Cheating Life – 8.2

Last night: it was… it was a swirl of images now, and I remembered we… we did everything. Or rather she did everything, and I was her toy – her very pleased, satisfied toy. It was all part of a story, a game, where she played the spider and I her midnight snack, but I don’t think even the black widow’s mate receives the treatment I got before he’s devoured.

No one memory would stick in my mind long enough to relive. The images kept fading and blurring, but the whole experience was steeped in a euphoria – a sort of golden, overwhelming bliss, like the afterglow the first time I’d had sex. I looked at her now, without any make up, dressed like a stay-at-home, and saw that she was beautiful. She had a very pretty face – wide, knowing green eyes with dark lashes, lips just full enough to frown, smile, or pout, and naturally arched brows. Her body… well, a modeling agency might ask her to shed a few pounds, but there were no folds or sags in her curves, and she knew how to work them. She had this quality, though – the same confidence I saw yesterday – that could display serenity, light a fire of passion in her eyes, and declare her superiority all at the same time. That was what defined her.

Next

Cheating Life – 8.1

viii

I WOKE THE NEXT MORNING to a brightly sunlit room. A pale yellow glow shone in from the wall of windows, painting a faded, impressionistic image of the web-draped bed against the far wall.

I propped myself up and saw that my wrists and ankles were still tightly bound in last night’s silk ties. The ties themselves, however, dangled loosely and were only restrained by their overnight twisting in the sheets.

A solid-sounding click came from the corner of the room. I sat up to see Jane had just emerged from her dark wooden doors. She wore grey sweats, a loose t-shirt, and fuzzy slippers, and she walked with her head cocked over her shoulder while she wrapped a towel around her hair.

“Oh-” She spotted me watching her and angled toward me. She tucked the towel up into a makeshift turban as she descended to the bed and sat beside me. “I didn’t think you’d be up so early. Not after last night.”

 

Next

Cheating Life – 7.4

She settled back onto my hips and pushed the blindfold up over my forehead. My eyes had adjusted, so even in the low light I could see her clearly now. There was no trace of the sweet, saucy schoolgirl from my apartment; she had been replaced by a dark, lustily wicked monster. Her full lips, painted a bright, bloody red, stood out from a porcelain-white face and twisted into a closed, satisfied smirk. Her eyes were heavily shadowed, and her black lids drooped dangerously beneath arched brows. Her black hair was sleek and smooth, and pulled back to a tight knot behind her head.

She had begun to carefully loosen the sheets swaddling my chest, exposing my tender neck and chest. She wore a black stocking catsuit that clung to her curves and wrinkled at just the right places; her belly was covered by a satin hourglass, red as her lips. The hard, curved points at the fingertips of her gloves stroked like claws down my cheek, under my jaw, to the soft part of my neck above my collarbone. Her smile parted, and she bared a pair of sharp, glistening fangs. Her tongue flicked against them as she spoke, giving her a slight lisp.

“Such a gift for me to unwrap. And now that I’ve caught you in my web, my juicy argent, you must know your doom is near. Do you fear me? Before I have my way with you, I’ll tell you a truth: all spiders bite, but it isn’t the bites that are deadly. It’s what we do afterward..” She licked her lips. The lights of the room disappeared as her shadow fell over me.

Next

Cheating Life – 7 Illustration

A hooked finger beckoned.

The Birdcage 38

We lay together on the bed for quite a while, just talking. She unstrapped my legs and bid me bend my knees so she could sit on my stomach and lounge back against my thighs. She told me things about herself. Not where she lived, or what she did – she still never broke character – but I learned about her coffee obsession, some of her favorite songs, some of the things she had thought about doing to me that night – a few of which she wouldn’t describe in detail – they were for “next time”.

She used the toes and heels of her boots to play with the flesh of my face, and as she spoke she idly swirled her claws over my skin. Her low voice stayed mostly to a whisper, like we were conspirators sharing secrets, and the huskiness of the whisper, the smiles I heard but couldn’t see, made even her most casual comments sensual. But while we became more intimate, we never so much as kissed.

Later she untied me entirely, and after we had both stripped to our bare bodies (even as far as removing our masks, after we jokingly swore not to peek), after she’d reduced the bed to a single, airy sheet, we spooned. It wasn’t like I’d ever spooned before – she stayed behind me and curved to fit my bottom. She slipped an arm beneath my elbow and pressed her breasts against my back, then slid a leg between mine.

Thus enfolded, with her lips and a cheek lying against my shoulder, she asked me to recount the night for her – what I liked, what scared me – what I thought was going to happen. I think that, normally, talking about sex in such detail would have left me embarrassed and halting, but I felt so close to her now that it was easy just to talk. I barely worried about how I sounded – how what I said would make me look, or if I would say something she wouldn’t agree with. I just talked. Her guiding questions trickled down to “Mm-hmms” and barely audible murmurs, and then she was asleep.

With the replay of the night fresh in my head, I couldn’t sleep – or I didn’t think so. I was awash in that happy glow that warms you from the stomach out. I didn’t want to move an inch, to risk her rolling away from the press of our flesh. I smiled, and I must have slipped into sleep.

God! I still remember that night so well, as long as it’s been. I can’t believe that I could write so much, but I still haven’t even gotten to what happened the next morning. Or the next day – what a day! But I suppose that will have to be another tale, saved for another night. I have to go dream about that first night in the birdcage.

End

Cheating Life – 7.3

A gloved hand caught my wrist and pulled me through the curtain, twisting behind me to pin me face down on the bed. Immediately I was swaddled between sheets and thighs, fingers and pillows, and the not-infrequent nibbling kiss. A blindfold slipped over my eyes. Over the next several minutes, as the sheets continued to tighten around me, I was rolled onto my back and each of my limbs was drawn free in turn and stretched toward a corner of the bed, where it was tied into place. My captor hummed contentedly as she crawled over me, working efficiently. I didn’t struggle, but I don’t think it would have mattered – she was quick and deliberate and surprisingly strong. Each time she flipped me or repositioned me or tightened the silk sheet cocoon, she ended the motion with a pin that kept me pressed, immobile, between her body and the mattress.

Then she was done. I was on my back and spread-eagled, though my body was still firmly swaddled. I could tell she was satisfied with her work – I felt her strum each of my bonds and heard her cluck her tongue.

Next

The Birdcage 37

This might sound anti-climactic, but it was a little frustrating for me. Granted, her gasps and groans were electrifying, and the sight of her pussy slurping up the rubber should have been enough to make me hard, if I had anything left to work with. But between the smell, and the sight of her so close, and the motion of her hips, I just wanted to taste her again. And there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even squeeze her butt, which quivered so ripely, nearby but out of reach. I could only watch.

At last, after a long, satisfied sigh, she slid off the dildo and knelt over me, sitting on my collarbone. She paused only a moment before laying back, reclining on my stomach, and stretching her legs up over my head against the wall. The muscles in her meaty thighs, which were still clad in the sweat-damp purple catsuit, knotted and released as she worked through them. My cock suddenly bobbed as blood rushed to it, trying to bring back to life.

“Ahh… I’m so sore…” She massaged the tops of her thighs, pushing the ache she must have felt down toward her knees. “Next time I break in a superhero, he’s doing all the work.”

next

Cheating Life – 7.2

A gloved hand caught my wrist and pulled me through the curtain, twisting behind me to pin me face down on the bed. Immediately I was swaddled between sheets and thighs, fingers and pillows, and the not-infrequent nibbling kiss. A blindfold slipped over my eyes. Over the next several minutes, as the sheets continued to tighten around me, I was rolled onto my back and each of my limbs was drawn free in turn and stretched toward a corner of the bed, where it was tied into place. My captor hummed contentedly as she crawled over me, working efficiently. I didn’t struggle, but I don’t think it would have mattered – she was quick and deliberate and surprisingly strong. Each time she flipped me or repositioned me or tightened the silk sheet cocoon, she ended the motion with a pin that kept me pressed, immobile, between her body and the mattress.

Then she was done. I was on my back and spread-eagled, though my body was still firmly swaddled. I could tell she was satisfied with her work – I felt her strum each of my bonds and heard her cluck her tongue.

Next

The Birdcage 36

But once she was ready she crouched down to her heels, slowly swallowing the dildo with her pussy, mere inches from my eyes. The rubber cock was tight inside her; my tongue and jaw fought back against her weight as she kept pressing down. But I quickly realized that my neck would lose any fight to support her, so I let her push me down into the pillow, which folded up on either side of my face.

With half her weight on either my jaw or on my forehead, where she grasped with both palms, she began to fuck the dildo. Not like she had my cock, taking it all the way in and grinding, but sliding up and down, in and out. My head bobbed up and down with her as she moved, not really of my accord, but when I relaxed completely she growled, grabbed my hair, and began yanking me up and down against her.

I had no fight in me, so she fucked me, or fucked on me. Since she’d orgasmed so many times already, she didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Her hips rocked back and forth, rolled up and down, while I could do nothing but watch and try to hold still for her. Occasionally she glanced down, smiling at my wide eyes, but mostly her neck and shoulders arched back and she drifted in her own world.

next

Cheating Life – 7.1

vii

I WAS STILL MULLING MYSELF OVER when the lights in the room guttered and dropped like a candle flame. There was rustling by the fucking bed, but I barely heard it, and didn’t turn to look. I didn’t turn to look yet, not until the screen flickered back to a tinted window and I heard a low, hissing voice far behind me: “Ahh…” There was a sound like the smacking of lips. “Dinnertime at last… Come, my plump little Argent. Fly toward to the flame.”

I sat up on the couch. A single light sputtered at the far edge of the room, an orange glow behind the gauzy silhouette of the fucking bed. A semi-sheer canopy had descended from the frame above the bed, and swags of drapery drooped around the posts and up to the walls and fell to wispy heaps on the floor. It seemed like … like a den, or a nest. A dark figure crouched deep in the nest’s shadowed center – she was obscured in the folds of the curtains, but her hand slipped out, and a hooked finger beckoned. “Welcome to my parlor.” I left the robe and the slippers by the couch and descended the stairs of the reverse dais, slow to feel each step in the dark. As I reached the bed, I realized that the drapery was patterned with spiderwebs.

Next

The Birdcage 35

She grabbed the base of the dildo and started polishing it with her other hand again. The gag and dildo were a very effective handle – she could move my head however she liked; my neck was not prepared to offer resistance to that kind of leverage. She turned me to the side, and leaned down to slacker her tongue along the length of the black rubber. Her eyes stayed on mine while she sucked and kissed the rubber cock, fellating it with a hungry vigor. Of course I felt nothing, but I saw everything, which was her point. I began squirming.

“Some people don’t like the taste of rubber,” she told me between licks, “but I love it. I was so pleased when Bats changed to a latex kit.” She chomped on the dildo and shook it between her teeth like a shark, wagging my head along with it.

Pushing off my chest, she sat on the edge of the bed and dug back into the nightstand. At the edge of my eyesight, I watched her squeeze gobs of clear liquid into the palm of her glove, then rub it into her still-bare crotch. With her hand still cupping her pussy, both caressing it and keeping the lube inside, she once again climbed up onto the bed. This time she stood, a boot sinking into the mattress to either side of me. Her knees clenched and unclenched. She pushed her middle fingers up inside, wetting the walls of her vagina and encouraging her own lubrication to flow again. She bit her lip, and for a moment I thought she was going to just stand over me and masturbate where I could watch.

next

Cheating Life – 6.18

She kissed me – urgently – then pulled herself away. Her eyes were drinking me in. I thought she might tug open my robe and take me inside her; instead she ran her hands through her hair and let the pigtails drop out. “I would fuck the life out of you right now if I wasn’t careful. But I have some other plans for tonight. You need an intermission, and I need a costume change. I’m done with the naughty schoolgirl role for today. At least with the schoolgirl part.” She slid off me and stood, patting the bulge beneath my robe. “Wait for me here.” She winked, then turned a knob on the remote behind the couch. One of the window panes darkened just a shade, obscuring the city lights to show a dim display screen – just so I’d know it was there.

I sighed. The clop of her boots faded across the open room and disappeared through her dark double doors in the corner. I left the display as she did – for the moment I preferred my own thoughts to public entertainment.

Next

The Birdcage 34

My eyes described my fear to her while she polished the dildo between the fingers and thumb of her glove, bringing the exaggerated veins to a polish. I shook my head vigorously, and I could tell from her low chuckle that she really enjoyed my anxiety.

“Robin, Rrrobin – I thought you and Bats liked it in the bum? That’s the rrrumor. But maybe just not from women, though?” She laughed now. “You forgot already – this isn’t about your pain, it’s about my pleasure. I have no interest in fucking your little ass; not this time, anyway. Maybe later. Now hold still.” She caught my chin firmly in her palm slid the dildo through a metal ring on the outside of the gag. The ring snapped tightly into place, and the black cock sprung up, away from face. “There. Now I can rrreally fuck with your head.”

I sighed in relief and relaxed muscled I hadn’t even realized were knotted. But that’s because I didn’t know what I was in for.

next

Cheating Life – 6.17

We had graduated from movies into books and philosophy, but, remarkably, I was no less aroused. My arms were crossed behind my head and my eyes were drifting over the ceiling as I described Atlas Shrugged with a stream of multi-syllabic Latin-rooted words. I was feeling comfortably arrogant. She was only half-focused on the massage now; she’d been silent for some time and had taken to suckling my fingers as I spoke.

When I came to a break in thought, she sat up and put my hand over my mouth. “Close your eyes, schoolboy. I’ve got a surprise for you.” I obeyed, and her thighs squeezed over my hips while she turned to the side. I heard the rustling of her blouse. A moment later her hands slipped behind my hand and she lifted me from the pillow, pressing her nipple between my open lips. One hand remained cupped behind my head to hold me in place. Then she began talking.

She had thoughts of her own on the subject. Seemingly from nowhere, she delivered this critical opinion on Objectivism, and Ayn Rand in general, barely pausing mid-sentence to move my head to the other breast once I’d teased her perky and warm. Though I was understandably distracted, I listened. I was surprised – surprised and impressed. She was right – I’d never heard Ayn dissected that way before, but she was spot on. And here I’d done my thesis on Rand. She pulled my head back, and I opened my eyes to see her staring into them.

At that one moment, it was easy for me to meet her green-eyed gaze; in fact, it would have been difficult to break away. That struck me as peculiar later. I’d never been able to look someone in the eyes like that for more than a few seconds before self-evaluation defeated me.

Next

The Birdcage 33

“Tsk, tsk, Dick. No more names. Selina and Dick might be lovers. But not Catwoman and Robin.”

“What do you mean? …Catwoman?”

“Catwoman – she rrrapes poor little Robin.”

My eyes widened, and I think my mouth might have fallen open when I saw what she had placed on the bed between us: a curved, black dildo, attached to straps and a harness.

“I-”

She covered my mouth with her glove, then, sliding her fingers in and spreading my teeth apart, pushed a hard rubber ball on a flat strap – something like an oversized evil pacifier – into place and buckled the harness behind my head.

“No more talking from you. You can cry or whimper if you’d like – I may like that – but it hardly seems fitting from Batman’s protégé.”

next

Cheating Life – 6.16

I shrugged. I wasn’t very good at these types of games.

“Oh, you’re still much too tense. We’ll never have a good conversation until you relax.” She pulled open the chest of the robe, then reached over the couch for a little bottle. Hot oil dribbled over my shoulders, neck, and chest, and a moment later she was kneading it into my skin with the palms of her hands.

She started by asking me about movies. I was too busy watching her, experiencing each of her movements on top of me, to give good answers – but only at first. She kept asking, kept laughing, kept massaging, and my words began to flow more freely. She flirted with her fingers and her questions. She pinched my nipples and tickled under my arms. She listened to my answers, then teasingly described how she would pornify my favorite movies and what part she’d have me play. She was feeling me out. Her questions became less frequent but more probing as my conversation began to flow.

Next

The Birdcage 32

Finally she slid off me, and I fell back limply to the bed. I barely registered when she re-tied my hands and left for a few minutes, or when she came back to remove the condom and clean me with a warm washcloth.

Maybe twenty minutes later she was laying on the bed beside me, stroking my hair and smiling with unrestrained satisfaction. Her lipstick was fresh, and she smelled more like some night flower than sex.

I’m sure my face bore nothing less than adoration. I was just starting to chill where the moisture left by washcloth was evaporating.

“Well, Rrrobin,” she purred, “I think you’re about spent for the night. But I’ve got one more big one left in me that I don’t want to waste. And while I’ve worked you pretty thoroughly, what kind of a Catwoman would I be if I didn’t take just a little bit of your boyish innocence?”

“What do you want, Selina?”

next

Cheating Life – 6.15

After I’d had a few sips and she’d finished whatever she was doing, I heard the clop-clop of her boots while she came around into my view. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leaned back against the window. “So. Schoolboy. Now I’ve got you alone in my room, and just a little uninhibited. What should we do?” Her black nailed fingers tapped thoughtfully on her arm, but her grin was spoiling the act. “Hmm… I don’t really feel like homework – I’m not the studying type tonight. I’m not the cheer type, either, but I don’t mind practicing my kicks.” She set her booted heel on the end-table and nudged my drink to the side. I gaped up at a magnificent view while she peered back down with satisfaction. “Or we can sit and ‘talk’. I might even be able to teach you a few things.”

“That sounds good.”

“I thought it might.” She dropped her boot and circled the couch, coming to stand at the other end. “Roll onto your back.” As I complied, keeping the robe closed around me, she crawled up over the arm of the couch and straddled my hips. She rolled her thighs and ass to settle in, and I felt the blood rush to my groin. “There, that’s comfortable. Now what are we going to talk about?”

Next

The Birdcage 31

It was only a moment, though, before she was back on the bed, and rolling a condom down over my cock. Then she crouched on the bed, and, positioning the head with one hand, slid down, slowly, slowly down over it. I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell from the small jerks of her shoulders that she’d rubbed against something good along the way. Then she reached all the way to the base, and she slouched for a moment, taking long, slow breaths.

Once she’d gathered her strength, she began moving over my cock the same way she had on my face, grinding against the shaft, squeezing and sliding in jerky figure eights. She slapped my mask back down my face so I could watch her arch exultantly, so I could appreciate the curves of her silhouette. She cupped her breasts and began kneading them again before she realized she could make better use of me now. Falling down over my chest, leaning forward to keep her own chest above my head, she positioned a nipple over my open mouth. She didn’t have to pull me to her – I was straining to close my lips over her areola, to flick the erect teat with my tongue – but once I was in place she caught the back of my neck and held me there. Her deep voice, breathless and ragged, directed me to suckle, to wet my lips, to intensify the pressure.

“More…. Harder! Yes! There!”

She reached up awkwardly, already off-balance, to break my hands free. She had no intention of letting me free of her nipples (she’d already moved me to the other), so pulled me up with her while she loosened the ties on each of my wrists.

Once I was free, her arms crossed behind my neck and she leaned back, sitting us both upright. My hand quickly found their way up her hips, her sides, to cup and squeeze her breasts, which now bounced against my cheeks. She was moaning and riding up and down now, squeezing tightly with every part of her body each time slid up, like she was trying to milk me. Still, somehow, I held.

As her moans became louder, she started to be a bit more rough, forcing me into her cleavage, squeezing her thighs around my hips like she wanted to crack them, biting randomly at my ears or forehead, when suddenly she reached beneath her, found the base of my penis, and with trembling fingers clicked something free. The blood rushed from my face as my whole body shuddered and I came, with such unexpected force that I nearly collapsed beneath her. I could feel my cock swelling and throbbing to fill the space inside her. She was shuddering too, her claws digging into the flesh of my back, but I barely noticed. I’d been so long at the edge of orgasm that it had lost its sharp pain; I was completely unprepared for the flood of hot euphoria that washed through me.

I said something like, “Gahhhh…d”

next

Cheating Life – 6.14

Jane was toweling me off with a terry-cloth robe as she told me that this was not at all like her plan for me. She had already decided I wasn’t a jerk or a flake, and she’d agreed to take me because she thought I’d be interesting to know. She had nearly cleared her schedule, and we were going to be spending time together. We could do whatever I wanted… as long as she liked it, too. There would be no bowling or miniature golf, and no card games unless it was strip poker. No going out again to advertise, unless she’d seriously misread me and I had an exhibitionist streak. And since my own room wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow morning, I’d be sleeping here with her tonight and every night I wished.

I told her that I had put myself completely in her hands, and I would be happy to do whatever she thought would be fun. Her mischievous grin clearly told me that I’d given the right answer.

She handed me a pair of slippers and led me out over the marble floor, past the fucking bed, to the squared psuede couch facing the windows and overlooking the city. As directed, I lay on my stomach and folded my arms under my chin. A moment later a jack-and-coke appeared on the end table by my head. (That was no psychic act on her part – it was on the questionnaire.)

Next