Cat and the Collar, The

Oh, the thought of how she had coupled with the goat-man set my blood racing, let me tell you. How exciting it had been to watch that huge cock enter my Lyra, to watch her orgasm build as his did, to watch them come in unison. I don't remember the out-of- body experience, have trouble believing it actually happened, but Lyra told me the same story the three girls had, so it must be true. Lyra fucked me with a fervor that told me she was proud of me for doing what I had done, even though she must have known it had been entirely out of my control.

Ahhh, what a night that was, and what a morning after. My Lyra and I emerged from the tent and found that all the others had departed. All that remained of the night's ceremony was the ring of stones that had held the fire, and some smoldering ash. We were sore, we were exhausted, but we happily broke camp and packed up, and went back to the waiting world.

I've told you all of this in such detail because I'm talking about a very happy time of my life, being with Lyra, and learning about her and her world. As my story goes on, and the times get darker, there may not be as much detail, for there is much I cannot speak about. My glass is empty. Thank you.

But Lyra and I were married soon after, a civil ceremony that included a hand-fasting and vows that she and I had written together. Our life was pleasant, and exciting, and our days were filled with hard work. Our nights were full as well, full of tender love- making, and blistering fuck-sessions as well. I could not get enough of her, and seemingly it was the same for her. We were happy.

Two more Samhains went by, and while I did not have any more out-of-body experiences, I was still called "Traveler" by those who knew me from the first one I'd attended. I did not join the coven, but was always made welcome and felt as though I was among friends. My Lyra still had the capacity to excite me during the dance, and then during the subsequent copulation with the goat-man. I did not see it as infidelity on her part - she looked upon it as a necessary step in the ceremony, and so did I. A man would have to be puritan indeed not to recognize that - that, and the fact that Lyra always came home with me.

Jessyka was there every year as well, and the first time I saw her in the daylight I was fairly shocked. Her skin was pale as milk, her hair a short, glossy black, but her eyes - her eyes were a pale, yellowish-green, almost feline in nature. When she saw me that year, and recognized me, she smiled in a knowing way, and I saw that her teeth were small and white, and slightly pointed. Still, she was beautiful in her way, and I couldn't help feeling some stirrings in my crotch at the memory of those lips on my cock, and those ten exquisite strokes.

That year, Lyra herself noticed my attraction to Jessyka, and asked if I wanted to bed her. I wasn't sure if she knew about what had already happened between us, so I stammered a bit and finally told her no.

- Don't lie to me, dear heart. If you want to bed her, I won't mind.

- What? I spluttered. Don't be ridiculous.

- Jessyka is my spirit sister, my friend. Joining with her will make her happy, and you, too, I think. We have already spoken of it, settled it. Jessyka will wait for you in her tent two hours before the fire dance.

What could I do after that? Could I refuse my Lyra? Refuse, reject Jessyka? Suffice it to say that we met in her tent and I only finished making her happy a few minutes before the fire dance was to start. The sex was much as I described before, despite the possible damper of having one's wife give permission to do it. In fact, it wasn't a damper at all for either one of us. As I emerged from Jessyka's tent, I hoped only that I would have enough stamina for Lyra's desire following the dance.

But it was not to be. Early in the dance that night, as Lyra did her ritualistic gyrations with the blade Sting, her foot hit a tree root and she fell on the knife. In the ensuing pandemonium I ran to her, calling her name over and over. I lifted her head, smoothed her long hair, moved the strands away from her face and eyes. The eyes found mine and locked, and a small sweet smile formed at her lips. The smile showed such relief, as if she'd known that if I hadn't been there she would have died alone.

And then she was gone.

That was exactly one year ago, one Halloween ago, one Samhain ago. Lyra's death was ruled an accident. Her body was cremated and according to her wishes, her ashes were mingled with those of the ceremonial fire. Tonight at the Samhain ceremony there will be a special tribute to my Lyra, special words chanted around the fire that bears her ashes, but I won't be there.

My glass is empty. Thank you.

I won't bore you with the details of the past twelve months, because, up to three weeks ago, there were no details. I existed, that's all. Fog, clouds, rain, grayness, all were my companions. Winter, summer, spring and fall were all winter to me.

And then, three weeks ago, the cat appeared.

I arrived home as usual, to the house we had shared, my Lyra and I, and saw the cat on my doorstep. Naturally, I considered it a stray that had crawled onto the porch to get out of the rain that had been falling all day, the rain that was only just starting to slacken off. I figured it would run off when it saw me approaching, but it stayed put and actually gave a little mew of greeting, or so it seemed.

- Hello, puss-puss, I said in an inanely friendly tone. Are you lost, hm? Trying to get dry, are you?

I unlocked the door and opened it, and started to warn the cat that it had to stay outside, but it darted between my legs and was inside before I could even get the words out. A groan of irritation escaped my lips as I followed it in, because I knew I would now have to find the cat and chase it out from under my bed, and out of the house.

But I was wrong. The cat was sitting in the middle of the living room, calmly washing itself, licking a paw as calmly as if it had every right to be there.

Despite my initial irritation, I found myself chuckling a little.

- OK, kitty, you can stay for a little while, but tomorrow morning, out you go.

The cat raised its head at the sound of my voice, looked at me for a long second with its pale, yellow-green eyes, then resumed its bath as calmly as before. The absurdity of the situation made me laugh again. I shook my head slowly from side to side as I walked to the kitchen for a beer from the fridge. The cat walked in at the sound of the door opening, rubbed itself against me, circling my legs as I examined the contents of the ice box.

- Well, puss, we've got a little bit of milk, I think, do you want that? Hm?

I pulled a shallow plastic storage container from the cupboard and poured about half-an- inch of milk into it, then placed it on the floor by the sink. The cat followed and sniffed it, looked at me again, then began lapping at it with undivided attention. The kitchen light was brighter than the living room's had been, and I was able to take a better look at this animal who was so suddenly comfortable in my house.

It was a short-haired cat, almost completely black. It would probably make my story better if I lied, wouldn't it, and said that the cat was as black as pitch from nose to tail? But it wasn't, there were some white markings at the throat and it had two or three white toes on one paw. And the strangest thing, I guess, was that it wore a rather ornate collar - what looked like pink leather, with white and red rhinestones running around the center of it. This was no stray, certainly. This was merely a cat that had somehow gotten out of its plush surroundings and got caught in the rain. I should be able to put it out in the morning and it will go straight home.

A sudden, deep-boned yawn overtook me and shattered my thoughts on my feline guest. I turned out the light on the cat, still lapping up the milk, and left the kitchen for my bedroom. I was more tired than I'd thought, so I stripped to my shorts and got immediately into bed. I felt myself dropping quickly down to sleep, but not before I felt the cat jump up and nestle itself on the bed between my covered feet.

- OK, I muttered, too tired to care, OK, nize poosy-poose-poose. And I was out.

While in the midst of a deep slumber, I had a dream that Jessyka came to me in my bed. I'm jumping ahead a bit here, sorry. The dream started with a woman getting into bed with me, but I couldn't see her face at first. She got completely under the covers and fished my limp dick out of my boxers with a cool hand. She easily fit its entire flaccid length in her mouth and sucked it to full rigidity. Grasping my erection at the base with both hands, she then ran the flat of her tongue up the underside of it, with considerable force. Her tongue felt roughly textured, and the pleasure of it was intense. She applied the same forceful pressure to the head of my cock, which made it very sensitive in very little time.

With a playful laugh, the woman pulled the covers off the both of us, rising up and throwing the duvet and top sheet to the floor with an exaggerated flourish. Grabbing me by the hands, she pulled me up and shifted me to an upright kneeling position, then turned her back to me and lay down with her ass in the air. She reached between her own legs, one hand gripping my cock, the other parting the lips of her pussy. I looked down and saw her dripping, running vagina, watched her insert a finger into it easily, run it in and out, all the while tugging slightly at my cock to bring it closer to her opening.

I shifted my knees towards her and felt her heat. She was moaning already, a deep, throaty moan that told me she wanted me, all of me, in a single thrust. I pressed my palms against her hips and pulled her toward me, while at the same time guiding my turgid cock into her pussy. Now it was my turn to groan. Ohhhh, it was hot, it was slick, it was tight. The finger that she'd inserted was still in there with my cock, and she used it to pleasure both of us, rubbing her g-spot with her finger tip and the underside of my cock with the bent knuckle.

The hand that had gripped my shaft now massaged my balls, used my scrotum as a lever, pulled me out of her pussy slightly, pulled me back in. I felt her fingertips caressing the bare spot behind my sac, trying to find my sphincter, but her arms weren't long enough in that position.

Meanwhile, I continued thrusting on my own, feeling my nuts getting tighter, feeling my seed rising. The stranger in my bed thrashed her hips against me, pulled her hands away from me and dug her fingers into the sheet below us. Her moan became a series of grunts as we met in perfect synch, as her ass pushed back in time with my inward thrusts. So far, she hadn't said a single intelligible word, but as my orgasm came nearer, as the girth of my straining cock increased, as my strokes became longer and slower, she seemed to be cheering me on by repeating one word:

- Give! she chanted. Give, give, give! Give, give, give! GIVE!

The pitch and timbre of her voice increased and got higher, the tempo of her cries got faster and her head began tossing from side to side. The muscles in her back seemed knotted, and her entire body seemed coiled like a spring. I heard the fitted sheet ripping under her fingernails, and suddenly I was there, we were both there, my cock pulsing hot streams of come into her pulsating pussy, her muscles clenching and drawing more and more of my juices out, milking me dry. At the same time, her own juices splashed out, coating my thighs, my balls, the sheet. I gripped her hips and pulled her hard against me with a final thrust and held her there until the throbbing subsided.

It was only then that I realized that we were both slick with sweat, in addition to the other fluids we had mingled. My cock relaxed and slipped out of her, completely spent, and as it did so the stranger in my bed whimpered slightly. I grew dizzy suddenly and fell back against the pillows. A couple of moments later the stranger dropped her full length on top of me and rested her elbows on my chest. At last I could see who had excited me so, who had drained me so.

- Jessyka! What, how - how did you get in here?

- It's nice to see you, too, Traveler. She smiled, said: Kiss me, I have to go.

- But wait! Why - why?

- I missed you, dearest. I'll be back again, don't worry.

I woke with the alarm next morning remembering every detail as vividly as if it had actually happened, and found myself wondering...did it? But the duvet and sheets looked merely slept-in, not fucked-in, there were no rips in the fitted sheet, and no dried pussy juice on my legs, or anywhere. I did seem to have had a nocturnal emission, however, so I quickly got into the shower to wash my wet dream away.

I stepped from the shower and discovered the cat sitting on the toilet tank, watching me with what I took to be a bored expression. I reached out and scratched it behind one ear, then noticed that the collar was missing from around its neck. Has to be somewhere around the house, I thought, and mentally filed away for later the task of finding it.

Now thinking of the dream I'd had, starring Jessyka and me, I told the cat that it was a good thing it _had_ been just a dream, or it would have been scared shitless by all the noise and motion. The cat suddenly had enough of my attention, jumped down and walked slowly out of the bathroom.

Over the next two weeks, the dream in some variation or another occurred every night. Always the dream ended with me thrusting into Jessyka's wet, tight pussy from behind, and a mind-numbing orgasm. Always Jessyka would lie on my chest for a few words, then get up and leave, and always I'd wake up the next morning and the room would be as if nothing had happened. But always I'd feel spent, satiated, as if everything had been real.

Always I'd hop into the shower and come out to find the cat staring at me, always the collar would be missing from its neck. Always I'd find it somewhere in the house and buckle it again around the cat's neck. The animal seemed to accept this without protest.

Funny thing, really, how the cat had somehow come to be a permanent resident. Remember, that first night, I'd actually told it that it had to go the next morning, but I somehow never got around to doing it, to putting it out.

We seemed, the cat and I, by this time to be merely tolerating each other. It didn't much seem to like being stroked, didn't seem to crave affection. Once I discovered this, I ceased making overtures to it, stopped calling: here, kitty kitty kitty, when I set out some milk. Let it find the milk itself, I thought, and it usually did. We lived in the same house, the cat and I, and while the cat seemed to regard _me_ as the tenant sometimes, I just chalked that up to standard feline haughtiness and left it at that.

One morning, after two weeks of these dreams had gone by, I was walking by the bedroom mirror and suddenly didn't recognize the face in the glass. I stopped and took a good look at myself. Why, I was gaunt! My cheekbones were sunken in, there were dark, baggy circles under my eyes, and my hair was streaked with gray. I lifted up my t-shirt and saw a sagging paunch and could count every single rib in my chest. What was the matter with me? I was thirty, but I looked nearly seventy! I just hadn't been sleeping, I supposed at first, but then panic set in: was it cancer, or something as bad? I made a doctor's appointment that morning.

By contrast, I noticed that the cat was getting quite fat, and if possible, larger in stature. Of course I made no connection, why should I? I guessed that there were some mice or other vermin to supplement the diet I'd been providing it. Funny thing, though - it was getting more difficult to fit the collar around its neck each morning, and I eventually gave up trying. I put the collar in a drawer and forgot about it.

My doctor's appointment resulted in a battery of tests being run, for cancer, for diabetes, for allergies, for I-don't-know-what-all. The tests showed I was in perfect health, but I was still losing weight, and now my hair was falling out. Yet still the dreams came, still Jessyka appeared to me every night, still she enticed me to fill her with my seed. In my dreams I was still virile, still healthy, still easily aroused by the black-haired, green-eyed maiden. It was like "The Picture of Dorian Gray", except that _I_ was the picture, and my dream-self was the ever-youthful, never-changing Dorian. My days were miserable, but my nights were a release from misery, it seemed.

My glass is empty. Thank you. Things came to a head two mornings ago. I was walking from my office to the coffee shop on the corner, something I do every day at about 10:45. Normally I walk along with the foot traffic, keeping pace pretty well, but with the way I had been deteriorating, I was having trouble keeping up with my fellow pedestrians, and some big-shouldered guy breezed into me from behind. I fell to my hands and knees and he kept going without a backward glance. With all the people on the sidewalk, I was afraid of being trampled to death, and might have been, if a pair of friendly hands hadn't pulled me up and gotten me out of the way.

I felt a firm arm around my waist, a hand gripping my bicep to hold me up. I turned my head to thank my good Samaritan, and found myself staring into the eyes of Prudence! Pru, whom I hadn't seen since my first Samhain, since that night that she and Maeve and Jessyka had ganged up on me in the tent.

She must not have recognized me, she was just being friendly to a stranger in difficulty. Pru helped me sit down on a bus stop bench, and asked me if I was going to be OK. She looked me square in the eyes and didn't show any sign of knowing me. I told her I would be just fine and thanked her, thinking that it would be better if she didn't see me this way, didn't know me this way.

Prudence smiled, patted my shoulder, and turned on her heel, and we heard someone speaking her name. When she looked at me again, I realized that it had been me calling her back. Then, suddenly came the recognition in her eyes. Recognition, yes, and disbelief.

- Ohhhh, my gods. Traveler -??

- Nice to see you, too, Pru.

She came back and sat next to me, wrapped her arms around my neck and sobbed with sympathy. Prudence was a smart cookie, I have to give her credit for recognizing that what was happening just might not be exactly medical in nature. It would never have occurred to me.

She helped me work through the foot traffic to the coffee shop, got us both cups of the stuff, and waited to speak until I'd taken a few sips to bolster myself.

- Who's doing this to you, Traveler?

- What? Who's do - nobody's _doing_ anything, Pru, it's some kind of freak disease. The doctors say, the tests all say I'm in perfect health - or at least, that they can't find anything wrong with me.

Pru nodded without saying anything. We sipped our coffee in silence, but I could tell she was working up to her next question.

- Traveler, did Lyra ever tell you about the Succubus?

- The what?

- The...never mind. What have you been dreaming about lately?

This last question threw me a bit. Why should she want to know about my dreams? I wanted to blurt it all out at once, but something forced me to hold back. Regardless of my current physical condition, in my dreams I was still strong, still a sexual animal. To share that with Pru might break the spell, might cause the dreams to stop. I didn't want that...did I?

Prudence saw the reluctance on my face, gave me a little smile, and reached across the table to grip my hand. The sight of her small, young hand on my old-man's claw, the warmth from her palm and the softness of her skin was more than I could bear. Tears began to flow from my eyes and I sobbed quietly under her tender, patient gaze.