part 3: Forever high

Home. The object of ridicule now. "Tiger", "Man", what pretence is that? Quite impossible to hide. You can stick one hand in your pocket for most of the time. But two? Friends tell him that tattoos can be burnt off. Something to consider, yes, a good idea. Says the career man. But the career man is not the dominant force in his soul. The obsession for what the tigress represents is stronger. What does he want? Revenge? His desires have been seriously thwarted. Desire still, for that Great Fuck?

Suzy. She reappears. Nostalgia. She still has a desire for what she shared with him, shallow though their relationship may have been. Their compatibility in that department was great; no question in her mind about that. She has decided to forget the episode with the tiger woman, if not forgive him. She hears of his Odyssey to find her and of the disappointing outcome. He is a fool, but she is glad that the tigress simply abused him, without any reward. She thinks the tigress intended to punish him for his obsessional Odyssey and put him off.

Put him off she has. But he is a lesser man. Suzy finds that the heat of their sex has been tempered. His passion ... it flickers. He clings to her with desperation, rather than holding her with a view of devouring her. She pities him. She is the domineering partner, where before they were equal. What is more, he expects to be dominated, devoured. He craves her fingernails carving through his back. She tries this turn of direction and hopes he will respond strongly. Her frustration gives her the strength. But she is not the tigress and it is not her to dominate him in this way, to be a mistress. And he does not respond strongly, but submits to her and becomes meek and dependent. Gradually, she withdraws and finally leaves him once more.

He returns to frequenting the village near her permanent home again. He knows he has no real business there and knows not what to hope for. He is simply addicted and has the single focus of a junky. The bars he frequents, where he sits at the bar, talks to the bartenders, watches TV, plays an occasional game of pool ... a reasonably respectable, but solitary existence. Time drags on, fades away ...

It is one of my nights here. I am playing a game of pool, when a man walks purposely up to my table and watches the game. Not one of my pals. As I continue to play, the man continues to watch. When the game is over, I ask him: "I take it that you want to join me for a round?" The man smiles faintly and answers: "I think you want to come with me. You are wasting yourself. It is time to play another game." I stare back blank. The same smile. "The game you are hanging around for here in this town. Come on, you know what I mean. Follow me," and he walks away towards the door. I am in a state of high confusion and just stand there, apparently interminably. I feel everyone notices. When my wits allow me to survey the bar, I see that this is not the case; everyone is just minding their business and take not the slightest notion of me. I place the cue on the pool table, walk over to the bar to pay my tab - the barman does not notice my confusion - and leave. Outside, right in front of me, a white Chevy limousine with tinted windows, of which the engine runs. My heart jumps ... she? Opening the passenger door and getting in, I observe the man is seated behind the wheel, smiling his little smile and looking at me. There is no other passenger. When I am seated, he backs out and off we go.

"The moon is almost full, and illuminates the road with large snowlike spots, also illuminating the trees and houses of the villages through which we pass, leaving everything else black as India ink. Here and there, groups of people are still clustered, even at this hour, on the thresholds of streetside doors, and I feel the people's curiosity aroused by the passage of our limousine. Some dogs are barking. On the side of the road bathed in the moonlight, the olive trees look like silver clouds floating six feet above the ground, and the cypresses like black feathers. There is nothing real about this country, which night has turned into make-believe, nothing except the smell of sage and lavender. The road continues to climb, but the same warm layer of air still lies heavy over the earth. We cannot be seen, there is not a soul left in sight."

The man looks at me from time to time as if to gauge my feelings, as if to invite me to speak, developing his patent smile each time.

We do not speak, however. I am anticipating the culmination. I want a repeat of the Great Fuck or an even greater one. But I fear events will culminate differently. But I ceased caring. I have passed my fate over to her and whatever she cares to have happen is what I desire.

I see the compound from a distance, several minutes before we arrive there. A small town in its own right of at least 100 acres, enclosed by a high adobe wall. The moon illuminates a conglomerate of buildings whose glazed tiles reflect specks of moonlight. Palmtrees are amply scattered among them. A small paradise set aside, where the glorious tiger-goddess reigns in adoration by her angels?

The angel next to me smiles at me again when he stops the car in front of the great gates, which slowly and majestically open. A winding drive lined by trees, no building in view. "Oh, before I forget, would you put this on, please?", and he hands me a blindfold. When I have securely covered my eyes, he drives on, taking a few turns and twists and stopping finally. The passenger door is opened and someone takes a gentle hold of my right arm. "All right, we'll see you, my friend", my driver says (as farewell), patting me on the shoulder. The second person (man, woman, she...?) draws me out, closes the door, after which the car drives on. Sweet smells of flowers soften my mood. Silence? No, I faintly hear voices in the distance, merry voices, as if preparing for a celebration. (In paradise, celebrations are continuously being prepared.) These thoughts go through my head during the moments I am left standing there. Then my new guide draws me inside a building, a house, and closes the door. We pass through a corridor and enter a room. There my guide, a man, speaks, to another person (man, woman?): "This is him. Please help me prepare him." He releases my arm.

The other person, a third man, politely asks me to undress. I hesitate. Though no prude, I am not given to a desire to undress with an audience. Certainly not an all-male audience. "Come on now. You are here for a purpose, are you not? I am at liberty to grant you your freedom and have you brought home instantly, at your merest indication. I believe that is not what you want. For you to stay means you have to undress now. Don't try our patience, please." An opportunity to put it all behind me. Yet, I do not have the courage. Though a bundle of nerves, I obey. My shirt, my shoes, socks, my jeans and -hesitation- my briefs. "Thank you. If you would come along now. Your bath is ready." I am taken by the arm into the bathroom.

The room is spacious, quite warm and pregnantly smells of oil and spices. The tub is flush with the floor. Both my guides hold me by an arm as I descend the steps and lie down in the hot water, which reaches up to my shoulders. They wash me. God! These men, they wash me. Being blindfolded protects me, prevents me from nervously exchanging glances with them. I manage to withdraw, relax and let things happen. They take their time and I dream away. (The tiger-goddess... that stupefying high she bestowed upon me...) Their touch is gentle when they finally wash my cock. A feminine touch ... my member rises ... They abruptly pull me up, out of the water ... Pain! (That stupefying high, and that depth I was plunged into, only to crash...) With the tip of the fingers, a hand hits my cock hard. "Not now, you idiot. You have no business with us. Control yourself." It is their forceful grip and that alone that prevents me from sinking to the ground. They walk me to a table, like that of a doctor and lay me down on my back. The memory of the pain is still intense. Not helped by the lack of vision, I care little about what they are up to. They strap down my legs, my arms, my chest... an ignorant sacrificial lamb... if my colleagues, Suzy could see me now...

I feel that warm cloths are put on my pubic area, which slowly cool down. Then the first is ripped off, tearing my hair out with its roots. I start and cry out. The straps and strong arms keep me down. Before I know what is happening, a second strip is removed, taking more hair with it. The pain is intense. I cry and swear, I struggle (my instinct - my mind wants to have happen whatever she wishes), but I am kept down. The hair from my balls; excruciating!! Better to be whipped! Better to die? But I survive. When they are done, they oil my burning groin area, soothing my skin... They then leave me. Alone with my thoughts.

There is no past. No past beyond the Big Bang. Big Bang, the Great Fuck, yeah! My past persona is alien to me, the career man, Suzy's lover, that of the girls that came before. An imaginary world, a dull one. My future? Is there one? I cannot imagine it. An eternal yearning to re-experience the Bang is what faces me. Addiction to a habit that cannot be kicked. Though it gives no satisfaction. I have tried to kick the habit, haven't I? - Suzy be my witness. Is that a future? It is more like a religion, miserably pursuing an unattainable goal, the serving of a deity, absent for all practical purposes, however omni-present.

Footsteps. People taking hold of the table I am on, unblocking the wheels and starting to roll me away. Not a word is said. We go through corridors, take a few turns, apparently passing no one along the way. Finally, I hear heavy doors being opened ahead of us. Whiffs of cool air tickle my body and the smells of earth, plants and flowers reach me. I am transported back in time, back to my origins. We enter a big space. Judging from the whispering around me, there are numerous people here. I sense that I am an actor in a performance, or should I say an object?

A siren! A second, dissonant siren! All hell breaks loose! The sirens stop as suddenly as they have started, leaving a terrible void of sound. Then all appear to rise ... the arrival of the tiger-goddess, I am sure! Bare feet descend a flight of stairs, of the amphitheatre I find myself in. I hear her approach, her breath when she stands next to me. She touches me, stroking my depilated abdomen. "Fine, he is ready for the final stage of his transformation. Go ahead!
"Ah, now what is that? Control yourself!", and she slams my rising member hard with the tip of her fingers. I cry and cringe in my restraining bonds.

The buzzing sound. A hand taking hold of my cock, limp again, pressing it down against my scrotum. A tattoo is being placed upon my abdomen. Fifteen, twenty minutes I lie there, robbed of the illusions I no longer had, or should have had. When the buzzing stops, the straps that constrain me are removed and, finally, my blindfold. Two men pull me up at my arms and stand me on the floor of the theatre, the walls of which amply lined with plants and small trees. They, as I, are naked. I notice that they, as I, have bare abdomens. A word has been tattooed there: "EATS".

TIGER EATS MAN. I look around me, at the audience. Naked men, as the two, as I. They all look at me. I generally perceive irony, evident by almost imperceptible smiles.

As if her presence was too great to perceive at once, it is only now that my gaze turns towards her. Tiger-goddess! She is seated off-centre, facing the audience. Awesome. She looks at me with her supremely confident and authoritative eyes. It seems that an eternity passes while I stare back into those sacred depths. Then she rises and reveals herself in all her naked splendour. The endless legs, the bare triangle, her divine cleft, the solid centre of the hips, the narrow waist, the torso terminating in strong shoulders, the luscious breasts, the slender arms and finally her head with their emerald depths and copper tresses. The tiger stripes now reach all the way up to her neck, graciously curving around her breasts, like black flames... A strange, exotic goddess. I fall to my knees to worship her.

She speaks: "Control yourself! Who do you think I am, or you for that matter? What have I done to deserve this servile behaviour? Yes, I have yielded once and denied you another time. And you are not man enough to take it. So here you are again. Of your own free will. Plucked and marked and you are still on your knees at my feet!

"Do you see my faithful flock around you? They are my 'slaves', as they prefer to call themselves. They have consented to live here with me and serve me. Serve me, yes, but not in the way they might have envisaged in their wilder dreams. They satisfy me, whoever I choose to play with, whenever I feel like it, in whatever way that pleases me. But they will not penetrate me, nor will they come in my presence, on my body." She pauses and I look around at these men, who show expressionless faces. They may have been like me. I may become like them...

"Come over to me." I do as I am told and approach her to about armslength. "Come closer," she says... seductively. I comply and now a mere foot separates us. I feel her warmth. The tips of her breasts, heaving slightly under her breath, almost touch my chest. Her eyes, not cool now, not sweet, but ironic, transfix mine. I cannot break away, yet require great effort to look back and not collapse altogether.

"I will give you a choice. Listen carefully." She takes my cock into her hand and fondles it. Her eyes never leave mine. "You may choose to fuck me here and now. I will yield once more and give myself to you with abandon - this once. But once you will have had your way, I will have you thrown out of here and you will see me no more. I will not have you be brought here ever again."

My member rises and is not rebuked this time. But to never see her again. What has my time been like for the past few months? How will I be able to release myself from this addiction?

"The alternative is that you agree to the fate of the ones that went before, those that you see around us. That means that you will step back from me and sit with the rest of them. Hence you will serve me like they do and will be provided for like they are. And like for each of them, your turn will come to satisfy me. Your satisfaction will be of no consequence to me and I do not wish to be involved." Her smile. She squeezes my cock, which is ready to burst. She massages it, strokes my scrotum, keeping me hypnotised with her eyes. If I knew what to answer, if I knew anything, if I were even conscious of anything but her eternal gaze and my burning member, the blood draining from my head ....

I burst and soil her body with my semen.

The next moment she slams my cock with her hand and steps back. She looks at her belly and wipes the dripping wetness off. She then looks at me and bursts out laughing. A disdainful, scornful laugh, while I slowly sink to the floor.