The Cat

"I... I can't stop thinking about you," The Cat said, somewhat honestly. "About what we had. About the fun we had." She licked her lips, making sure he was very aware of what she was talking about.

"Did... did you call me here for a booty call?" he demanded.

"Booty, mouth, or maybe I'll show you why they call me a pussycat," she said with a wink.

"What the hell, Cat?" he snapped. "There are people who need me down there."

"I need you here," the Cat said. "And surely you've earned a little reward." She was now close to him. She pressed her tits against his chest, running her hand across the logo on his suit and letting it continue down lower. "I can be your reward," she purred in his ear. Her hand found that her presentation had taken some effect. He was hard. She stroked it as she looked up into his eyes.

He put out an arm, pushing her back even as he took a step away. "Get a grip, Cat," he said. "There are people that need me down there." He was still offended, Cat knew. He had no problem steaming up a bedroom while people were in need when they were together. This was because of the booty call.

"I'm sorry for being direct," The Cat said, trying again. "I just missed you. And I wanted to show you how special you were. I wanted to... well... I wanted to be a treat for you." She dropped her gaze, doing her best to look like the wounded female. His hero complex was always a great trigger for his horniness. "I guess I overstepped. I thought you would like it."

She could practically see him softening inside and hardening outside. "It's not that, Cat. It's not that I'm not flattered. I am. And frankly, you look... well... you've never looked like more fun."

"I'm a lot more fun over here," The Cat said with a pouty smile. "Come find out."

"It's just that I'm not exactly available anymore," he said.

The Cat's heart dropped. Suddenly, she was aware that the hero complex she had been counting on now worked against her. His misguided sense of self-righteousness was one of the things she had never found a way around. It had led to them breaking up. Now, was it going to be the reason she couldn't get dicked?

The Cat's mind reeled. Who was it? Was it that blonde reporter that he sometimes was involved with? Or was it that redhead he knew since he was young? It was always so hard to keep track.

"I won't tell if you won't," The Cat said. As soon as she said the words, she knew it was a mistake. She could see his back stiffen. She had offended him and that precious righteousness again.

"I..." she started again, but he cut her off.

"Get a grip, Cat," he said. He turned, approaching the edge of the roof. "And don't call me like this again. In fact, just don't call me." He disappeared off the roof and The Cat was alone again. In fact, her best chance for dick has just left her.

"No... no... no..." she muttered. What was she going to do now?

---

The Cat plugged her vibrator into the charger, left it on the nightstand, and staggered back into the artifact room. She slumped down at the base of a priceless vase. Out the tinted window, she could see the sun rising over the city. When had she promised the ledger to Mr. Jackal? Today? Tomorrow? She couldn't remember. And what else did she have to sell? She couldn't remember that either.

She didn't even bother to undress this time. She slipped her hand into the leather, playing with her pussy.

It had been a long, fruitless night. She played with herself for a while, eventually collapsing into unsatisfied sleep beneath the artifacts she had collected.

She dreamt about a man. He was a mysterious, powerful man. He stood above her and she dropped to her knees.

"Submit to me," he commanded, "and I will give you what you need."

"Anything you want," she heard herself promise. "Everything you want. All of me. Forever." Her mind flashed with depraved, vile fantasies. A huge, throbbing cock in her throat, pussy, and ass. A powerful rod smacking her tits and ass. Elaborate costumes, collars, chains, ropes, and so much more. All of it flashed in her mind's eye in a moment and she heard her own voice begging for more.

The man reached down and in his hand he held a large key. She opened her mouth and he inserted it deep inside her.

"Good whore," the man's voice said. He turned the key and suddenly her body exploded in pleasure. It was the greatest orgasm anyone had ever had. It was powerful enough to wake The Cat from her slumber.

She cried out, as if expecting the orgasm to carry into the real life. She let out three sharp yelps before she realized she wasn't actually experiencing an orgasm. It had been a dream. A wonderful, if teasing, dream.

Fully awake, The Cat cradled her legs in her arms. She didn't know what time it was, but the sun was no longer rising. It was probably afternoon. The Cat took a deep breath. Today was a new day. And she was going to get off if it was the last thing she did.

Summoning her conviction, The Cat marched into the bedroom, stripping naked again as she moved. She dropped her leather outfit on the ground, grabbed her vibrator, and paused. She looked down again at the heels on her floor. She had worn them to get her super-boy-toy excited, but now they were exciting her. She put them back on, feeling sexy as she stood in her bedroom in only spiked heels. She listened to her body again, wondering what else would excite her. The answer came freely. She redonned the silver wig and domino mask. She was a fanboy's wet dream, but she felt excited. She was going to need to pull out every stop if she was going to get herself off.

Carrying the vibrator, she marched to her computer room. She normally used the room to plan her capers. It had half a dozen screens and a single turning chair amidst them all. She sat herself on the chair and started searching. Recalling her dream, she went looking for porn.

The Cat knew that porn of her existed. She supposed you don't run with the super-crowd with your tits on display and not have some porn star in Miami pretending to be you. She had never watched any of it, but the memory of her dream was still with her. Depraved, vile things. That's what she needed.

The porn was easy to find, but The Cat knew immediately that it would be too tame. There was a pornstar pretending to be her, gently lowering to her knees and coaxing a cock out of its pants before planting subtle kisses up the shaft. No, she should be forced down onto her knees, her head should be held firm, and the cock should thrust deep into her throat.

She found the dirtiest videos she could, adding words to her searches to get the videos she wanted. "Bondage" and "Submissive" got her closer. Once she wrote out a whole string of words ("Filthy slut begging to be fucked like a worthless whore") before she realized she had forgotten to include her own name on the search. Only one video got close to what she was envisioning. It was titled, "The Cat Is A Cock-Hungry Whore" and showed an actress dressed in her costume strapped to a post, spanked, and fucked in every hole. She pulled it up on three different screens, starting the video in different places. With her other screens, she pulled up multiple of the softer videos. When she was all set, she sat back and could see 10 different versions of herself getting fucked at once.

Only then did she turn on the vibrator. It was amazing. It was almost like that one glorious moment in the dream, watching herself getting sexually devastated in ten different ways all at once. She didn't even pretend to not be a whore, moaning and begging as she watched and vibrated herself. Soon, she was calling out to the videos: "Take it whore! Deeper!", "You call that fucking? Ride it!", "Beg for it, bitch! He's doing you a favor. Beg for more!".

The Cat didn't know when she had gotten out of the chair, but she realized she was kneeling on the ground before the screens, her pussy wrapped around the vibrator as it performed quite admirably. Even as she felt the pleasure--greater pleasure than any sexual experience she had ever had--she knew that orgasm was going to illude her. Desperate, she took the vibrator out of pussy and shoved it into her mouth. She quickly gagged, but held it firm and took it further. The vibrations continued, her whole body quaking from the force coming from her mouth.

She knew that this was where she belonged. This was her natural position. This was right. She also knew what was missing.

It was Him. It was the man. Not just any man, but the one who held that key. She was a filthy whore, but only He could give her the orgasm she so needed. The Cat didn't know if it had always been like that or if that was new--thoughts outside of her dripping pussy didn't stay in her head very long--but was true now. Her mouth watered at the thought of Him. Her pussy quivered. Her whole body trembled.

She removed the vibrator from her mouth, letting it clack onto the ground uselessly. She knew there was one way she was going to get what she needed in every cell of her whore body. That was if He gave it to her.

"Please..." She muttered to the open air. The sounds of whores, recorded as they were fucked, threatened to drown out her voice. "Please sir... I'll do anything... Everything... All of me... Forever..." She didn't know how long she sat there, kneeling on the ground before the porn dedicated to her--the porn that wasn't dirty enough. She simply continued to beg to The Man that wasn't there. Begging him to use her, fuck her, defile her... so long as he gave her release. She continued to beg, even as the videos ended, one by one. She continued as the vibrator that she had never bothered to turn off once again ran out of battery. Only her words, filling the empty room with a desperate prayer for sexual domination to a man that she had never seen before.

It was hours. There was nothing else. Only need. Only sex. Only the whore on her knees. Pure desire.

"Oh kitty?" a voice called out. It was coming from the artifact room.

The Cat stood, hurrying as fast as she could only her spiked heels, to respond. As she entered the artifact room, with the bar at the far end, she saw Him. It was the Professor--how she knew didn't even occur to her. He stood with a bottle of expensive wine and a single glass. Just one. Just for himself. She started across the room, but he lifted one finger and she stopped instantly.

"Hands and knees," he said simply.

The Cat dropped to her hands and knees and began to crawl across the long room towards the Professor. She felt her bare tits sway with each movement.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, taking a sip of wine as he watched her crawl towards him.

"You are The Professor," she said softly. "You are my Master."

He nodded simply. "Do you know who you are?"

There was a moment's hesitation in her crawl as she tried to process the question. Who was she? She could feel the dripping in her pussy and the watering in her mouth. She could feel herself try to model her body to please him as she crawled. Everything else was beyond her, like trying to remember a dream after waking up. She took the info she had and gave the only answer she could think of.

"I must be your whore," she said.

"That's right," The Professor nodded again and The Cat felt good that she had answered the question right. He continued, "Did you know that you are being punished?"

"No, I didn't," she said. "Was I a bad girl?"

"Yes," the Professor said. "You were a tease. You showed your body, used your sexuality to twist men to your purposes, and then left them unfulfilled. I am punishing you for that."

"Yes Master," The Cat said, her voice a seductive purr. "Punish me."

"You thought that sex made men dumb," the Professor said. "Now you are dumb. You used your body to control them. Now you are controlled by it."

"I am controlled by you," The Cat said.

The Professor smiled softly. "And I control you through that perky little body."

"Yes Master," the cat said. She was close now and The Professor's eyes were fixated on her swaying tits. She hoped he liked them.

"So now I've made you into a cock-hungry whore. A sex-crazed bimbo. A stupid, empty fucktoy."

"Yesssssss," she purred. She had arrived at his feet. She leaned down, kissing his feet and starting to work her way up his pants.

"You are my prize," the Professor said. His voice dropped into a sort of apology. "Of course, I expected the game to last a little longer, but I think I was rather hot and bothered when I cast the spell. I can see I made them very strong."

"Hot and bothered," she repeated dumbly, her lips pressing against the stiffness in his pants.

He reached down, wrapping his hand around her throat. He held her back until her eyes moved from his crotch to his face.

"You are my trophy," he informed her.

"Yes sir," The Cat nodded.

"And if you are a very good girl, maybe I'll give you that orgasm that you've been craving," The Professor said.

The Cat--who had been very focused on looking sexy, being obedient to her Master, and sucking his cock--suddenly remembered that she was desperately in need of an orgasm. "Anything you want... everything you want... all of me... forever," she promised.

He reached down, running a hand through her wig hair. It dropped off her head, falling to the ground. In its place, her own naturally blonde hair had become silver in its place. It was thick and long. If she could have thought, she might have thought that was strange.

The Professor took grip of that hair and angled her face down to his crotch. Her mouth opened wide, even before the cock was out, and her eyes filled with desire. He took IT out and she actually gasped at the site of it. He didn't wait for her to finish gasping. He plunged his cock in.

He was rough. Rougher than the pornos. Rougher than some long-forgotten superhero boy-toy. Rough like someone using their property to their own pleasure. His hands pulled at her hair while keeping her head steady. His cock paid no mind to the gagging noises. The whore simply opened wide and allowed her Master to fuck as deeply as he desired. She felt his hands on her tits, squeezing and pinching and smacking. She felt them on her ass, spanking her like the bad girl she was. She felt them on her throat, choking her. She felt them in her hair, holding her head steady so he could fuck it. She felt it all at the same time. She didn't know how and didn't care. She was simply glad that her Master was talented enough to appreciate all aspects of his whore at once.

Suddenly, without warning, her mouth was full of cum. It was hot and thick, dripping down her throat and chin at the same time. She choked and gagged, trying her best to keep her mouth open as he finished. Finally, as he pulled out, The Cat was able to swallow and break again.

"Good whore," he said.

Instantly, her pussy exploded inside her. Pleasure--body-rocking, mind-leveling, world-ending pleasure--racked her every muscle. She squealed feeling it consume her like a wildfire. There was no riding it, like an orgasm in sex. There was no build-up to it. There was simply the pure truth that her body was out of control under the weight of pleasure.

She screamed and screamed.

Finally, when the white hot heat of orgasm left, The Cat found herself on the floor, catching her breath. Nothing had ever felt like that before. Nothing could ever feel like that again. Unless... unless he could give it again...

Her eyes looked up and she found that her Master, The Professor, was standing by the bar, his cock still out, drinking wine and watching her with amusement.

"Stand and look pretty," he commanded.

The Cat was on her feet immediately. She ran one quick hand through her hair to fix it, prayed her makeup hadn't run too much, and presented herself before her Master. Her tits were perky, full, and on full display.

He stepped forward, squeezing her tits appreciatively. "These are those snares that caught many men. Nearly caught me, too. But now, they're just mine." He looked up at her with a wicked smile. "You are mine."

"Yes, Master," The Cat said.

The Professor looked down again at her tits, gave one a hard slap with an open palm, and smiled. He stepped back and walked out into the artifact room. "I suppose we should make sure you stay that way," The Professor said. He surveyed the items, apparently looking for something. The Cat stood still, presenting herself still to him, and hoping that her tits looked good from afar too.

The Professor opened one of the display cases and removed a necklace. It had massive diamonds and a single, beautiful sapphire. He muttered something and it changed. The diamonds became small studs, sapphire became a small tag, and the whole thing morphed into a black collar. The Professor approached his whore, eyeing her tits hungrily, and then stepped behind her. He held the collar out so she could see.

"Look. It has your name on it," he said. She read it: "Whore".

He fastened the collar around her neck. "As long as you have this on you, you'll remember the lesson you learned in this room."

"Yes Master," The Cat said, standing proudly.

"Now let's get you back home and I'll try out the rest of you."

They seemed to move very quickly, but The Cat wasn't thinking enough to wonder why. All she knew was that suddenly she was in a very large house, with lots of beautiful things. She saw treasures of every kind--paintings, books, artifacts, crowns, and beautiful jewelry. She wondered how Master had collected so very man beautiful things. She also saw other trophies like her, beautiful, well-endowed women. The Professor explained that the whore with big tits and the tiara used to be a princess, until he acquired her. The one with gold bracelets used to be a warrior. The one in stockades in middle of the living room had once been an assassin, sent to kill him. Now, they were all his trophies. And she was among them.

He led her to his bedroom, where he fucked her ass. He had her face buried in the sheets, pushed down by his hand on her neck. He fucked her pussy, while she begged him to be treated like a filthy cum dumpster. He fucked her throat again, seeming to take special interest in this method of degradation. He had her wrap her big tits around his beautiful cock and give him a tit job. When he came, it was all over her smiling face.

Like a good little whore, she always begged for more.

---

After three years, police finally entered the massive penthouse apartment on the top floor of a building. They found treasures that had been missing for years. It didn't take them long to find that this was the lair of The Cat, who hadn't been seen for nearly three years. It was suspected that after being rebuffed by her ex-lover--a superhero himself--she had simply gone off the map and started a new life. No one quite knew where. The Cat was always very good at hiding her tracks.

At around the same time that the police broke the door down, in a pocket universe tucked between 39th street and 40th street, a silver-haired, big titted slut was getting her reward for the day. Her Master, looking down at his own cum on her big, perky tits, muttered, "Good Whore." Her screams of pleasure echoed through the house.

As The Professor settled down to research a new volume of ancient mysticism that he had recently acquired, he took another appreciative look at his trophy. Trophies represent victories, he thought. She represented his victory over her own self. As many men as she had snared with those perfect tits, he was one to turn the power of sex back upon her. For that, he had a trophy.

She was a fitting trophy for such a victory, too.