her until I get tired of her, and then I'll throw her away...if I don't break her first. I can be tough on my toys. That's OK with you, isn't it?" She reached out and grabbed her prisoner's cock, jerking it roughly. "Mmm...doesn't seem to bother you much, does it?"

"Catwoman..."

"You've lost, Batman. I kidnapped your woman, lured you here, trapped you, stripped you both, made you watch while I tortured her, and now look at you!" She began to laugh. "You love it, don't you? Look at that big, thick cock of yours just dripping pre-cum. Shall I make little Vicki lick it up?" Then another idea seemed to strike her. "M-rrow, no." She turned to her new toy. "Open your mouth, Vicks." The blonde complied at once. Catwoman gathered up the leash into a lose coil and put it between the girl's teeth. "Now go into that little bathroom. There's a folding chair against the wall. Bring it here." As Vicki turned to go, her mistress gave her a quick slap against her reddened ass. Vicki squealed, but didn't drop the leash. "Good girl!" purred Catwoman.

37.

When Vicki returned with the chair, she was instructed to unfold it and set it less than a foot away from the table to which Batman was bound. Catwoman sat down and spread her legs. "Kneel." Unmistakably a command. Vicki knelt. "Eat my pussy, Princess, while I have a little fun with your boyfriend."

Vicki looked up at her mistress uncertainly. For a moment Mags came out of the roleplay. She remembered that Jen had no experience with oral sex, either giving or receiving. She hesitated a moment, looking carefully into Jen's eyes. Too much? No safe word; so that wasn't the problem. Mags flicked here eyes down. Jen's followed. She saw Mags' legs open, the lips of her vagina spread slightly: deep pink crinkled flesh surrounded by the pale pink skin of the outer labia. Mags dropped a hand to her lap. Her first and third fingers spread her inner lips while her second finger tapped lightly against her clit. Jen saw, looked up, murmured: "Yes, Mistress." Then she leaned forward, stuck out the tip of her tongue, and began to lick.

38.

Catwoman gasped as her new pet's tongue began its first tentative assault on her clit: slow gentle strokes, each one sending a bolt of electricity through her. Her breath quickened, and she hummed in satisfaction. Then she reached for her other captive's cock, less than a foot from her face as she sat on the cold metal seat. Her hand tightened around the shaft, and she leaned her face close to it, so that her prisoner could feel her warm breath on the swollen head of his dick. "Ooh...yes! You know what, Bats? Oh, that's it, Princess, just like that...this is a dream come true for me. Yessss! Harder, Cutie pie...that's it! If you knew how many times I've lain in bed fingering my wet cunt and thinking of forcing you to submit to my nastiest whims...ooh, you're good at this, you hot little bitch...well, look at me now...oh yeah, yeah...your little whore with her face between my legs, and your lovely cock just inches from my lips. Shall I suck your cock, Batman? Would you like that?"

"Yes." Low and muttered; almost inaudible.

"I'm sorry...huh, yes...oh yuh...I didn't hear that...your girlfriend is...distracting me..."


"Yes!" louder, "I want you to..."

"To what, Handsome? You'll have to say it..."

"I want you to suck...suck my...why is it so...I want you to suck my cock!"

Catwoman screamed as Vicki forced her face between her mistress' thighs and lashed at her clit like a woman possessed. "OOOOHH, Goddam, that is soooo fucking good!" Then she leaned in and wrapped her lips around the head of her captive's cock, and swiped at the slit with the tip of her long tongue. Then she began sucking gently. Batman made a sound somewhere between a moan and a bellow, and Catwoman felt his shaft swell. She gripped the base of his dick hard and squeezed, even as she felt her own orgasm begin to build.

"Quick...ooh, God!...off the mark...aren't you...unh, yeah, right there...that's it...yuh, yuh, uhhhnngh...you're not cumming yet, Stud. In fact, I'm not sure...yes, oh GOD, yes!...if I'm gonna let you...uhn...oooh, oooh, yuh, yuh...cum at all...ohgodyoulittleslut, don't stop, don't stop, DON'T ST...AHHH!" 

Her body bucked and twisted. Vicki felt powerful thigh muscles squeeze her ears, once, twice, three, four, five...six times, then the pressure eased. Her tongue darted forward once more, another quick squeeze, and then the body above her relaxed. A sigh, and a hand in her hair, pulling her face back, and she was staring into those beautiful, fiery green eyes, behind the black mask.

"Oh, Princess, I may have to keep you around for a little while." purred Catwoman. "Now, where was I? Oh that's right," she turned to stare, almost as if she were surprised, at the thick rod of flesh gripped tightly in her left hand, "I was sucking your boyfriend's cock." She leaned forward and, starting just above his balls, ran the tip of her tongue up the length of Batman's shaft. He groaned. Then she stuck the head in her mouth and sucked hard, taking him deeper, inch by inch. When she felt the head of his dick at the back of her throat, she began to jack him off slowly and gently. She bobbed her head up and down, swirling her tongue around him as she went. His cock seemed to expand in her mouth. He said: "Please..."

Her hand dropped from his shaft and she popped him out of her mouth. With a malicious smile she watched his cock thrust forward in a vain attempt to regain some sensation. "Oh, Bats," she cooed, "and it's not even my birthday! Are you begging your arch-enemy, the depraved and evil Catwoman, to finish sucking you off in front of your girlfriend?"

"Yes, God damn it, just...please...I'm so..."

"Mistress, may I..." Vicki had raised herself on her knees. The desperation, the need in her man's voice worked on her like a hit of adrenaline. She reached for him, clumsy in her confusion, a hand finding his thigh as she moved her face forward, her lips parted.

But Catwoman's right hand hadn't yet left her head. She closed it into a fist, and yanked the little blonde backwards. Off balance, Vicki sat down hard on her behind, still red and tender from her flogging. The carpet burned against her ass as she slid a few inches, and she screamed at the sudden pain.

Catwoman laughed out loud. "You two are so precious! No, Sweetheart, you may absolutely fucking NOT!" A tense silence followed the last shouted word. With cold ferocity, she continued. "His cock and his orgasm belong to me. I say when he cums. I say where he cums, and," she smiled cruelly, "I say if he cums. Everybody clear on that?"

Silence.

"Good. N-rrow, what are we going to do about your little problem, Bat-stud?" She stood up and came close. Reaching down she closed her hand around his erection. He moaned in anticipation, but she didn't move. "You're close, aren't you, Batman?" purred his torturess. "You want to cum, don't you? Silly question; that's what you've been begging for, isn't it. You know, I'm very angry at you, Bats? All those times you've had me tied up, defeated, helpless, and you with this big, thick, beautiful cock of yours," she stroked it slowly as she spoke, "and you never once had the common decency to throw me down on some dirty rooftop, tear my clothes off, bury your batstick in my juicy little cunt and fuck me stupid."

She dropped his cock, and smiled to hear his breath catch in frustration. Moving behind him, she continued: "That was a bad decision, Batman." There was a soft chunk, a rattle, and what little play there had been in the chain binding his right wrist disappeared. His arm was now pinned to the table. "Not playing with my titties when I offered them to you? Bad decision." The same chunk-rattle, and his left arm was similarly immobilized. She sauntered back around to face him, her breasts inches from his chest. She reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. In a voice at once soft, sweet and poisonous, she said: "And if you insist on making bad decisions, you have to accept the consequences, don't you, Bats?"

Her victim said nothing. She smiled then: soft red lips, cool white teeth, cold green eyes full of triumph and cruelty. "Of course you do," she purred. "And I'm going to show you what those consequences are, Batman." The smile became an evil little giggle. "You know...whipping little Vicki really got me going...maybe I'll torture you too...just a little bit..."

39.

Catwoman sat back down, and contemplated her prisoner's cock, now inches from her lips. She leaned in, so that her victim could feel her warm breath across the head of his dick as she spoke softly. "Ooh, poor baby, look how hard you are! Is it painful? Seems a little unfair, doesn't it?" She indicated Vicki, crouched at her feet. The pretty blonde looked...desperate; torn between compassion and naked animal lust. Mags allowed herself a moment outside of the role play to meet Jen's eyes...checking in...all good so far? Jen surfaced for a second and gave her a small smile: a little scared, a lot turned on, and definitely still game. Mags winked, then slipping back into character, she snarled: "Stay where you are, Cutie-pie. This is between me and the Bat...for now."

"As I was saying," continued the villainess, "unfair, huh? Two beautiful, naked women, right here, capable of...well, anything, really. Vicki here would happily run those pretty pink lips up and down...up and down that nice thick shaft. It'd feel soooo good, wouldn't it? A couple of quick sucks, and you'd be flooding that naughty little mouth of hers." She ran the pad of her index finger lightly over the engorged pink head of her captive's dick, and was rewarded with a groan of frustration. "I'll bet you've got a big load saved up, haven't you, Stud? That little mouth might not be able to hold it all. A little might leak, and then you'd get to watch that busy little tongue searching...searching ...making sure she gets every nasty little drop..."

"Unfortunately, I'm feeling...a little contrary this evening. So! No cock for Vicki." There was a little whine of frustration from the blonde on the floor. "Patience, Pet." Then back to the bound man: "No, perhaps I'll just take care of you myself. I think I'll wrap my big, soft tits around your shaft and just...mmmm-rowrr..." Catwoman stood and stretched languidly. Then she cupped her naked breasts, bouncing them gently, and watching with pleasure as she saw Batman's eyes riveted to the gentle liquid movement of her titflesh. "Mmmm, you like that idea, don't you, Bats? You'd like to slide your nice thick cock of yours right in here,"—Catwoman rolled her shoulders forward creating a deep cleavage into which she drew a lazy forefinger. She drew it out again abruptly, and pouted: "Oooh, it's hot in there. And maybe a little dry. Maybe I'll ask your little slut to lick and suck on my titties for awhile, get them all nice and wet for you. Then you could slide that poor painful hard-on up and down...up and down between them..."  

40.

It took Theo a good few seconds to remember that he was supposed to be "Bats." In an hour...maybe less...who knew, this insane, beautiful...he didn't know what to call her, had reduced him to...what? Lust? Need? Pain? Check, check, check: all present and accounted for. And what the...? He thought he'd known about sex. Sure, there was stuff he and Jen hadn't...gotten around to yet, but this was... And Jen was...in on this, and into this...it had been her idea...seriously? His little Jen? How had she known about...? Ah, hell, she'd found the...sure she had. It wasn't like he'd hidden it all that carefully. OK, but where had she found...Catwoman? And how had...had to call her Catwoman, what the hell else could he call her... reached into his memory and just...pulled out his adolescent fantasies? And now...wait, what had she just said? 

41.

"Oh wait!" The beautiful masked woman brought a long finger up to her mouth and tapped her lips, a thoughtful expression on her face. "That's right. You don't like my breasts do you? You didn't even want to touch them, wouldn't even do it when I begged." She stepped close to him and grabbed his erection, squeezing hard. She hissed: "So, I guess that means no titfuck for you!" She squeezed him harder, saw him flinch, giggled: "I bet that hurts, doesn't it?" He nodded. "Good!" she snarled the word, and her eyes grew bright with malice. "Doesn't seem to be getting any softer thought, does it, Bats? Still aching," her voice dropped to the sexiest of purrs, "still throbbing, still desperate for my warm, wet mouth, my long tongue," she drew the tip of it slowly around her full lips, "my hot, wet cunt? Poor Bat-baby," she whispered, and he could hear the smile in her voice, "it must be agony."

She stepped away from him then, her hand still wrapped tight around her victim's cock. "Kitten," she snapped, "stand up and come here." When the little blonde stood in front of her, Catwoman stared into Batman's face. "Vicki-kins," she purred, "why don't you show this pathetic excuse for a superhero how a person is supposed to behave when a beautiful woman offers herself to him," she turned back and fixed her gaze on her new pet, "or in this case, to her."

42.

Jen looked uncertainly into the face of her friend. A woman she'd barely known a few months ago, and who, in the course of this evening alone, had bound her, stripped her, fingered her to the best orgasm of her life, whipped her, brought herself to orgasm on Jen's tongue, and, by the way, bound Jen's husband, stripped him, sucked him, and tortured him (was still torturing him) by denying his orgasm. During the course of the evening, one sensation after another had threatened to overwhelm her completely: the sight of her husband's...cock—the word had begun to come to her mind more easily—red and swollen, and larger than it had ever seemed before, the sounds of the chains as she'd pretended to struggle when the dress was cut from her body, the tickling of the back of the knife against her skin, the rasp of Mags' long tongue on her aching nipples, the sweet-and-sour smell of her friend's pussy, and then the taste of it: her first ever taste of another woman. Up to this point it had been...words failed her, not because she couldn't come up with words, but because none of the words she could conjure seemed...enough: wonderful, exciting, astonishing; all true, but none came close to describing how Mags had...nope, no words. And so she stood looking into the green eyes behind the cat's-eye mask, with no idea of what was expected of her, or of what could possibly come next.




Reacquainted Pt. 04



Ladies and Gentlemen,

Thank you for your patience. Enjoy.

Q

43.

Mags was on fire! The evening had gone far better than she could have imagined. She' and Jen had begun with the loosest of scenarios. They'd talked some about what she might do to her captives/pupils, but most of what had happened had been improvised. She'd pushed hard, and so far Jen—and Theo—had responded beautifully. Jen had turned out to be a particularly fetching damsel-in-distress, and Mags' capricious cruelties seemed to turn on both villainess and victim alike. Now Mags had her endgame planned, but its success depended on Theo. As long as he was bound, she could control him, but loose... She had only Jen's description of her husband's personality. She didn't know him herself. But he was a large, powerful man, and if she had aroused him—and she was sure she had—she was also pretty sure that she'd made him angry as well. And that made what she had decided to do risky. On the other hand...

As soon as Mags had heard about Jen's discovery of her husband's fetish, as soon as it had become apparent that Jen was looking for a little sexual mentoring, Mags had known that she would agree to...orchestrate this little encounter. The chance to unleash all of the sexual inventiveness all her previous lovers had...feared—no other word for it, the chance to dom and cum, to seduce and tease, to fuck and to be fucked: she had wanted, waited for, fantasized about that chance for so long, and now? Well, here it was. She was living it and loving it. And she was loving it more because she was doing it as much for Jen as she was for herself; seducing the husband even as she aroused the wife, being a bad girl in a good cause. If it all ended now, if Theo used a safe word to end the fun before she took her next breath...but maybe he wouldn't. Maybe—she had to stifle a giggle—she could have his cock, and eat her too.

44.

Catwoman released Vicki's hair, and moved closer to the bound Batman. Closer and closer, until the tips of her nipples were less than an inch from her captive's naked chest. Then she reached down, wrapped a hand around his cock, heard him sigh with relief as he felt the heat of her hand, and then heard the sigh turn into a grunt of pain as she squeezed. When she spoke, her voice was soft and savage. "This is what I need; do you understand me, Batman? I need this big beautiful cock of yours buried balls-deep in my sopping wet pussy. I need you to put me on my knees and fuck me until you split me in half. I want you to ruin me. I want you to fuck me 'til I beg for mercy, and then I want you to keep on fucking me until I pass out from the pleasure. That's what I want, and you won't do it, will you? You can't, can you? CAN YOU?" He flinched at the sudden rage in her voice, but her hand never left his cock. She snarled: "You won't because you don't want to be disloyal to your little trophy over there, am I right?" Finally releasing him, she turned her savagery on the terrified blonde. "Hey Princess," she growled, in a savage parody of courtesy, "is it ok with you if I fuck your boyfriend? You can have him back when I'm done. Hell, I'll even eat your pussy while he's doing me. I cum, you cum, he cums—holy shit, I'm back in French class—we cum, you cum, they all fucking cum! So how 'bout it, Kitten? Do I get to fuck him, or do I chain you back up and leave you both here 'til his balls turn blue and his dick falls off?"

During this tirade, Catwoman had stalked the frightened blonde, finally cornering her against the wall opposite, not far from where she had originally chained Vicki. Grabbing the smaller woman's face, Catwoman forced her head sideways, and began running her tongue up her captive's throat towards her ear. Vicki moaned and squirmed, and then, as her breath began to come shorter, she heard her captor whisper:

"Jen, are you going to be OK with...I mean I really do need...I won't if you don't want me to, but..."

Jen felt the grip on her face relax. She turned to look into Mags' eyes, bright, and a little fevered behind the mask. "You mean...you want to...with Theo?"

"Yeah, I really do! I'm gonna make him cum quick, and then...I don't know...get him hard again, and then...yeah, I want to make him fuck me! I really want...but like I said, I won't..."

Jen interrupted: "Mags, it's...alright, really. I mean, you've done so much, and I'm so...I don't know, hot, horny, excited, scared and thrilled and...so yes! I'm a little surprised to be saying this, but I think...I actually want you to...make him...fuck you...Oh God! Just saying it is making me wet! But Mags?"

"Yeah, J?"

"Can I be...a part of it too? Can you...maybe force me to...I don't know, and will you really...lick me while he's..."

Mags smiled, and then she kissed Jen, her body blocking the smaller woman from her husband's view. The kiss was soft and gentle, Mags' hands stroked the sides of Jen's face, and the two women's tongues caressed each other tentatively. This time, when Mags broke the kiss she heard her friend's soft sigh, and from behind her, Theo's tortured groan.

Mags was silent for a second, then: "Jen, I...thank you; you really are an extraordinary woman." Then she smiled, suppressing a giggle: "And, Honey," she whispered, "I'm going to lick you like a fucking lollypop! Now, are you ready to get back into character?"

"You mean am I ready to be the terrified little innocent socialite tortured and sexually brutalized by an evil villainess? Oh, yes please!"

At that, Mags did giggle. Then she whispered: "Bitch."

Jen breathed back: "Takes one to know one."

45.

Theo hadn't thought he could take any more surprises, didn't really think anything would surprise him ever again. His lovely Jen, his sweet—and he would have said innocent—wife had discovered his nasty little secret, his stash of...weird superhero porn, and she hadn't confronted him, hadn't screamed at him or called him sick or demanded a divorce—God, that thought terrified him...but no. She'd set up this evening, called it a treat, found this crazy, gorgeous Catwoman to...what? To help fulfill his fantasies, that's what. And she was into it too! Or at least she sure seemed to be. He'd watched her endure a beating which she could have stopped...with a word! And she'd kissed...Catwoman, begged for kisses, seemed totally turned on by...was she bi? Why didn't that thought disturb him more? 

No room. He was just too turned on, his dick was too hard, too painful, his mind too full of Jen...or maybe he should call her Vicki, and Catwoman. And when Jen...or Vicki had finally spoken to him, as she fondled Catwoman's...God, he'd wanted to, but he'd been afraid that she wouldn't...but she'd said he should have...God damn, this was torture! He wanted...contact! His hands on...holy...he didn't even care whose body it was any more; Jen's...Vicki's, Catwoman's! He wanted to kiss lips, nipples, lick pussy, Jen had never let him do that, but now? After he had watched her eat Catwoman like crème effing brulee? And his cock...anything! He was sooo close, had been for what seemed like hours. He wanted to cry with frustration; whadaya know: another effing surprise! He hadn't cried since...he couldn't remember; he just didn't cry. Well he sure as shit—Serge would have been proud—wasn't going to cry now! And he wasn't going to use the damn safe word either. Jen had called this a treat, so there had to be more. There had to be! Didn't there?

Wait a minute. They were coming back: Catwoman dragging Vicki by the hair. Doing that a lot; it had to hurt. Now what the hell?

46.

Catwoman threw Vicki down on her knees in front of Batman; the blonde's pretty face inches away from her man's red and swollen cock. "Sit, Princess! Keep your hands to yourself and don't fucking move!"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good girl." She sauntered up to her bound captive. "This is the part of the evening where the evil villainess—that's me—tells the captive superhero—and that would be you—of her nefarious plans for blowing up city hall or poisoning the water supply, or kidnapping the hero's girlfriend...oops! Sorry. Too soon? Anyway, then you get all angry and righteous and tell me I'll never get away with it, and that you'll never rest until you bring me to justice, blah, blah, blah... We're going to skip all that, because the nefarious plan is very simple: I'm going to let you loose, and then you are going to fuck me, hard, until I cum at least twice. While you are fucking me, I'm going to eat this slut's pussy until she screams or faints or both. Once I've come twice, you're welcome to finish up wherever you like: cunt, mouth, ass—if you're into that kind of thing, tits, mine or hers. Then I'll disappear, and you can take your little slut back to your Batcave and play house-y, or whatever it is you do for kicks. Remember, Bats, I cum twice. If I don't, then one night I'll take sweet Vicki again, and then I will break your little fucktoy, understand?"

Batman: "Wait a minute, you're going to let me go? So why should I do what you want?"

Catwoman: "Oh Bats, you really are precious. You still don't get it, do you? You won't do it because it's what I want. You'll do it because it's what you want. You want me. I know you want me, and because I know it, you're powerless against me. All I'll ever have to do from now on is crook a finger, and you'll be on your knees begging for my tongue, or my pussy, or even these lovely tits you pretend to despise. I could murder half the police force and make you fuck me in the pool of blood at the crime scene. I probably won't, because that'd be messy, and we kitties like to keep things clean, but you take my point, n-rrow, don't you?"

Batman: "And what about..."

Catwoman: "Vicki, my pet?"

Vicki: "Yes, Mistress?"

Catwoman: "Beg your man to fuck me. You know what I'll do to you if he doesn't."

Jen looked up into her husband's face. It was as if the mask wasn't there. She saw the question in his eyes, and once again she was surprised at how little her answer bothered her. It wasn't that she didn't love Theo. She loved him more with every day that passed, and she was sure he felt the same way about her. She'd wanted to give him...something that she hadn't been...capable of...designing herself. And then she'd met Mags, and Mags had...made this evening for them. Mags had shown them, shown her so much more about...sex, and play and pleasure and pain and imagination and...and it was all wonderful. But it was only sex; only one small part of what she shared with Theo. And Mags had worked awfully hard, and she had promised to bring Jen off with her tongue, with that long, sexy tongue... 

Vicki looked up into Batman's eyes, winked and smiled, and then said: "Please fuck her, Batman. Fuck her hard with your big...um...beautiful cock! Make her cum as much as she wants! Please, Batman? She'll hurt me if you don't..." Jen batted her eyelashes and pouted. Then she giggled as she saw Theo roll his eyes behind the mask. He smiled back—a little uncertainly—and mouthed "I love you." When he finally spoke, he sounded like a man resigned, not like man about to have his every adolescent fantasy fulfilled. 'I'd make a pretty good Batman,' he thought to himself as he said: "Alright, Catwoman. You win. I'll submit to your depraved...um," he couldn't come up with a word, and settled for: "I'll do whatever you want."

47.

Mags smiled, then remembered at the last minute to turn her delighted giggle into Catwoman's evil, triumphant laugh. She pressed her naked body against that of her captive, standing a little off to one side, so her breasts caressed his bicep. Then she reached up and turned his face to hers.

"Good." she purred, and brought her lips to his. She kissed him hard, biting his lower lip, and forcing her long tongue into his mouth. Then she pulled abruptly away and slapped him hard across the face twice. "Good!" she said again, as she saw the anger flare in the eyes behind the mask, "Rrr-ow! I like you this way, Bats! I want you a little angry while you're fucking me. I want you thinking about how I defeated and humiliated you while you're slamming into me, how I whipped your girlfriend's pretty little ass and made her cry, and how you watched, powerless!" She saw felt the muscles in his arms bulge as he strained against the chain. "Purrrr, you ready now, Superhero? Ready to give this evil villainess the fucking she deserves?"

"I'm ready, you twisted bitch! Just let me go, and I'll show you how ready I am!"

"M-rrrow, not just yet." She laughed as she watched him strain against his chains. "Face it, Stud, you wouldn't last ten seconds in my pussy in your..." she grabbed his cock, and began to stroke it gently, "present condition."

Batman's breath caught, and he began to moan as his arousal reasserted itself. She dropped his cock abruptly, and he had to stifle a sob. When he had himself under control, he rasped: "Right...you're...ahh...you want me to...to fuck you? You want me to fuck you hard? Then you're going to have to let me...oh God!" She'd begun stroking him again.

"Oh, I'm going to let you go, Batman, but first, I'm going to let you cum. In fact I'm going to kill two bats with one stone, if you'll pardon the expression. I'm going to drain your balls and reward my little pet down there at the same time. Sit up straight, Vicki-kins."

Vicki raised herself up on her knees, and Catwoman pointed her bound captive's cock directly at the little blonde's face. "So sweet," purred their captor, "such a good little kitten. I think she deserves some cream, don't you, Batman?"

"Wait, what?"

"Oh come now, Batman! Do you mean to say that this naughty girl has never let you cum all over her pretty face?" She looked down at Vicki. "Is she a bad kitten after all?"

All of a sudden Vicki was terrified that she would be punished again, that she would be beaten, or...or excluded, that Catwoman wouldn't let her cum, or...she started to babble: "No Mistress, please! I'll be good, please? I want him to...I...please. Make him...cum on me. I want my cream, pretty please?"

"That's better." Mags looked down at Jen and mouthed 'Close your eyes!' Jen looked confused, and then nodded quickly. When Vicki's eyes were shut, Catwoman continued, whispering in her captive's ear, and giving it the occasional lick as she began to stroke him harder: "I want you to cum for me, Batman. I want to watch you paint your little slut's face with all that hot, sticky goo you've got in there. I could taste it when I was sucking you, remember....mmm, so sweet...give it to her! Drown the bitch in cum! Do it...NOW!"

Catwoman's "NOW", Batman's bellow of release and Vicki's startled little "Ooh!" sounded together, as the first stream of cum shot from the bound man's cock to splatter the kneeling blonde's cheek. The second caught her on her parted lips and she winced, her eyes flying open, just as the third streaked her forehead. Then she shut her eyes, held as still as she could and flicked her tongue out for a quick taste as more and more of the warm, viscous sap hit her eyelid, her hair, and finally her chin. She reached up to wipe it away from her eyes, when from above her she heard Catwoman snap: "Don't move, Kitten!" Her hand returned to her lap, and she felt some of the warm goo begin to drip down onto her breasts.

"Oh, Batman!" purred Catwoman, "too bad we don't have a camera! Isn't she a lovely little cumslut! Look at that naughty tongue licking your stuff off her lips! You know what? I think she looks good covered in spunk. I think she looks really, really hot, don't you?"

48.

Theo could find nothing to say, in character or out of it. He looked down at his wife, the prettiest, sweetest girl he'd ever known. She was kneeling, naked, at his feet, and a puzzled little half-smile/half-frown played across her face as her tongue quested to find...all of a sudden he had to fight not to laugh. She looked like she was covered in the glaze from those cinnamon rolls she sometimes made; the ones you buy in a tube. She was trying to lick up...he wondered what it tasted like. Then he decided he really didn't want to know. She'd found a...some of it, and now she was... He watched her draw a little of his cum into her mouth with a little "uhh" sound. Her face scrunched up for a second. Maybe it didn't taste so good. Then she smiled.

Then Catwoman had dropped to her knees next to Jen/Vicki, had reached up with an index finger to wipe a pool of it off an eyelid, and had slid the cum-covered finger into his wife's mouth. Vicki hummed and sighed, opened her eyes and smiled at the masked woman. Catwoman said: "Can I have some?" Vicki nodded, said "mmm-hmm", and then gasped as her captor leaned down to lick a few stray drops from a suddenly erect pink nipple.

Next, Catwoman began to clean Vicki's face with gentle laps of her long tongue. When she had collected a few drops, she leaned in and kissed Vicki, using her tongue to push the jizz into the smaller woman's mouth. Vicki made a surprised little sound, something between an 'oh' and 'mmph' as she received and then swallowed Catwoman's offering. Eventually the cleaning became kissing and fondling and licking as the two women used their tongues and lips to remove the last drops from Vicki's face, neck and breasts.

Theo's erection, never entirely gone—even after cumming as hard as he had—had begun to stiffen again, when Catwoman turned Vicki to face him. "Now him, Kitten." she said briskly. "Clean him up for me, and keep sucking until he's good and hard. No hands. If he comes in your naughty little mouth, I will be very, very angry, understand?"

Vicki smiled. "Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress for allowing me to suck him hard for you. I promise to be good."

Catwoman gave a contented little "mrr-ow", and walked off toward the bathroom. Obedient to orders, Vicki rose up on her knees, and leaned forward.

49.

"Jen!"

Catwoman had disappeared, Theo had heard a door click, and now his whisper was urgent.

"Jen!"

Jen paused, her lips less than an inch from her husband's cock, then her head dipped and her lips wrapped around the tip. Theo hissed; then he sighed.

"Jen, wait!"

The musky taste of semen was stronger as her tongue swirled and explored. She felt him harden further, and took the surge as a sign that she was doing well. She had never really sucked him before, but she had watched, for a few seconds, just after Mags had cum on her tongue. It wasn't so bad; actually it was kind of....it made her feel...sexy, getting such an immediate reaction from him.

"Jen, please!"

Now she had her mouth full, and she began bobbing slowly up and down, being careful to keep her teeth away from his shaft. He tasted...salty, and smoky, and she decided she liked...

"Jen, RED!" Then in a whisper, as if afraid that Catwoman would overhear: "For cripes' sakes, RED!"

The safe word took a second to register, but then Jen remembered: stop everything, drop character, and listen. She looked up into her husband's eyes. He didn't say anything at first; he was panting, as if he were trying to catch his breath. All of a sudden, Jen was afraid: too much, too soon, too far? Had she hurt him? Was she doing something wrong? Was he angry? Worse: was he...disappointed, or... She decided she couldn't wait: "Theo, honey, are you...is everything...ok?

50.

Theo let go of a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He looked down at his wife, and gave her an uncertain smile. "Jen, babe...is it ok to call you Jen?"

"I think so. The way Mags explained the rules, once somebody says 'red', everything stops until we...um...want to start again...if we want to start again. We don't have to..."

The last few words had sounded so sad, and Theo wondered... "Is that her name, Mags?"




Reacquainted Pt. 04



Jen nodded.

"Is she still here? I can't see the whole room."

"I think she went out into the hallway for something."

"She's...um...she's something else, isn't she! Where did you guys...?

Jen interrupted him: "Honey, later; when we're done. I promise I'll tell you everything. But...do you really want to stop?"

"Don't you?"

She stood up, came close, reached out a tentative hand, and stroked his arm gently. She wouldn't meet his eyes now. She said: "No. I'm sorry. I mean...do you think I'm a total slut now? I...I don't. I want to keep going."

"Jen, Baby, look at me." She wouldn't. "Honey," his voice was soft now, gentle, "please, Sweetie, you have to look at me." Finally she looked up into his eyes. "Do you remember what's supposed to happen next?" Jen didn't speak. "She wants me to...she wants me to make love to her."

To Theo's astonishment, Jen gave him a tentative smile: "No she doesn't. She wants you to fuck her.

Theo's mouth dropped open, and he had to remember to close it. Then he had to remember to talk, and as soon as he started he found himself trying not to laugh: "Jesus, Jenny!"

"Well, that's what she wants. And it's not the same thing at all."

"I know that, I mean..."

"How do you know it, Babe?" Jen seemed almost angry, but not at him. Maybe angry was the wrong word; intense was better. And she got more intense as she continued. "Seriously. I mean I said it like I know it, but I don't. Not really, because everything we've ever done, we've done with each other, and we've actually never done...that. We've never fucked! Either of us. I mean, have we? Just like I'd never eaten another woman's pussy, and you'd never had your cock sucked, and you'd never cum on my face, and I'd never tasted...cum. But now I have, and I...liked it. I mean everything, not just the taste of...I really liked it! And I'm sorry I snooped. I really am, but...I got curious because...I...I really love you, and we're so good together. aren't we? And it wasn't like we...I mean we kept being good...better even! And then all of a sudden I find all this...comic book...stuff, and it was like 'What's this? Is he into something that I can't...' and I talked to Mags about it, and I pretty much forced her into...figuring out how to..." she was running out of steam now, looking into his face, willing him to understand, "how to...make fantasies...real, or...I don't know." Then: "Do you hate this? Do you want to stop? We don't ever have to...I...please don't be mad at me, or..." Her voice broke a little.

It was his turn to interrupt: "Shhh, Babe, hush, it's ok. I'm not mad. I'm just...well, hell! I don't really know what I am. I mean I'm...well, ok: I'm mostly naked, and so are you...and I'm hard, so I'm guessing I'm pretty turned on, right?" The context was bizarre, but the experience was reassuringly familiar. It was one of his favorite things about their marriage, talking to her this way, working things out. "I mean, I've fantasized about...Catwoman and Batgirl and...ever since I was a kid and saw the re-runs of the old show, but... Look, I'm sorry I hid all that stuff from you. It just seemed...a little silly...and maybe a little private. But I'm not...mad. I'm a little stiff..." She giggled. "I don't mean that, you...but my arms are tired, and my face still stings—Mags, right? She really hits hard—but I don't...hate any of this. I mean...well, first of all, I love you too, I mean really, really..." his voice deserted him for a second; then: "and you're just so beautiful and sexy and...but so's she, ok? I have to say that, because...I think the only way this works is if we're completely honest with each other. I don't want to do anything to hurt you...or us, or...I mean if you want this to go on, do you want me not to...?"

"No, I...look, this is kind of a silly question, but...you're not falling in love with Mags, are you?"

"Are you kidding, of course not! I don't even know the woman! She's just...she's embodying—if that's the word—a fantasy that I've had for...a while, and I...I guess part of me really does want...to go on. I mean to...fuck...her, but I don't...I mean love doesn't really even enter into it. And if it's going to...get in the way of...us, what we have, then..."

Jen smiled, and shook her head: "I don't...actually think it is. I mean, I'm ok with you wanting to fuck her. Is that...wrong or weird? And is it ok with you that I...really want her to fuck me too?"

"You mean like...before? Like what you did to her when she was...sucking me?"

Jen smiled and nodded.

"Honey, that was maybe one of the hottest things I've ever seen. I mean, sure it's ok, but...will you let me try that with you too?"

"Um...yes, please! So you're ok with...?"

"Hell, yes!"

"Good, and...are you ok with me being ok with you...?

"With Batman fucking Catwoman?"

"Yes." Jen sighed. "That's right. I think that's what I want, among other things." She stood on tiptoes, and kissed him. "Now, would you mind if I sucked you a little more?" She giggled. "You taste really good!"

51.

Mags had been standing, still mostly naked, just outside mp-2. All of a sudden she realized that she was cold; no big surprise: tits out in a converted warehouse at the ass end of October. It would be warmer back in the room, but she'd waited. She'd cracked the door to hear not the specifics of the conversation between husband and wife, but the tone. No yelling or crying; that was a good sign. The two voices had stopped now, so she risked a peek. There was Jen, kneeling before her still-bound-and-masked husband, sucking him with all the fervor of a new convert. A wave of relief swept over Mags. They'd had to talk: Theo and Jen. Before this whole scenario had gone any further, they'd needed to check in with each other, whether they knew it or not. Apparently they had, and apparently they were ready to continue, or at least they seemed to be cool with what had happened so far.

Mags hadn't known until that moment just how relieved she was. For a few seconds she allowed herself to think of all the ways this little encounter could have gone south, and she found herself astonished both by her hubris and her luck. She might have lost a friend—a new friend, but still—hell, she might have fucked up a marriage. She'd been so taken with the fun of it all: the planning and the preparations, and the play. She'd needed it so badly, and she pushed pretty hard. Honestly: two sexual novices? She'd pushed very goddamn hard. And it had felt wonderful. That's to say it had felt wonderful to her. But Jen had enjoyed it too, right? She'd said she had. And Theo? No safe words; she'd checked in, several times. She'd played by the rules, but still... 

So where did they go from here? Well...she'd given them a potential endgame, a map for what she hoped would happen next. Now she had to go back in and...begin it. She had to get back into character, and Catwoman had to release Batman. That meant a potential loss of control. Mags was a strong woman: tall and fit and confident. But Theo was a very big man. Of course Jen would be there, and Jen knew the rules: anybody could use a safeword. Say "Red" and everything stops. But Mags really didn't want to say "Red." She was a little scared, and a lot turned on, and the combination of the two feelings was deliciously novel to her. She took a deep breath, pushed the door open quietly, and walked back in.

52.

"Enjoying yourself, Princess?" the sexy voice sneered. Vicki's head whipped around in surprise, and she heard Batman hiss; her teeth had scraped against him as his cock fell out of her mouth. Catwoman was there: fists on her hips, boots, mask and ears, nothing else. To the little blonde, kneeling at the feet of the bound masked man, she looked seven feet tall: beautiful and terrifying. 

"I hope for your sake you haven't let him cum yet." purred the tall brunette. "You've had your treat, Kitten. Now he's all mine. Right Bats?" She held up a tiny handcuff key on a chain between her finger and thumb. As she approached, she gave Vicki a little nudge with the side of her boot, and the smaller woman moved from in front of the prisoner. Catwoman stood all but naked, facing her erstwhile victim, naked himself but for his mask and cowl. The green eyes examined his body slowly, as she absently moistened her lips with the tip of her long, pink tongue. She smiled hungrily as she took in the length of his thick cock, all wet and shinny with the little slut's saliva. With a satisfied little "mrr-row" she reached for the cuffs at his wrists.

"Undo his ankles, Vicki-kins. Let's see if your boyfriend can bring me to...justice!"

53.

Vicki knelt to one side as Catwoman freed her prisoner's wrists. Then the villainess moved into the center of the room, and stood, legs slightly spread, hands on hips, breasts thrust proudly forward, with her head held high and her full lips curved into a predatory smile.

Batman absently rubbed his wrists as he considered her. In fact, Theo's imagination had just left the building. Adam West had never found himself in this position. ('Adam West would have given his left...kidney to find himself in this position!' thought Theo to himself.) He knew what she wanted him to do, what Jen wanted him to do, hell; what he wanted to do himself. He just hadn't quite figured out how...

He felt a soft hand brush his thigh. He looked down to see...Vicki kneeling in front of him, rising up until her face was level with his groin. Leaning forward quickly, she trapped the tip of his cock between her lips, giving it a quick, sucking kiss. Then she stood up, wrapped her arms around his waist, and nuzzled her face against his neck. "Honey?" It was barely a whisper. Then she giggled: "Would you do me a favor?"

"What?" He was whispering too.

"Well," she stood on tiptoes and put her mouth to his ear, "I can't wait to watch you fuck her really hard; make her cum a couple of times, but..." her voice became even quieter: sound in a sigh: "...could you to finish in my mouth? I really want to lick her off your cock."

54. 

Batman strode into the center of the room and stopped less than two feet from Catwoman. He let his eyes travel slowly, almost carelessly up and down her body, taking in her long, muscular legs, the luscious curve from her haunch to her slender waist, the fullness of her high, round breasts with nipples erect, the elegant neck, and the beautiful face: full lips, small nose and cold green eyes beneath the mocking mask, crowned with a thick mane of dark brown hair. She smiled at his obvious admiration, content to let her own gaze wander over his muscular torso, down past his trim waist to his cock, long, thick, erect and cool as the moisture from Vicki's last kiss evaporated in the air-conditioned room.

"Like what you see, Handsome?"

"Oh yes."

"You ready to do something about it?"

For answer, Batman extended his right arm, as if to shake. Catwoman laughed. "Are you kidding me, Bats? This your idea of foreplay, or is this some kind of bizarre pre-coital superhero ritual? 'Shake hands and come out fucking?'"

Batman was silent, hand outstretched. At last Catwoman shrugged. "Alright, Stud, whatever turns your crank..." Her long delicate fingers closed around his.

Quicker than she would have believed possible, he had pulled her towards him and forced her arm behind her back. Before she had time to think, her back was against his chest, his cock was trapped between the cheeks of her ass, and a long muscular arm reached across her body to cup her right breast. She heard his hiss of pleasure as he began to fondle her, caressing her tit and lightly pinching her nipple. She struggled, but his right hand forced hers further up her back, and his left arm tightened across her chest. 

"Once a cop always a cop, huh, Bats?" She moaned, as little sparks of pleasure shot through her nipple, "Hey, I thought you said you didn't want to touch my titties."

"I just said I like hers better."

She pushed against his arm. "Goddamn, you're strong! Mmmm, yeah! Just like that! Oh shit, that feels good. Oooh, feels like you might be changing your mind!" Then: "If you want to do...oh yeah...do a little more research, you can let go of my other arm. Then you could...touch both of them. I won't struggle..." she giggled, "...unless you want me to."

"I don't know, Catwoman. I kind of like having you in my power for a change?"

"There's power and there's power, Handsome." Her voice became a plea: "Oh, Baby, please please please pinch my other nipple? I want it so bad!" His right hand dropped her wrist; and then both hands were mauling her breasts She gave a smug little laugh, but made no move to escape his embrace. "See what I mean?"

Batman's right hand dropped away from her body, and she felt his grip in her hair. He wrenched her head around until she was looking up at him over her shoulder, and he heard her indrawn breath hiss with the sudden pain. "Don't piss me off, Lady," he snarled. "I'd break your pretty neck for half-a-buck and a chocolate glazed!"

Her laugh was triumphant: "Goddess, I LOVE IT!" Then she was whispering into his ear, her voice a seductive purr: "Turns you on, doesn't it, Bats? Don't lie. I can feel it. I can feel that big, hard cock of yours getting thicker, pushing in between the cheeks of my ass. What're you gonna do, Lawman? You gonna arrest me? Hurt me? Kill me? Or are you going to shut up and do what we both want you to do: throw me on the floor and fuck me! Fuck me hard and rough. Fuck me fast and nasty. Let your little bitch there watch. Hell, put me on my back; she can sit on my face, and I'll eat her slutty little cunt! But stop making empty threats, and for fuck sake stop pretending to be one of the good guys. Take what you want, you bastard! Oh FUCK YES!" 

Batman dropped his right hand to her crotch and drove two fingers into the beautiful villainess's dripping wet pussy. Catwoman screamed in short, wild, panicky bursts as Batman finger-fucked her. Then his fingers curled inside her, and his thumb plowed its way roughly up through her labia to find and assault her swollen clit. As he found it, he lifted her off her feet, arching his back, and taking her weight onto his chest. Her legs kicked wildly, and she screamed again as her weight forced his fingers deeper into her. His other arm tightened across her chest as her back bowed against him. She felt his muscles strain as he tossed her off of his fingers for a split second, in order to spread his legs for a little more stability. Then she slammed back down onto him, and she screamed with the pleasure and the pain and the panic. The pad of his huge thumb had found her clit again, and she felt as if every ridge of that thumbprint sent a separate jolt of pleasure coursing through her body. She wanted to tighten her abdomen, to delay the orgasm which was threatening to snap her in half. It was too soon, it would be too...something, she...and then she became aware of her voice pleading and swearing and sobbing: "Ahhh, shit, shit, shit, yes, oh please...oh, wait, no, oh GOD NO! Don't...I mean don't, stop, or...OH SHIT YES DONYOUFUCKIN...UH! UH! UH! AHHEEEE!!!!

Her body snapped forward as she came, and she fell off his hand and onto her knees, burning them against the industrial carpet. She howled with pain and frustration, as her spasms jerked his thumb from her clit, and suddenly her own hand was between her legs, rubbing and pressing, trying vainly to recover the fading intensity of her convulsions. Then before she could catch her breath, Catwoman felt her enemy's arm around her waist, his hand reaching behind to spread the lips of her pussy, and then she screamed for pure sensory overload, as Batman's long thick cock seemed to spit her apart, burying itself balls-deep into her dripping cunt with a single, massive thrust.

55.

Jen watched, fascinated, aroused and appalled at her husband's strength. She knew he was a big man, and she had always assumed he was proportionately strong, but now she stared transfixed as he seemed to pick Mags up between her legs and bend her backwards against him as he...shook her until she... She watched the tall brunette fall to her knees, heard her shriek, saw the tears of rage behind the cat's-eye mask as she reached between her legs. Then she saw Theo kneel behind her, reach between her legs, and... Mags' head snapped up as Theo penetrated her, and some whimsical part of Jen's psyche found itself wondering if Mags had glued the cat's ears to her scalp. They and the mask had somehow stayed in place. She was still Catwoman, and that meant...

"Vicki!"

It took Jen a moment. After all they had retained some part of their costumes, masks, cowl, and ears. She was completely naked, but of course, she was still...

"Vicki, damn it!" Before this evening, Vicki had never heard her man say anything stronger than... "Grab that chair, and bring it here!"

She must have done as he asked. She didn't remember doing it, but the chair stood in front of Catwoman, who was still on her hands and knees, and still impaled on Batman's cock. Then she was sitting on the chair; he ordered her to spread her legs. And he gave another order, and Catwoman looked into Vicki's eyes and smiled, and the villainess's long pointed tongue reached between the lips of the little blonde's neatly-trimmed vagina, caressing them, moving gently upwards until... "Uhnnnh! Oh, God that feels so..."

Her eyes closed, that naughty, pointy tongue began to circle her clit, and Vicki heard Batman's voice: "Be nice to her, Catwoman. Make it good. You don't cum again until she does!"

55.

Mags barely heard. Good Lord, the strength and size of the man! Since her split with Don, Mags had been with many lovers; men and women, but mostly men. Some had been skillful, some had been...disappointing. And until this moment she'd found no correlation between the size of a guys cock and the amount of pleasure he could provide with it. But there was something about...being taken by...he was so strong; every part of him seemed so...it was as if he could lift her on his cock as easily as he had on his hand. And then there was the role play: he was Batman, and she was Catwoman, and so there was no affection, no tenderness...quite the opposite; there was enmity, aggression. He was fucking her because she'd given him no other option. And the naked power of his thrusts...she'd never felt anything like it: some weird amalgam of pain and pleasure combined with an essential loss of control...like being fucked by an earthquake. But the physical sensation...was almost beside the point. Theo wasn't really a skillful lover; but the context, the power struggle...was really...doing something for her. She could lose herself in it; she could cum from...what he was doing to her; what she'd made him to do her.

And then Jen was in front of her; naked on the chair, legs splayed, the lips of her pussy pink and slick like the inside of a seashell. That part of her brain that Theo had not yet fucked lose considered the lovely, intelligent, adventurous—not to say courageous—woman sitting in front of her, waiting to play, to participate. Mags felt herself smile. She stretched herself forward, tongue extended, and managed to draw the tip up through Jen's slit, and tap it against the head of her clit, before Theo's next thrust her face directly into her friend's crotch, almost knocking the smaller woman off the chair.

"Easy, Bat Stud!" snarled Catwoman. "Eating pussy takes finesse. You want to hear the bitch scream, quit trying to break me in half!"

Batman's thrusts slowed immediately. Now Catwoman could feel the length of his cock stretching her cunt, inch by exquisite inch. She purred: "That's it, Handsome...oooh, that feels sooo nice! Keep doing that, and I'll make Vicki here a very, very happy slut." Then she looked back at him and her lips curled in her familiar mocking smile. "Don't worry, Superhero, you can still hurt me later, if you want to."




Reacquainted Pt. 04



56.

Jen saw the smile; that terrifying, arousing, predatory smile she had first seen at Mags' apartment back when...when...time seemed to have...oh God! There was the tip of that long, pointy tongue insinuating itself like a boneless finger between her labia, up, up...until...oooh yes! That little tickling tap; that...YUNNHH! The breath flew out of her, and she fought back panic as the chair threatened to fall over backwards. For a long second the thing balanced on two legs, then the other two came back to earth, and her ass bounced against the seat as gravity reasserted itself. She heard Mags' angry growl; the sound off it, not the words, and then she was back on the chair, legs spread, breathing hard, and looking down into Catwoman's mocking green eyes.

Batman moved behind the naked brunette, his long cock rocking slowly and gently in and out of her warm, wet cunt. Catwoman smiled with the sensation of it, and the warm breath from her rhythmic sighs tickled and tingled, cooling the dampness of Vicki's arousal. For a few seconds, Catwoman lost herself in the new pace of her fucking. Then she looked up at Vicki and winked.

The smaller woman looked down, fascinated, as Catwoman curled her tongue—it really was long!—into a sort of tube. Leaning forward, she pushed her tongue between Vicki's...and into her...into her! She could feel the penetration, like the tip of a tiny cock. The sensation was subtle enough, but the image, the idea, the thought of the thing! Vicki felt her face flush, and her breathing start to quicken. Catwoman was...fucking her with her tongue! It felt as if, at any moment, the masked woman would reach around, pull Vicki's pussy against her mouth and force that tongue deep, deep inside her. Then it would become a tongue again, not the cock it was now, and it would twist and tickle, and lap her up from the inside out...oh God! OhgodohgodohgodohGOD! She might cum from the image alone; she could feel the tiny thrusts, the warmth of Catwoman's breath, and she rocked her hips forward, forcing her pussy into the other woman's face, reaching for a sensation that some tiny part of her mind kept insisting was impossible. Shut up, shutupshutupshutup! She wanted it, wanted it so badly, needed it...

Catwoman's tongue popped out of her, and she cried aloud, almost sobbing with the frustration of it. Then it was back. Her eyes, flew open—when had she closed them?—and she saw an evil little open-mouthed grin on the beautiful face between her thighs, as the villainess began dragging the tip of that wicked tongue slowly up her slit toward...stopping just below her swollen, red clit, and dragging it back down, savoring the sweet, salty taste of her victim's arousal. Without knowing how or even when, Vicki began actually to cry. Tears of lust and rage and frustration streamed down her cheeks, and she began to curse and beg and plead:

"Goddamn you, you BITCH! YOU...oh shit, that feels so...so fucking...NO! Don't STOP!!! Don't tease, please...I'm begging you! Let me...please let me! FUCKING DO IT!!! Pleasepleaseplease? So fucking...Oh God, oh my fucking...PLEASE!!!"

The tongue was gone. Vicki howled! and Catwoman hissed, her breath hot on the smaller woman's pussy: "Say it, Kitten. You have to ask for what you want like a big girl. Tell me what you want, and I promise I'll keep it going. But you have to ask. You have to say it!"

Vicki howled: "PLEASE, CATWOMAN, MAKE ME CUM!!! PUT YOUR TONGUE ON MY CLIT AND FUCK ME WITH IT! EAT MY...MY CUNT UNTIL I SCREAM! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, JUST FINISH ME! AHHHHIIIIEEEE!!!!!

Before the last words were out of her victim's mouth, Catwoman's tongue lashed across Vicki's clit, battering it back and forth with short hard stabs, and then caressing it with long, slow licks. Aroused by his woman's passion, Batman began thrusting harder, forcing Catwoman's face hard against Vicki's pussy. The tall brunette wrapped long arms around the little blonde's waist, using her weight to help anchor the chair which was rocking back and forth keeping time with the smaller woman's screams. Vicki convulsed one, two, three, four, five, six times, each spasm accompanied by howls and cries and curses, until at last her voice broke, and all she could manage was squeaks and groans and whimpers. Then Jen's body slumped in the chair. 

Mags glanced over her shoulder, caught Theo's eye; he stopped moving in her. The pair watched for a few seconds. Jen seemed only half-conscious; her eyes closed, her breathing labored. Eventually she roused herself, climbed off the chair onto her hands and knees, and crawled over to face Mags. Gently she leaned forward and kissed her friend's lips. 

"Mmm, I taste good." She murmured softly. "Thank you, Mistress. Am I a good little kitten?"

Mags smiled. "The best."

"Good." Then she stood, and walked over to her husband. She stood to his left, and put her arms around his waist, staring down fascinated at where his long, thick cock disappeared into her friend's body. Then she looked to the back of Mags' head, where the Catwoman ears were, improbably, still fixed in place. Jen smiled to herself, relieved, now that the...event had happened to discover that yes, in fact she could have it both ways. Mags was a friend, and Theo was her husband. And Theo wasn't making love to Mags; Batman was fucking Catwoman. He'd been forced into doing it to keep his beloved Vicki safe from the machinations of the seductive villainess. Jen giggled. It was all pretty silly, but it was also sexy as hell. Jen found herself hoping that her new friend and her husband were having as much fun as she was. Sex was...fun, wasn't it? Love was vital, and profound and... And sex could be all that too, but sex was always...well mostly always...fun. If Theo had anything left in the tank, Jen decided she'd take him home and make love to him until they fell asleep in each other's arms. Then tomorrow night, she'd fuck him cross-eyed. If he didn't have it in him tonight, she'd fuck him cross-eyed tomorrow night anyway. And she'd get him another Batman suit...and maybe a little something for herself as well; not Catwoman of course, but...

She looked up. Theo was looking down at her, a question in his eyes behind the mask.

Vicki smiled up at her hero. "Fuck her hard, Batman. Punish her for being so cruel and evil, but don't forget your promise. I want your cum all to myself; she doesn't deserve any of it." Then she flounced away like the pampered socialite she was to watch her superhero subdue his nemesis. Then she had to hide a grin. Mags was cracking up.

57.

As always it took Mags a good few minutes to get herself under control after one of her laughs. It didn't help matters for her to imagine Theo's perplexity. He still had his cock buried inside her, and she could only imagine the look on his face, as her lungs and abdomen and points lower heaved and spasm-ed around him; never mind the noises she knew she was making. When she could finally trust her voice, she reached for Catwoman's sexy snarl, and decided she still sounded pretty good.

"You heard your little princess, Bats! Fuck me like you mean it! Punish me with that big hard batstick you've got shoved up my poor little pussy. You man enough for a good hard grudge-fuck?"

She hissed with pleasure as she felt him draw back and slam back into her, once, twice, and three times, each thrust rocking her forward, the sound of his thighs against her ass like a pistol shot.

"That the best you got, Lawman?" she taunted. "I tied your little bitch up and beat her ass, and you just watched and got a boner. Made you cum on her face too. Did you like that Mr. Superhero? Like treating your little princess like the whore she is? C'mon and fuck me like a man, or do I call the Joker over here to make you his BITCH?"

Once again she felt Batman bend forward and wrap his long muscular arms around her chest, felt herself lifted onto her knees as his huge hands mauled her breasts, and then he began to hammer her. She screamed and cursed as he shook her like a rag doll, pistoning into her like some demented machine, her body prisoner to his massive strength. His hands grabbed her tits, squeezing and twisting, and she keened as pain and pleasure swirled together. His cock was as long and thick as anything she'd ever experienced. The massive head battered at her cervix until the ache spread through her like...like... She was losing her grip on language, even in her mind. It was agony, but it was so fucking GOOD. He was a lummox; no finesse, no regard for anything but the power and the pleasure of his...what the fuck do you call something this size? Can you even call it a cock anymore...word's like a tenth the size of his goddamn dick...of fuck, don't laugh...don't you fucking laugh! Then: oh FUCK yes! One hand fell away from her tits, questing between her legs. Could he find it while he was throwing her around all over the place? He'd gotten there before, but... ohfuckohfuckohFUCK! YES, YES, SHIT GOD FUCK YES!!! His finger was on her clit: pressure, pain and pleasure, back and forth, over and over, holy shit he was going to tear the fucking thing off! This was brutal! This was mindless! This was no way to cum and yet she was soooooooo close! Soooo Fuuucking Cloooose! Then...

"OH SHIIIIIIIIT!!! PLEASE, RIGHT...LIKE THAT...JUST KEEP...KEEP, YUH, YUH, YUH!!! FUUUUUUCK!!!!

Her body tried to buck as she came, but his arms kept her pinned against him, and she shook as if electrocuted, her muscles clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing until she thought she would throw up, or pass out, or...she had no idea how long the orgasm held her, but just as it was beginning to pass off, he threw her off of himself, literally; just dumped her on the floor, her body, full to bursting with his cock just a second before now lay in a tangled heap, jerking and twitching, empty and bereft, the only sounds left in her a hoarse rhythmic panting as she fought to get her breath back.

57.

Batman...Theo...didn't matter now. Whoever he was had been subsumed by the pleasure and the rage and the want and the imminent release, and the pain...holy shit was he hurting! Fire in his abs and his glutes and his arms, friction burns on his knees, a raw throat from panting in the cold dry air, and his...cock! Goddamn it! He'd already come once, on Jen's...ooooh shit, don't think about that too hard, or...wait, hold on just a little...promised Jen...Vicki...whatever the...that she could... Well if she wanted...she'd damn well better get over here. Call her! Oh hell, call her what? What if she won't answer to...don't think...no time, just:

"BABE! IF YOU...IF... JUST GET OVER HERE NOW!!!"

And like magic, she was kneeling in front of him, naked and disheveled and smiling and impossibly beautiful, and he was done talking; nothing else to say. She took over. She took his cock in her little hands, and it felt so...damn...good.

58.

Vicki smiled up at her man as she took him in her hands and stroked him gently. He was close. She could tell. She couldn't have said how she knew—she'd never gotten him off this way before—but know she did. His cock was hot and wet with Catwoman's arousal. She giggled, reciting a pornographic little litany to herself, maybe not even aware that she was speaking out loud:

"Ooh, is this all for me? I'm going to do it. I'm going to make him cum in my mouth. I'm going to swallow his load like a good little...what did she call me when I had his stuff all over my face? A good little cumslut. I like that. I am a cumslut. I want hers too. I want to lick her off him; I want to taste them both...like a mixed drink, a cum cocktail..." 

She started to giggle again at that: "Cum...cock...tail? Oh, that's nasty..." And then she wasn't talking any more because she had slipped the head of his cock into her warm wet mouth, and she was sucking, tasting the spicy, slightly gamey flavor of...Catwoman's pussy, and her hands were moving up and down his shaft. She heard his grunts and groans, but it was as if she was a long way off. No eyes, no ears; just a little smell, touch and taste, mostly taste, because he was cumming now, filling her mouth with thick, milky stuff, and the smoky, bitter taste of him overwhelmed the lighter, tangier flavors of her. "All mine," she thought to herself. "All for me, as much as I want. And that's good, because I like it. This sexy little cumslut likes it!"

When he was done, when she'd milked every last salty drop from him, she looked up into his face, opened her mouth like one of those slutty porno girls, to show him that she'd swallowed it all. Then she remembered what she'd said to him the first time he'd worn the suit, remembered how it had gotten him going. She opened her blue eyes wide, gave the tip of his cock one chaste little kiss, and said, in her sexiest voice: "Oh Batman, my hero!"

59.

"Honey, this is Magnolia Sutter. Mags, I'd like you to meet my husband, Theo Sutcliff."

Mags looked like she was about to laugh, and Theo looked nervous, but Jen had insisted. Half an hour later, and he three were in robes, masks and...everything else put aside, and they were sipping Maker's Mark from Dixie cups which Jen had had the foresight to provide. They were standing in Lizbet's office, which was a little cramped, but had the advantage of some furniture and the fact that they hadn't just had violent, kinky, ecstatic sex in each and every corner of it.

"Miss Sutter." Theo held out a hand, and Jen smiled to see the warmth in Mags' eyes. Courtesy: an excellent place to start with Mags Sutter.

"Officer Sutcliff." She smiled, took his hand, and gave it a good firm squeeze.

It was his turn to smile: "Given what we've been up to for the last few hours, maybe you better call me Theo."

She grinned: "Please call me Mags." There was a little pause, and then she continued: "I really had intended to leave at the end of our scene; you know, give the two of you some processing time, but Jen knows I'm a sucker for good Bourbon." She sipped appreciatively and then: "Are you ok with what's just happened?"

Theo made a sound halfway between a chuckle and a sigh. "Wow, that's a big question. I think the sort answer is...uh yes, sure...I mean nothing like that has ever...that's to say, I've never...by the way, are you ok? I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?"

"You did, a little. But I suppose I hurt you too, a bit. For my part, I have no problem with a little pain as long as it's part of the game. And I must say, I thought that was a lovely game. But I'm also unattached. You've just had a stranger...oh, I can't seem to come up with the word...perhaps 'insert' herself into a part of your marriage which most couples prefer to keep private."

"You would have stopped at any time if I'd said 'red', right?"

"Absolutely."

"And I never said it, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

Theo thought for a moment. "Jen and I will talk about this, of course. In fact I'm really looking forward to talking with her about it, over and over again..."

Jen—who'd been stripped, bound, beaten, fingered, licked, covered in cum, who'd licked Mags to orgasm and swallowed Theo's cum all within the last hour or so—blushed.

"But I think I'm fine with it. I mean I got pretty lost in some of it, but...I think if I'd had a real problem with anything...I don't know, but I think I would have stopped it. I came close a couple of times, but...I never did."

"No," said Mags again, "you didn't."

"I don't know if I'll ever do anything like this again. Right now, I kind of hope I do, but...either way, would it be...um...appropriate to thank you for all the...for all this, for arranging it, for taking to Jen about it, for...everything?"

"Well I'm not sure I shouldn't be thanking you, but sure, why not? And you're welcome, by the way. It's funny...it sounds...like something you'd say after a cocktail party, but I...I had a wonderful time."

"Thank you. Um...so did I." They both looked at Jen.

"A wonderful time?" said Jen with a grin, "Ooooh yes! I...that was all fine with me!"

"Well," said Theo, "like I said, Jen and I are going to go home and...talk about...everything, but...do you think we could see you again...I mean socially?" he added quickly, "...as friends?"

Mags looked over to Jen, smiling back at her, leaning against her husband, her head on his shoulder. When she stands upright, thought Mags to herself, the top of her head doesn't even reach his chin. Aloud she said: "Yes. I'd like that very much."



Reacquainted



"Go on over my boy, they won't mind. Julia is the redhead with the nice ass and Rachel is the brunette. They enjoy having people join them." He handed both men some condoms and sent them off. 

Aiden got off the stool without thinking twice, he was so hard, and he needed to alleviate the pressuring building in his cock. Before he could get to the girls, he saw Jared also moving towards them. He turned his head to Jared, "Are you sure you want to do this with me here?" Aiden was being a prick and he knew it, but Jared needed to be sure of what he wanted. He didn't' want Jared having regrets and then running away again if things got out of hand between them.

"Fuck yeah. Look at these two beautiful women, Aiden." They were close enough the girls would hear them, but Aiden was more concerned about his need to touch Jared, not about them being with two girls. He believed being with Jared again was something only left to his fantasies. 

The men walked up to the girls and at first, watched as Julia now had Rachel on the table and was feasting on her bare pussy, her ass pushed out in invitation. Aiden watched Julia lick Rachel from asshole to clit only stopping to suck on the bud, Rachel's head falling back as her D-cups arched up in need of attention. Aiden walked over to the table and began suckling Rachel's nipple, while he unzipped his pants and began fondling himself. Julia noticed his presence and paused briefly from her feasting, to move her hand to stroke Aiden's cock and balls. Rachel moaned louder as he grabbed the other breast in his now free hand and pinched her nipple to a peak. 

After a few moments, Aiden was interrupted from the beautiful breasts in front of him, as Jared moved into the scene, cock in hand. Their eyes met, and Aiden smiled, "You sure?" receiving an almost immediate nod from the other man. 

Jared had already stripped when he walked up behind Julia, and rubbed his cock between her ass cheeks, "Hey darling. That feels so good on my cock." He continued to rub himself and nudged her lips open to slide his cock between them. "Oh yeah, you are so wet. Let me help you feel good." He pushed himself harder between her globes, dribbling pre-cum onto her cheeks. 

Aiden watched as Jared moved away from the woman, pulling up a chair and sitting down right in front of the table between Rachel's legs. Julia stopped feasting on Rachel's pussy and stroking Aiden's cock. "Come here and sit on my cock baby," he said to Julia. She moved to his lap, reverse cow-girl style, sinking his now condom-clad cock into her. "Oh, that's it darling. You're tight and wet, just how I love the ladies." He was whispering in her ear as she got into position, "Can you feel my frenum rubbing your pussy? Feels good, doesn't it?" When Julia got fully seated, Jared said, "You can go back to eating this other pretty lady" and she did just that. Jared helped move her hips up and down on his cock, taking it slow so he could enjoy this experience. Julia began finger fucking Rachel while sucking her pussy, their moans intensified and fueled the others' lust. 

Aiden feasted on the beautiful tits in front of him, his hand stroking his own cock again. His face was buried between them when he heard, "Aiden, I know you love tits, especially ones as pretty as that, but I, well, I want to suck your cock." Aiden immediately stopped and looked at Jared, disbelief overtaking his expression.

He moved next to Jared, cock in hand, and said, "Are you sure, Jared. I don't want you bolting on me again. I need my best friend and business partner here with me, not running across the country because he regrets his actions." Serious emotion threatened to spill from Aiden, but he was able to push it back down inside him.

"Yeah Aiden, I'm sure. I want this. We'll talk more about it later. For right now though, I want your cock in my mouth." Aiden moaned and moved forward, stroking his cock so hard, pre-cum flowed from the slit, so he spread it across Jared's lips. 

Jared licked it off and opened his mouth, his tongue lightly touching the other man's slit, and then sucked hard on the purple head, "Jar, I'm not gonna last long, man. It's been too long...." Aiden's head fell back, "Ah yeah, just like that, suck me...ahhh" he moved his hand to Jared's head holding his head in place as he began to fuck his mouth, freeing up Jared's hands to continue working Julia up and down on his cock. 

The foursome continued to climb towards orgasm but Aiden was the first to peak, "Jared, I'm gonna come. That's it, suck me harder. Oh yeah, swallow my cock...I'm gonna...oh fuck yeah...." Aiden's shot his come down Jared's throat. When he was finally spent, he pulled out of Jared's mouth, grabbed the back of his hair and bent over to give him a searing kiss, tasting himself on his best friend and knowing this was a defining moment in their relationship. 

Jared broke the kiss between them as Rachel demanded attention. Aiden rotated Rachel on the table, so he could tend to her needs and still watch Jared and Julia. Julia was frantically bouncing on Jared's cock and he saw his hands move from her waist to her clit and nipple, pinching each to move her closer to orgasm. "Darling I'm not gonna last much more...that's it, squeeze my cock tighter", he said as her head fell back on his shoulders, her arms went up to loop around his neck and she began to come, followed shortly by shouts of Jared's completion. Aiden sucked on Rachel's clit hard, fucking her with his fingers until she screamed her orgasm, coming on his face.

When they came down from their orgasmic highs, Aiden and Jared moved away from the table to collect their clothes and dress, "Thanks Jared. I appreciate it. I don't know what this means for us, but I think we need to take the time and figure it out."

He saw Jared take a deep breath, "Yeah, Aiden, I know. I like being with you and I've been miserable without you. But, I want to be with other people too, you know, women. So, let's see where it goes."

Helping the girls get themselves together, Aiden said, "You've been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and I don't want to lose that Jar. We need to keep talking to each other though and NO running away, OK?"

Jared smiled sheepishly, "Yeah, no running away."

After they cleaned up, they said good-bye to the girls, and went back to the bar to have a drink. Jeremy came right up to them. "So, what do you think of the club?" He was all smiles, knowing full well the men were more than satisfied with their experience, as he had watched them the entire time.

"Well, Jeremy, you've certainly got a great place. I wouldn't mind having a piece of this little gold mine." Aiden still felt a bit goofy from having had an intense orgasm in the mouth of his best friend.

"Yeah, Jeremy, I have to admit, I was a bit leery at first, but now, I'm sold. Where can I sign up?" Jared threw back some vitamin water, both men tried to rehydrate themselves from the intense workout.

"Well gentlemen, why don't we go into my office and have a little conversation. I believe I have an offer that will be hard to pass up. You see, I'm planning on retiring to Florida..." Jeremy walked away to one of the hallways. Not thinking twice about it, Aiden and Jared immediately followed.