Little Black CatMature

            You'll get nowhere with my mistress, the black cat's thoughts purred. She has been taunted and tempted with far greater bids of power.

            Mal, possessed, stopped slashing in futility at the mist. He grimaced, as the charcoal scrapings moved inward. The air had grown moist with what only the demon and its host could see. Holy water, that stirred in the air. He grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck, and tossed it towards the open window.

            It penetrated the mist with a snarl, and landed abruptly on the window ledge. Innocently, it licked a paw as if nothing had happened, I told you, Priscilla, I am confined to this room.

            Mildred laughed, mockingly, though there was outrage on her face.

            Behind the cat, out the window, a branch swayed in the wind. And the wind stirred the fur upon the feline's back. He meowed, curling up upon the window sill.

            Mal seemed to be engaged in a mental battle, his face red with inner strain.

            "Let it take control," Hoban urged in his rough, husky voice. He smelled of cigarettes, and the cold, damp sweat that glistened on his naked chest.

            "Yes, Mal," Mildred intoned, "Let Priscilla take control."

            "You plan to strangle me out of the boy! You witch," Mal hissed in a voice that was not his own, "I will surface no longer!"

            Mal fell to the middle of the circle, limp, as the charcoal moved in around him. The mist faded.

            "Occumbo," Mildred cursed, "She's a smart one, Hobbes."

            Scowling, Hoban kicked at one of Mal's feet in frustration, and he stirred.

            "You summon the demon again, Hobbes," Mildred commanded, "And I'll go grab Mal's rabbit. The one Joe uses for tricks. And, Hobbes, make him regret what he did to Joe!"

            Hoban smiled awkwardly, "For Brittany."

            "Yes," her sweet voice came from the closing doorway, "For Brittany."

            And, as Mal began to stir lethargically, Hoban looked across the room at the little black cat. It licked itself smugly, and meowed. Hoban tried to focus on something else, planning in his head how to handle the situation.

            How are you going to get the demon out of him? the cat asked.

            "Same way I got you out of Milly, you little furball!" Hoban retorted, "Except this time, I ain't going gentle."

            The cat's tail curled upward in the calming breeze, simpering at what only it knew. It deliberated upon what Priscilla had told him at the mirror's edge. And noted to itself, The same way Mal got it out of Joe.

            However, this realization did not occur to Hoban. He stood there, looking down at Mal's body, trying to call to mind every bit of lust that was so unnatural to him. He imposed visualizations of Mildred upon Mal's body, and tried to convince himself. He had a deed to do. For Brittany.

            The cat, at that moment, gagged in laughter upon a hairball. The kind of hairball it would normally have gagged upon only if it had grown sufficiently larger.

            Hoban unzipped his jeans, and dropped them to the floor. His erection towered over Mal, embraced by tendrils of the darkly tattooed symbols that covered his body. He began to stroke it, with long, black fingernails. The uncircumcised foreskin came down over the head, exposing pearly papules and a thick shaft of erectile flesh. And upon the tip, a round metal piercing - a skull. It matched the one on Mildred's tongue. It was like a goad on the end of an elephant's trunk.

            Mal looked up, bleary eyed, something stirring in his guts. He was disturbed, scared, and helpless. And a thought echoed in his mind, Only your powers can save you now. And again, no longer a mere echo, Only your powers can save us now, boy!

            The cat yawned, and jumped off the window sill. It looked over and up at the young men in the room, I dunno, Priscilla, being a familiar isn't so bad. I kinda like rabbits.

            Mal felt unsure. He did not know if he needed to save himself. The demon inside him thought so. But he thought he might enjoy himself. Sheepishly, he grinned - though his eyes portrayed the dread beneath.

            Below Malcolm, the charcoal shavings collided as the diminishing circle swallowed itself in a black puff.

            "You're gonna regret whatever the fuck you did to Brittany, man. Taking her boyfriend for your demonic little schemes?" Hobbes picked up Mal, and carried him into the bathroom.

            The water still rumbling, as the mirror reflected the two men in two dozen severed fragments. It was now fogged with steam from the jacuzzi's boiling water.

            Stepping over Mal's discarded clothes, Hoban approached the tub. Laying Malcolm upon the edge of the tub, he pulled the towel off of him.

            Mal's back arched and his body leaned backwards, hair in the water. Blood running from his mouth.

            Still scowling, Hoban pulled a cock-ring out of the cupboard below the sink. Awkwardly, he equipped himself with water from the tap. And then, turning to look down at Mal's body, "You ain't no pretty woman, Mal."

            A trickle of blood ran down Mal's upside-down face. The cat heard his blurred thoughts, Hobbes, stop. This isn't right.

            He pushed Mal's limp body against the wall, in a corner over the tub. He was seething, muscles glistening with sweat, "I won't stop until you tell me what you've done with her, a'ight? This is for Brittany, man!"

            Shit, Mal found that he had no voice and no energy, You've got the wrong guy!

            But only the cat heard him, as it leaped onto the counter and curled itself up where it could get a good view. It seemed sadistically amused. Reach within yourself, Mal. She gave you power, Mal. You just need to use it!

            The warm metal skull and the tumescent organ squeezed into his moist behind, and Mal found that he did have a voice, as he screamed out in pain and pleasure - but mostly pain.

            Only your powers can save you now!

            "I ain't goin' slow, man!" Hobbes warned, "I'm sorry I gotta do this. But I need to know what you did to her, and we need that demon outta you!"

            Only your powers can save us now, boy!

            He heaved in, abruptly, as Mal screamed. He felt like his back end was being cleaved, by something stronger than himself - something beyond his control.

            Spread our wings, boy! Wipe the smirk off the face of that little black cat!

            I can't, Priscilla. I'm lost.

            Steady and fast, Hoban heaved himself out of Mal, rubbing the rare papules of his loins against Malcolm's fragile rectum. Round, abrasive, crowning jewels.

            "Ahhhh!" Mal yelled, in agony, as he was invaded once more. His face contorted in pain, and water sloshed with the movements of Hoban's feet.

            Priscilla, the boy needs teaching!

            I am lost. Lost in the woods.

            Don't you think I know that!? I tried, Malky. I tried. I gave him power over the flesh. Of himself and of others. That's all intuition, Malkin. All intuition.

            You're generous, Priscilla. Pity you don't know what I've done to these two, eh?

            I am lost! And the darkness threatened to overwhelm Malcolm. He felt like he was getting the breathe bludgeoned out of him. He began to regret what he'd done to Joe. And there, he began to miss Joe. Missing his gentle touch, his kind caress. This was no carnal act - this was rape!

            "Had enough, Mal?" Hoban huffed, "Ready to let the demon out?"

            And tears fell down Mal's head as it bobbed precariously close to the corner of the bathroom, the sharp edge of the tiled wall. He sobbed, "I'm-m s-sorry, Joe. I'm s-so sorry..."

            But Hoban just groaned in pleasure, and kept focused on Mildred in his mind. He knew he had a job to do, and he knew he couldn't finish before she got there - his life depended on it. That was what the ring was for. The ring around his loins - securing himself against time. Binding the blood into his loins, and the sperm in his balls.

            The black cat, looking on with unwavering interest, projected telepathic laughter. It was an eerie, inhuman laugh. It pervaded Hoban's mind, dulled his focus - and stirred noxiously at Mal's unsettled stomach.

The End

103 comments about this story Feed