PsiCATs Ch. 01: Cale

I hardened my voice. "Watch me."

"No!" she said, and she hit me with every ounce of mental strength she had.

I looked at her casually, feeling the pressure, but otherwise unaffected. "Are you finished?" I asked politely. Without waiting for an answer, I reached out and grabbed her hair.

"Owwwwww...!" she said.

"Get on your knees," I said.

She resisted for a moment, but she never had a chance. Her legs buckled and the domme found herself kneeling.

I pulled her head back so that she was staring straight up. Then I released my grip. I took the collar and wrapped it around her throat. I secured the buckle, then hooked the padlock in place. She shuddered when she felt the padlock lock.

I pulled the key from the padlock and stuck it in my waistband. "Now, Brandy, tell me what you are."

"What...what do you mean...?" she asked.

"You're kneeling naked in front of me and everybody here. You can't be a Mistress if you're doing that. You must be some kind of subbie slut."

"I'm not!" she said. "I'm not! I'm-"

"Lick me, Brandy," I said, stepping closer.

Her eyes widened. "I...I can't...!" she said.

"Of course you can," I said. "It just takes a little effort."

"I mean...I don't know how."

"Don't try to be...oh, wait, you've never actually done this to someone else before, have you?" I said, suddenly understanding.

"No, I haven't," she said, cheeks burning. "I've always been the one in charge."

"Perfect!" I said. "That's even better. Start licking."

"But...!" she said, and I stiffened. She'd been a domme long enough to know the warning signs, and her shoulders dropped. Without another word, she took a deep breath and leaned forward.

Brandy pulled my shorts and panties as far down my hips as she dared without exposing me to the crowd. She hooked her chin in my panties, pressed her mouth to my sex and slid her tongue across my clit.

I shuddered in heated pleasure. Getting the proud domme on her knees and licking a girl for the first time was arousing me. She was fumbling with her tongue a bit, but the effort was there, and soon Brandy was making instinctive adjustments.

My wrist was setting on top of her hair and my hand was holding the back of her head. "Almost there, cutie," I said softly, breathing heavily.

She paused for a moment. "You're not really going to-"

"Yes, I am," I said, pulling her face back into my pussy. There was a muffled squeal as Brandy tried to protest, but it was too late. My head went back and my breath hissed through my teeth as I had an awesomely explosive orgasm, my pussy pressed into Brandy's face the entire time.

The crowd knew what was happening, and they cheered at the treat of watching a hot domme get collared and used for likely the first time in her life. I could almost feel the heat from Brandy's flush of embarrassment.

"All right!" she said. "I did it! Can I go now?"

I tugged my panties and shorts back into place with a self-satisfied smirk. "Sure," I said. "Go ahead. Come back anytime you want. You have potential as a pussy-licker."

Brandy got to her feet slowly. She turned for her clothing.

"Nuh uh," I said. "Those are mine now."

"What?!?" she said. "But...those boots alone cost-"

"To the victor, sweetie," I said. "I won, despite your efforts to use other resources. We can argue about it more if you like, but I should warn you that I've already used you to get off, so the next step is passing your naked ass around the crowd."

Brandy obviously wanted to argue more, but the sudden breathlessness in the audience convinced her to drop it.

"Fine," she said. "At least unlock this collar. You're holding the only key."

I gave her a hard look. "See me in a week. We'll talk about it then."

"A week?!?" she said. "I can't take this thing off!"

"I know," I said. "It's adorable on you."

"But...!"

"That's it," I said, and I took a step toward her.

Her eyes widened. A heartbeat later, a naked and collared Mistress Brandy ran through the beer-soaked crowd and out the door.

*****

I made my way back to the bar. Pete gave me a nod.

"Not bad, Cale," he said, pushing a bottle of water at me. "Too bad she lost her nerve like that. Might have been a better fight if'n she stuck 'round."

"Yeah," I said. "That's how these things go."

Lawrence finished checking the fight cage floor. Satisfied, he closed the cage and walked to the bar.

He gave me an embarrassed look. "Not sure what happened in there," he said, "but thanks for beating her ass."

"Not your fault," I said. "Don't worry about it."

"I, ah, don't understand," said Lawrence.

"And you won't," I said. "Now drop it."

Lawrence was smarter than most people realized. I didn't get many opponents wired hot like Brandy, but I'd had enough that I was pretty sure Lawrence had some idea of what I was capable of. We had a good arrangement, though- I fought cage matches in his bar and we both made money from it- so he kept his mouth shut about it. Tonight was the first time one of my opponents had involved him, however, and he was shaken.

Lawrence rubbed the side of his jaw. "Look, Cale, I don't want to-"

"Then don't, Lawrence," I said, "and I'll tell you one last time...drop it."

"I'm not trying to upset you, Cale," he said, "but I think I have a right to know-"

In less than a heartbeat, I was off the stool, my face an inch from Lawrence's. "You're not upsetting me," I said, my voice quiet. "You're pissing me off. People get hurt when that happens."

Conversation in the bar died. Brawls here were common, but they rarely involved Lawrence and never involved me. My eyes were locked with Lawrence's, but I sensed Pete's hulking presence moving closer. The two bouncers were moving in as well. Pete liked me, but there was no doubt his loyalty lay with Lawrence. I hardly knew the bouncers, so there was no chance they were approaching for my benefit. I doubted I had recharged enough to pop another mental flash bulb, so there was no help there, either. I could take any of these guys one-to-one any day of the week, but taking them all on right after two fights and exhausting my flash pop was pushing it.

"Pardon the interruption," said a gravelly voice, "but I wonder if I could have a word with the lady for a few minutes."

The stranger again. Eyepatch and all.

Lawrence scowled at the man. Then, incredibly, he nodded once and stepped back. He gave me a dark look, then turned toward the bar.

I looked at the stranger. "You've got balls, soldier-boy, but you're stupid."

He smiled enigmatically. "I have a way with people."

"That's nice," I said. "You've got nothing to say to me, however."

"You haven't heard me out yet," he said.

"I know," I said. "and I prefer it that way. I've got nothing to say to the military."

"I never said I was military," he said. "You said that."

"Quit the games," I said. "I know military when I see it. You're-"

I stopped and looked at him more carefully. Then I rolled my eyes.

"Shit," I said. "You're a spook."

The stranger stared at me, his one eye grey and unreadable.

"Forget it," I said. "I have even less to say to a spook than I do to the military." I turned to leave.

"Hear me out first."

"Goodbye."

"I know who you are, Cale."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do, Beatrice," he said,

Shit. He had lied. He was military. Things were about to get ugly.

"You know," he said, "all I'm asking for is a hearing. Since the only thing you seem to respect is fighting and winning and losing, why don't we have a little match of our own?"

I didn't relax. "A match?"

"Yes," he said. "A match." That grey eye glittered with challenge. "Of course, if I win, you agree to hear what I have to say."

This had suddenly gotten interesting. "If you win. And if I win?"

A ghost of a smile passed over his face. "Then I walk out of here and forget I ever saw you."

My mind whirled. Taking him would be easy enough. He was in good shape for forty or whatever he was, and he was possibly some kind of special forces veteran, but I was one of the nastiest things on two feet around. Even if he was more than I could handle, it felt like I had enough for a minimal mental flash-pop.

Also, giving Lawrence a third fight for free might ease the tension between us a bit. But was this stranger telling the truth?

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" I asked.

"You don't," he said in that grizzled rasp, "but if I was looking to do anything other than talk to you, I would have shown up with a platoon of military police."

"It would take more than a platoon to take me down," I said.

The stranger looked amused. "I know," he said. "That's why I would have been here, too."

Arrogant bastard. I was going to enjoy this.

"Fine," I said. "You're on. Remember, after I get done beating you down, you get to stepping out that door."

"Of course," he said.

*****

Lawrence was still mad, but the prospect of another fight took off a bit of his edge. He got busy arranging odds and collecting wagers.

A few minutes later, we were both ready. Lawrence was staying outside the cage for this one. There would be no referee presence for this match. There normally weren't any rules anyway, but now if eyepatch pissed me off, he wasn't going to have any protection, and I was fine with that.

The stranger pulled his shirt out from his waistband and removed his socks and shoes, but, aside from some light stretching, made no other prep efforts.

Showing confidence is good. It's especially important in moments like this when you're trying to gain a psychological advantage over your opponent. But he was overdoing it.

I made a show of stretching as I checked him again for hot wiring. As near as I could tell, he was running normal. Which meant he knew a couple fancy moves and he thought that would be enough to take me down. He had seen me fight twice tonight, so he thought he knew what I was about.

He was in for a surprise. He hadn't seen anything yet.

"You ready, old man?" I said.

"Let's do it," he said.

I nodded to Lawrence, and someone hit the bell with the hammer. It was time for me to work off some military resentment.

We stepped up to each other, wary. I shuffled toward his left side, where his lack of vision would give me an advantage. He circled, keeping me in front of him.

He was giving me first strike, so I took it. I snapped a kick at his left side, which he blocked. I swiveled and snapped a kick at his right side. I swiveled again, snapping a kick at his left side again, then dropped and whirled into a reverse foot sweep.

It was flawless execution, but soldier-boy managed to leap over my sweeping foot. I was still in a lowered position, and the stranger shifted slightly and suddenly drove the blade of his foot at my jaw.

I exploded straight up. The kick still caught me in the mid-section- I stumbled back a step- but it wasn't nearly as damaging as it could have been.

Not bad so far. He knew strike and counter-strike, and he was dangerously fast. Now I was going to take him to school.

I took two small steps and leaped, driving my bladed foot at him. He forearm-blocked my leg as I passed him. I landed on my bare feet, then spun around with a reverse-punch that he blocked with his opposite arm. Then I spun again with a reverse roundhouse kick that was fluid, but he somehow ducked under my whirling leg, spinning into a whirling reverse kick of his own and catching me in my mid-section.

I stumbled back into the chain-link fencing. I jumped to the side and his flying side-kick just missed, crashing into the fence instead. I drove my knuckles into his exposed ribs. He recoiled, then spun, his elbow just missing my jaw. I drove stiffened fingers at his throat, but they slid inadvertently between the buttons of his shirt.

Make every move count. Sliding into his shirt was unintentional, but, since I was there, I grabbed a handful of chest hair and yanked as hard as I could.

The crowd gasped as buttons popped. He took a step back. I held up my hand and gave him a smirk. Then I dropped the fistful of chest hair.

"That had to hurt, cookie," I said. "You still want to dance?"

The stranger pulled his shirt completely open and slid it off his shoulders, tossing it into a corner. His torso suggested he knew his way around a gym. Several long ugly scars stretched across his pecs and ribs. The bare spot where I had snatched his chest hair was red.

"Sure," he said. "I think this is my song."

"You're in pretty good shape for an office boy, Lieutenant," I said.

"Major, actually," he said.

"I knew you were military," I said, shuffling forward.

"I'm not," he said, stepping up to meet me. "At least, not in the sense you think."

He shifted and suddenly his hand was chopping at my neck. My hand flashed to his wrist, catching it in mid-motion. I swiveled and drove my bladed foot at his knee. He twisted, broke my hold and whirled his foot up from the opposite side, catching me cleanly on the cheek. The blow was stunning, but I used the momentum to spin into a reverse back-kick to his stomach.

He grunted, but appeared unfazed. "Oh, yes," he said. "You're going to do just fine."

"I'd say I'm doing better than fine," I said, blocking a forearm and ducking under the follow-up wheel-kick.

Then I brought the thunder.

There was a stunned gasp from the audience as my limbs flickered blows faster than the eye could follow. I struck from various positions and used multiple martial styles. My hands and feet were scything blades, my elbows and knees bludgeoning hammers. The locals were viewing moves rarely seen outside back-alley gyms in the far East, taught by banished Masters. Sharp smacks and meaty thuds filled the otherwise silent bar, and the incredulous crowd realized they were seeing a rare display of power and prowess.

And yet, somehow, his limbs matched my every slashing, explosive movement. Rock-solid forearms blocked my blazing hammer-blows. Serpentine motion evaded my slashing tiger claws. Every attack I used, a matching counter was employed, and I felt the first twinges of nervousness. He had no weaknesses.

Then he went on the offensive.

Fingers raked my face. Bent knuckles bruised my skin. I was struck from impossible angles. He was everywhere. I blocked, recoiled, shuddered and kicked out. Shadows flickered blows at me. I struck out, but it was like trying to hit a ghost.

It wasn't a complete beating. I connected at times, but it was too little, and it was too late, and I knew I couldn't take much more. The stranger was going to win.

Except, of course, the stranger didn't know about my mental flash-pop ability, and I had stalled long enough to rebuild a pretty good charge.

I paused for a moment, prepping the charge. This one was going to be a monster. I needed physical contact to trigger the pulse, however, so I assumed a defensive stance again. I held my hands a shade too high, inviting a blow to my mid-section.

The stranger complied. He stepped up, feinting a jab towards my face. Then he drove a fist into my belly.

I released my breath as his knuckles struck my abdominals. My hands flashed together and grabbed his wrist. I could see the landscape of his mind in mine, defenseless. He was mine.

"Bad news, cookie," I said, hands locked on his wrists. "You fought good. But I win."

Then I pushed my pulse into his mind.

And my whole world turned upside-down.

The moment I sent the pulse into the Major's brain, my body stiffened and my muscles locked up horribly. My vision blurred and I had no idea which way was actually up...my sense of balance was gone. I shook uncontrollably, unable to direct my body, and I collapsed to the floor, still shaking. I had a brief flash that perhaps I was having a seizure, but I was too stunned to follow that thought.

The Major stood over me, chuckling. "I was starting to think you were never going to use it," he said. "How's it feel to get hit with your own personal weapon?"

I lay on the ground, still twitching. I wanted to talk, but I was drooling. I was pretty sure I had wet myself as well.

"You really tried to zap me good, didn't you?" he said. "Anyway, I win, but you're too out of it to talk, so I'll continue your education until then."

I was trying to move, but my movements were jerky and completely uncontrolled. He leaned over, brushed my hands aside and casually stripped off my top.

I don't normally wear a bra...no real need. I wear a sports bra when I fight, though, to prevent inadvertently exposing my nipples. The stranger pulled my sports bra up and off my body, however, and I was now completely topless in front of the suddenly cheering crowd.

I was furious, but I didn't have enough muscle control back to resist him yet. He slid my shorts and panties off without difficulty, and now I was completely naked and on display for the crowd, much like Brandy had been. And the crowd was cheering just as loud.

"You know what's next," said the Major. He leaned down and slid his hands under my armpits. He then moved me into a kneeling position. I settled onto my knees and realized I was getting some control back. Not complete control, but enough to maintain balance.

"All right," he said, "Now for the spoils."

I suddenly had the feeling of someone probing my mind. This had happened on rare occasions before- this is Chrystal Heights, after all- but nothing ever came of the attempts. I had an immunity to other's psychic/psionic abilities. But this stranger was probing my mind from the inside. He was inside my head.

The Major appeared to be working harder now than he had during the fight. "There we go," he said, his movements tight with strain. Then he stepped directly in front of me and drew down his zipper.

"To the victor, Cale," he said.

I had limited movement finally, and I shook my head. "I'm a lesbian," I managed. "I don't suck cock."

"I know you are, Cale," said the Major, "but this time, you are going to suck cock. Mine."

I opened my mouth to argue, but instead found myself reaching inside the stranger's zipper and drawing out his thick member. My eyes widened as I suddenly found myself face-to-face with a cock for the first time in many years.

My heart pounded and I felt breathless. How the hell was he doing this?! I was immune to mind-control, dammit!

The Major's thick, heavy member was two inches from my mouth. My mind whirled with the impossibility of what was happening, but my lips ignored my mind and wrapped around that thick shaft. Incredibly, his cock hardening in my mouth, my lips slid slowly along that thickness until they were wrapped around the base of the stranger's rod. I slid my head back and paused, his cockhead between my lips. Then my wet mouth began stroking up and down the stranger's shaft without pause.

I was stunned at the impossibleness of the situation. I was sucking the cock of a stranger I had met an hour earlier. I was giving a blowjob!

"Well, Cale," said the stranger, "I have to say you're doing quite well. You have a suction-cup mouth."

"Mmpphhhh! Mmmpphhhh!" I said, furious. Every patron in the bar watched incredulously as my tightly-wrapped lips slid up and down the Major's rigid cock.

Then I found myself pausing for a moment, my lips wrapped tightly around the base, my tongue working the sensitive underside. His cock was lodged deep in my throat and the heft of his weighty balls leaned against my chin. I squirmed from the pure embarrassment of my mouth being full of cock in front of an audience, and I looked up imploringly. The stranger was looking directly at me and his grey eye locked with mine.

"Do I have your attention?" he asked.

I was kneeling naked, my mouth full of his cock. I knew damn well he wasn't going to stop until my belly was full of his cum. He had beaten me physically and he had beaten me mentally. And now I couldn't even breathe. Taking a mental breath, I accepted the facts. I had lost. I closed my eyes and nodded.