Home > cuckold, lover, malibu > The Black Lion – act 3

The Black Lion – act 3

It seems strange even to me that my favourite time is when I’m at home alone in my tidy little apartment making preparations. My legitimate press certification enables me to search in some exclusive websites that civilians can’t access. On this occasion, I learned of a man who had a wife and a mistress. He beat the wife and treated the mistress like a princess so I did some research. He was a bigshot music producer that usually worked on movie soundtracks.

I dug into Arturo Miodotti’s personal life. He lived with his beaten wife on a palm tree shaded street in Beverley Hills. The home on Malibu Beach is enjoyed by his mistress. She’s a married airline pilot who’s enjoying two lives. She has the luxury of Miodotti’s Malibu Beach House at one end of her travels and a lovely town house on City Island in New York at the other end. That home was shared with her husband of five years, Chad Thornton, a financial journalist.

I’ve always wondered why, when a man or a woman is a cuckold he or she goes after the other man or woman. That seems weird to me, because the other person, the lover, has made no covenant with the cuckold. The spouse or mate or significant other might have made a vow of exclusivity but the external lover made no such agreement. In fact, the lover might be unaware of the other’s commitment. Even if he or she is aware that the other party is in a committed relationship, it shouldn’t have any power over the lover’s actions. If a wife wants him, if a husband wants her and it’s reciprocal, why not?

I once had a boyfriend who believed it was right for a man or woman to simply enjoy sex anywhere, anytime with anyone. This dork couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t marry him.

The best information for me in Arturo Miodotti’s personal life is that he takes walks on the beach alone, from sunset until darkness falls. I descended to the water’s edge to wait in the darkness. I saw him in the glow from the windows of surrounding homes when he was returning to his own place. He was unable to see me in my black lion costume. I wanted to be seen as a man so my boobs were strapped down. I’m almost six feet tall, so my size would be believable as male. With the hood over my head the black wool shag hung like a male lion’s mane.

I followed silently and when he ascended the stairs to the entrance I bounded up behind him. As he slid the glass doors open he heard me and turned. When he saw me, like a black lion reared up to strike, he shrieked and turned to run inside. I jammed the Taser into his lower back. He straightened up, got rigid and fell on his face just inside the door, vibrating like a tuning fork. I closed and locked the door and dragged Arturo into a bedroom. I assumed it was his because the walls and ceiling were all mirrored. I took off my hood and stripped all the clothes off of him. When he was stark naked I tied his hands to the headboard and his feet to the footboard. He was beginning to stir so I drew a chair up beside the bed and watched him wake up.

“Who are you,” he croaked. He tried to rise and discovered his bindings. Then he discovered he was stark naked. He looked at me. “What’s going on?” he said.

“Do you hit your wife?” I said.

“What’s it to you?” he said, and tugged at his bindings. “I’ll get you for this. I recognize you now. I’ve seen you on that crappy news show.”

“Well, you’re quite a dramatist,” I said. “What might it mean that I don’t care if you know who I am, but I take care that no one else knows who I am?” He thought about that for a moment. He began to thrash and tug to break his bonds.

“It means you’re going to kill me,” he said.

“That’s right,” I said. I brandished the Black Lion branding iron before him. “But first…”

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