Kittery 2
by
Patchwork
I sat quietly on the edge of the padded table of my currently "assigned" cell. It had kept me here a few days, letting me wander out when no one else was home, get something to eat and clean myself up after a period with the... being known as Kittery. I sighed remorsefully at my bowl of Cocoa Puffs, slurping the milk some while shoving the tape into the monitor with my foot and poking "Play" with my big toe. Kittery only let me eat when I was studying, otherwise my cereal would be taken away and my back would hit that pad at something close to sixty miles an hour, not a second to spare in conditioning me.
I wasn't sure if the others knew I existed in this cell - oh, they were always certain that there was at least one new guy in the cells somewhere, getting ready to be taken to the pit in the evening - but I had been in here for quite some time and not yet seen the pit.
That led me to surmise that I wasn't just going to be some new guy they attacked and nuked first off. No, I was going to be used for something much more... entertaining.
I reclined slightly to the side on the table, nestling against the thick padding while I ate and watched the screen. Seven or eight sweaty, beefy guys of varying ages, sizes, races and physical conditions, darted around on the screen, laughing madly. My eyes followed the largest out of habit...
He just stood out more, distracting me from the rest. Jaguar, they kept calling him. What a form he had. What a commanding presence. What a sensitive pair of armpits. I snickered softly as I entertained those thought of having those all to myself, playing idly over the tauntly stretched flesh of them and his muscular torso... compliments of the wall manacles or the rack, something to keep his hands out of the way. He was the top dom in the pit, the usual winner, the boaster, the arrogant champion. He was intriguing, beautiful, and deadly. I flinched each time that broad, sweaty form tackled another to the padded floor of the pit. All that bulk landing on top of you, knocking the breath out of you, rendering you senseless for a split-second - long enough for those fingers to start working on your belly or sides, making the laughter come out in breathless, wheezing giggles.
I tried to match the names of the warriors to their forms, their personalities. Jaguar - commanding, dangerous, and with that arrogant, holier-than-thou look he bore during the breaks, restful and smug. That nickname was obvious. Cheshire had the widest, most mischevious grin at the beginning chimes. A cheshire's grin. Another obvious name, and I chuckled. For Puma, Lynx and Civet the same applied - some trait matched them to their assumed names. Ocelot was, I think, the smallest, by about an inch in the legs. Ocelots were the smallest wildcats, not much larger than a common house cat. That fit too in a way, I supposed. He was wild when he was down, shrieking and clawing at the floor whenever his hands were free - I didn't see them free very much at all when he was on the recieving end of a hard kit. Tabby was mobile, agile, and almost dainty in a way, with those graceful, fluid motions even when he walked. He wasn't a hunter on the prowl, he was more of a house pet searching for a sunny spot and ready to chase out whoever wanted his place... the metaphorical 'sunny spot' being the winner's lap of the pits. There were now a set of twins, both named Tiger. One was Siber, short for Siberian, and the other was Tas, for Tasmanian. They weren't in the earlier videos I watched of Jaguar and the others, which showed various new guys that got nuked but never named, disappearing after a couple videos. Some that had been here for a couple tapes now that I just couldn't identify. New guys, maybe, or new kats.
I began to wonder what my name would be, and how long it would take to get one.
I finished my cereal and had only just set the bowl on top of the monitor when those black gloves clamped around my hips and hauled me backwards onto the table. I tensed as my wrists and ankles were cuffed down, squinching my eyes shut and bracing myself for the hard, fast kit of those hands, too eager to get at me...
But fingers gently scritched beneath my chin, making me chuckle and toss my head gently - then with a little more determined when they started twirling soft paintbrushes in and behind my ears. I snickered, my grin more relaxed than the usual teeth-clenching hissing, my muscles beginning to loosen and my head leaned back against the padding, vitrually inviting the fingers to pet my neck and throat. It made me squirm and giggle, but there was no denying that it was pleasant too. Gentle leather fingers stroking my throat, tracing my collar bone, wiggling softly behind my ears. I almost started to purr.
"Hah," I laughed softly at the jailer I couldn't see except for those black, slick fingers. "You learned your lesson about kitting me so hard after I eat, huh? Wasting all that time cleaning up the puke when you could've been doing this instead."
My reprimand for that remark was signaled by the end of the soft teasing on my ears and neck, replaced with a firm, lesson-oriented kit on my stomach. I heaved upward, shrieking, trying to sink my butt into the padding so I could fold over and protect myself from those merciless hands. I screamed quietly, rocking on the pad, turning to one side and back, then the other side and back -
There was just enough slack in the restraints so that I turned and kept going, crossing my legs and arms, twisting them nearly backwards so they didn't rub hard against the restraints as I shifted, burying my belly against the padding. I sighed in relief, slowly rotating my limbs in the cuffs until they faced downward as I did. One of the things about me that seemed to annoy Kittery was that I would get twisted around in my cuffs like this from my Yoga training... so when it really wanted me on my back, it had elbow-length mittens and knee-high boots, bolted to the tables or walls or pads, all firmly strapped around me so I couldn't rotate like this and protect myself.
Apparently Kittery had wanted me to get twisted this time. One of its hands wriggled between my belly and the pad, making me squirm and try to lift to get it out, but more hands pressed on the small of my back, holding me against the table, holding the glove firm against me. I breathed steadily, whimpering, giving a soft, shrill giggle with each flex of the glove beneath me. It poked and prodded blindly, searching up, then down, side to side... Kittery obviously had eyes somewhere to be able to see me. It wasn't going by instinct and touch. The glove wiggled more deliberately against my stomach and I gave a hearty cackle, pounding on the padding weakly with my fists and feet. My back was pressed harder and the blind hand finally found what it wanted - my belly button. I wailed, heaving upward, desperate to be away, but hands pressed me down from shoulders to ass, making sure I didn't manage to dislodge that finger from my navel.
I screamed madly, shrilly, octaves higher than I thought I could ever achieve, sounding more soprano than tenor. Kittery sometimes made me watch tapes of myself, so I knew the kinds of sounds I was making. To me, it was just laughter while I was being forced to make it, but when I could watch the tapes I found the noise to be intriguing. Long, drawn-out belly laughs, shrieked at the top of my lungs, and they always dropped at the end as I ran out of breath, sounding like mournful wails. "AAAAAAAAH HAAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa...!"
I wrenched forward, shrieking harder, jibbering frantically as a new sensation was applied - lotion on my ass, the wooden massager combs stroking swiftly through it, making circles, patterns... like sand in a zen garden. It used a round brush with a long handle, all the bristles being the blunt, smooth wood spokes about a half inch tall and three-quarters around.
"I'M SORRY!" I shrieked desperately, hoping the reprimand would end, throwing my head around as I kicked and beat the leather pad with my palms. Kittery was merciless but not unforgiving, after all. It just... wasn't feeling all that forgiving at the moment -
Yarn between my toes. I thrashed madly, now solidly shrieking, the laughter gone but for the jarring of my abdomen. Sound gone, motions not. The yarn was coarse and threatened to burn, but it was for brief, perilous, and punishing torment, very effective as it was wound through my toes and pulled lazily back and forth, my foot held very still at the edge of the table, arches and heels being slowly, surely kneaded by Kittery's fingers. I coughed harshly, my face red, tears streaking down my cheeks. The hands backed off some, not wanting a repeat of last time after I had eaten and gotten overheated right after. I could still smell the disinfectant in the leather padding when it had been cleaned.
My punishment over, I was firmly turned onto my back again, my shoulders slammed a little against the padding, a reminder to stay as I was. I nodded slowly, gasping, and leaned my head back into the waiting hands cradling it, petting my hair as the brushes descended again on my neck and ears.
I sat hunched at the edge of my pad, staring intently at the monitor as I shovelled pasta into my mouth. Kittery was at least respectful of my yogic diet. Almost all of the new guys on the tapes had to smoke, whether or not they wanted to, and some had even been converted into drug users - acid, weed, some of Kittery's own creations that had no names as far as I knew, but they made the kats collapse in fits of laughter at the slightest nudge, unable to get back up for howling their guts out. I sighed, hoping I wouldn't be among that list of converts... slurping up my noodles in a childish manner, licking the butter from my face.
Kittery's fingers would sometimes dart towards the screen and point out something I was supposed to concentrate on, such as the precise spots that made one kat or another contort and scream when they were kitted just right, maybe rendered them helpless until their collars went out. Tonight would be my first night in the pits, and Kittery wanted me to be prepared when I got there - ready to take up the battle, instead of being tackled and put out of the game first thing.
The gear was uncomfortable on me, since I wasn't used to it yet. The anal plug caused a strange sensation which made me wriggle uneasily, cheeks burning gently from the kneading of my asshole from the plug whenever I shifted around. Struggling to adapt, and maybe a little edgy too, I laid out on the padded table in a few of my stances. Half-warrior, child pose, balancing bear... The codpiece bothered me less as I meditated, deliberately adapting to the sensation -
Oil-slick fingers wriggled under my chastity belt, making me jump. Baby oil, from the smell - and after a quick pass around me, sliding only where the leather laid down, they retreated just as quickly as they attacked. Keeping up appearances as always, Kittery swiftly rendered me immobile with numerous hands around my wrists, ankles, forearms, biceps, hips, calves, and toted me out the door.
I was the last arrival, floating into the Pit. The others were coolly arrogant, shifting their belts, stretching, tossing taunts and threats back and forth. They eyed me without interest - after all, there was a new guy every night - and Kittery set me down. One glove pointed at Jaguar, quickly, being sneaky about it. And I grinned, nodding my head.
He was my primary target. Get rid of him and I would be safe... or safer, anyway. They knew my weakness, sure - but of course I knew theirs, too. From watching all those tapes I knew something else, and that was that new guys weren't tutored as I had been. Even a couple of the named kats didn't seem to use the others' hot buttons consistently. Kittery had taught me the special vulnerabilities of each kat - where to attack, and a general idea of how - and I was pretty sure I knew their individual weaknesses better than they could possibly know mine.
Instead of the alarm new guys usually showed, I seemed to have a big advantage because I'd been able to plan my strategy ahead of time. Gather up my points. Gags and stocks are expensive... I hoped Kittery wouldn't betray my soft underbelly to the players, since it obviously wanted to humiliate somebody to be humiliated when they were taken out by 'the new guy'.
Cheshire was grinning, wide and mischevious, and I heard the jabs thrown back and forth, becoming harsher and more sincere with the mounting tension.
"Kit kit kit!"
"Kit you!"
I could only pace back and forth, aware of the others eyeing me - measuring, evaluating, and picking me apart in their heads, deciding where they could kit me and break me down. Feeling uneasy under their critical gazes, I pressed my arms to my sides... but Kittery gave me a soft reprimand across the back of my leg and tapped each of my triceps. It didn't want me giving them ideas.
I wandered the small area alotted to me, restless and nervous... until the beginning chime sounded.
Everyone jumped a little - they always did - as that mental preparation and instinctive need to kit one another began taking their brains captive. As usual they started to move on one another... before turning in a simultaneous arc to attack me.
I had begun my flight before they turned towards me, seeking a route of escape - some way to get behind them or lead one of them out. When I was met with only walls I turned, hair flying over my eyes from the sharp jerk of my head, and plowed into their midst. I missed the first few and they missed me, grasping and snatching for my arms, my belt, anything as I went past, and I found myself with my arms wound around a hard, slender body with tender ribs. Ocelot squealed and wriggled as I kitted him for just a moment, leapt off and bolted away, trying to evade the fingers still coming for me. Jaguar had fallen behind to observe my behavior, studying his prey. I met his eyes for a moment, recieving a confident, amused grin.
Hands gripped my hips from behind, pulling me back... pushing me towards the other men. I fought the hands, shoving them upward and darting beneath them, kitting Ocelot's armpits in passing as I broke through the unready barrier again. More had fallen back to observe. The older kats, Puma and Jaguar, Cheshire and Tortoiseshell, murmuring among themselves for a moment before one tackled the other or Kittery crept up from behind and set them to howling.
Black leather whizzed past my face, making me pull up short in alarm - and my unseen attackers grabbed me again, hoisting me into the air. My legs and arms flailed madly and I shrieked at the sudden sensation of those leathery gloves kitting my frantic feet. Human hands worked my knees and thighs, holding my legs still and making me buck and laugh as I prayed desperately for them not to go any higher or else I would be completely lost. Kittery was still on my side, though, and kitted the armpits of one of the guys holding me - so I was dropped, the grip lost by the others, allowing me time to escape.
I began to tire of defense and pointed to Ocelot, calling out "Leash!" Kittery fastened the leash to his collar and slapped the lead into my hand, letting me draw him up with his back against my chest, wrapping both arms in a criss-cross around his torso to kit his belly and sides, holding his arms pinned down as I retreated, backing into the corner to protect myself from the others with my human shield.
Ocelot kicked and squealed, giggling madly, tossing his head about so his pretty hair flew everywhere over my face, unable to reach his arms far enough back to kit me anywhere useful to get loose. He wailed, pleading, and shrieked louder and higher as Kittery wandered its gloves over his feet like large spiders. I pressed my face up against his neck, planting soft zuburts above his collar as I watched it shift from yellow, to orange, to red... purple, blue... and finally click off. He hadn't been able to get loose, and none of the others had been able to rescue him. They wouldn't have saved him anyway, since it was an "every man for himself" game. Now, without my human shield, I was in the corner. Defenseless. Once Kittery took him away I would have to break for it -
Black gloves lifted Ocelot and I dove beneath him, scrambling between the legs of the other kats standing nearby, who tried to catch my feet or tackle me while I stumbled and struggled to rise again in my flight. Jaguar was prowling now, looking disturbed at the loss of Ocelot - especially by a new guy who should have been taken out long before now. I had to assume I was everyone's primary target, not only because that was the usual role of new guys but also due to my arrogance to stay in the game, for the lewd show of dominance to take out an elder kat. I backed slowly away as Jaguar pushed through the crowd of bodies, advancing swiftly on me and pointing an accusing finger. I scrambled more quickly, certain he was going to beat me, and nearly wailed in horror as he cried out, "Manacles!"
I fought against Kittery as ithoisted me up and pressed me hard against the wall, slapping my wrists into the shackles. I jerked them about, struggling to get free, slamming myself back against the wall. I panted, trying to slow my breathing down, and stared up apprehensively at the leering face of Jaguar as the crowd of men dissolved into pairs and groups, kitting each other or fighting off the advances of the hunting black gloves.
Jaguar pressed his nose against mine, his breath warm across my face and throat. "You've got a lot of skill for a new guy. And a lot of nerve," he growled gently, as those utterly feral eyes stared down into me. "I think it's time to show you who's top kat in this ring." His hand scritched up over my belly and I tensed, gasping, my eyes wide as I looked into his face and willed myself not to laugh. A single fingertip traced around my gut... which began to quiver and contort of its own accord. A grin broke across my face, and I was helpless to stop it, following with a series of quick, frantic giggles.
"Kit kit, kitten," he cooed, adding the other four fingers, then his other hand to the torture of my soft underbelly. I shrieked, arching and struggling to sink myself into the padded wall, to double up and protect myself. There was no way to get my abs away from his hands - except one. I did that thing that Kittery hates so much... and rotated my torso around so my belly was pressed to the wall.
Jaguar paused, for just a moment, but he didn't waste much time. His hands clamped over the ribs on my right side, and then my left. Kneading and creeping around, horribly talented fingers... exploring from my armpits to my hips. Rocking didn't slow him down at all. One minute, like an hour, and still he tickled -
He yelped, and let go. As he backed off, a low howl starting increasing in volume, and then he was cackling madly. My manacles were released and I spun around, leaping on Jaguar. Kittery's hands held his arms above his head in the black handcuffs -and my fingers dove into his hairless armpits, kitting and squeezing, scratching softly with my nails and pressing my fingers hard into the flesh just beneath to feel his ribs. It was the most satisfying moment I'd known in a long time. I grabbed his hips and pulled down, nodding hard - and Jaguar was lowered. I wasted no time straddling his hips. Those rock-hard muscles weren't helping him now. The massive beast bucked beneath me as I worked him over but good, making him howl frantically at me...
Oh, no. Kittery, no, not already - oh, it was Tortoiseshell! Damn, I could've predicted this. Coming to get his top kat... I squealed from T's hands in my own armpits, hunched over, shaking like I was trying to rid myself of flies - or a cat getting the water out of his fur. But I probed and kitted Jaguar's armpits mercilessly for as long as I possibly could.
Kittery pulled T off me, enticing Civet to play with the captured kat in the sling. He was whooping like a fool in short order, not even looking at me anymore. In my distraction, Jag's hands leapt up, reaching for me - digging into my belly. I shrieked, falling backwards, splayed out along his legs as he reached for me again, menacingly...
Chimes. The lights dimmed.
The kats all froze... and then they slowly turned to stare at me, the new guy, still in the game at the end of the first round. Unsettled eyes. Surprised, and one or two were clearly confused. I gave them all a bright, beaming smile - returned by dark glares of irritation, a curious here, pure suspicion there. They all wandered over to the canvas bags which hung over the... lounging area. Watched closely, I followed them with my arms crossed over my aching belly. They dropped to the padded floor, making a loose circle - Jaguar and Tortoise close together, of course. Civet was close to them, but his back was turned to me, blocking me out. They seemed pretty intent on keeping me out of the circle, even annoyed with me.
"Hey," but Cheshire said, flashing his namesake grin. Cocking his head, he motioned me over. There was space to his right, and he reached for a bottle of water, handing it to me.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
"So what's the story, NoName?" I guessed that was supposed to be a nicer way of saying "new guy."
"What story?"
"Yeah. You. Still here. So you might as well give us some background. Where ya from, what do you do for a living, how the hell did you got here. That kinda shit."
"Ah. Well... I'm a yoga instructor from Michigan."
Jaguar chokes and sprays water on the floor, laughing with contempt. "Yoga?! What the hell?"
I meet his eyes, giving him one of my wounded puppy gazes until he snorts and looks away. "Yes. I'm a yoga instructor. Don't insult what you haven't tried - kat."
"So that's why you kept getting away from us," Civet said quietly, with a soft twang of an accent - not quite New England, not quite Southern.
"No," I murmured simply, taking a sip of water. "That was dumb luck." T-shell smirked at that, and nodded quickly. It seemed like approval, to me, and secretly I was glad to see it.
"Not a lot of call for Yoga instructors up here."
I looked at the floor. "There was this job offer. Holistic retreat. Privately funded -"
Nearly everyone broke up. I saw Jaguar nod, just once. "Poor sucker," Tas said sarcastically.
"Surprise," Cheshire said to Syber, who chuckled at my naivete. They all did.
"And you were smarter than that?" I said to no one in particular - that is, everyone listening.
"Sure," Ocelot said, plopping down. He grinned at me and got himself a cigarette. Sweaty and breathing hard, he'd just been released from his bonds - named kats usually got to kick back during breaks, although it would've put the screws to me all night if my collar had gone out already. If Ocelot was embarrassed at all, there was no telling it from his easygoing manner. "Isn't it obvious? We're here, same as you. Led here, or dragged here, and then... uh, we just stuck around."
I looked around. No one appeared to be unhappy about being there. Lynx hadn't said anything, but he continued to study me. It was unnerving, in a way different than Jaguar's predatory about-to-pounce stare. I'd expected that, from him. But six others, all out to put me in my place... Being there was not quite the way I'd imagined it. I must've showed the uncertainty, because Cheshire's hand slapped down on my shoulder. "You're doing great, NoName. Don't let the mind games get to you." I was wondering if the friendly act was another game... until his grin broadened. Almost maniacal. He winked at me. "But my fingers are definitely gonna get at you. Reeeeeal soon."
I smiled, showing more confidence than I felt inside. He was kind enough, but his threat gave me little chills like a dozen tiny Kittery hands crawling along my sides.
A grid of numbers came down over the scoring screen and a white envelope floated between us.
"Ah, hell," Puma mumbled. "It's the K-Down..."
Cheshire leaned closer to me, almost whispering. "You're not supposed to be here, so I'll give you the rundown." I rolled my eyes, and he laughed a time or two before he continued. "Get ready to pick a number between one and a hundred. You guess the number in the envelope, and you get held down by Kittery and worked over. You'll be helpless to defend yourself, but it'll be defending you more... visciously than usual."
I nodded my understanding, and called out random numbers when my turns came.
"Uhm.... Sixty-two," Siber said - groaning as the envelope was tossed to him. "Oh, fuck. I'm kit-meat..."
I chuckled before I could stop myself. Siber glared at me unhappily and threw the envelope in my direction. "It should be him! The new guy! This is all rigged, I'm telling you. Something just isn't right when the new guy makes it through the first round."
"Easy, Siber," Cheshire crooned. "You know the K-down is completely random. No need to get all worked up."
"Yeah," Siber muttered, "we're here to make me squeal like a fucking pig at the rodeo." Tas grabbed his brother's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Cheshire helped me up as the one-minute bell chimed, readying us for the next round. Stay out of the K-down zone, I thought, and pick off the stragglers. Most of the kats would be focused on Siber, under Kittery's ministrations. Tabby bounced and stretched, making playful comments about what he was going to do to Siber's belly button... as the poor kat was picked up and carried to the center of the floor.
The chime rang. I darted out of the way of the others - some coming for me, others heading for the kit on the K-down. Jaguar hesitated a moment, thoughtfully, then snorted and went to Siber, kitting his feet as Kittery hands covered his back and sides. Siber bucked and yelled, laughing as one deranged. Other kats joined in, working him over right... fingers in his ribs and sides, clawing into his belly and armpits, Jag single-mindedly kitting his feet. His howls were but white noise as I fled (for my belly's sake) from the vengeful kats, squealing and giggling and fighting them off, pinching sides and being rescued time and again by the impish creature Kittery. The background noise of frantic cackling finally ended and as I glanced over, Siber's collar had gone out.
The round ended, and the kats were more furious than ever. Two rounds done, and I had not yet been taken out. Two full-fledged kats were gone but I was still there.
Cheshire was next, poor guy. His collar was indigo - he was so close to being gone, but as the kats advanced on him, he put up his hands defensively. He wore a good-natured grin which turned swiftly into a bright smile as the laughter poured out of him, forced out by the hands plundering his belly.
Three kats gone... I wondered what color my collar was. Surely it was orange or even red by now. Jag was growling at me with increasing frustration during the breaks, and I mourned the loss of the friendly Cheshire in the upcoming rounds, staring awkwardly into my water bottle. The other kats kicked out their cigarettes at the one-minute signal, and I separated myself from the rest of them, thinking hard on why I was here at all, why I was letting Kittery use me to make the others jealous - especially Jag. He leered at me with his bestial eyes, small and round and that strange pale blue shade reminicent of wolves and arctic glaciers.
He strode to me on his long legs, peering down at me through dark eyelashes, one eyebrow aloft as he continued his soft growl. "You're mine, little kitten... I won't see you sending out any more of my kats. Your place is there," and he pointed along the wall to the padded bench with its leather restraints - the usual new guy bench, the permanent leather straps, "right where a thousand new kats and non-kats stayed on their first arena battles getting nuked all fucking night because that was where they belonged." He snarled at me and I shrank back nervously, throwing my arms up in defense. "That," he continued loudly, advancing on me even as I shrank back, "is where you belong..." He gripped my arm firmly and gave me a jerk, making me look up at him - his eyes cold and fierce, his nostrils flaring. "You'll be there soon. I'll see to it... I'll strap you into it myself if I have to."
Kittery grabbed his wrists and pried him off me, giving him a reprimanding kit to his sides and letting his heels drag on the soft floor. He tried desperately to grip the padding with his toes as it carried him to the chair in the corner where a sign lit up in a pale violet glow above his head, lighted letters against the shadowed background - "PENALTY". The clock beneath the sign scrolled back to fifteen minutes and paused.
His arms were pulled above his head and strapped to the wall. Parallel lines, shackled around each wrist, forearm and bicep with thick leather straps, leaving his armpits bare. Two stiff feathers - looked like turkey feathers to me, from the coloring and length - ascended his sides, bumped along his rib cage, and began gentle spirals in the soft, shallow hollows of his underarms. He snorted as they touched down, quivering with an effort to stay angry as they journeyed upward... then Jag barked out harsh yelping laughter when they finally reached their favored destination. When he started to laugh, the clock began to count down the fifteen minutes.
Cheshire's hand on my shoulder made me jump - and he gave a friendly grin, followed by a somewhat rueful laugh as he was picked up and carried back to his place along the wall. The lights dimmed, the chimes sounded... and Jaguar had earned a penalty, because of me. T-shell stalked in my direction, and I never heard the words from his tightly pressed lips but I fell beneath the cloud of tiny purple feathers.
He leaped on me admist the swarm, straddling my hips, his fingers worming hard into my ribs as he distributed vengeful kitting for his fallen comrades - and my own punishment for angering Jag to a state where he was sent to the penalty chair. I screeched and bucked madly, thrashing my feet desperately for some sort of foothold to push myself up, wild to escape the teasing little feathers on the bottoms of my feet.
Civet tackled Tortoiseshell off of me, as the feathers dissipated, and ordered a gag. It cost him more than he could really afford at the time, but I appreciated it as he kitted T's sides and cooed to the angry, squirming kat, "Oh, T-shell, you shouldn't look so grumpy. You should smile! Frowny faces are what get little kats into the ropes for a happy kit kit kit kit kit!" T-shell shrieked against his gag, his cheeks red as his eyes squeezed shut and tears drizzled out of the corners, weighing heavily on his lashes -
Tas tackled me while I was gawking at the results of Civet's rescue. I yelped and tumbled with him, thankfully landing on top and pinning his arms against his sides with my thighs and legs. It was a delight to reach back... roughly kitting his hips and sides and the lower half of his stomach, below his navel, while he shrieked and jibbered under me, screeching with frantic giggles. I squeezed him more tightly as his collar shifted colors - a dark purple, nearly to blue, and wriggled my fingers with even more determination. He arched and squealed desperately, begging me to stop, and I shook my head, catching sight out of the corner of my eye of the familiar black gloves lovingly working over his wiggling feet and toes. I rolled away as soon as his collar switched off and only had time to see a brief glance of the wall where Puma hung, his collar dark as well... before my nose met with the padded floor again.
Jag turned me over onto my back, holding my wrists down to either side of my head. His face was beaded with sweat from his penalty time, his chest heaving - as he bore down on me and muttered, "Cuffs".
I whimpered nervously, struggling to pull my arms down... away from the black handcuffs closing around my wrists. But Kittery had to play fair enough to keep them from getting even more suspicious. Jag's angry gaze relaxed, and he stretched his fingers slowly, teasing me as he cooed. "So. The kitten likes to have his tummy rubbed..."
His palms slid up my stomach - and I arched, grunting, as I clenched my teeth tightly together and shook my head, whimpering, "N-nno! No! Kitten doesn't like his tummy rubbed!!"
Jag laughed, barking softly as his fingers began to wiggle. I screeched, squirming uselessly under his hips. Massive beast that he was, he held me completely immobile from the waist down but for my frantically wiggling feet. His weight pressing on my thighs held my calves firm, and I was unable to flex my knees. I wailed, his soft fingers against my stomach sending me into helpless fits of high-pitched giggles, unable to get enough breath, my face growing hot. Jag arched when Kittery's hands grabbed his biceps and slid into his armpits, but he stubbornly hunched over and kept kitting my stomach, letting me squirm and buck desperately. His words were interspersed with his own laughter from Kittery's fingers but he taunted me successfully anyway. "St-struuhuhuhuhuggle all y-yawhawhawhaw .. all y-you like! You-you'll oh-hoh-hoh-honly wear yourself ou-hout!"
Chimes...
The lights dimmed. Jag refused to let up, making me screech and wiggle until Kittery dragged him off again - and a leather glove pointed to the penalty chair. Another raced over to the point board, where his total was lowering and mine ratched up. I cringed, knowing that wouldn't go over well at all.
I hadn't really found the scoreboard all that interesting - until now, as I surveyed the way we were stacking up. White characters against football-field green, the numbers scrolling as they changed... and the darkened names of those kats whose collars had gone out. Puma, Ocelot, Cheshire, Tas, Siber, and Tabby were no longer playing. T-shell, Civet, Lynx, Jaguar and I were the remaining players. Jaguar was next to last among us remaining players, due to his penalties, with Civet at the bottom from the use of his expensive trick.
Lynx seemed to be doing well, though I was surprised I hadn't seen him during the rounds - he must have been skulking around the outed kats, picking up extra points there. When I looked around for him he was right at my side, smiling at me, wrapping an arm around my neck so Cheshire could tousle my hair as they led me to the loose circle on the floor.
Jag, already sitting, glowered at me, probably brooding over the fact that he would soon be returning to the penalty chair. Puma chuckled and clucked his tongue at Jag, mockingly, waggling a finger at him. "Should learn to behave, kat, or you wouldn't have to have a time out like a naughty little boy."
"I still say it's fucking rigged," Siber muttered. Tas nodded his head alongside his twin.
Lynx shrugged and smiled some, leaning back and tucking his arms under his head to rest. "Well, you know Kittery. If it is, no big surprise there. It usually cheats anyway, and you all know it. Why complain? For Pete's sake, this is for fun."
Jag and T-shell gave a unisoned grunt of dismissal at those words, and Lynx only shrugged again. "Suit yourselves. Hot tempers only ruin it for the rest of us - and get you into trouble. And we've all seen how you squirm when you're in trouble, dude." He giggled.
Jag's lips smirked some, but T-shell kept on scowling. "Lynx, don't bait him. He's got every right to be angry." His eyes shifted to me and narrowed slightly. T stood, sauntering towards me and motioning for me to come aside with him. Trusting Kittery would protect me during a break, I followed, albeit apprehensively...
T gripped my arm and pulled me close. He wasn't as strong as Jag, not quite as foreboding. But he glared at me through his baggy, sweat-soaked hair, with his small, tight body pressed close to me. I shivered slightly, staring into the flesh of his cheeks so it only seemed as though I was looking in his eyes. He looked around us and brought his mouth in close - and his lips caressing my ear softly before he whispered, "You will not take him away from me again. Understand? Go after Lynx, go after the other kats along the wall, but you leave my Jaguar to me..."
I only smirked and craned my head to press against his ear, whispering in return. "I have my reasons. We'll just have to see how it plays out."
He growled softly, bristled, and prepared to say something in return, but a hand gripped my bicep and jerked me away, moving between us. Jaguar - still glowering at me, hovering almost protectively over T-shell. The smaller guy managed to control his facial expression, smiling back at Jag. "You better look out now," he said playfully, poking at Jaguar's ribs... until the larger man took a fake swipe at him, showing his teeth happily, and chased T back to the seated ring of combatants.
I sighed, clapsing my hands together as I stood outside the ring awkwardly. They ignored me, for the most part - but I wondered if it wasn't a less confident chill-out now. Nobody gave me more than the occasional glance... until Lynx stood up and came over, grinning a sly, conspiratorial grin.
"Temporary truce," he whispered. "I've already got Civet in on it. We're gonna take out T-shell while Jag's in penalty. One step closer to winning, kitten. Three of us could easily turn his collar off before Jaguar gets out of the chair. He's almost purple already. Won't take us long at all. What do you say? Huh?"
He nudged and elbowed me until I grinned and tried to press his jabbing limbs back. "Sure, sure. But it's a truce, right? You don't come after me until T's down, right?"
His grin widened as he nodded. I didn't trust that at all. Only one of them should have a Cheshire's grin...
Jag shrieked and giggled, barking and hee-hawing as he lay now inverted in the seat with his feet chained to the top of the chair back, legs spread a moderate distance apart. He lay with his back on the seat of the chair, manacles holding him by wrists and biceps. Leather fingers and stiff feathers roamed over his feet and between his legs, squeezing knees and tickling the insides of his thighs. Two pairs of hands hovered over his armpits, wiggling teasingly without touching as his head flung back and forth between each set of fingers, pleading and howling, bucking against the chair, jabbering wordlessly during the short-lived but numerous attacks of those wiggling fingers. The clock counted down from thirty minutes this time.
The bell rang for the round to begin again. Civet nodded quickly to me, as did Lynx, and we all advanced on T-shell. He didn't run, but instead gave a smug grin and ordered a trick for each of us. Trip rope for Civet, brushes for Lynx. For me, he canted his head quizzically a moment as he thought while my eyes darted from first one fallen comrade to the other. T snapped his fingers as if a thought had come to him, then pointed his fingers and wiggled them gently towards me.
"Boots."
I'd rarely heard this trick on the tapes and wasn't entirely sure of what it encompassed but I suddenly found myself on my back with tall black boots being slid up my legs and buckled on along the sides. I wrenched suddenly as something moved inside them, fur on the bottoms of my feet, wiggling and spinning slow circles. T grinned even more broadly as I yelled and kicked my feet uselessly, arching hard off the floor as fingers found either side of my rib cage.
Betrayal most foul! My "comrades" had become enemies to me, kitting my ribs as Tortoiseshell lowered himself onto my hips, kneading my belly with his fingers and the palms of his hands. Kittery hardened its attack noticably by the way they squirmed and shrieked against and around me, but the kats' fingers stayed busy - the ones on my sides creeping up into my armpits, the ones on my belly creeping down into the grooves between pelvis and thigh, nearly under my belt. I gasped harshly as I giggled, shrieked and laughed, pleading for them to stop, shouting profanities at the backstabbing duo -
Kittery hauled T off of me... into the ropes where it went after his feet with thick scrub brushes. Civet was tumbled and rolled into a dizzy mess as the Kittery hands scurried all over his body like thick black spiders. I rolled on top of Lynx, pinning him to the floor as Kittery held his hands firm, and turned to face his legs, grabbing both knees between my forefinger and thumb, squeezing and releasing in quick succession. He thrashed his feet - which Kittery soon rendered immobile for me, as I polished and kneaded his knee caps, releasing one of them to kit the soft underside. Tears streamed down his face as he threw his head back and screamed, laughing wildly. The colors on his collar quickly dropped to purple, blue, and then blinked out.
I didn't like being betrayed. No no, not at all. So up I stood and strode calmly over to Civet hanging from the chin-up bar, still wearing the high black boots which no longer teased and kitted my feet from the insides. I knelt down to his lightly thrashing feet and grabbed one, tucking it firmly against me... as I twisted and clamped my teeth gently around his big toe.
He yelped and grew very still, whimpering worriedly as I slowly sucked on the toe. I traveled my lips up his legs to his stomach where I gave him a soft kiss, watching the dread in his eyes, and my fingernails grazed lightly against his hips and sides. I pressed my fingers into him firmly, letting him arch out towards me with a scream as I blew a hard zuburt onto his taunt tummy. He wiggled madly, banging his ass against the cushioned wall as he struggled to get away from my fingers - met only with my lips when he arched outward towards me. I watched his collar closely, giving a satisfied grunt when it finally reached that deep, dark shade of blue -
All of a sudden my face no longer pressed against soft belly flesh, but instead was buried against the floor. A red-cheeked and gasping T-shell had tackled me. I rolled, trying to throw him off, squirming to escape. He gripped my belt to stop me, grabbed me around the groin - and I yelped, not only startled by the movement but his hands were a little cold.
Kittery's gloves slapped his hands softly in reprimand as he was dragged over to the Penalty chair. Jaguar had another few seconds in his punishment so the hands held T a few inches above the floor and kitted him as the clock counted down calmly. No longer attacked, I sat on the floor and held one of Civet's ankles tight, clawing almost harshly at the sole of his jerking, struggling foot until his collar went out as well.
The chimes sounded as Jag's countdown finished and Kittery released him. Giggling mournfully and caressing his sides, he stalked to the loose circle where Kittery plunked T-shell down, wagging a hollow finger in his face before floating off. Lynx giggled guiltily whenever I looked his way - and Civet sat brooding, rubbing his feet. Cheshire wrapped me up in a big, warm hug, lifting my feet off the floor so I flailed a moment before being dropped again.
Jag fumbled with his collar worriedly, unable to see the soft violet glow beneath his chin. One hand petted T's hair distractedly, soothing the smaller kat who leaned against him. Even T-shell's collar was midnight blue from all the kitting he went through when Kittery dragged him off me, and I was quite sure it would go out while he was in the penalty chair.
Cold blue eyes rested on me as his lips twisted into what could possibly be a wry smirk. "Well, looks like it's just you and me, kitten. No mercy this time."
I gulped. What he had given me before could qualify as merciful?
None of Kittery's hands were visible near us as Jag and I squared off in the arena, each sizing up the other man. Loud, frantic mirth emitted softly from around the walls, especially in the penalty chair where T's clock was counting down from thirty-five minutes. Jaguar's pale blue eyes bore into me from a distance as I stalked nervously back and forth, unable to keep still as I waited for him to charge. If Kittery didn't do something to break the impasse, I thought the round could end without either of us making a move at all. Yet the black gloves kept to the kats with the darkened collars, fastened to wall and bench and chair and any number of other assorted bondage items. No, Kittery wanted us to battle hand-to-hand for dominance without assistance from itself or any of the kats. T's collar had gone out in penalty, alright - and he now lay sprawled belly-down on the floor, stretched as far as he would go, his ribs being kneaded and counted up and down.
Jag lunged then, hands grasping as he plowed bodily into me. I fell, twisting so I landed on my belly on the floor with him on top of me. He settled so he was sitting nearly on my shouders - and managed to step on my left wrist. It was more of an accident than anything, but he bore down just before I twisted my arm out from under his bare sole. I was so intent on freeing my hand that I didn't see his other leg swing around, and plant his foot -
Both of my wrists were really stuck, under Jaguar's feet, pinned alongside my head. With a triumphant snicker, he started crawling his fingers up into my armpits. I jerked and giggled shrilly, twisting as much as I could to escape, my back arching... My legs came up, and somehow I managed to reach far enough to lock my ankles around his neck. He hit an impossibly tender spot on my ribs, right then - and my legs jerked back down spasmodically, hauling Jag backwards off of my shoulders. I scrambled out from beneath him as he rolled, leaping to straddle him. Grabbing his forearms, I yelled, "Boots!"
I waited, and waited... and Jag waited. His eyes scanned around us slowly. But the restraints never floated over to him. Tentatively he called out, "Feather swarm!" and the result was the same - that is, none at all. Kittery wouldn't be assisting either of us...
He jerked under me, the first to recover from the shock of abandonment from the ethereal creature - which brought me back to reality and the fact that I still had him by the wrists. His body heaved once, twice... the third time bucking me off and sending me rolling. He chased me as I scrambled to get away, out to avoid those huge hands that clasped around my waist. Thick fingers dug into the sides of my stomach.
I squealed, wriggling madly as I struggled to turn around, grabbing blindly for flesh to kit back. I grabbed his ribs in one hand, his hair in the other. He growled when I caught his hair, swinging his head in the same direction I was pulling... as I squeezed and kitted his ribs. He cackled, squirming to get away from my fingers, and I managed to push him down to the floor. My lips pressed to his throat, which tasted strongly of salty sweat and faintly of aftershave, blowing zuberts along his neck which caused him to tremble under me and giggle in a shrill pitch. With his hair captured, he didn't dare to lean up for my stomach, so he wrapped his arms around himself as he thrashed and wiggled, trying to dislodge me. He grew desperate as my fingers found his armpit again, kitting rapidly -
Howling with mirth and pain, he rolled fast and pinned me under him. Grabbing my wrists, he pinched my hand until I released his hair, then tucked them under my back and laid fully on top of me. That trapped my hands flat under both of us, and I couldn't rock far enough to get them loose!
Jaguar dug his fingers into my sides and ribs. I shrieked and wiggled, laughing raggedly, sometimes giggling as I jerked from side to side and struggled to free my hands. And I couldn't do it - not with the the double weight of his huge frame on top of my considerably smaller bulk.
Unable to free myself, I clenched my eyes shut and laughed harder as his fingers crept between our bodies - and wiggled over my stomach. My body tensed and arched under him as one of his fingertips wiggled its way into my belly button... and I shrieked, crowing like never before, laughing madly in long, drawn-out, howling bellylaughs. A low, satisfied growl was sighed out, near my face, and it was clear that he knew he'd discovered my ultimate weakness. Nothing I did was freeing my hands, or throwing him off. I couldn't laugh hard enough, and that was incredibly frustrating. It wasn't getting any easier as time went on, and on...
There was a loud whoop. Cackling, from Jaguar, and it was different somehow. I knew that tone - from the tapes. A smug show of dominance... when a kat's collar had gone dark. He'd won. I had been defeated.
Unbelievable. How could that happen? I chortled madly as his fingers softened to a gentle tease now that I was proven inferior, and Kittery allowed the punishment for my defeat. Finally he eased off me and stood, arms folded across his chest as he stared coldly down at my listless form with a satisfied, triumphant air.
I coughed, gasping, my chest heaving desperately for breath as I lay weakly on the floor. Slowly, my hands came up to nurse my aching ribs and I curled slowly into a fetal ball, moaning. "Now," he says, taking hold of my shoulder and rolling me onto my back, staring me in my reddened, sweat-streaked face, "now we know who's the bigger kat." He stood up again, tall and proud, all but strutting as Kittery hauled me off the arena floor and onto my trembling legs. The padded mat made my soles ache. "And it's me," he said. "Regardless of Kittery's tricks, of its cheating and manipulation, I won, like I usually do. And now you're going to pay for your challenge. Oh, yeah. Have you ever seen the Nature Channel? Spying on wolves? Or lions? Think of us as lions... there's only one alpha male. If another comes into the pride, it's a battle to the death for the two males to retain their dominance."
Some of my sarcastic bravado had returned, now that I could get enough air again to speak. "So you're either going to kill me or... you're calling us all women."
He glowered at me, advancing swiftly and kitting my bare, aching belly with both hands. I screamed, tossing my head about with frantic, hopeless laughter. "No! Nononononahahaha!"
"You see, kitten... Your arrogance will be punished. It's the final hour, my victory lap - and I've got a great idea. Every one of these kats will get a shot at you. Let's get you all ready for a night to remember. Feet way up. Padlock."
Leather gloves raised my legs immediately - as more and more kats surrounded me, pleased to be dishing it out instead of getting worked over themselves. Jaguar's eyes were shining as he stared at me, enjoying my atttempts to kick free and roll around. He wanted me helpless. I could tell by that sadistic, hungry expression of his.
"Cuffs, too. Codpieces off. But no cumshot for the nameless one."
The kats chuckled, grinning deviously as the hands reach for me. Fingers touched me, all over, and I craned my head way back, shrieking at the floor.
I had expected to wake up in the same cell as before, strapped down to a table or rack... but I discovered a bed under me. Of course, that was after I'd jolted myself awake, fending off dream-fingers that no longer resided upon my body, croaking out groggy, delirious laughter.
With huge relief I opened my eyes again, so glad I wasn't still being assaulted. The room was plain enough, but not the same cell. My body was naked, and I felt clean. Everything ached with an intensity I didn't think I'd felt since starting my yogic training. I felt my ribs gingerly for broken bones. It hurt to breathe, and it pained me even more to move. I rolled slowly to my side, sliding my legs off the side of the bed before even trying to sit up, pushing with one arm as I kept the other wrapped around my stomach.
I made it to my feet, and wheezed for a moment as the sore, aching muscles rendered me unable to draw a decent breath. There wasn't much to see nearby except a chair. Some clothing was on the seat, and it seemed clean. Folded -
With a dull shock I finally recognized my own clothes... the ones I'd worn here. Eventually I braced myself, against the protesting muscles, and reached over to them. There was a small piece of paper laying on top.
Turning it over, I read the big black letters. A single word.
BOBCAT
I grinned, and then I wanted to laugh - genuine laughter, not forced. Immediately following that, I groaned as my stomach spasmed disapprovingly. After a while I managed to get dressed... and the door was unlocked so I peeked out warily, then stepped into the hall. Down the hall, carefully down a flight of stairs - and then I followed the smells into the kitchen area.
I was far from being the first for breakfast. Actually, it looked like I was last. A few kats glanced up, smirking -
"Heeyyy!" Lynx hollered, waving a sausage link at me in greeting. "And who are you, exactly?"
I chuckled weakly, feeling my cheeks burning as I gazed at the floor, letting my hair shroud my face. "A very sore Bobcat."
After a few seconds they started to nod slowly, and laugh. Jaguar stared at me - and his expression didn't change quickly. Ice-cold... but then he smiled and patted the open seat next to him. T-shell - on his opposite side - shot me a mock salute, snickering at the pancakes he pushed around his plate. I had a pretty good idea what memory he found so amusing -
Plunking myself down heavily, I was surprised by the hands that latched on. Tabby and Jaguar both kneaded my ribs. Playful, and prearranged... all but intolerable. Wrenching myself around, I slid off the chair and ended up under the table in my haste to get away from the laughing kats.
"Awww, alright. Okay. Bobcat... C'mon back. Have some breakfast."
I moaned, seeing their hands - reaching down to help me get off the floor. After a second or two I let them help, mainly because the way I felt it would take me a while to stand up on my own. A plate was levitating down my place at the table. Scrambled eggs.
"Nuh... no hard feelings about last night, Jaguar?" I queried softly, picking up a fork and checking the eggs doubtfully. Maybe T-shell was on to something, with the pancakes. Lots of syrup. No doubt my body wanted lots of carbs -
Jag's eyes cut to me sharply, a smirk upon his lips. Uh-oh, I thought. "We'll see about that... Tell me I'm Top Kat."
I laughed softly with more confidence than I felt and poured syrup, spearing a pancake. "No way," I said mockingly, starting to eat.
"Say it."
And wham - his fingers clamped around my sides, poking and wiggling.
I choked on my pancake, coughing until I could finally swallow it, tears already starting to roll down my face as I began to laugh. "No! No no no!"
Tortoiseshell laughed and grabbed my shoulders. Tabby reefed down on the other arm, and the other kats came over, one by one. Trapped me in my chair when my guard was completely down, their hands roamed all over, squeezing, kitting
"Noooooo noooo okay!," I shrieked violently. "Okay! OKAY! JAGUAR'S THE TOP KAT! HE'S TOP KAAAAAAT!" Wonderfully, they started backing off. It didn't seem right that Kittery would allow them to do that, at breakfast yet - but then again I really wasn't its favorite anymore.
As they departed from my aching body, I giggled residually and pushed my plate out of the way to lean on the table and gasp. "Oh, God," I moaned, "Oh, God."
Most of them laughed softly, and others just continued to eat as if nothing had happened. Jaguar's grin was far more smug than any I'd seen, from him. It was somehow the friendliest look he'd given me. "Okay," he chortled. "Welcome home, Bobcat."
by Patchwork
The earlier episode, which sets the scene for this one, is Kittery (by Cor).
25may2005