Chapter 2

I found our suite empty, as expected, but I still felt grateful for that small favor. Laura had spent the day with the other Mistresses, for they rarely gathered all together in one place and would necessarily have much to discuss. Each Pride operated independently, but only within the framework of the larger commonwealth. I wasn't privy to their private meetings, but at home I normally spent most of my time not far from Laura's side. Naturally, I'd learned quite a bit about the business side of catfighting and an appreciation for how lucrative the enterprise could be.

In defense of my Mistress and her peers, however, I have to say that they regarded wealth not as an ends, but as a means to continue their chosen lifestyle. That's what catfighting is, after all, an alternative lifestyle, and one as removed from mainstream America as any other so-called fetish behavior. For us, normalcy is a fetish, and one that we generally look down upon. We considered ourselves rightly apart from the more vocal and widely known lesbian and BDSM communities, although obviously we watched their progress with interest.

The phone rang just as I stepped from the shower. My Mistress wanted to remind me that I was expected for dinner. But before I could face her I had to make myself beautiful, and definitely hide the bruise that Swan had left on my face after slapping me. The discoloration wasn't terrible, and my cheek only slightly swollen, but I worried over it just the same. At least the girl hadn't hit me with her fist.

"There you are," Laura sighed, smiling despite her annoyance. "I was beginning to feel naked, Kara. Have some champagne."

"Forgive me, Mistress," I said, accepting a glass from a rather exotic waitress wearing a golden sari and thanking her with my eyes.

Apparently our host preferred to staff his home with teenage girls from India, although the evening previously he'd thoroughly enjoyed my decidedly occidental charms. I didn't want to think about that, however, as being called a whore still bothered me. Swan's teasing had struck a nerve of self-doubt and I wondered unhappily if her opinion of me wasn't unique in our closeted world. Thankfully, the mandatory cocktail party that preceded the formal dinner required me to be only a polite, beautiful, and largely silent companion as Laura danced from one conversation into another. Or that's how it always seemed to me, a ritual dance with ever changing partners.

Of course, if one had it in mind to really dance, a string quartet performed with admirable skill. They were young women as well, attractive and foreign, and attired in the same traditional garb as the servants. Only after I stopped a waitress for a second glass of champagne did it dawn on me that none of the servants spoke a word of English. I'd asked for her name and received only an apologetic smile, the barest shrug of her slender shoulders, in silent response. It was a good idea and one that the Mistresses had insisted upon, but even so, nothing of genuine importance would ever be discussed in the presence of outsiders

There were a number of significant guests who had accepted invitation to the Grand Tournament. Like our host, Dr. Arthakama, they were ardent catfight enthusiasts and each of them personally known to at least one Mistress. Their patronage provided no small amount of money, but those who could wield influence were most highly regarded. They counted politicians and lawyers, among their ranks, bankers and brokers and diplomats. Our patrons were men, and a surprising number of women, who shared a clandestine interest, a secret appetite that could only be sated with the consent of my Mistress and her peers.

It never failed to impress me when a governor, or a senator in this case, embraced Laura as an equal, expressing his sincere gratitude for the privilege of attending the tournament.

"I've got my staff telling everyone I'm on a fact finding mission to South America," he explained with a smile. "Something about the rainforest, that's all I know. Thank God for global warming, eh?"

"Well, I'm glad you could make it," Laura replied. "If there's anything I can do..."

"Actually, there is something you could do for me," he said, jumping so quickly at the offer that I blinked with surprise.

My Mistress took the politician's brutish enthusiasm in stride, smiling and wondering, "And what might that be, Senator?"

"I'd like a chance to get to know one of your girls in a more, uh ... intimate setting, shall we say?" he suggested, lowering his voice as he leaned closer.

"I see," Laura said with a thoughtful nod. "Which girl did you have in mind?"

"The blonde," he answered. "I believe her name is Natalie? I'm willing to pay for her valuable time, of course."

"That's simply not possible," she said. "I can arrange a private viewing during her morning exercises, but beyond that I have to keep my girls focused on the tournament. I'm sure you understand."

"That's not quite what I had in mind," the man responded, losing his smile. "I must say, I'd hoped to find you in a more generous mood, all things considered. Perhaps you should take a moment and think about it, Laura."

"Your generosity is always appreciated, Senator," she told him, "but not required. In the interest of our continued friendship, I hope you'll remember that. If you'll excuse me."

"It was nice meeting you, Senator," I said. "I hope you enjoy the tournament."

Mistress Laura shook her head as we left the man behind us. I wasn't sure that refusing the Senator's request had been a good idea, but none of Laura's cats were for sale, not even by the hour. So far as I knew, that held true for every Mistress and the girls in their packs. They weren't operating brothels, after all, and outside the arena the cats were free to give themselves to whomever they liked, although the price wasn't always free. Laura wasn't a pimp, but that didn't mean some of her girls didn't do a little business on the side. Several of the girls in her pack worked part-time as exotic dancers and at least one girl, Mitchie, made porn movies, lesbian BDSM for the most part and far removed from cat fighting.

"His term ends next year anyway," Laura told me, venting her annoyance with the Senator. "I have it on good authority that he's not going to run for reelection."

"Oh?" I plucked a few grapes off a platter as we passed one of many tables laden with fruit, vegetables, and various appetizers.

"Someone's going to send a video of the Senator and two very young black girls to the Washington Post in a month or two."

"Really?" I asked, shaking my head sadly. "Who would do that, I wonder."

If I mentioned previously that none of the Mistresses had brought their cats to the banquet, I was mistaken. While Laura exchanged pleasantries with a well rounded gentleman she called Bogie, a nickname he'd earned for his golfing skills, not his looks, I joined conversation with the man's mistress, Isabelle. By that I mean the woman he fucked behind his wife's back. She was half-Japanese and half-Spanish, the mistress, I mean, and very high maintenance, I'm sure.

"I love your dress," she told me, drinking in my strapless evening gown. "Is that Dolce? Wherever did you find it?"

"Donna Karan," I replied. "It's so hard to find anything around here. Laura takes me down to LA every once in awhile and I go a little crazy."

"Oh! I know!" Isabelle laughed lightly. "Bogie took me to Palm Springs last month and the poor dear's been complaining ever since."

She wore an emerald suit, Givenchy, I believe. The silk tunic and pencil skirt accentuated her narrow, graceful form to good effect and I admired that look a great deal. I'm not sure it would have the same effect for me, given my well-rounded hips or especially my much larger breasts. Short skirts usually looked best on me, or red evening gowns with deep cleavage and very high slits. Whenever I took more than a few steps in any direction, I offered my admirers a lot of naked thigh and proof positive that I hadn't bothered with underwear. But that was my job and I had little doubt that I was the most attractive woman in the room.

"Tell me..." Isabelle whispered, putting her mouth to my ear. "What's it like being surrounded by all those ferocious women?"

"Uhhhh..." I smiled, somewhat surprised as I felt her fingers scratching lightly at my tummy. I could smell her perfume as the woman's cheek brushed against mine.

"Do they ever take advantage of you?" she breathed. "So strong, so aggressive."

"If I'm not careful," I softly replied. "They're always watching me, waiting for the perfect moment when I'm..."

"Helpless," she sighed. "I would be terrified, I think, to imagine what a woman like your Mistress would do to someone like me."

"Only what you can imagine?" I told her, turning so that I could stare into her dark, almond eyes. "My Mistress would do far worse things to you than that, believe me."

"I do." she nodded, licking her lips. "Could you arrange such a thing?"

That took me by surprise and I realized that I was quickly getting into something over my head. It was one thing to briefly entertain this woman's fantasies, and quite another to make commitments in Mistress Laura's name. I wondered if Bogie was even aware of his girlfriend's interest in being raped by a catfighter. I thought that perhaps he was, since he'd brought Isabelle with him to the tournament and therefore vouchsafed her discretion. Most guests arrived stag, as they say, simply because strangers were always unwelcome and it took a goodly amount of persuasion to change that.

"I'll speak with my Mistress about your, uh ... request," I decided. "I think it'll depend more on how the Judge feels about it."

"Bogie?" She smiled, glancing at the man. "He gives me anything I want. You don't have to worry about him. If it's a question of money..."

I frowned immediately and Isabelle was at least intelligent enough to realize she'd made a mistake. That's the problem with people born to wealth, oftentimes they don't even know they're being insulting.

"Well, well..." I felt my skin crawl as I heard an all too familiar voice. "Your thighs aren't even dry yet and you're already looking for the next customer?"

"Be nice, Swan," Mistress Megan said as I turned my head, "Kara's only doing what she's told. Such a good kitten. You could learn a lot from her, I think."

"Mistress," I breathed, lowering my eyes as custom demanded. Megan and the other Mistresses deserved and expected the same deference I offered Lauren.

"Oh my," Isabelle said, staring at Swan. "I don't think we've met before. Why don't you introduce me to your friend, Kara?"

I wasn't surprised to discover that the beautiful girl who'd bullied me earlier had turned out to be Swan. I'd come to that conclusion on my own, but I hadn't expected to see her at the banquet. She stood as the only cat present, aside from the Mistresses, of course, and that strange circumstance gave the girl a measure power out of proportion to her stature. She might have been Megan's best tier three fighter, perhaps one of the best anywhere, but Swan was still only tier three and therefore nothing but another kitten in the greater scheme of things.

But still, she was the only cat in the room for all practical purposes, and Swan wasn't about to let anyone forget it.

"Yeah," Swan said, turning her sparkling blue eyes on Isabelle. "Introduce us, Kara. I think your girlfriend sees something she likes."

Around us the party continued, but those standing nearest had largely stopped their conversations. Between myself and Swan, who still wore her schoolgirl outfit, we drew a lot of attention anyway. We were both seventeen and blessed with a physical maturity beyond our years, which would have been enough to assure our rightful places in the spotlight under the dullest of circumstances.

"Come on," Swan continued, speaking to Isabelle. "You do like me, right? You want to fuck me, don't you? I'm right here. Hit me."

"What?" The oriental woman flushed as she blinked at the girl in front of her.

"Maybe you should put your kitty on a leash," Laura suggested to Megan, fighting to keep her tone level and friendly.

"Hit me, bitch," Swan repeated, ignoring everyone else. "One punch. If you connect, I'll let you fuck me all night long. You don't even have to knock me down, just hit me."

"I don't think she's got any fight in her," Megan said, smiling as she put a hand on Swan's shoulder. That probably should have been the end of it, but of all people, Bogie had other ideas.

"No," he said. "Let Isabelle try it. If she hits your girl, we get to keep her all night. Is that the wager?"

"Bogie!" Isabelle stared at him.

"It is now," Megan agreed. "But if your girl loses..."

"Yours for the night," Bogie said with an expansive smile. "Do whatever you want with her. But if my Isabelle lands one punch before the fight is over, she wins."

And just that quickly the wager was made and Isabelle had no choice but to face Swan. The music didn't stop, but everything else did. Laura didn't seem very happy with this unexpected turn of events, but she didn't like Swan anyway. Neither did I, and we were both hoping that Bogie's girlfriend could hit her opponent at least once. A lucky blow to the face or stomach, even a half-hearted Charlie horse that would make a fifth grader blush would give Isabelle a victory. For a moment I even had the ridiculous thought that maybe Isabelle knew karate or something, being half-Japanese. Wouldn't that be something?

"So? Go ahead," Swan told her, standing relaxed and offering the woman that infernal smile I detested. "Take your best shot, slut. I am so going to fuck your ass later!"

"What? Right here?" Isabelle reminded me of a wet puppy the way she shivered and looked around with her eyes wide with fear. "Right now?"

"Hit her," someone said, presumably to Isabelle, and the crowd of Mistresses and guests pushed inward to form a rough circle around the two girls.

That began something like a chant, which could only be a rhythmic prelude to the chaotic shouting sure to follow once the fight really started. It's always the same, in my experience, whether in the arena, a schoolyard, or even a banquet hall. People are people and we were all hungry for a show, even me.

"Hit her, Isabelle!" I said loudly. "Punch her right in the face!"

To her everlasting credit, she tried to do just that, throwing her right arm towards Swan's nose in a wide, gently curving arc that telegraphed her intentions all too clearly. Swan ducked and immediately hammered Isabelle in the stomach with her left fist and a second later, her right hand rose between them like a geyser of pain. Even as she bent over her injured tummy, the vicious uppercut snapped Isabelle's head upward. The woman's empty eyes stared at the ceiling for a second, and then she dropped in an awkward emerald pile at Swan's feet.

Two seconds? Maybe it had taken three, but no more than that. The fight wasn't over yet, of course, and Isabelle had just started to come around when Swan rammed three fingers into the woman's cunt.

She screamed, suddenly very conscious and definitely confused. Swan had yanked Isabelle's expensive skirt upward and removed her victim's thong completely. It too was emerald green and quite elastic as the girl used it to bind Isabelle's hands behind her back. That had happened a moment before, as she lay knocked out and helpless, now that Isabelle was awake, she would at least get her fantasy. Swan held her head against the floor with her left hand around her neck and fucked Isabelle with the other, grinning happily and telling us how tight and wet the woman's pussy felt.

"She's fucking soaked!" Swan announced, pulling her glistening fingers free and holding them up. "I think this bitch let me win!"

Isabelle merely whimpered at first, but as she obviously grew more and more aroused, her pathetic cries became high pitched moans. She rocked her hips and gasped with her first orgasm, an obvious one as the juice sprayed down her thighs to puddle between her knees. That ultimate humiliation had taken all of five minutes and we had another fifteen or twenty before dinner would be served. Swan seemed determined to find out how many times she could make her new, if only temporary, slave climax.

Like most cats, she put on a good show and Swan's theatrics pleased everyone as she played to the crowd. Some of the waitresses were plainly shocked and I think a couple of them had decided to hide in the kitchen, but many of the guests were already congratulating a beaming Dr. Arthakama for providing such unexpected and apropos entertainment. None of them tried to interfere or join the scene playing out before their hungry eyes, although most of us were undoubtedly aroused. It was Swan's victory and by extension, Mistress Megan's as well, and to the victor went the spoils.

Isabelle was left were she lay, a bound and quivering centerpiece to the six course feast that our host had prepared in honor of the Grand Tournament. Bogie had taken it upon himself to find a seat near Megan and Swan, engaging them in animated conversation. That didn't improve Laura's mood at all, as no Mistress likes to be upstaged in front of her patrons. She didn't have to say anything, but I knew she had to be second guessing her decision to keep me out of the arena. I could have been Swan so easily, but I wasn't and I'm sure it frustrated both of us.

"Do you think Bambi will win tomorrow?" I asked Laura, although it was half past midnight and already the day of the first matches.

"Of course she will," my Mistress replied. "What's wrong with you tonight?"

"I don't like that Swan girl," I said, unzipping her dress to reveal Laura's supple back. "I don't trust her, and the way she hit Isabelle..."

"Swan's a good girl," she reminded me. "A good fighter, too. She's going to need a little something to take the sting out of losing tomorrow."

"Mistress?" I cocked my head she stepped out of her dress and turned around to face me.

"I'm going to give you to her," Laura told me. "Not permanently, just until she's comfortable in her new home."

"But..." I blinked, and quickly dropped my eyes. "Yes, Mistress."

"You don't like that idea?" she asked, twirling her finger so I'd turn. She unzipped me while I tried to think of something to say.

"What about Bambi?"

"What about her?" Laura let my dress puddle around my feet and hugged me from behind. "They'll learn to respect each other, if nothing else. This won't be the first time I've claimed a girl for our pack, Kara."

"I know," I whispered, unable to confess the feelings Bambi and I shared for each other.

The timing wasn't right and my Mistress wanted to stop thinking so much and relax before the first day of matches began in little more than twelve hours. Her hands cupped my breasts as she kissed my neck and shoulder, playing her cheek against my loose, blonde hair. Except for the small silver thong she wore, we were both naked and alone in our suite.

"I can't wait to watch Swan fuck you," she breathed. "You should have seen yourself tonight, the way you couldn't take your eyes off the girl."

"Mmmm..." I sighed, reaching behind me to hold her hips and pull my Mistress against me. She was only an inch shorter, but built of rock solid muscle, the strongest cat in the pack, and she owned me completely.

"And she wanted to impress you so badly," Laura continued. "I've kept you too long for myself, haven't I? You deserve a girlfriend your own age."

Everything she said was true, but the girl I wanted wasn't Swan. If I'd been staring at the girl, it was only because I detested not only her treatment of me, but of Isabelle, too. It seemed unfair that she'd been allowed to humiliate an innocent woman so publicly, but I'd enjoyed it as much as anyone. I couldn't forget that and it's a curious thing, the lust for blood that we all suffer, Thankfully, Isabelle hadn't bled at all, but the embarrassment must have been terrible, and would probably remain with her for a long time to come.

"What's this?" Laura demanded, noticing my scarred breast for the first time. "How did this happen? Who did it?"

She didn't need to ask how, the shape of the scabs and their geometry told her that someone had recently scratched me. They were the only blemish on my body, aside from a single tiny mole at the top of my right thigh.

"Bambi?" she guessed, since I'd spent the afternoon with the girl. "She knows better than that! I'll teach her to respect someone else's property!"

"No!" I shook my head quickly. "It wasn't Bambi."

"Who then?" Laura asked, looking up to see my face. "Natalie? Vicky? Tell me, Kara!"

"Swan," I answered, wondering how she'd take that news. Lying had been out of the question, not only because I wasn't very good at it, but because she was my Mistress.

"What?"

"I think she just wanted to scare me," I said, explaining how the girl had caught me in the hallway and brought me into her room.

"She called you a whore?" Laura asked. "What else did she say?"

"I don't really remember, um..." I shrugged. "She kept insulting me, and then she spit in my mouth and just ... let me go."

"Swan wasn't trying to scare you," she decided, holding my chin and examining my bruised cheek. She used her thumb to wipe at the foundation and concealing cream I'd used to hide the faint bruising.

"She wasn't?"

"No." Laura smiled thinly. "Megan put her up to it. She was trying to scare me."

"Oh." I didn't even pretend to understand all the little games that the Mistresses played with each other.

"That's alright," she said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly to release some of the anger inside. "It doesn't mean anything, except that she's desperate. You didn't say anything about this to Bambi, did you? Natalie or Vicky?"

"No, Mistress. I haven't seen them at all since before it happened."

"Good," she said, finally smiling. "Bambi's got a temper and it makes her foolish sometimes. Did she enjoy herself this afternoon? How many times did she cum?"

"I don't know," I replied, giggling self-consciously as Laura massaged my shoulders. "We both came a lot, I think. She seemed pretty happy with me."

"Hmph!" The woman smiled at that. "It was a silly question, huh? I must be getting old."

"I don't think so," I sighed, watching our visitor watch us.

We would make love the way we most often did, although Laura enjoyed surprising me with new inventions from time to time. This evening's variation took the form of a young Indian woman, one of the waitresses from the banquet. She'd spoken not a word and had been sitting patiently on a nearby chair, not understanding any of our conversation. I didn't think she'd taken her eyes off me once the entire time.

"Our host assured me that Alia thinks you're the most beautiful woman in the whole world," Laura told me as I got onto the bed. "She's never been with a woman before and quite nervous, the poor girl. She's been dripping all night just from looking at you."

"She's very pretty," I breathed, stretching my arms above my head.

"I know because I checked." She used thin leather straps with silver buckles to bind my wrists to the bed posts. "Such a tight cunt, too. I might have to fuck her myself before the tournament's over."

My Mistress did love her toys and she attached a spreader to my ankles. The round tube was made of plastic and very light, but very strong as well and fitted with velcro straps at each end. Unlike most of the other leg spreaders in her inventory, this one wasn't adjustable and kept my feet some forty-eight inches apart, which wasn't uncomfortable for me at all.

The girl, Alia, seemed to be holding her breath as her wide brown eyes took in my breasts, now pulled taut, but hardly flattened. They were much too firm and proud for that and my nipples jutted towards the mirrored ceiling, already grown thick and stiff with excitement. My clean and freshly shaven pussy was completely exposed as well and I thought I heard the girl softly gasp as Laura slipped a finger between my labia.

"Someone else seems to be wet, too," she said, laughing lightly. "Don't worry, I'll take care of your hole, Kara."

It didn't take her long to get Alia out of her golden sari and I briefly admired her brown complexion and slim, but well-rounded figure. She had a hairy little bush around her vulva and covering her mound, and that seemed slightly odd to me as I'd grown so used to being around women who kept themselves smooth at all times. In fact, I'd never eaten out a girl with pubic hair in my life, not until my Mistress convinced our timid playmate to sit on my face.

Alia definitely gasped, jerking upward at the first tentative touch of my tongue to her sex. She quickly relaxed, however, giggling and whispering something in her exotic language as she lowered her pussy once more to my open mouth. I wished my hands were free and I tugged against my bonds in a futile effort to touch the girl. She must have bathed before attending guests at the banquet, but that had been eight or ten hours previously. Perhaps longer as I breathed deeply the ripe scent of female sweat, piss, and not a little arousal. Laura was right, Alia had been dripping wet long before my tongue wormed its way past her greasy labia.

"Mmmph!" I exhaled sharply as my Mistress kept her promise and pushed into me with one of her strap-on dildos.

"Just relax," she whispered, pushing slowly and forcing my burning cunt to stretch uncomfortably. "And don't you dare stop eating that pussy."

She had more than a few dildos and none of them were small. They varied from the thickness of my wrist to something more resembling a two liter soda bottle than anything else. This one had a fat, bulbous head and evenly spaced ridges around the shaft, like donuts made of soft, firm rubber. I had enough experience to recognize the sensations and that helped. I knew I could take it and after a few minutes would even begin to enjoy the constant pinch of my vagina being so unnaturally violated.

Once firmly planted in my cunt, Laura held the spreader and pushed forward with it, lifting my legs and rolling my ass off the bed. Alia had discovered that she wouldn't be admonished for playing with my tits and she filled her hands with my flesh, giggling like a little girl at Christmas. She began rocking her hips as well, growing bolder it seemed, and I had no doubt that Laura took every opportunity to encouraged the girl's excitement.

I had my nose pressed against Alia's asshole and my tongue wriggling as deeply inside her cunt as possible when she had her first orgasm. I had no choice but to drink her tart fluids, although much of her climax spilled down my cheeks and neck. Laura continued to fuck me all the while, pushing and pulling the spreader to move my hips and work my throbbing cunt around her fat cock. The dildo may not have been too thick for me, but it was definitely too long and every time my Mistress thrust her pelvis towards mine, the smooth, blunt head of the toy punched the bottom of my pussy like a fist.

It was unbelievable how much that hurt, and equally unbelievable how much pleasure the pain brought me. I hadn't always been so submissive, so eager to be abused in that fashion, but Laura had spent a long time teaching me to embrace the torment she enjoyed inflicting upon her lovers. All other thoughts fled as just then I could imagine nothing I wanted more. With my impending orgasm, I tightened my thighs and tummy, trying desperately to push myself against the pressure. I wanted more and forever and if I hadn't had my mouth full of Indian cunt, I would have begged Laura to fill me with every last inch of that monstrous cock.

My first orgasm was epic.

I awoke alone, unbound and curled up with a pillow against my chest. I felt confused at first, but only because I didn't remember falling asleep. The ache between my thighs made itself known, and wasn't entirely unwelcome nor unexpected. I often felt sore after making love with my Mistress and knew it would wear off quickly with a hot bath and some gentle masturbation.

The bath and toilet were in separate rooms, but I caught sight of Alia on her knees in the shower with her face pressed between Laura's butt cheeks. They must have awoken shortly before me and I well knew how my Mistress enjoyed having her asshole attended to first thing in the morning. It was something of a fetish for her, although I'd never completely understood the reason behind it. She enjoyed being rimmed the way most people need that first cup of coffee. I just needed to pee, and brush my teeth. How many times Alia had cum in my mouth, I had no idea, but some six or seven hours later, the sour aftertaste wasn't exactly pleasant.

And my pussy gaped as I sat down, which made me wince. Not from the sight of my bruised vagina unable to remember its proper shape, but simply from the discomfort as I spread my thighs and bent over to examine myself. I explored my sex with my fingers, letting my bladder go and cupping my warm piss. I massaged my vulva with the liquid, knowing from past experience how good that would feel. It sounds nasty, but I was about to take a bath anyway, and like I said, it did help to make me feel better. I didn't really mind so-called water sports in any case, and I wondered if the story about Swan pissing on a girl's face was true or not.