Catfish

Freewriting Friday!

Catfish

LGBTQIA+

violence, adult language, transphobia, substance consumption, both legal and illegal

BDSM - knife play proposed and rejected

"While I'm up here, get me another drink, Max. Make it cool and dark. It's about to get awful hot in here."

I softly speak into the microphone while my fingers dance the frets on my guitar, Betty. Max looks up at me, and points upward in approval while the sound of Betty's voice fills the halls of the bar. "All yours, Trix."

I smile a sexy grin as I continue my riff. "Oh don't you wish, Maxie boy." Max grins back while he cleans a fresh glass, the smoke billowing in front of him from his patrons at the tables between us. My fingers continue their sensual dance and Betty whines out her soulful tune. As I play I press her against my midriff, bending her to the sky as I reach for the higher frets and let her cry out the blues we both hold deep inside us. My silky red dress is tightly wound around my body. Short, and showing all my mother gave me to walk on underneath the black shine of Betty's smooth body. All alone up here, all eyes are on me, and I'm about to bear all what's underneath. I don't know what these boys are more thirsty for: what's under my dress, or what's under my skin, I think to myself as I lean toward the mic and let my lips slowly part.

Just as I'm about to sing, a tall, dark figure saunters through the door to the left. It catches me off guard, and I have to do one more little riff not to break rhythm. It's her. I know her name--Layla. At least that's what she goes by in here. She's wearing tight, black leather pants, showing off her day-long legs, with black, raised-heel boots, a tight black top and leather jacket. And she has a cowboy hat. This girl's trouble. All kinds of sin rolls off her as she strolls over to the bar and taps on it, prompting Max to pour her usual -- Jack Daniels, straight up. I chuckle at a passing thought while I round my way back to the end of my loop. Slow. Soft. Sultry. Let it out, Beatrix.

"I wish... I was a catfish

Swimmin' in the... Deep, blue sea.

I'd have all you pretty fishers..."

She looks straight at me, those damned, devil eyes undressing me from across the room. Her pupils are as deep blue as the sea I want to be in.

"... Fishin' after me."

I meet her gaze as my desires escape my ruby lips. Her stare darkens as she tips her head and the brim of her hat covers the shame she wants to bear in its shadow. A flicker of light and a puff of smoke illuminates her pretty face before she meets my eyes again. This girl is trouble alright. She mouths three words without making a sound: Red, Yellow, Green. I nod my head as I continue my song, not so much as breaking a single beat in rhythm.

The boys all light up, hollering and whistling with every verse and I can see that Betty is working her voodoo on each one of them while they think of all they want to do with me if they can catch me. The dark room darkens and comes to a hush while I playfully and sensually press my silky fingers into Betty's neck, making her cry the sounds of all my wanton desires and making men melt behind theirs drinks.

The bar is an old, beat up and rough joint in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee. It's the kind of place anyone from bikers to businessmen come in, looking for a good time -- either in the privacy of the bathroom stall, or across a strangers teeth out in the open. It's always funny when the random yuppie accidentally stumbles in then makes an immediate break for the door when they see what kind of guys come in here. Then there's me -- the only girl that comes here for the same reason everyone else does. At least until she walked in for the first time a few months back.

Anyone can come in here and find a good time. Some come out of the bathroom wiping the white powder off their upper lip, some stumble out straightening their belt while another guy comes out with him. Sometimes men leave the place bruised and bloodied. Sometime s they come out in handcuffs. Not the kind of place you wanna bring your Mama to. But nobody cares. Nobody dares give anyone a hard time, unless they're looking for a good brawl... or a good fuck.

I have a feeling Layla's looking for both. She's the tough type, and is constantly both always pissed off and always wanting some action of any kind. I always like to picture her as some biker chick that gets tired of keeping the boys in her gang in line, and comes here to blow off some steam. Truth is, nobody knows who she is or where she comes from. I chuckle at the thought of her being a bored housewife in real life, looking for that one night a week to go somewhere and just be someone else. Who knows... In reality, the truth is probably something else entirely. But she sure is setting her sights up here tonight. Like a hunter just found their prey. Like a fisher staring deep in the water. I gulp as I finish the final verse.

"Well, I feel, yes I feel

Feel that I could lay this ol' body down

I'm gonna catch the first thing smokin'

Back down the road I'm goin'"

With that I let my fingers slow their soulful movement, and bring the song to a close. The room is filled with the shouts, applause, and catcalls of horny men full of liquor and smoke. I carefully place Betty in her case on the stage, let the next singer get up and do their thing while I go get the drink Max poured me.

"Just how you like it, babe." Max winks at me, then slides the glass over to me. I send him a warm side smile and nod. Looking around, Layla's nowhere to be found. I look over at Max, and he just shrugs. Son of a bitch. I guess she wasn't that into me after all. Oh well, I guess. Just then a massive figure with a bushy long beard looking like something from a country horror flick flops on the stool next to me. Dude had a truckers cap on, dirty, baggy jeans and a white tee shirt that said Female Body Inspector on. Absolutely not.

"You sure were somethin' up there, miss..." He managed to spill the words out from under all that bush on his face.

"Trix" I managed to respond underneath a chuckle.

"Much obliged. I'm John, but the guys call me Feller back home. Well, Miss Trix, I'd like to buy you a drink. Then maybe I can give you another one in my truck after." His big, ugly face beamed a sick smile as he half giggled low as his sense of dignity was.

"Well, Feller... Thank you," I looked him up and down while speaking. Then I dropped my voice down into bass range of my old masculine tone: "But I don't think you'd go for a girl like me, sweetie." Immediately his face dropped and froze. I snickered behind my closed lips before returning to my true voice.

"See you around, Feller." I raised my glass in a toast to him before turning back toward the bar counter and setting my glass down. Oh, most guys in here are cool alright. Every now and then though some poor, strange, straight closed-minded buffoon of a trucker pops in thinking he's found his tribe until he finds out different. Then they see me and like what they see. I'm a steamy little dish of all woman with a voice that could bring B.B. to his knees for me. Still, I'm not everyone's shot of bourbon.

"What the..." His poor, insecure face looks like he's just found out he drank piss out of his mug.

"Move along, pal." Max says sternly with one hand under the bar. I know what's under there. Max is pretty cool about fights in his bar. Long as guys don't start breaking stuff, he pays his own mind when dudes get rowdy. But he doesn't like anyone messing with me. The poor little Feller boy stumbles back, and bumps into the brick wall of a body of a leather vest wearing Mandingo behind him.

"Best leave before you do somethin' you regret, bub." He growls under his thick, gray beard. Feller -- what the hell kind of a nickname is that anyway? Feller regains his composure and practically runs out the door, and the night continues undisturbed.

"Thanks Chuck." I raise my glass to him. "Better run, bub. Delmar's looking a little hot over there. Think he's got plans for you now." I wink as I bask in Chuck's blushed face before he turns back to his table with Delmar. The guys here sure take care of me. Its not that they come here for me or anything. Max just says I bring a warmth to the bar on open mic night that makes everyone less... rambunctious. Well, at least less likely to pull fists and more open to other expressions, I'd like to think.

I finish and set my glass on the bar top with a tap. "That's it for me tonight Max. I gotta pee then I'm going home and having a hot bath before bed."

"Thanks for that image, Trix. You be a good girl this week honey, you hear?" Max smiles and gives me a wink as I pick myself up off the stool. I just smile back. He and I got together a year or so ago. He was nice, but a little too nice for my taste. He never got over me, but we're still good friends. I don't mind the flirtiness with him, but I'd never go back, bless his gentle heart. He is awfully cute though.

I saunter my way into the hallway to the bathroom. There are two bathrooms, unisex like at most bars like this. But I do hope one is empty right now. I really gotta go.

I swing open the door and enter the bathroom at the end of the hall without even looking. The lights suddenly come on, and all I see is Layla's dark silhouette already lunging at me.

Before I can even think to scream, she grabs me by the wrist and slams me against the bathroom wall, pinning my wrist above my head under her surprisingly strong hand. Slowly she pulls out a pocket knife, locks it open single-handedly, and raises it in my view.

"Yellow knife"*** is all I can muster in my shock. Layla's expression lifts for a half second, then with one hand she releases the lock, closes the blade and slips it back in the pocket of her pants. Then she uses the same hand and grabs me by the throat. She leans in, slowly, and parts her lips as she squeezes my throat. Excited, terrified, in shock, I am drawn to her silk lips and lean into her grip, allowing her hold to tighten even more as I struggle to meet her invitation.

She is the fisher. I am the catfish. And I've already fallen -- hook, line and sinker.

Her lips part as mine approach hers, and the tip of her tongue slowly flicks my lips. I melt and I can already feel my panties getting wet underneath my dress. Layla backs away, pulls me by the throat towards her and then carefully slams my body back against the wall before letting loose of me. She takes off her hat and throws it on the bathroom sink, then looks back at me with a look of disgust. "You're a thirsty little thing, aren't you? You want want my kiss? You're going to have to earn it. On your knees, slut" I slowly let my knees give way, and hunker down on the dirty bathroom floor in front of Layla. She proudly clicks her boot heels on the floor as she marches over to the stall and lifts her long leg, then places her foot on top of the toilet with a clink. "Over here. Now."

I know what she wants. I really don't want to. Crawl on this nasty old floor on my hands and knees, with the gods know what kind of shit and germs covering it?

"I said now, slut. If you do what I tell you, you will be rewarded. Disobey me, and you won't like the consequences."

"Y-Yes, My Lady" is what comes out. I want her. I can do this for her. Slowly, hesitantly, I crouch down on my hands and give her the best, sexiest crawl I can muster. When I reach the toilet, I sniff her shoe from toe to the arch top in front of her heel, then kiss her leather boot.

"That's my good little slut. You please me well." She takes her foot off the toilet and sits on it, then beckons to me, still on all fours at her feet. "Come."

I raise myself, and she pulls me by the arm until I'm laid across her lap, my head dangling down the side of the toilet. This is disgustingly humiliating. Layla strokes down my back with her hand gently and slowly, till she reaches the curve of my ass. Her hand curves down until it reaches past the hem of my dress. It bounces while her hand stops as it feels the bare skin between my thighs, and she pulls her hand up until her fingers and palm grazes against my pussy under my panties. Her fingers curl around my center, making sure she feels every nook and cranny of my genitals over the fabric, then she pulls her hand out of my dress, raises it and looks, while she rubs her fingers together.

"You're soaking wet, you greedy little girl!" she softly gasps. "You like your girl treating you like the little slut you are, don't you?"

I swing my head back and forth in short bursts, trying not to give sign of either discomfort or pleasure. "Yes, My Lady."

"Mmm, I like that." Layla replies, then reaches her hand back under my dress and begins rubbing my genitals gently, sensually. Her fingers press deeper, pressing down into the crevice of my taint and down into my ass with her soft fingers, and I melt. A fire inside me begons to roast my insides while she teases my entire core with her fingers. "Such a good girl for me Beatrix. So hot and wet for me. I will definitely have to reward you. Have you been a good girl for me this week?"

Again I swing my head quickly and only let out a whimpering "Mmmhmm."

"What was that, my favorite slut?" she says and stops her hand under my dress.

"Y-Yes My Lady. I've been so good for you. Please, don't stop." My words sound more like a moan while she continues to fondle my pussy with her fingers, squished between my soft, pink thighs. I must sound like a porn actress from outside the bathroom doors.

"That's my good girl. Maybe I'll make you cum before you get your real reward then."

"What's that, My Lady?" I squeak under the ecstasy in my center.

Layla doesn't stop rubbing my pussy, but with her other hand, she lifts my head and pushes my body forward, giving her hips a little room. It takes me a few seconds to see, but I look in amazement as I stare at the long bulge in her pants, not noticeable earlier. But now its plain to see, she's been shopping just for me. My heart raises its beat's rate, and I'm blushing at the thought of what my sweet Lady is about to do to me. She pulls her hand from under my dress and taps the back of my head. "Come," she says as she stands up from the toilet. "Panties off. Against the sink. Ass towards me."

I nod obediently, and pull my panties down my bare legs as I stand, the head to the sink.

"Eyes on the mirror only." She says, then slightly she bends me at the waist over it -- just so I'm able to use the palms of my hands to hold me up. Then she bends down to her knees behind me. Her fingers slip under my dress, and wrap around my clit, dripping wet from leaking.

"Such a tasty little slut you are." Layla says before wrapping her sweet lips around my clitoris, sucking and drawing from me like I she was milking me like a heifer. Her tongue makes small circles against my clit inside her sultry mouth. This woman -- My Lady -- knows how to work my sex, and how to make me melt and squeal like a wanton whore until I cum. She knows I'm not a man. She knows she's not sucking a cock. She feels my clit against her silk tongue and loves the taste of my clit as much as she loves a cis woman's wetness.

I try to hold myself up by my palms while she's eating me out, but I lack the strength when she's threatening to steal my very life from the inside out with her magical tongue. I finally have hardened inside her mouth. Her fingers press into my pussy and hits the right spot while she eats my clit out like shes hungry for my soul. I get weak at the knees, and they start to shake and threaten me to come crashing down on top of My Lady. I hang on to the sink for dear life.

She releases me from her mouth, slaps my ass cheek so hard I'm sure it has her red hand imprint. She squeals, "Oh my god, you're such a good girl for me baby! Such a tasty little slut!" And with that, she's back to eating me out and pressing deep inside my pussy with her fingers while I try to hang on and not fall on top of her.

I try to be quiet, but I can't. I listen, and the sounds of Lamar singing a bluesy version of "No Diggity" streams through the locked bathroom door. Good.

Meanwhile, the fire in my core begins to spread throughout my body, and I grimace as I my body overflows with electric pulsing all over. I gasp and hold back screams of ecstasy while my clit begins to pump and pulsate in Layla's mouth, and my whole body convulses in pleasure. The only sound that escapes my hold is the occasional, high pitched squeak as I cum all over My Lady's tongue like a naughty bitch in heat. Not much comes, of course -- just a taste of my clit's sour/sweet cum. Layla loves that, and demands to eat me out and taste it every time we meet.

I'm still weak, shaking and breathing heavy when she gives one last draw on my clit while she pulls it out of her mouth with a smacking sound.

"Such a good girl, my sweet, sexy, slutty girl. I think I'll also make you my favorite little whore forever and cum inside you."

"Yes My Lady" I manage to mumble through my breaths. She lifts my leg onto the sink counter so she has full access to my bussy. She reaches to her purse, and pulls out a bottle of lube. I watch in the mirror as she turns while pulling her tight leather pants down her thighs just so I can see her round, heart-shaped ass. She continues turning as she pulls them down, and reveals the massive dildo on a strap on under her leather pants. It comes down and points to me like a giant finger, pointing out who is going to be his new home -- me. Layla squirts some lube onto her hand and strokes her silicone cock like she's masturbating, never taking her smoky eyes off of mine in the mirror.

"Are you ready for me, little slut?"

I slowly nod my head. "Yes, My Lady."

She nods and slowly presses the head of her cock to my bussy, and makes small circles, pressing a little deeper with each round until it accepts her. "That's my girl," she says as she grasps my shoulder and slowly slides inside me. I gasp at the feeling of her filling me up so completely. Its tight at first: but I adjust to her massive size in no time. She slides in me till her pelvis presses my ass, then slowly she starts to back out before she begins to fuck me.

My mind goes blank as she fucks me harder and harder. I cant think of anything on my mind but the pleasure of her thrusting and retreating inside me, using my torso for leverage. She pulls my upper body against hers so I feel her breasts bobbing against the skin of my back, and she squeezes my breasts like she's using them for leverage to thrust in me. She fondles my body while she fucks me, tantalizing every inch of me while whispering dirty things only for me into my ear. I can feel nothing but the fullness of her cock gliding into me and rocking my entire body, fucking me against the bathroom counter.

The Layla takes off her jacket. She grabs my arms and pulls them behind me and uses the sleeves of her jacket to bind my arms behind my back. She bends me down low so she can fuck me deeper, and holds her binding of my arms for leverage.

This. Is. Heaven.

My while body convulses in orgasm, my mind goes white, and I scream, not holding back the sound this time. I tap Layla on the ass cheek, and she slows, then stops fucking me. She pulls out of me. My mind still blank, I know nothing at all but hunger. I need her pussy. Now.

I turn and grab her dick in a blind sexual fury, not knowing what to do next, and stare... Just stare up into her deep blue eyes. As if she knows what I need, she reaches for her straps, and takes off the harness. She pulls me off her by the hair of my head. She never lets go of my hair. Never says a word. But as if she has the same need in her eyes that I do, she backs up, walking us back to the toilet without moving either if our heads or eyes from each other. When she reaches the toilet, she calmly sits herself on the edge, then pulls my face to her pussy.