Wild Blac Cat

If he can't make her purr, she'll make him bleed!

Millie Dynamite

Copyright© 2022 by Millie Dynamite

In the mountain valley, dawn is a tricky thing to pin down. Why Lucky rose before dawn and watched the sunrise, escaped him at the moment. After all, he didn't leave the theater until 1:00 am. And he took a leisurely stroll, retracing his trek from the same as the foggy night a month before.

The air turned cooler now as summer neared its end. His shoulder throbbed from the coolness. He sat on the back porch of his small cabin, sipping coffee in the frigid morning air with deep anticipation. He pulled the small scrap of paper from his pocket.

Lucky,

You worthless Cracker, I hope this message finds you healing and ready for more pain.

All my love, which you so richly don't merit

Dark Angel

P.S. your safe word, my useless little maggot, is pink

The note appeared under his door the day before when he left for work and returned. As soon as he saw 'Luck and Dark Angel,' he realized she still loved him. Albeit the oddest, most fantastic kind of love which existed. How his Dark Angel found him, he hadn't a clue. Nor did he care. However, he was curious.

He remembered the first note she left him, finding it inside his pants pocket when he dressed to check out of the hospital.

'

True love is when she shoves her gun up your ass

.'

Lucky laminated the note, tapping the term of her endearment on his shaving mirror. Before and after shaving each morning, Lucky kissed his fingers and pressed them to the message. As he did this, he prayed thanks to whatever God there was for the woman's love. Before Angel, Luck never kissed a girl, held a young lady's hand, or made love to a woman.

Lucky never asked a girl or woman for a date, and not one woman or girl had asked him either.

Rubbing his shoulder, Lucky realized, for him, the only downside of being shot, other than the pain, was being in the psych ward for 72 hours. She made it appear he shot himself.

Each time he read her delightful second note, his pulse raced, and his shoulder throbbed, remembering all her exquisite torture. The woman's elegant, cursive writing was remarkably readable and appeared to be calligraphic training.

For her diminutive size, pound for pound, she possessed incredible strength and could overpower him with the ease of a lion taking a gazelle. He marveled at the memory of her tiny body, rippled with muscles, how she rode him, under the bridge, in the hospital, and hopefully today or tonight. The ache in his shoulder matched the longing in his cock for her rough, consuming touch.

For a moment, Lucky considered running to the liquor store and getting another bottle of wine. He only had white, and she might like red, salmon, pink, or rosé. Unable to push her from his mind, Lucky lived in a constant state of agitation, longing to be in her presence. Unable to concentrate for any time without her invading his mind, his mind, if not his body, was in a continual state of horniness.

Standing, Lucky strode to the railing, flinging the tepid, insignificant last mouthful of coffee into the grassy patch behind his deck. A white, old, panel van with the word RapidDel on its side signaled that Del Ransard was, no doubt, delivering something to one of the homes on the outskirts of town.

As the nasty, old van pulled into his drive, Lucky realized he had something coming to him. Del laid into his horn, waved, and exited the vehicle.

"You don't look so wounded to me," Del quipped. Del Ransard was one of Lucky's worst nightmares. More verbose than his other bullies. The usual routine employed by Del was to badgering him with effusive insults from the moment he laid eyes on Lucky until Del left and Lucky could no longer hear him.

"By God," Del laid into him, "any idiot that fucks up a suicide by shooting himself in the shoulder deserves to die a slow, excruciating death. I mean shit, Jimmy, you have plenty of reason to end it all. Yes, sir, I'll grant you that, but your damn shoulder isn't the right place."

"Sure," Del laughed as he spoke, "you never had a girlfriend, and if you found one, me or some other real man would fuck her, still no reason to kill yourself. I mean, some ugly bitch may latch to you for free movies sometimes. Might fuck you even, and she'll be so ugly no one else would fucker her, if you're lucky, which you aren't."

"So," Del continued, poking fun, "she'll be just cute enough to get fucked, and me, Tom, Dick, maybe Harry will give'r-a-go. Come to think of it, you'd probably enjoy watching, right? Hu, Jimmy ole, boy, I.m right on this?"

"No, I don't think I would. And I have a girlfriend," Lucky said.

"Sure you do. Might be she's the one bought you the kitty cat, ya think? Then again, you probably bought the cat, so I'd think you got a girlfriend, right?" Del said, adding a few insults afterward.

"What kitty cat?"

"The one in the van," Del said. "Them nuts and bolts must rattle awful loud in your empty head, Jimmy, boy."

"I'm not getting any cat," Lucky said.

"Yes, you are. Got to be. Some yow's, a clawing on the cage, soft meow's, and the tiny ack sound they make at birds or insects when the critters agitate them. The strangest thing the bitch must way 90 pounds," Del said. "I'll unload and put the box in the living room. But, pal, don't open that fucker until I'm gone. In case the bitch is a cross between a bobcat and mountain lion."

Del returned to his truck, opened the door, pulled a ramp out, and clambered inside. With a two-wheeler, he brought the box outside and rolled the container to the front door while Lucky went inside and met him at the door.

The container was an enormous pet carrier with some dark breathable cloth covering the breath holes. From inside came a strange purring, like some human mimicking a cat. Lucky squatted and started at the door, small bars, with the same cloth behind them as on the other air holes.

"Okay, motherfucker, I brought you yer pet. Now, give me time to be gone before you open the fucker," Del walked out, slamming the door behind him, shouting obscenities and insults. Even as he drove away, he screamed verbal abuse at the top of his lungs.

As Del's voice faded, with shaking hands, Lucky reached for the handle, pulled on the door, the snap released, and the door swung away. Inside, bright green, almond-shaped eyes glared at him, with a painted face like a cat's. The woman was wearing cat-eyes contacts. The pupils seemed to run horizontally. Long, thin, pointy teeth peeked out from her lips, and her tongue darted about, licking her hand. Dental implants of some type, he guessed.

"Angel?" he asked.

'

Stupid shit

,' she thought. Releasing a long, high-pitched yow and hissing, she crawled cautiously from the cage. Wearing a white lace catsuit and white lace gloves with claws at the fingertips, Angel sniffed the air, sniffed him from a distance, and moved closer.

The pattern of white lace, contrasted with her swarthy, jet-black flesh, formed a stripe pattern. Curly platinum hair, with pointy and striped ears sticky up from the hair, completed her appearance. Sitting on her haunch, she raised her right hand, cleaning her paw, ignoring Lucky.

"Nice, kitty," Lucky said, reaching his hand toward her to pet hair head.

In a flash, she yowled, slashing her claws over his hand. With a repetitious, agitated chirp and hiss, the cat woman warned him not to touch her. Rising to her feet, she slinked around the room, meowing here. Sniffing the air, the cat woman hissed and spat at something on the floor.

Standing, Lucky viewed her rub on the wall or a corner.

At his seat in the kitchen, the woman rubbed all over the seat and back. With a purring, she spread her sent, or so Lucky believed. Slinking toward him, her eyes locked on his, she approached. A few feet from him, she dropped to her haunches, tilting her head to one side, and her eyes opened wide.

This deep, snarling growl, a hiss, and several angry chatters preceded the otherwise warning-less pounce. Lunging from the ground to Lucky's chest, she knocked him on his back. Her mouth covered his throat, the long sharp cat fangs pressed into either side of his Adam's apple.

The claws on one paw pressed deep into his chest. The cat woman's other front paw dug deep into his solar plexus, while one hindfoot rubbed his package, her knee on the other leg pressing her weight into his belly.

"Such a noble kitty," Luck said, soft fearful. His cock had swollen when he saw her cat eyes inside the cage. Her foot rubbing him through his loose kakis was so wonderful. "Lovely kitty, sweet kitty. I love my kitty."

The fangs lifted away from his throat. Her cat-eyes glared into his eyes, and the cat woman's foot moved about his cock and ball sack, edging him closer and closer. Her chattering turned to trills, her hisses morphed to purring, as the cat woman turned happy. The woman's long tongue snaked out and ran from his chin to his forehead. She repeated the cleaning until she'd cleaned every inch. Her head moved to his chest, the claws pulled from his flesh, and her pace of stimulation quickened.

The cat woman plucked the buttons from his shirt. Licking his chest, she moved the shirt from chest and belly, her claws traced around, leaving light white trails where she scratched loving tracks into his flesh.

Through all this stimulation, Lucky sucked air deep into his lungs with ragged, fast breaths. His flesh tingled head to toe, and he struggled to maintain control. The sensation of her foot through the fabric sent the licentious yearning into his fevered mind.

What he needed, what he wanted, at that moment, deep harsh pain.

Excruciating pain exploded in his left pecs when the claws of her right paw dug into muscled flesh. Four distinct sharp points of ecstatic, agonizing torment send him over the edge. The man's cum spread over his crotch, soaking through the tan pants. Hot spunk ran over his junk.

A prolonged wail, mixed with pain and pleasure, rustled from Lucky's throat. His eyes rolled back in their sockets as Lucky's body trembled with joy. The orgasmic rapture lasted for half a minute after his prick stopped convulsing.

The kitty cat stroked his penis until she satisfied her mind that he expended all the pent-up desire and chum. When his body went limp as his dick. The cat woman moved to his face, her crotch at his mouth. She dug her claws into his head and forced his mouth to touch her wet pussy.

Digging his tongue deep into her, she humped his face, holding his head in place with her claws as she, and he, brought her to a shattering orgasm. All the while, the black cat woman chattered, trilled, meowed, purred, and shrieked in delight.

Her legs, pussy, and body palpitated, trembled, and quivered as many countless orgasms shattered her body. Once the body-quake ended, the beast turned back to his soaked crotch. With her claws, she ripped the pants and underwear to shreds. Tiny, painful scratches covered his flesh, balls, and penis, and the sensation flooding his meat with fresh blood swelling his dick.

Turning around, she mounted his cock, and bent toward his face while she humped his cock with her sopping wet pussy.

With blinding speed, she slashed one paw across his face with an annoyed hiss, followed by another clawed paw on the other cheek. Her hands moved over his flesh, alternating between tender palms and sharp claws. In all his life, Lucky enjoyed nothing before as much as this.

Moving closer, her mouth opened, and taking his upper lip between her teeth, the woman bit and released. Licking and kissing his mouth, face, and nose. Their hips moved in opposition, thrusting together and pulling apart. The nameless mistress and her Lucky lover mated.

The lovemaking lasted for nearly an hour before, once again, he released. A few moments before his release, the cat woman let loose with her own orgasm. Lucky bucked, grunted, and sighed as he came. While she moaned and groaned, chattered, and howled through her own.

Laying on his chest, the two perfectly matched lovers drifted into sleep.

After a time, quite a long time, Lucky woke and tried to roll her off him. Waking, bounding into a sitting position on his chest, she slashed her claws over his right cheek. Laying flat on his back, he put his hands to his side, and Lucky's pick twitched.

Crawling off him, on all fours, she went into the cage, settled down on the thick mat, reached up, hooking the door's bars, and the cat woman pulled the door shut. Settling in, she again fell asleep, leaving her lover on the floor alone.

Gazing at the clock, 1:00pm, his eyes grew heavy, and again he slipped into slumber.

In his dream, he sang a song of happiness...

Somewhere under her whip

My stripes are black and blue

And the dreams I dare to dream

Really do come true

Where I'm happy and high

Where there's sweet pain, I heard of

Once in a lullaby

Waking, the song still danced in his head, and his eyes fluttered open. At that moment, lingering between sleeping and the conscious world, he knew who she was, "Deja Jada Johnson." He bolted to his feet.

"Yes, Jimmy Erastus Dole," she said laughing, "Why da fuck did you mommy name you, Erastus?"

"Her father's name," he said while covering his crotch with his hands.

"Boy, I seen dat junk before, remember?"

Dropping his hands. For a moment, Jimmy thought she'd dressed for a new role play. The blue uniform of the local Sheriff's department, the polished badge, gun, and nightstick all cried out, role play, in his mind. After a second of contemplation, his memory crystallized, and he realized she'd joined the department right after high school.

"You were the little black girl, my female counterpart, clinging to anonymity," he said.

"Wall-flowers-are-us, the club we didn't realize we were in," Daja said.

"How did I forget you?"

"Cause ya never really got to know me," she said. "Cause fear kept you from asking me out on a date. But you wanted to, I wanted you to, neither of us daring to say so. Do you recognize this?" she said, pulling the gun from the holster. "Same one," she giggled.

"The hospital gave the gun to my mom," Lucky said.

"Yes, and she returned it to me," she said. "When I told her how you'd gotten all upset and stole it from me when I told you, I didn't think we worked as a couple. Your mommy said, '

So, typical, he didn't fight for you. He just wanted to end it all

.' I told her you were getting better now."

"How on earth did you explain my not telling her?"

"Told her it scared you she might be racist. Oh, you're in trouble with her bout dat. Should call her and come clean."

"But I didn't..."

"Do what I motherfucking tell you, Cracker."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Mistress," Deja said.

"Yes, Mistress Deja."

"Drag one of the kitchen chairs in here, sit down, and stick your hands through the slats on the back."

As ordered, Lucky retrieved a seat, plopped down, and pushed his hand behind and through the chair's spokes.

Gooseflesh rose over his body, and his prick stiffened as expectations tickled his mind. When the cuffs snapped shut, Deja dug them into Lucky's wrists and jerked his arms back. Stepping around, Deja pulled a single glove from her back pocket and worked it down over her left hand, pushing between the fingers to tighten the material. Lucky's heart pounded faster. The black gloves had bright, shining, prickly points covering the fabric.

"Vampire," she said, her mouth twisted into a glaring evil grin. Licking her lips, she lowered to her knees, pulled a plastic bottle from a pouch on her belt, and squirted some lubricant on his dork and balls.

With her ungloved hand, she pumped him until he achieved a full erection. In a coy teasing, her tongue traced the underside of the helmet. Hovering near the shaft, with a slow, languorous touch of her tongue, Deja worked her way to his balls and, with light brushes, lapped the sweet lube like a cat drinking milk.

All the while, Lucky sucked in air, holding it in his lungs, breathing out with a moan or groan, as pleasure, absent pain ticked through him. The willies and anticipation of impending pain danced over his flesh.

Deja covered the head with her lips and glided down the shaft, her hot tongue darting over the tender skin. Her head slowly bobbed in his lap.

In a passing thought, '

She can suck the juice from a bottle without opening the damn thing

.'

With an uncharacteristic tenderness, she brought him to the edge of satisfaction. The gloved hand touched his leg, light points of sharpness pranced over his thigh, and she moved to his inner leg. Giving no warning, she moved to his balls, clutching him, only enough for the pins to bring sharp pain.

This proved too much; Lucky could hold back no longer. Several blasts of thick strings of cum sprayed into Deja's mouth. Sucking harder, she pumped every drop Lucky offered from his dong. Rising, taking his face into her hands, one soft and tender, the other sharp and threatening. Deja pressed her lips to his, feeding him his discharge.

Stand, Deja straightened her clothing. With sternness, she said, "Put my catsuit back in the box in the bathroom, return the box to the top shelf in the linen closet."

"You had your uniform there," he said, amazed she'd broken into his home and he hadn't noticed.

"Yeah," she said, dropping a note on the floor. Deja moved behind him, unlocked the cuffs, and returned them to their pouch. A horn sounded outside. Deja walked away from him, with her hips swaying in a seductiveness that made him want her again.

Turning to him, she pulled her trooper hat from the table at the door. "Jeff, my partner is picking me. Have a wonderful day." Opening the door, Deja walked out.

Climbing into the patrol vehicle, she removed her topper and placed it on the console. "Good afternoon, Jeff."

"How was your tryst?"

"Fulfilling," Deja answered. "No, find the scraggy, assed son-a-bitch, Del Ransard."

"If it isn't too much trouble, why?"

"Gonna teach him a lesson and make sure he never bothers my boyfriend again with his stupid, juvenile insults and put-downs."

He picked up the note and read it as he returned the chair to the kitchen.

'Let's play nasty, teacher, tonight

.'

The thing, he wondered, who played the teacher and who was the student.

That night, before the show started, Del walked into the theater. All smiles and joshing with people. Improbably, his unkind bully joking was absent. As Del approached Jeff, he removed his ball cap. Moving, somewhat, gingerly, his usual saunter, not quite right.

"Hey, buddy boy, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Del; nothing much changed since this morning."

"Yeah, about this morning and all the crap I done to you over the years ... sorry as shit about the hell I gave you. I'm a new man, and I'll be a proper friend from now on. Would you do me a favor, buddy boy?"

"Sure, Del," Lucky couldn't add this crap up in his mind. People don't change for a reason. He figured the following words from Del's mouth would reveal his motivation.

"Would you tell your girlfriend I apologized to you, buddy? Would you do that for your old pal, Delbert? Can you let Deja know?"

"Sure will, Del," Lucky answered.

Turning, Del ambled, moving in a delicate limp, like his Dark Angel shoved a colossal pole up his ass. Yes, sir, Lucky's luck had changed.