The Return of The Black Widow

Part I – Weaving the Web

As she surveyed the room for her latest victim, her thoughts idly turned to her last victim. Such nostalgia never lasted for very long, after so many victims… but one who forgets the past denies one's self the opportunity to learn from it. And learn she did. Graduate level chemistry had never failed her yet, and now she had a few new tricks in her ever-growing arsenal. Hell, everyone needed a hobby, and she didn't enjoy knitting.

Her naturally curly hair was uncomfortably short this time, but some sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. A shiny gel that only managed to emphasize the jet-black strands it covered harshly defined where the curls and waves were allowed to be. A hairstyle that many guys swore by, yet it only seemed to accent her femininity. The
form-fitting black evening gown she wore, with 2'' black stilettos, left two sources of colour on her person: piercing blue eyes (via lenses) covered with tasteful blue shadow, and a pair of full lips done thickly with a glossy wine lipstick. The look was finished with long, black gloves, and a slender cigarette holder.

Regardless of the look she wore, her targets never changed. What she needed was a man who oozed money, who seemed to be missing with other women. Someone who needed sex, with few questions asked… Well, there was no better place to look than a bachelor party. Her sources had struck gold once again. By now, the groom and his buddies seemed
buzzed, but were not so far gone as to be drunk. The strip club was a few hours away, but merely because the game had just started: Chargers and 49ers in San Diego.

Just then, she found her mark. A tall, slender man had broken away from the brat pack, and had taken a seat at the bar by himself. After receiving his drink, double bourbon straight up, he tipped the bartender – plain looking woman with a nice smile - with the change from a twenty-dollar bill, and resigned himself to the drink, and the game. The bartender offered him a wink, and left to attend to her other patrons.

Seeing her opportunity, she lit a very short, white cigarette, and casually sat down next to her future victim. "A glass of white wine please…" she called with an uncertain tremor in her voice. The other bartender, a short, heavyset man with a face better suited for radio, nodded his head, and quickly arrived with the wine in a tall fluted glass. Smiling at the horrid little man, she fumbled through her purse… With a shocked look on her face, she slowly looked up at the bartender and said with soft timid tones "I… I must have spent my last few dollars on the cab. I usually carry more, but tonight… with all the confusion…" The displeasure on the bartender's face was anything but subtle. With a small gesture, he made to summon a bouncer from the other side of the room.

"Now hold on a second!" It was the tall man in the next stool. "There's no need for any trouble. I'd be happy to pay for
her wine this evening."

The bartender glanced quickly at the man, thought about it for a second, and waved he bouncer back to his post. "Sure
thing, pal. Enjoy your evening."

She turned to her generous benefactor with a pout in her lips, and a twinkle in her eyes. "I… I don't know how to thank you. I didn't think there were any nice guys left in this town."

"Well, what kind of man would I be if I let a woman be treated like that? My name's Owen." Setting down his drink, he offered her his hand.

Transferring the holder to her left hand, she slipped her gloved hand into his. "I'm Sarah. It's nice to meet you." Well, she did have a cat named Sarah… that was closer to her real life than any other name she'd used over the years. She took a long, deep drag from the holder, blew a thick cloud up into the air, and extinguished the cigarette. As she lowered the holder, a wine-coloured ring was a stark contrast to the surrounding black shaft.

"Well, Sarah, would you like to find a more private table?"

With a smile that held intentions Owen could not possibly fathom, she nodded her head in agreement.

Part II – Snaring the Prey

Upon reaching the table, "Sarah" extracted a brown cigarette from a silver case in her purse, and inserted it into the holder. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you mind if I smoke?"

Owen shook his head. "I don't mind at all. Do you need a light?"

"Why, thank you!" The size of the table, combined with the length of the holder and the cigarette, placed the tip about 3 inches away from Owen's face. Owen produced a lighter from one of his pockets, and applied a low flame to the tip. A few deep drags from Sarah brought it to life, and a cloud of aromatic smoke now hung over the table. "Would you care to join me?"

"I don't smoke myself, actually, but I find it's best to come prepared."

Sarah smiled her reply. She knew very well that he didn't smoke, as her observations had to be intense in her line of work. She took a long sip of her wine, leaving a bold print on the fluted glass. This wasn't lost on Owen, who constantly glanced at the print during the ensuing conversation.

After a few drinks, Owen was feeling quite happy, and as far as he knew, so was Sarah. He noticed that Sarah found his jokes to be much funnier than they actually were. Also, she was forgetting to blow her exhales up away from the table, and was instead exhaling directly at him. Owen coughed slightly, but overall the smoke was quite pleasant
smelling, so he voiced no complaints. Especially considering the woman from whom the smoke was escaping. Three semi-stained wine glasses were sitting in front of her, and she was on her second long cigarette. He felt terrific. Finishing his drink, he moved to gesture for their waitress…

"Owen?" He turned to look at Sarah. "Owen, do you feel about ready to leave?" Her eyes were completely fixated on his.

"Umm… I kind of wanted another drink…"

"You feel like leaving now. Don't you Owen?"

"You know, I do feel like leaving…" His peripheral vision was hazy, but his image of her was crystal clear. She exhaled a thick cloud of smoke directly into his face, and smiled teasingly. "Why don't you settle the bill, and then you can take me back to my room. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Owen?"

"Wow… that would be fine… I would like that very much."

"Good, just let me freshen up here." Sarah gently wiped her lips on a paper napkin, and then produced a golden tube of
lipstick, and a compact from her purse. Twisting the tube, she revealed a bright pink shade, much lighter and brighter than the wine prints left on the glasses. She carefully applied a thick coat to both lips, puckered once for the mirror, and then put both items away.

"Let's go."

* * * * * * * *

"Well, here we are, stud… Allow me to show you the bedroom."

The heat in Sarah's voice was more for her pleasure than his, as although he didn't know it, Owen was completely ensnared. She gently guided him to the bed, and sat him down on the edge. She sat down beside him, and proceeded to touch up her lips with the golden tube of pink cream. That done, she took Owen's face in her gloved hands, and kissed
him f ull on the mouth with a violent passion. Seeing the look in her eyes, Owen promptly kissed her again. Each time, his lips picked up more of her lipstick, until each mouth was the same colour. After six such kisses, Owen found he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He tried to tell Sarah, but found he would rather lie down. Upon doing so, Owen passed out.

Sarah offered his prone body a regretful smile. She stripped Owen down to his birthday suit, and secured him to the bed with four pairs of leather bondage cuffs. That being done, Sarah then retrieved a large black makeup bag from the bathroom. Soon, a large array of tubes and cases were spread out on the night table.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "I told them I wasn't to be disturbed," she grumbled to herself. No matter, she had come prepared for this as well. She selected a black perfume bottle and sprayed Owen's face with it five times. After that, she stripped to her lingerie, put on a robe – only partly closed - and picked out a cigar from a box in the bedroom. She borrowed Owen's lighter, and then opened the door. A man was there, wheeling a cart of various foods and drinks.

"Room service! Can I get you anything?"

"I left instructions not to be disturbed tonight… Did you not get them?"

"Look, lady! This is how I make a living. Do you want anything or not?"

He had just sealed his fate.

"I was just about to relax with this cigar. Would you come in and read your menu to me while I light it?"

"… Fine. Whatever."

She closed the door behind them. He began to read, and she puffed her cigar to life with the lighter. Taking a deep pull, she blew her smoke directly into his face. The smoke stung his eyes, and he coughed. "What are you doing…" he trailed off.

"Never mind that, just keep reading."

He continued to read, and she continued to assail him with smoke.

"You can stop reading now." He stopped. "Drop your pants, and then your underwear."

He complied.

"I was going to let you go, but then you had to go and piss me off. For that, you will never get laid again, without paying for it. Sit down over there, and wait for me."

She blew another cloud of smoke into his face, left the cigar in an ashtray, and then retreated into the bedroom. She returned to the waiter's dazed, seated form with a bronzed tube of lipstick. "Think of your greatest sexual fantasy… imagine it being fulfilled right now…"

His shriveled penis twitched, and swelled with whatever he was thinking of. Soon, he was fully erect.

"Hold that thought, but do NOT come. If you do, you will not live to regret it." She twisted up the lipstick to reveal a dark red shade. Sarah applied a thick coat to her lips, took him inside of her mouth, and planted a kiss at the base of his penis. It seemed as if the penis was coming out of the print itself. Re-applying and kissing in a similar fashion, she then left a series of bold, red rings all the way up the shaft, and one on the head. Smiling to herself, she told the waiter to relax, and put his pants on.

"These prints will NEVER come off without my remover, which you will never see again." She retrieved her cigar, and blew more smoke into his face. "You will leave. After you close the door behind you, you will forget all of what happened here. I told you I didn't want anything, and you continued on to the next room. When a woman points out the marks on your penis, you will remember, and you will be able to tell her about it. When that woman inevitably rejects your story and leaves you, you will promptly forget again. Do you understand?" He nodded. "Then leave now." He did. Upon closing the door, the only memory he maintained about her was that she had a cigar… but that was only because he now reeked of her smoke.

She extinguishing her cigar in the ashtray, she returned to Owen's unconscious form in the bedroom. "Now… where was I?"

Part III – Bearing Her Fangs

Owen was still passed out on the bed, exactly where Sarah had left him. It wasn't that Owen couldn't hold his liquor, of course, but rather that he had very little say in the matter. Sarah was in complete control, a state she was familiar with, and reveled in. Checking his pulse near his carotid artery at the base of his neck, Sarah judged she would need just a little more time than the pink lipstick and perfume had given her. She grabbed the black perfume bottle, and sprayed his face twice. There, much better.

The shape of his face and his slender build lent itself well to what she was about to do. Poor boy… Nothing like a semi-permanent makeover to ruin one's evening. She selected a foundation colour that was deliberately lighter than his skin tone. There would be no mistaking this for natural skin. Squeezing the thick liquid onto a small sponge, she quickly applied a flawless, seamless layer of foundation over his face and neck. While he was in the deepest state of the sleep, she applied several coats of jet-black eyeliner to the edge of both lids on each eye. That being done, she proceeded to run the spectrum of eye shadows from purple to blue from the lids to the brows with the aid of several small brushes. A pair of false eyelashes, black mascara, and a small amount of sealant gave him lashes that a drag queen would find "over-the top". For rouge… the traditional loose pink powder was applied in ever increasing circles. A sealant was applied with a small perfume bottle. For the lips… outlined in black, and filled in with the dark red shade from the bronze tube.

A perfectly feminized specimen… but there's no need to mistake the man for a cross-dresser. Applying the lipstick from the bronze tube to her own lips, Sarah placed a thick print in the middle of Owen's forehead. Then, upon re-applying, she started leaving similar prints all over his arms, legs, and chest. After the incident with the waiter, Sarah felt in a particularly wicked mood. So, she opted to vent her frustrations by painting the aureoles of Owen's nipples dark red,
along with the head of his penis. Ironically, Sarah decided to decorate Owen's scrotum with more of the blue shadow. There… perfect.

It was time to bring Owen back to the real world. She selected a white perfume bottle and sprayed Owen in the face several times. His made-over eyes fluttered open in confusion.

"Oh… my head. What on earth… What the fuck is going on? Sarah? What is all this?"

"Well, Owen… You're a nice guy, but remember that all nice guys finish last."

"My eyes feel heavier… What have you done to my face? And what are all those kisses on me for?" Sarah showed Owen his face in a small hand mirror. "What have you done to me? I look worse than Mimi on the Drew Carey Show!!!"

"Listen up, stud, cause I'm only gonna say this once. I'm a thief, and you are my mark tonight. The smoke I blew at you while I was pretending to be drunk was laced with a chemical rendering you open to suggestions. Then, the pink lipstick I kissed you with put you down for the count because it contained Rohypnol, the date-rape drug. The makeup and the lipstick kisses are based on the polymers in glues, and will only be removed with my help. Finally, we have this."

Sarah produced a silver tube of lipstick from her purse. She twisted it up to reveal a glossy black shade. "This is my Black Widow lipstick. When applied, it releases a slow-acting poison that will kill in about a week's time if left untreated."

"Are you kidding me? You can't possibly be serious."

"Well, how about a demonstration of my chemical mastery, then? First, the knockout pink." She pulled out the gold tube of pink lipstick, and firmly applied it to his lips with firm strokes. Owen fell unconscious within minutes. Sarah revived him with the white perfume bottle. "One for me, none for you. As for the permanent makeup…" With a white cloth she removed the excess pink from his mouth with one swipe. Vigorous rubbing at his cheeks, and a print on his right arm yielded a white
patch of cloth, with no makeup removed. "Now, check out my hypnotic smoke! The cigarettes were designed to make you go along with something you wanted anyways. These cigars are designed to force you to do things I want you to do. Watch."

She selected a cigar from the box, and straddled Owen's secured form on the bed. With Owen's lighter, she puffed it to life, drew a deep pull, and exhaled directly into his face. While he was coughing, she let loose with another drag, and then another. "Now… the next time I blow this smoke into your face, you will become fully erect, like you were in the middle of your greatest fantasy. Once erect, you will come when I blow another drag in your mouth. Nod if you understand."

Owen nodded, and seemed quite shocked when he did. Taking her time, Sarah took three deep pulls on the cigar, and blew a massive cloud right into Owen's eyes, nose, and mouth. Owen's body shook with a fit of coughing, but sure enough, his red-tipped penis came to full erection, seemingly aching for release. The painted testicles almost looked an appropriate shade… Approaching from the side, Sarah took in two more drags, sealed her mouth over his, and forcibly exhaled all her smoke into Owen's mouth. With a violent coughing fit, he came in an extraordinary fountain of white, ropey semen.

"Now do you believe me? You'd better. I'm going to take everything in your wallet: cash, ID, debit, and credit cards. I'm going to go on a weeklong shopping spree. If you don't tell me everything I need to know, the police will find you with a coat of shiny black lipstick, spread-eagled on this bed with full makeup and prints. If you agree to help me, you'll wake up free of your bonds, with a coat of shiny black lipstick, and a bottle of makeup remover."

"So even if I help you, I'm gonna die?"

"Not unless something happens to me. The Black Widow lipstick is my insurance. If you tell anyone about what I'm doing, and I have to run, you won't get the antidote in time to save your life. The humiliating shit on you is just to keep you in this room until I verify that your info is correct. Your clothes are going with me. And you will be knocked out, as well. I take no chances. So, tell me what I want to hear. If you're lying, it will be the last lie you ever utter."

Owen sighed, and told her the correct information.

"We'll see soon enough. Lights out!" Forcibly applying the pink lipstick caused Owen to pass out again. Sarah took his clothes, and put then in a small shopping bag. She left the room, hanging the DND sign behind her.

Sarah returned after about 30 minutes to find Owen beginning to come out of his trance. She helped him along with the white perfume bottle.

"Well, good news stud! You were telling the truth. As funny as this sounds, it's been fun. So, as a reward for entertaining me, this last thing will be fun for you."

First, she removed the permanent lipstick with her remover and the white cloth. Then, she applied three coats of the pink lipstick to her own lips. Mounting Owen's prone body, she forced her lips onto his in a violent, yet somehow tender kiss. She broke off the kisses when she felt a lack of reciprocation. Smiling to herself, she wiped away the excess knockout lipstick from Owen's mouth. She then applied a thick, glossy coat of the Black Widow lipstick from the silver tube. She released him from the bondage cuffs, and left a bottle of remover on the night table. Blowing him a kiss from a smeared pink, full-lipped mouth, she left him there, a strange gothic beauty in a sea of red prints.