Monday, August 30, 2004

68. Dick

Holy shit--I just spent the last three days and nights in various forms of long-term restraint, unable to sleep or eat most of the time, often unable to move... and I am more turned on than I've ever been in my entire life. I'm sure that wasn't the point of the weekend's training exercises, but I suddenly understand why Batman has spent so much of his existence seeking out such extreme situations. Coming so close to complete annihilation and then breaking free is the most amazing sensation I've ever experienced. Granted, these were controlled conditions set up by Batman and I was never in any real danger, but my mind started playing some wild tricks on me all the same.

At the end of the final session, when I could barely move, he insisted we wrestle--because, he says, the most active hand-to-hand combat usually comes at such moments, when you've just escaped a deathtrap and the only thing on your mind is taking a long crap and getting a good night's sleep but the villain is still at large. He lunged at me, knocking me to the floor. It felt so good to just lie there that all I wanted to do was pass out, but he kept screaming, "NO! NO! DON'T GIVE UP! TAKE ME DOWN! NEVER LET YOUR ENEMY GET THE UPPER HAND!" His taunts were so infuriating that finally I mustered all my remaining strength and hit him as hard as I could. When I saw what I'd done and watched his face hit the ground with a thud, I freaked out and knelt beside him, pleading. "Bruce, Bruce, I'm so sorry..."

I turned him over and saw that his eyes were wide open. There was even a smile--that rarest of expressions in the bat-repertoire--on his lips. "The name is Batman," he scolded.

There's a good chance I hallucinated this next part, but I could swear he grabbed me and pulled my masked face close to his--so close that our lips were touching and our bodies were pressed into each other's--and whispered, "You're almost ready." My mouth was dry and my joints ached as we headed to the showers. It was all I could do to keep myself from jerking off as I watched him peel off his sweat-soaked suit and then stand under the jet of hot water. lathering his taut muscles. When he was done, I removed my own uniform--as slowly as possible in an attempt to hold on to the memory of what I'd been through for the last three days--and luxuriated in the stream of water.

Bruce has given me the day off, but we're back at it tonight. That's right--this has quickly grown into a 24/7 job. No more division of night and day, at least not for a long while. And it hardly matters, since I have no other job to go to anymore.

I'm in my own apartment again, and as soon as I finish typing here I plan to give Little Robin the attention he desperately needs, and then drift off to sleep until Alfred wakes me up for the evening's workout.

I can hardly wait to get at it again.