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that her position made it impossible to recover from. It throbbed painfully at the juncture between her legs, slowly rippling into her torso and limbs. She knew that she would have to wait until her husband chose to relieve her. And she waited.
    At last Bluebeard came back into the little room, bringing with him another small container. She held her breath again as her husband resumed his position.
    This time it was Bluebeard's hands that she felt, gently caressing her. She moaned in pleasure, but a few seconds later she felt a searing heat where he rubbed, and she cried out in frustration. Bluebeard again quieted her and held her still, but the movement of his hand became more brutal, furiously probing her until she was aware of nothing but the scorching place where he rubbed. But this pain, too, soon gave way to pleasure, and she meandered between screams and moans, one moment shaking her hips furiously in an attempt to escape his tormenting caress and the very next moment working her hips against his hands to enhance the pleasure. But always he stopped when he perceived her pleasure and, scooping up more of the mysterious ointment, he once again began the process, spreading her apart and mercilessly forcing the heat deep inside her.
    Finally, the poor lady had endured all she could and she began to weep miserably. Not liking to see his wife so unhappy, and thinking she had been punished enough, Bluebeard quickly unfastened her limbs and lifted her from the table. He held her tightly in his arms and kissed her wet face repeatedly, all the while comforting her with words of love. But she continued to sob.
    Perceiving what his wife required, Bluebeard quickly drew her to him and filled her aching body with his own. He made love to her tenderly, and for as long as she wished him to. They remained there, in fact, for the rest of the day, and this time he pleased her over and over again, until all she had suffered earlier was completely forgotten.
    As were her promises to obey her husband forgotten, and I daresay they have had occasion to visit the little room again!

Cat and Mouse

     
     

T he game of cat and mouse is legendary, and is a favorite subject for novelists. What is it that draws one into the game, at once so fascinating and so antagonistic? It is a complicated matter that is ever being examined by the philosopher. I, too, have made many attempts to solve the riddle.
    It seems to me that the game was more enjoyable in ancient times. Nowadays it is decidedly less satisfying. Somehow, as the stakes got higher, the players became more menacing and the game more ruthless. In truth, it is no longer even played the way it used to be. For one thing, the object of the game has very nearly been eliminated.
    It has long been established, for instance, that Cat is physically stronger than Mouse, but Mouse has nevertheless been a worthy opponent by virtue of her superior instincts and faultless determination. Over the years, however, Cat has accumulated many unfair advantages over Mouse, taking the fair play out of the game. This development has had the peculiar effect of making the game all the more enticing for Mouse, while rendering it tedious and dull for Cat. Such are the circumstances of Cat and Mouse as I begin my tale.
    In the story I am telling, supremacy belongs to Cat. Mouse has much less power in most respects: she earns and keeps less wealth, she has a much smaller voice in world events and, in short, she has fewer advantages than Cat. As would be expected under such circumstances, Mouse has lost much of her spirit, and Cat feels the loss without acknowledging it. And so, when he encounters one of those few delightfully tenacious mice who refuse to accept these terms meekly, this new breed of Cat is too frightened to respond appropriately.
    Meanwhile, Mouse has lost respect for Cat, thinking him lazy and spoiled by those mice who have acquiesced to his superiority. The game, then, has reached its final stages of