Black Cat Ch. 11

Arthur charged the left gate, while Brenna casually walked up to the right gate. Brenna strategically bent and broke bars to achieve the goal. Art, however, tore into the metal bars, ripping, breaking and tossing them aside with wild abandon. "That's enough," I said when they had made a hole in the gates tall enough and wide enough for me to pass. I walked through the portal into the palatial property.

As we walked down the concrete driveway I saw that on either side of the gates groves of huge trees stood and that the driveway gently curved to the left as it went over a slight rise. On the other side of that rise the driveway split; the left side of the fork led to a massive two floor mansion. The other road ended in a large white metal barn-like structure. I pointed to the building and said, "That must be the car stable. Let's go see what the guy collects." As we approached the building Arthur ran ahead and opened one of the tall double sliding doors on the narrow side. He paused, stood up straighter than usual, flexed his wide back and said over his shoulder, "You guys gotta check this out." He stepped inside the building, disappearing behind the barn wall. I heard a loud click followed by the fluorescent lights blinking to life. When I pushed the other door open midday sunlight spilled onto the greatest assembly of muscle cars I've ever seen.

I walked into the barn and saw fifteen cars lined either side of the concrete floor creating a wide aisle down the middle of the building. A black Dodge Hellcat and a red Demon, a blue Ford Shelby, a white Porsche 911 Turbo S and a vibrant green Lamborghini Aventador SVJ Roadster were the only cars I recognized. Ron Kesselbaum picked my cars well.

Brenna stepped up beside me and said something in her native language.

"Bre, if our middle mothers heard you say that you'd be grounded for a hundred years." Arthur said as he resumed his place at my left side.

"Pfffft, as if they haven't said worse."

"Middle mothers?" I asked with a puzzled expression.

"I'll tell you later," Brenna replied.

Arthur walked farther into the private showroom and exclaimed, "Is that? It IS!" He pointed to a black imposing car. "That's a 1971 Plymouth Hemi 'cuda! That's the car from Phantasm! After they finished the movie it was sold, but no one knew who bought it!" He ran up to the car and caressed the spoiler and, I swear to God, cooed. That is, he did that until he saw a car that looked like it had a permanent scowl. His eyes bugged out and he ran to the car, squeeing. "Oh my gods, OH MY GODS! The '73 Ford Falcon XB GT Coupe! That's Max Rockatansky's V8 interceptor! HOLY SHIT!"

Art's voice pitch reached new heights when he recognized another car. I tilted my head to Brenna and whispered, "Is he always like this?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "We can never take him shopping."

While Art was being a fanboy over the cars I noticed that the thirty cars in the barn were all parked at an angle, pointing to a central spot at the opposite wall. At the nexus of the cars' attention, on a six inch tall dias, was the most beautiful, muscular matte black car I've ever seen. I pointed at it and asked, "Art, what's that car?"

"Huh?" He turned to the car I was pointing at and whispered, "Oh...my...gods it can't be. Bre, toss me your phone!" A moment later her phone went flying through the air. Art caught it and dashed towards the car muttering, "They only made seven." He tapped on the phone's keyboard so fast the key clicks sounded like one long press. "I mean, there've been rumors that an eighth was made, but... Oh... holy... mother... fucking... shit. THAT is the eighth W Motors Lykan HyperSport!" He approached the car almost with awed reverence and continued, "The seven had a V6, top speed 245 mph, 60 in 2.7 seconds, 125 in 9.4. The eighth is supposed to have a V8. Who the fuck knows what this bad boy will do."

I whispered to Brenna, "I think he's getting a boner."

She whispered back, "I'm getting wet just thinking of you bending me over and fucking me on the hood."

"Oh, yeah?" I reached down and slipped my middle finger into her cunt. She gasped and trembled as I pushed in deep and withdrew a drenched hand. "I guess you are."

She moaned, "You bastard...now I need that cock breaking me into pieces."

Arthur reluctantly walked back to me and handed Brenna her phone. "Do you want me to find the keys to the Lykan, Master?"

I was about to answer when I felt aggression, anticipation, something hard against the back of my head and heard a redneck voice, "FREEZE ASSHOLE! HANDS WHERE AY KEN SEE THEM!"

I slowly raised my hands and silently mouthed, "How many?" to Arthur. As he raised his hands he wiggled three fingers on his left hand. I slightly turned my head to look at Brenna through the corner of my eye and lifted a single eyebrow as if to ask, "You ready to take out these fuckers?" She grinned and nodded as her hands went up, too.

As soon as I felt a hand on my left wrist I pivoted and twisted my wrist to grab the wannabe cop's forearm just above the wrist. I forced that arm down while the blur of my right hand grabbed the weapon in his right hand and forced it to point to the floor. With the threat the weapon implied removed I released his left hand and brought my left hand over my right arm to backhand him in the face. He involuntarily let go of the weapon so I flicked it behind me, raised my right fist and punched his head to the floor. The fool was unconscious before he hit the concrete floor.

I looked at my victim, bent down and ripped off his clothes. He had high traps and a wide back of a life-long bodybuilder. His bubbled glutes and thick legs were proof he never skipped leg day, unlike his soon-to-be former employer. I flicked him onto his back with a toe. He had a decent hairy chest, six pack abs and an under average dick. With all that power at his disposal it took me less than a second to subdue him.

He started to wake up and yelled, "YA SONABITCH! I'LL KILL YA FOWR..." I didn't let him finish his empty threat. I spat in his face and kicked his head sending him back into unconsciousness.

I turned to my left and saw Brenna, her legs slightly more than shoulder width apart, chest expanded, shoulders thrown back and elbows slightly bent. She held the front of the unconscious rent-a-cop's uniform in her left hand below her waist level. Her right fist was bloodied from breaking the nose of the junior bodybuilder.

"That was too fucking easy," she complained and let her trophy drop to the floor. She then licked the blood from her hand and shivered.

I heard a growl to my right. I turned my head in that direction and found Arthur had the last idiot in a bear hug. Just before the very red faced punk passed out Art delivered a head butt to him and let him fall to the floor. Another junior wannabe bodybuilder was on the floor. Art threw a most muscular pose so hard that if he was wearing clothes instead of a second skin they would have been shredded and roared, "Take that MOTHER FUCKER!"

Looks like the "alpha" foolishly thought he could take me on. I took a deep breath to calm my rage at being disturbed. I handed Brenna my phone and wallet, stepped on the small fry's chest on my way out the barn door and told the inhuman siblings, "Find the keys to my car. Have fun with Larry, Curly and Moe, but don't leave any lasting damage. I'll be back in about an hour."

As I walked down the concrete driveway Ego walked up beside me and said, "Do I actually trust those two not to hurt those guys?"

I turned my head and gave my psychic projection an annoyed expression. I saw that he has the same physique and clothes as me except his clothes were a neutral gray color. "You know as well as I do that wannabe cops are prideful assholes. They'll need to be softened up before I break them."

He nodded in agreement, "We just hope that there is something left for I when me get back."

I groaned and said, "Will you PLEASE use the right fucking pronouns!"

Ego looked at me and flashed an amused grin. "We have no idea what I meant by that. Anyway, do I remember the plan for Laura?"

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to it." I said as I took the driveway that led to the mansion. The lot was wide, but not very deep so it didn't take me long to walk up to the home of my victims. The mansion was two stories with a white stone exterior. The driveway ended at a three car garage while a wide concrete walkway shot off of the driveway and ended at a large glass and steel front door flanked by two large glass half cylinder walls. I saw a grand piano in one space and many potted plants in the other. The multitude of windows told me that the occupants have nothing to hide, yet they planted a private forest of trees beside the road. Yeah, nothing to hide, yet not wanting to see.

"We better make my cock something less deadly for her. Maybe as big as I was with Deb? She won't be of any use to us if she's been fucked to death."

I look at myself and growl. Ego has a point, though. I made my cock big enough to ruin any cunt I come across, by not big enough to literally tear them in half.

I put my hand on the doorknob. Ego said, "Here we go," and vanished. I closed my eyes and thought about intensifying my pheromones. I instantly smelled my musk. I took a deep breath, opened my eyes and twisted the doorknob so forcefully the internal door's mechanism shattered. I let the door swing open, entered the house and searched for my quarry. I didn't have far to look; at the end of the entryway, in the hardwood floored, barrel ceiling great room, a young, stunningly beautiful woman wearing a pink teddy jumped up from the large sofa in front of a huge fireplace.

"Who the fuck are you?!" she yelled at me. She was unsteady on her feet and clearly inebriated. The scotch nearly spilled out of the glass in her hand.

"I'm the man Debra told you about." I replied. "It's a little early to hit the booze, don't you think?" She started to run towards a security panel on a nearby wall. I reached it first and punched it into the wall. Sparks flew from the crushed plastic housing. "You won't need the three stooges. I'm not here to hurt you. Besides, they're busy in the car barn." She decided to use the tumbler in her hand to hit me in the head. I intercepted her blow, took the glass from her hand and threw it into the opposite wall where it exploded to a thousand pieces.

I needed her to calm down so I picked her up and tossed her over my shoulder. As I went to the sofa she pounded my back, kicked and screamed. I dumped her on the sofa cushions, sat beside her, pinned her wrists above her head and said as calmly as I could, "You told me you needed a good hard fuck. Do you or were you just being a bitch?"

My musk started working on her; her cheeks were flushed, her pupils became dilated and she was breathing hard. "How the fuck do I know you're really him?"

"Ahh, Laura. I usually take any hole I want. Since you doubt me you'll just get to watch. Do you have a maid?"

She became intoxicated from my musk. She panted and nodded. "Good. Call her to me."

"Chloe! I need you!" she yelled.

I let go of Laura's hands, took her neck in hand and lightly squeezed. "Good girl. Now watch."

I heard the click of high heels enter the room and a quiet, petite French voice say, "Oui, Madame? What do you need?"

I turned my head to look at the maid. She was small, maybe five foot three in her high heels. She wore the stereotypical black and white French maid short dress with thigh high white stockings. Auburn hair framed her delicate face, tiny mouth and light brown eyes. Her considerable breasts looked like they were about to burst out of the dress and showed her deep cleavage. She looked incredibly fuckable. I smile when, out of the corner of my left eye, I see a small black cat run into the room and dash under a piece of furniture.

I suspected Ron wooed these women with his physique, so as I stood, I removed my blazer, draped it over Laura's legs and flexed my pecs, delts and arms. The fabric creaked as I stretched it up to it's breaking point. Chloe's eyes grew wide and I heard a stifled moan behind me from Laura.

"Tell me, Chloe," I said as I slowly walked towards her, making sure that my muscles rolled under my tight clothes, "where are you from?"

"I am from Belleville, a suburb of Paris, Monsieur," she moved her hands behind her back, accentuating her breasts.

"Where did you meet your employer?" I am almost upon her, close enough to see she's braless and that her nipples are hardening.

"I met Monsieur Kesselbaum at a...what you call?...bodybuild meet?"

"A bodybuilding competition? How old were you at the time?" I'm now a foot and a half away from her. I see that her cheeks have become rosy as she craned her neck to look up at me.

"Oui, compétition. I was eighteen, Monsieur."

I remembered a mention of that contest in the research I did. "You look very young. You're what? Twenty years old?"

"Thank you, Monsieur. I am nineteen."

I heard Laura gasp behind me. She got it too. That French competition was three years ago, which made her seventeen when Ron met her. "What attracted you to your employer, Chloe?"

"Monsieur offered me a position as head maid in Monsieur's and Madame's home." I felt deception from her.

"Oh, I think there's much more to it than you're telling me," I cup her face in my big right hand. Her jaw dropped and her breath quickened. "You went to that contest to watch muscle didn't you?" Chloe's eyes fluttered closed as my presence and musk forced her into heat. Her lust and desire tasted like a delicate red wine.

"Oui," she moans. I slide my thumb across her pink lips. Her tiny tongue extended to taste the thumb pad.

"You got aroused from all that male power didn't you? I bet you got wet imagining fucking a big powerful man and that 'big' man was Ron, wasn't it?"

She gasped from the memory and whispered, "Oui."

"Did he fuck you?"

Her response is little more than a moan, "Oui."

Laura took a deep breath and yelled, "That goddamn bastard!"

I explosively extended my left arm and silenced Laura with a finger. "Have you ever seen an arm this big?" she opened her eyes when I let go of her cheek and flexed my right arm in front of her. The shirt sleeve was destroyed as my forearm, bicep and delt burst through the material.

Chloe's eyes bugged out of her head at the sound of ripping fabric, her chest heaving with each panting breath. Her exhalations felt like a hot summer breeze against my bicep as she slowly shook her head. I heard Laura moan, "Oh. My. Fucking. God," behind me.

I took hold of the front of my shirt with my left hand and ripped it off of me exposing my hard, vein covered torso to both women. Chloe, the French maid, the mistress, slowly sank to her knees in supplication, her arms still behind her back, head upturned, mouth opened and tongue extended out of her mouth. I pivoted a quarter turn to the right to give Laura a profile view. Chloe walked on her knees to stay in front of me. I stood up straight and tall. I looked down at her over my bolder pecs and commanded, "Take my cock out, slut. Suck me."

Chloe, without hesitation reached up, undid my pants and pulled out my rapidly hardening cock. I heard a whimper from Laura as Chloe caressed my cock with tiny hands that couldn't even take half the shaft's circumference. "Mon dieu, Monsieur. Your cock is beautiful." she moaned. With reverence she started to suck the glans. Her tiny pink tongue swirled in long slow swipes while her stacked hands traveled up and down my vein covered shaft that was longer than her forearms. When she had covered the cockhead in saliva she pressed her closed lips against the tip and pressed down. The sensation was exquisite. Like a tight hole compelled to stretch to take my girth. When her mouth fully enveloped the head she sucked and stimulated every sensitive spot with her tongue. She had been trained well to take a smaller dick. On my superior cock she struggled to take me deep. After ten minutes I had enough of the French size exquisite appetizer. I wanted her main course.

I grabbed her hair and yanked her head off me. She kept stroking my rod and begged, "Please, Monsieur. Please fuck me with your magnifique cock," She said as tears ran down her cheeks. I noticed a purple patch on her left eye where her makeup had run. She whimpered, but didn't move or complain, when I wiped away the concealer to reveal a large bruise. I heard a mental gasp and growl from Ego. The intellectual side of me was going into a rage. I remained in control, though.

"Chloe, who gave you this bruise? Who hit you?" Laura stifled a gasp.

She averted her eyes, looking everywhere except at me. With a voice hardly above a whisper she said, "Monsieur Kesselbaum. He did not like the way I pleasured him. Please do not tell him I said that."

I cupped her chin and raised her head. "Chloe. He will never touch you again," I calmly promised. Internally, I roared at Ego, 'She's MINE! Mark her so only I can touch her!'

Chloe's eyes swiveled and latched onto mine. Relief and gratitude washed over me like a warm wave. "Je vous crois," she said. If she could feel my emotions like I could hers, she would feel a blast furnace of rage with glass shards ripping her nerves apart. She unzipped her dress and let the garment fall. She put a tiny hand on my abs for support as she half-stood to remove her panties. I made sure she saw me flex my legs and destroy the pants I wore. "Take those off of me," I commanded. Chloe, returning to her submissive position, obediently lowered the waistband to my feet so I could step out of the ruined pants. I ignored the moans and wet sounds from Laura.

Suddenly, I felt power flow to my testicles. A second later I internally heard, 'Done.' Using her chin I pulled her to her feet. She placed her hands on my abs and buried her face in my pecs when I wrapped her in my arms around her and held her. Initially she was extremely tense; what the fuck did Ron do to her? She quickly relaxed, radiated trust and started rubbing her dripping wet pussy on the rock hard muscle groups in my quads.

Now that she was relaxed enough to accept my girth and I calmed down enough not to rip her apart, I reached down over her back to cup her glutes. I massaged the muscles as I raised her against me. She felt light as a feather in my arms as her breasts were drug across my abs and pecs. When her head cleared my chest she draped her arms over my shoulders and laid her head on my traps. I whispered, "I will demonstrate to Laura how hard..."

Chloe put a finger on my lips and moaned, "Monsieur, please...fuck me as hard as you can." With a stronger voice she continued, "I want to know what a real man feels like."

I raised her even higher until I could feel my cockhead slide across her pussy lips. She held my cheek in one hand while her other hand caressed my clean scalp. She gasped and bit her lip when I slid across her clit on the way to the entrance of her cunt.

Then I grunted and thrust into her like a battering ram destroying the gates of a castle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Laura pull out a breast from her teddy and start pinching the nipple. Her other hand pulled aside the crotch and began stroking her pussy.

Chloe threw her head back and cried out, "Oooooh votre bite est tellement grosse!" I gave her a moment to adjust. While I waited she lowered her head and kissed my cheek as her legs wrapped around my waist and pushed down on my cock. Taking the hint I started sawing in and out of her, going incrementally deeper each time. She was incredibly wet but very tight. Each advance my cock made into her core forced a grunt or moan or praise from her.

After a few minutes I felt her cervix and looked down to where my cock spread her pussy lips wide. To my disappointment not even a third of my cock was in her. As I held her still my eyes traveled up her sweaty torso. The outline of my cock was visible through her abs. She was breathing like she just ran a marathon. Her nipples were erect and hard enough to dent steel. And her expression. My God, her expression, was exquisite, eyes half lidded, cheeks flushed, mouth open in a silent "Oooh." Her face was the definition of wanton lust.