The Pink Cat Ch. 03

I sat at the bar, working hard to ignore the questioning looks from my companion. Generally, Rollo was laid back--unless circumstance demanded otherwise--and my sudden power boost was a source of concern for the half-demon. If something untoward happened to me, Shehazau would hold him responsible.

Sipping my fourth, or maybe fifth beer, I focused on the talisman resting on the bare skin of my chest. The initial surge of power nearly undid me. My usual calm demeanor slid back into place after I'd directed all that extra power into controlling that idiot biker, Toby. I wasn't certain exactly what the talisman meant, but I seriously liked the power boost.

"Rollo, please," I finally directed at my companion, "relax. I'm fine."

Rollo grunted.

"Seriously."

"Eisheth, I've never seen you act like that before," he finally said. "The power coming off you was . . . unusual to say the least."

It was my turn to grunt in response.

"Shehazau appreciated your offering, by the way." Rollo drained his beer and let his gaze fall on Rose's backside as she hustled past. "He consumed the soul."

I grimaced at the thought. Consuming a soul was nasty business, even for those as powerful as my master. I've a strong stomach--which should be unsurprising given my succubus nature--and nearly vomited the last time I witness some fool losing his body. The high pitched, desperate squeals of the dying human echoed in the back of my brain.

As I woolgathered, I felt a presence behind me, staring intently.

Tank.

Rollo chuckled into his beer and turned fully towards the bar as Rose sauntered over to him. Those two would have some good times together. The tiniest hint of jealousy flared up, singing my belly just a little. I liked Rollo. A lot. But he and I could never engage in anything beyond an occasional tryst, and even that only with permission from our shared master. While I could never enjoy the satisfaction of a meaningful relationship with a human, my half-demon friend might have at least a chance. Rollo deserved to be happy--the poor guy had been through a lot since I'd known him.

As I considered just how I might free my friend from his bond to Shehazau, I felt Tank's heavy hand slide across the small of my back. My body shuddered and I nearly moaned with pleasure . . . or more precisely, lust. His attentions had grown significantly since I'd donned the talisman that Lilith gifted to me.

That had to be causing his increased lust.

There was no way he was truly attracted to me. No one desired me, not without a little encouragement from my succubus magic.

My eyes started watering--probably a reaction to the prodigious amount of cigarette in the air--so I blinked until they cleared before turning around to acknowledge the bouncer.

"What's up, Tank?"

I glanced down towards his belt, noting exactly what was up.

"Step outside with me," he demanded, his voice deep and husky.

Yeah, the human was hopped up on succubus pheromones. Every fiber of my being wanted, no needed, to accompany the sexy man outside and find some dark corner so we could have some rough and tumble sex. That couldn't happen. I had a job to do.

And I couldn't have what I think I wanted with Tank. Fucking him might provide an enjoyable moment, but it'd lead to centuries of heartbreak.

"Tank," Rose said quietly, "honey, you need to chill. Adam's being a prick tonight." The bartender looked at me, her eyes almost apologetic. "If you're serious about taking shit over, you need to do it. This place is a shithole, but there are some damned good people here."

I nodded at Rose, silently thanking her for the distraction.

"Look Tank," I began. "Do your work and be patient, okay? If I'm going to make changes, I need good people backing me up. Understand?"

He and Rose nodded their heads slowly.

"Mr. Shipman is headed this way," Rollo murmured. He obviously hated the good Adam Shipman. Since my friend possessed an innate sense about people, I trusted his judgment.

"Problem here?" Adam asked as he swaggered up to me.

"Absolutely not," I answered smoothly. "I was just thanking these two for watching my back with that drunken biker. They probably kept me from getting hurt."

Adam looked at Tank and Rose, a smile on his face. One that didn't reach his brown eyes.

"That is there job," he finally said. "Listen, I didn't catch your name earlier."

"Eisheth," I provided.

"Eisheth? Weird name," Adam grunted. "Look, maybe you'd like to tell me all about your experience? We can head upstairs to my office, away from all this shitty smoke."

Rose's eyes widened at her boss's suggestion. Tank bit off a snarl, obviously still struggling with the residual succubus magics that he'd been exposed to when I handled Toby.

"We'd love to tell you about it," I answered as I waved my hand towards Rollo. "Perhaps we'll convince you to give your people a bit of a raise for their efforts."

"Just you," Adam snapped. "Tank, do yer job and get these fuckers out of my way."

I gave Rollo a meaningful glance before turning to follow my prey. I followed Adam and Tank through the sweating crowd, hyperaware of the three human guard dogs trailing behind me. The trio looked like a cheap mafia-wannabe version of the Three Stooges. Moe and Larry represented their names sakes in both physical features and mental capacity. Curly, on the other hand, was quite different. He wasn't exactly magical and certainly not of demon ilk, but Curly did possess at least an understanding of magic and talisman.

Curly was the one I wanted.

We mounted a skeletal set of metal stairs, climbing upwards until we were spit out on a wide landing that hugged one wall of the building. The second floor was relatively free of smoke, but the stench of piss, vomit, and sex seemed to intensify. We passed several closed doors before finally comping to stop in front of a heavy wooden door that simply didn't match its surroundings. Shipman's name adorned a gleaming brass plaque screwed into the wood.

"Your nameplate is crooked," I pointed out cheerfully.

Adam half turned and scowled at me before ushering me inside his office. Tank stepped to the side, acting the part of a gentleman. I grinned at him, then turned my attention to the new environment. Information wins all battles, the more I knew about my enemy and his surroundings, the better.

"What'll you have? A martini?" Adam clapped his hands together. "I know, a Cosmopolitan!" He waved Curly towards a bar cart at the back of his office before waving off his other guards.

Perfect.

"So, you think I should reward my employees for doing their jobs?" Adam asked.

I smiled demurely as I arraigned myself on an overstuffed chair. My back was towards Curly, but I could see the door and given the chair was against a wall, no one would be sneaking up on me. Tank stood just inside the door, obviously uncomfortable and nervous.

Adam looked pointedly at the large couch next to the chair I currently occupied. When I didn't move, he sighed and sat there himself.

"Easier to attract bees with honey," I replied. "Or at least that's what I've heard."

Adam pointed at Tank. "That guy barely has a high school education. He's a meathead I found in a local gym. In an all-out fight, he'd kick my ass, no?"

Oh, I didn't think Adam wanted me to answer that one.

"Still, he obeys my orders. Why? Because I'm the only reason his bat-shit crazy mother isn't living in the streets. Good ole Tank does his work, occasionally handles some side jobs," Adam shrugged his shoulders, "and I make certain she doesn't get kicked out of the nursing home. I own him because he's afraid of what I'll do otherwise."

"So you're a bully?"

"No! I'm a fucking smart businessman who doesn't coddle halfwits," Adam snapped. "I employ lowlifes and misfits. Those people can only be controlled with a firm hand."

Curly handed me my drink, which reeked of chemicals. The asshole was trying to drug me into submission! Well, I could play along with that game.

"What you are, Adam, is a bully. I won't necessarily counter the smart businessman assertion, but otherwise, you're a dick."

Adam's face slowly turned red.

"But I'm used to dealing with people of your caliber," I said as I sipped my appalling drink. "Truth is, I'm looking for an investment. A business like The Pink Cat would suit my needs."

"Not for sale," Adam said immediately. "Counteroffer. I don't know what you did to that drunken asshole, but you cleared him out without a fight. Obviously, you've got some skills. I'll hire you as a troubleshooter. Handle problems and occasionally handle some side work," Adam let his eyes travel my body as I made a show of finishing my drink. "Maybe take care of a few physical needs."

"I don't have a mother who needs a nursing home, Adam," I said smoothly. "However would you keep me under control."

Curly took my empty glass and headed back to the bar.

"You are ballsy, I'll give you that, Eisheth. Look," Adam waved Tank over. "I'll let you have a go with Tank, burn off some of that extra energy you've got and then we'll talk terms."

Tank walked over slowly, looking for all the world like he wanted to be anywhere else.

I blinked and shook my head, just for effect. We'd been bickering for about twenty minutes, long enough that any additives to my drink could have taken effect. I could play the part for a while, especially if Tank was involved.

Adam stood, moving closer to me. His brown eyes were cruel, hardened by years of insensitive acts and hatred.

"On your knees, bitch," he whispered harshly. "On your knees and suck Tank's cock."

I slid to the floor and fumbled with the buttons on Tank's heavy, denim jeans. I loved when men wore button fly jeans, so I took my time and maintained eye contact with the bouncer as I slowly exposed him. Winking, I slid his sizable manhood free from his box briefs. Despite the troubled look on his face, Tank moaned as I ran my tongue around the head of his thick cock.

He tasted amazing. Hot. Masculine. Clean. Delicious.

Precum formed on his slit. I tasted it and groaned with lust.

Despite his obvious dislike of the situation, Tank seriously liked my oral ministrations. His hips began bucking as I took him deep in my throat. I let my fingers slide along the sensitive skin behind his balls as I worked my tongue along his shaft.

Yes. I needed to fuck this man.

"Stop!" demanded Adam.

Tank growled as his boss pushed him away from me. Every fiber of my being needed to destroy Adam Shipman, but I forced myself to sit calmly and sway a little, as if the drugs he'd given me were actually working.

"You fucking prick!" Adam snapped at Tank. "You don't look at, think about, or talk to the females who come in here to spend money. Got it? Fucking piss me off again and you'll be out of here. No job, no nursing home for you fucking mother. Now, get the fuck back to work, you piece of shit!"

Tank's fists clenched and for a moment, I thought the man was going to beat the ever-loving hell out of his boss. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Curly reaching for something by his neck. A talisman, no doubt. The magics I'd felt when I scanned the man. While I felt bad for Tank, the information that I'd just gained was invaluable.

"You heard the boss," growled Curly. "Tuck yer dick back in and get back downstairs. No one up here till the boss says, got it?"

Tank's lip curled slightly, just before a look of embarrassment and defeat slid across his face.

"Yes sir."

The bouncer turned away, his shoulders bobbing up and down as he returned his unsatisfied manhood back into his jeans. Without looking back, Tank walked to the door and went outside.

"So, precious," Adam said confidently. "I think you should thank my friend here for making your drinks. Then we'll chat about how you're going to help me around here."

Curly grinned unpleasantly as his open hand smashed against the left side of my face. The blow hurt, but it also gave me a taste of the magic protecting him. Hoodoo magic woven into an Eye-In-Hand amulet made of carved bone. I seriously doubted the man practiced the African folk magic--Curly didn't look as like he could conjure a wet dream, much less a powerful spirit. No, the man had probably bought the item from a real practitioner and maybe learned a few simple spells. Nothing I couldn't handle.

He opened the zipper on his jeans, pulling out a remarkably average cock from a remarkably dirty pair of white briefs.

Nasty.

With a sigh and feigned compliance, I once again engaged my tongue and teased a cock into hardness. With every lick and stroke, I built my magic and channeled it into my next victim. Curly moaned and groaned as I stimulated his sex, all the while ignorant of my magical manipulations.

All too easy.

Adam settled behind his desk, focusing on his computer screen while I exerted my will over his soon-to-be former employee.

Curly let out a strangled cry, one that Adam fortunately ignored, as I pushed my magic into his unwholesome mind. The man screwed his eyes shut and ground his teeth together so hard that one shattered inside his mouth.

Go outside and kill the two guarding the door

The command slipped from my mind into Curly's with such ease. My body shuddered with pleasure as I exerted my will over this human.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Adam demanded, half rising from his chair.

I sighed and stood up, returning to my previous seat. The Pink Cat's owner turned towards me, fury burning in his eyes.

"So, Adam," I said, "you and I are going to discuss this business. You'll name a price that we can both agree to and you might walk out of here alive."

Muffled screams filtered through the heavy wooden door, followed by not one, but two solid thuds.

"Fucking get back in here and kill this slut!" thundered Adam.

Curly opened the door, callously kicking a limp arm out of the way before reclosing it.

"Adam is not cooperating, Curly. Make him understand who he is dealing with, please."

I stood and walked to the bar cart as the sounds of a fight erupted behind me. Grunts and profanities filled the air as I perused Adam's alcohol selection. I ignored a loud snap and shriek as I selected the bottle of Ketel One vodka and proceeded to pour two dirty martinis.

By the time I'd finished playing bartender, Curly had Adam twisted into a position reminiscent of a pretzel.

"You can drop that," I told Curly as I handed him a glass. "No drugs in this one."

Curly obediently dropped Adam to the floor and took the glass, offering a quiet and polite thanks that barely carried over the ruckus that his former boss was making.

"Quiet, Adam," I chided, "I'm trying to have a conversation here. So, Curly, you've two choices. Agree to work for me. Show me loyalty and I'll forget that you tried to poison me with a date rape drug. Or," I paused and sipped my martini. Ah. Perfectly dry. "Or, be an idiot and I'll see to it that you spend eternity on a torture rack in the company of Alastor. Familiar with him?"

"N . . . n . . . no," sputtered Curly.

"An old friend of mine," I answered glibly. "Alastor is know as the chief executioner of Hell. His physical torture is incredible, but his psychological torture," I sighed and took another sip. "The pain he causes is exquisite to behold. Horrible for you, but I'd enjoy watching."

Curly didn't need to know that I had only met Alastor in passing at a function hosted by my mistress, Lilith. The archdemon also had a reputation for having some freakishly exciting sexual habits, at least that's what I'd heard from several of my succubi sisters. Alastor's group, the Malebranche, frequently met to discuss torture techniques--and engage in twisted sexual practices. To be invited was a high compliment according to my mistress.

I struggled to keep a grin off my face as I watched my newest convert struggle with the decision to surrender his freedom.

Adam spit blood on the ridiculous shag carpet--that would be going as soon as I took over--and swore viciously at his one-time protector.

"Quiet," I admonished. "Let the poor man think."

Curly frowned and poured his drink down his throat, most likely not even tasting the beverage as it slid into his gullet. A defeated expression crossed his pock-marked face as he dropped to his knees before me.

"I submit," he said quietly.

"You'll submit to the great Nephilim Shehazau, servant of the fallen angel Lilith?" I waited until Curly nodded his head. "You'll swear loyalty to those who re-create you?" Another nod. "You'll accept an eternity of torture should you go back on your word, human?"

My voice had grown powerful as I commanded Curly's obedience. Body trembling with excitement and something else that I couldn't quite identify, I opened my mouth and let lose a string of words that made no sense to me. Things I couldn't possibly know or understand. The talisman on my neck vibrated wildly as impossible power channeled through me.

Behind me, air rippled and a great presence forced its way into the suddenly too small room.

Lilith.

I immediately spun, dropping to my knees in a show of fealty to my great mistress. My body tingled with excitement and lust as her presence washed over me.

"Go downstairs. Find my faithful servant's companion, the one called Rollo," Lilith commanded. "He will guide you."

Curly shot to his feet and raced out of the room, moving far too quickly for a human of his physical stature.

I could feel Lilith's eyes on my body and a tiny knot formed in the pit of my stomach, half driven by fear and half by insane lust. My sarcastic, nonconformist attitudes virtually ensured that I never experienced the pleasure of Lilith's happy attentions. My current situation--punishment--resulted from her frequent displeasure with my actions.

"Rise, daughter. Creatures of our stature do not kneel in the presence of humans like this one,"

Lilith said quietly. "I'm curious. You fed Shehazau a soul earlier, yet you offer that one as a servant to me. Why?"

I kept my eyes lowered as I worked to form an appropriate answer. One should be respectful when speaking to a fallen angel that has the power to condemn one to the pits of Hell.

"I felt he could be trained as an adequate servant, Mistress. The offering to Shehazau was . . . was an experiment," I admitted.

Lilith already knew the truth. No point in lying.

"I see. You approve of the gift I've given you?"

"I greatly appreciate it, Mistress. I am truly not worthy." I glanced up, just to see how she took that. Given my history, Lilith might have thought I was being an asshole even though that wasn't my intention.

Lilith met my gaze while shaking her beautiful head. Anyone fortunate enough to lay eyes on the fallen angel would immediately notice the quiet exquisiteness wrapped around my Mistress. While I normally enjoyed the sexual attentions of males, I would have given anything to spend even a few hours in Lilith's embrace.

"And this one," Lilith asked, her voice light and almost joking.

"Uh . . . I intended him as a gift. To you," I said a little hesitantly. "He owns this establishment. His name is Adam. Adam Shipman."

Lilith's eyes flashed at the name.

Ah. Shit. I might have pissed my supreme mistress off.

Lilith walked across the office, looking down her nose at the damaged, groaning man on the floor. With a slight wave of her hand, Adam's body flew through the air and his limbs spread wide. He cried out in pain and fear as my Mistress looked him over.

"The next room over is filled with restraint and torture devices," I offered carefully.

"Show me," commanded my Mistress.

Thankful for Rose's information, I led Lilith through a simple door and into a plain room lined with several unique styles of BDSM restraint furniture. The walls were adorned with neatly arranged assortments of torture devices, gags, and more styles of whips that any one individual should ever possess.