Psicats Ch 01 Cale

He slapped me so hard, I saw stars.

Shaun was a big guy; my head snapped sideways at the unexpected blow. I spun back immediately, but Lawrence leaped between us, warning Shaun that another stunt like that would get him disqualified. The asshole had hit me before the bell even sounded.

The bar crowd booed, and it was obvious Lawrence was pissed as well. If Lawrence hadn't been pissed, he wouldn't have left the guy in the chain-link cage with me.

"What?" said my opponent. "You think I'm gonna hold back just 'cause you're a girl? You're getting an ass whuppin' tonight, bitch!"

I didn't bother to answer

The bell sounded and he moved in. He was surprisingly fast for a big guy.

My cheek still warm from his cheap shot, I stepped forward, but made no move to assume a defensive stance. Instead, I leaped and delivered a barefooted snap-kick to his midsection.

His breath exploded from him and he staggered back a step. He remained standing, however, and I was suitably impressed. That kick would have dropped a smaller man. Respiration was a chore for him at the moment, however, so I waited politely for him to catch his breath.

Shaun finally stood straight again. "Lucky shot, bitch," he said.

"Are we going to talk or fight?" I asked. "Do you need to throw up? I can wait." I said it loud enough for everyone in the bar to hear.

Hearing the patrons' laughter, he scowled and charged, hands extended to grab me. I caught his wrists and let momentum do the rest. As I rolled back, I planted my feet in his midsection once more and launched his pelvis straight up in the oldest judo move in the book. I released his wrists as his legs flew up and over, and he landed on his back with a thud that rattled the chain-link cage.

I rolled to my feet instantly. Shaun was a bit slower getting up.

"C'mon now, big man," I said. "You're not letting a little girl beat you up now, are you?"

Shaun didn't answer. He was losing his bravado and cutting glances at the door to the cage. Lawrence was standing conveniently in front of it and pretending not to notice the air of desperation Shaun was generating.

Shaun lifted his fists and dropped into a boxing stance. "C'mon, bitch!" he said. "I can take you!"

It was time. He shuffled forward and I lifted my knee like I was going to snap-kick him again. His hands dropped instinctively to protect his stomach, and I rotated my hips and wheel-kicked him in the jaw.

He stumbled several steps to the side and appeared to have trouble standing. I sidled sideways a step, then spun, delivering a back roundhouse kick to his already tender midsection.

He wuffed again and flew back into the chain-link fence that formed the cage around us. He was dazed now and a little scared.

"All right," he said. "I...I've had-"

I knew he was trying to concede, but I didn't let him finish. I stepped up and proceeded to beat the monkey out of him.

I hit him with flat palms and knuckled fists. I slashed him with stiffened fingers and kicked him with rigid toes. I beat him bloody, and he was crying as he begged me to stop.

Lawrence put a hand on my shoulder, and I paused. Shaun dropped to the canvas.

"He's had enough, Cale," said Lawrence.

"Yeah, I know," I said, letting the anger drain slowly. I realized the bar crowd had been applauding the entire time I had been beating Shaun. "I'm still taking my prize, though."

"Hell, yeah," said Lawrence. "I just didn't want you to beat him too senseless for you to enjoy it."

Shaun had rolled onto his hands and knees. He was shaking his head, trying to clear it.

I placed a bare foot on his shoulder and pushed. He fell to his side.

"Still think I'm a bitch, Shaun?" I said. "You haven't seen anything yet."

"Look, Cale, enough, all right?" said Shaun. "You don't need to-"

I placed my bare foot on the side of his face, pressing his cheek to the canvas. "You want to try that sentence again," I said, "while you still have all your teeth?"

"Huh?" said Shaun. His swelling mouth made it was difficult to understand him. "I just said I had enough."

"You called me Cale," I said.

He was squirming under my foot. "Well...yeah," he said. "That's your-"

I pressed my bare toes into his cheek. "You don't get to call me Cale," I said. "Try again."

"Awww, c'mon," he said. "What are you...twenty-five years old? Don't make me mpppphhhh...!"

His words had become garbled as I pressed his face harder into the mat. "Twenty-three," I said. "Last chance." His already battered face was taking even more abuse.

"Mmmmpphhhh!" he said.

I released the pressure, although I left my foot on his cheek. "What was that?"

"Mistress," he said in a low voice.

"Louder, Shaun," I said. "They can't hear you."

"Please stop...Mistress!" he said, eyes down.

"Very good, little boy," I said. "Are we sorry for hitting Mistress with such a cheap shot?"

"Yes..." he whispered. His cheeks were wet. Poor baby.

I took my foot off his face and placed it next to his mouth. Deep red imprints the shape of my toes decorated his cheek. "You know what to do, Shaun," I said.

He was beaten and he knew it. He pressed his swollen lips to my bare foot. He remained like that for several seconds. Then he proceeded to lick my toes. The crowd whistled and cat-called.

Lawrence shook his head. "Why do you make them call you that?" he asked. "You're not really a dominatrix, are you?"

"Of course not," I said, "but it knocks their self-esteem right down...particularly after getting their ass kicked by a little girl."

"Cale," said Lawrence, "you're a girl, but hardly little."

I grinned at his words. I was tall for a girl, but not that tall. I was very athletically built, however.

"True," I said. "Anyway, I doubt anybody in this backwater bar knows the difference."

I glanced at my fallen opponent as he obediently licked my toes. "All right," I said. "You can stop. Get up."

He stopped and got slowly to his feet. His face was already bruising.

"Now, give me your clothes," I said, "and you can go."

"Awwww, c'mon, umm, Mistress," he said. "How am I supposed to get home?"

"Not my problem," I said. Using my power was really tempting at this point. It wasn't necessary, though, and I wasn't sure who my next opponent was, so I decided not to risk it. "Now give me your clothes before I send you home in one of my dresses." I crouched down in a position that suggested I was going to kick him again. Eyes wet, he sat down and pulled off his boots, followed by his socks.

Lawrence leaned close to me. "Do you even own a dress?"

"No," I said, "But Shaun doesn't know that."

"True, that," said Lawrence.

"Wow, Shaun," I said. "Is that all you got? I see why you cheap-shotted me. You were overcompensating."

The crowd was laughing and pointing now, and thrown beer splattered his naked body. He wasn't really that small, but this blood-thirsty crew loved to jump on a loser. Savages.

*****

The bar was a converted barn. The chain-link cage was a twenty-by-twenty cube set in the middle of the floor. Wooden tables were placed without thought to aesthetics and unmatched chairs lined the walls. Whirling ceiling fans did little to dissipate the mass of hovering cigarette smoke. The service bar consisted of several planks lying across several side-by-side barrels. Nobody cared. Patrons didn't come here for the ambience. This was where I made my living, such as it was.

I had time before my next fight, so I sat at the bar. I nodded to the hulking barkeep.

"Hey, Pete," I said.

"Hey, Cale," he rumbled, his voice as bristly as his mountain man beard. "Nice fight. Little hard on him, though, weren't you?"

"Yeah," I said. "I don't care. He pissed me off."

Pete pushed a warm bottle of water toward me. "Seems 'most to all men have that 'fect on you."

I pretended to think about that for a moment, then nodded. "Yep," I said. "That sounds about right. Maybe that's because most men are assholes."

Pete shrugged. "Yep, true 'nuff," he said, "though I don't think womens are really any better."

I swallowed a mouthful of water. "Women are insane," I said. "Whinier, too. More fun in the sack, though."

Pete spoke very carefully. "You, ah, gots a basis for comparison?"

I felt a momentary surge of irritation, but let it pass. Pete wasn't a bad guy. "I'm a lesbian, Pete...not a virgin."

He nodded. It wasn't a full answer, but it was all he was going to get.

I took another swallow of water. Then a voice said, "Hey, barkeep, who's the sexy lady?"

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Lawrence, the owner/manager of the establishment.

"You think you're funny, Lawrence?"

"Ain't I?"

"I sorta like you, Lawrence," I said, "so I'm gonna let you pick which bone of yours I break."

Lawrence contrived a reproachful expression. "Is that any way to talk to your boss?"

"You're not my boss," I said. "You're my promoter."

"Mercenary wench," he said, good-naturedly. He looked at Pete and nodded. "Gimme a brew, big man. Cold, if we got any."

"All right, boss," said Pete. "I'm going in back, get some ice. Cover the bar a minute?"

We watched Pete turn and squeeze his bulk through the door that was right behind him. Pete chuckled.

"He's bigger than the guys I hired to bounce," he said.

"I noticed," I said. "How'd you get him to work for you, anyway? You guys run shine together or something?"

Lawrence shrugged. "He came in one night when I first opened," he said. "Parked his Harley outside and drank for eight straight hours. I finally told him to leave, 'cuz I was closing. He didn't appreciate it, but we talked about it and he eventually left."

"I broke a chair over his head," said Pete, suddenly behind the bar again. "He got up 'n kicked me in the balls so hard, I walked lopsided for a week."

I laughed.

A stranger sat down on the stool next to mine. I knew he was a stranger, because regulars knew better than to get too close to me. Also, the patch covering his left eye was distinctive. It gave him a grizzled, ominous air, but I wasn't fooled. I knew what he was.

"Yeah?" said Pete, the soul of courtesy.

"Give me a shot of something that won't blind me," said the stranger in a gravelly voice, "and give the lady another water."

I shook my head. "Don't give the lady anything on that tab, Pete," I said, not looking at the stranger, "and tell him that if he tries to buy me anything else, I'll break his fingers."

Lawrence, sensing a potential problem, intervened. "Say, don't think I've seen you here before, mister."

"You're right," said the stranger. "I'm just passing through."

Lawrence looked him over appraisingly. "Pretty far off the beaten path there, feller," he said.

"Yes," said the man.

Pete hadn't moved to make the drink. The two bouncers that normally stood by the door glided closer. Lawrence was getting irritated by the man's non-enlightening answers and was ready to lean on him harder.

I made an indelicate sound. Lawrence turned.

"Military," I said.

Pete took a casual step back and the two bouncers paused.

Lawrence narrowed his eyes. "You sure?"

"Yeah," I said. "Officers have a distinct smell, like dead fish."

Lawrence glanced at the stranger appraisingly.

The man turned his head easily. "I'm here on my own time," he said. "I have no professional interest in your establishment."

It was difficult to see his good eye in the light. He sounded amused.

Lawrence shifted, undecided. He didn't like strangers, but he was too vulnerable legally to risk crossing the military, either. He finally nodded once to Pete, who still looked unconvinced, but grudgingly prepared the stranger's drink.

I stood. "The air's gotten a bit rancid," I said. "I'm going to get ready for my next fight."

The stranger lifted his shot glass in my direction in a mock toast. I turned and stalked away.

*****

My next opponent would have been an inch shorter than my 5'11", but the five-inch stiletto-heeled thigh boots gave us a four-inch difference.

I stared at her incredulously. "Stiletto boots?" I said. "In a cage fight? Seriously?"

Mistress Brandy smiled. The dominatrix had auburn hair and moved like a cat. Her leather bustier propped her heavy boobs, creating a delicious valley of cleavage that had the attention of every man in the bar.

"Of course, sweetie," said Brandy. "I have a reputation to uphold. And a new one established, after I've beaten you." She turned to Lawrence. "Show the girl what's in store for her, dear."

The crowd hooted and whistled as Lawrence held out a black leather collar of good quality. A padlock dangled from a metal joint.

Interesting. Brandy admitted no equals and brooked no rivals. She kept a number of captured subbie girls, and two previously self-declared Mistresses now wore her collar. My indomitable rep had proved irresistible to the dominatrix, and she was determined to add me to her chain.

"You're going to be a prize, sweetie," she said. "My enforcer, I think. Yes."

Brandy was confident. She was fast, she was strong, and she was resourceful. This wasn't really her style, though. She wasn't a scrapper.

Then I found it. The burning bright light. She was wired hot.

I smiled. "You talk a good fight," I said, "but you're going to look good on your knees, Brandy."

Brandy laughed, a musical sound. She turned to Lawrence. "Ring the bell, dear," she said. "It's time for me to spank the little girl."

Somebody tapped the bell with a hammer. Brandy stepped forward like she was on a red carpet, but made no move to approach me. "Come, sweetie," she said. "Aren't you going to use your blazing speed and roughhouse moves to beat me senseless?"

I walked toward her in a casual manner. "Yes," I said, "but I don't have to hurry. This will be easy."

"You're right about that, My little Cale," said Brandy, the light in her mind getting brighter, "easy...but sweet."

I stepped up to her, my posture casual. I reached out and slid a finger into her cleavage.

"Nice," I said.

"Thank you," she said. "Now why don't you show me yours?"

Her mindlight flashed. I could feel the pressure on my outer lobes.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't quite catch that."

Her mindlight continued glowing brightly. "I said, why don't you show me yours..."

Brandy sounded less certain now, and for good reason. She was discovering that whatever abilities her mindlight provided her, they didn't affect me.

"Nobody wants to see mine, Brandy," I said, smiling. "Mine are much too small. Now, yours on the other hand..."

Her mindlight was flashing now as she tried desperately to penetrate my mental immunity.

My smile broadened, but my voice became ice-cold. "Take off your top, Brandy," I said, "and shake your tits for the crowd."

The crowd was jeering now. They didn't know about the mental gymnastics taking place, of course, but they did understand that Brandy was losing her nerve.

She hesitated. Then, surprisingly, she decided to fight.

She swiped her long nails at my eyes and tried to punch me in the throat. The swipe was a good idea, but it missed. I forearm blocked the punch and then backhanded the dominatrix across the mouth.

She stumbled back a step, nearly losing her footing because of the stiletto boots. Her back was to the chain-linked fencing now and she shuffled sideways along the fence, trying to stay out of my reach.

I followed her progress along the fencing, amused. Her eyes narrowed, but she wasn't looking at me anymore. Then I realized what she was doing.

Lawrence blinked and his eyes began to lose focus. The collar and padlock dropped from his hands.

I shook my head, then looked back at Brandy.

"Clever," I said, "but stupid. You could have gotten out of here with just a beating. Now you're getting a night you won't forget for a long time."

Brandy smirked at me as Lawrence moved in. I spun away from Lawrence, however, and grabbed Brandy's forearm. Then I popped a flash-bulb in her brain.

Brandy's head jerked back and her body shuddered at the sudden mental short-circuit. She fell back twitching like she had received an actual electric shock, which, in a way, she had.

Lawrence's eyes cleared and he slipped back into his corner. Satisfied that he was fine, I turned my attention back to Brandy.

"All right," I said, "let's get started."

I wanted to pop-bulb her again, but I had just done it. I had to wait until I recharged, and this fight would be long over by the time that happened. Instead, I drove my fist into her flat belly.

Brandy's eyes were still dazed, and now she dropped to her knees, struggling to catch her breath.

"E-enough," she said, "No more..."

"Fine by me," I said. "Strip."

"Strip?" she said. "Look...I'll shake my tits for them, all right? You don't have to-"

"Strip!" I said. "Now."

She hesitated, and I backhanded her in the mouth. Just a quick shot at quarter-strength, enough to show her I meant business. It caught her unaware, however, and she fell backward.

She blinked, trying to clear her head. I took a step forward, and her hands flew to the laces of her leather thigh boots.

It took some work, but she pulled the first boot off and pushed it away. She then worked the second boot as well. She was still wearing her bustier and bikini bottom, but she seemed naked as she sat on the ground, her long legs and feet bare.

I reached down and pulled the lace free that was holding her bustier together. Bending down and grabbing both sides of the bustier, I pulled it loose, then stood up.

"Arms up," I said.

"Please..." she said. I held up my hand and her arms went up.

"It's good for you," I said, pulling the bustier straight up and off her body. "You gotta let the puppies breathe once in a while."

The guys in the crowd were hooting and hollering now. It was rare for me to fight a woman, particularly one as attractive as Brandy. The crowd was showing its appreciation.

"Stand up, slut," I said, and Brandy got to her feet. She was trying to act non-chalant, but she was a Mistress...she wasn't used to being a slut on display. She looked much smaller and vulnerable without her leather and boots.

"Spin around, cutie," I said. "Do a little pirouette."

Teeth clenched, cheeks burning, Brandy did so. Her boobs were large enough that it took several heartbeats for them to quit jiggling when she stopped.

I turned her around so she was facing the crowd instead of me. I let my hands slide down from her shoulders to her waist. My fingers pinched the sides of her bikini bottom waistband.

"No!" she said. "Please don't strip me fully naked. I'll do whatever you say. Men aren't allowed to see my pussy without my permission."

"You're in my ring," I said, "and I just kicked your ass. I can show them anything I want." With those words, I slid her bikini bottom down her legs to her ankles. The crowd cheered and threw beer as she grudgingly stepped out of her last article of clothing.

I put my arm around her bare shoulders and made a show of walking her around the cage, making sure everybody got a good look.

"Is this really necessary?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"How did you do that, anyway?" asked Brandy. "Nobody's ever resisted me before."

"Nobody gets into my mind unless I let them," I said.

"And that...whatever it is you did? When it felt like you turned my mind inside-out?"

I chuckled. "The mental short-circuit?" I said. "That's nothing, really. Just a little trick I happen to be good at." Actually, it took everything I had to do it and I could only do it once every couple hours, but I wasn't going to tell Brandy that.

Halfway through our circuit, we reached Lawrence. I put out my hand and he handed me the leather collar.

"Chin up, sweetie," I said.

Brandy's eyes widened. "No!" she said. "You can't collar me! You can't!"