She Always Had Her Cats
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Belling The Cats free porn video
Belling the Cats, or
Tatsu Tames the Twelve (Tatsu Story III)
By C
Part I
It was noon in Tatsu's Garden, and in a clearing in the midst of the rhododendrons,an urgent meeting had been called. Basilissa, the most influential of the Plump-BottomedWarblers, had summoned all her sisters–and such was her prestige thathundreds had come. Most sat around her on the grass, their legs demurely crossed.Ordinarily, they might have savored the cool dampness against their netherparts; but their anxiety crowded all pleasure from their minds. At the costof great effort, a masking spell had been placed around the clearing. Wouldit hold? And would Basilissa tell them anything to banish the terror that plaguedthem?
When she decided the time was right, Basilissa climbed up on a large stonein the middle of the clearing. Like all her confederates, she was beautiful,with long hair, as black as the deepest night, reaching down to her waist,and a matching semi-diamond of black adorning her groin. Her skin was pale;her lips were bright red; her breasts, thighs, and hips were full and achinglycurvaceous. She wore a long-sleeved, waist-length tunic of cerulean, with highheels of the same shade–and nothing more. (Warblers were inordinatelyproud of their pussies, and so they reveled in showing them off to the world.This vanity cost them dearly, for it was not hard for predators to catch theirscent–and then catch them!) It took just a few moments for the assembledfays to become quiet and attentive. Confident that everyone would listen closely,Basilissa spoke.
"My sisters! Much that I say tonight will hardly be news. You all rememberhow we were captured and brought to this garden–this Eden rather, witheverything a fay could desire: delicious flowers of every description; a gentleclimate; and the softest mosses and grasses–just the thing for amorousrepose!" (Here several in the audience laughed.) "You remember aswell our terrible, heartbreaking discovery: that blight upon the garden; thatcanker gnawing at Eden. You remember when we first encountered . . . the cats." (Atthis, many drew in their breath sharply. None of them cared to say or hearthe word "cat.")
"Yes, those loathsome harem cats, those five terrible sons and theirghastly mother! On that first day they took six of us, as well as six BrookNymphs; and they have taken six of each species every day since. All this youknow."
"What you may not know is that we are not reproducing fast enough. Wethrust our tongues into each other's pussies with commendable alacrity, butit makes little difference. It seems the anxiety that torments us all has somehowmade us less fertile. Fewer and fewer of our eggs are hatching." (Thisstatement was met with gasps of horror.) "Yes, we are failing to fulfilour foremost duty: to fill the world with Plump-Bottomed Warblers. Instead,if present trends continue, our lineages will soon disappear." ("Sayit isn't so!" someone shouted.)
Basilissa motioned for silence, then continued. "Even if we were notconfronted with a reproductive crisis, the scourge of the harem cats demandssome response, some action. That scourge is even worse than you may think." Sheturned now to a Warbler standing a few paces behind her: a redhead, even morebuxom than the Warbler norm, dressed in pale green. "Hostia, tell themwhat you've discovered."
Hostia curtseyed and stepped forward. "Ahem," she said. "I'm. . . Hostia, Basilissa's personal assistant. And I've seen . . . I've seenthe place . . . . " The girl then lost her composure, and her breastsand lower lip began to tremble visibly.
"Would you spit it out?" someone shouted. "Let her talk!" snappedBasilissa.
"I've seen the place where they take their victims!" Hostia cried.(More gasping from the audience.) She rushed on. "They always line upthe Brook Nymphs they catch . . . right by the water (you've all seen that);but our girls–nobody could figure out where they take them. Well, I wasthere! It's a clearing in the pine wood to the north! I saw it! You all knowhow they p-pounce out of nowhere; how they like to go for the . . . the breasts.Then they . . . carry the girls off. But what happens after that? Well, theytake them to this clearing . . . and they line them up in a row. When I foundthe place . . . there they were: six girls. I hid behind a tree . . . I wantedto run, but I had to watch! Well, there the girls were . . . on their backs. . . there was blood on their tunics. And then it was just like the BrookNymphs: they . . . nipped them . . . nipped them . . . on their p-pussies!" ("No!No!" several in the audience cried. More than one covered her groin protectivelywith her hands. Brook Nymphs were one thing; but these were Warbler pussiesthat had been violated.) "Yes . . . that's what they did. And the girlsscreamed, and cried, and begged. 'Please don't hurt us!' they said, 'Oh dearGod please!' . . . but they just . . . nipped them again . . . and again. Andthe girls were bleeding . . . and kicking. (I've never seen so much kicking!)Then . . . then, they licked them . . . with their big hurty tongues! Soonthey were spurting honey! And they kept licking them . . . until . . . untilthey were still."
The fays just looked at Hostia in horrified silence. She spoke again. "So. . . I'm h-here to tell you exactly what happened. And something else, thatI think is more important: I think they figured out . . . that I was there,'cause it seemed . . . that they got inside my head. And the mother cat seemedto say: 'Later, pretty redhead, later. You'll know the day . . . when you geta tingly feeling . . . at the bottom of your tummy. I'm all set for today,but I really want to taste your little red slice of pie . . . and I will, onthe day you get all . . . t-tingly. That's the sign . . . that my kind andyours are about to get acquainted.' That's what she seemed to say. So I think. . . if they can talk to us in our thoughts, maybe they can read our thoughts,too. That could explain a lot: how they always find us--always. And how it'salways six each day . . . who get kicky." (This was a fairy euphemismfor being captured.)
"And one more thing. I w-woke up this morning . . . and . . . my tummywas tingling! And my knees were all weak. And my breasts were sore. And my. . . my pussy . . . was honey-damp! I've been like this all day long. AndI've a notion . . . that another five . . . are feeling the same way!" Hostiafell now into a fit of helpless sobbing. Basilissa took her gently in her armsand made her sit down. Five other girls had begun to cry as well, and wouldnot be comforted.
"Well," said Basilissa, "there you have it. "These .. . creatures seem to have powers such as we'd never have guessed. And theway they dispatch their poor victims! Something must be done!"
At these words, Martina, another influential Warbler and an imperious blondebeauty in red, stood up. "What can be done?" sheasked. "And even if something can be done, suppose they really do readour minds. Can't they foil anything we come up with?"
"Maybe," said Basilissa. "Maybe not. As soon as Hostia gaveme her disturbing news, I shielded my thoughts with the strongest masking spellI knew. I didn't bother going to the Brook Nymphs; you know how rude mermaidsare! Instead, I quickly went to all the other Warblers whose magical talentsare comparable to mine (there are ten of them)." (She nodded to a groupof fays who stood a short distance behind her.) "They masked their thoughts,just as I had mine. Then, in concert, we formed a plan and have already gonefar towards implementing it. We soon realized, however, that we alone do nothave the energy to consummate this plan. We need every one of you. So that'swhy I summoned you all. At a terrible cost in energy to the eleven of us, wehave made you invisible to outsiders; what's more, we have masked your thoughts,your sounds, and (perhaps most important) your scent–all so that we mightmeet in relative safety."
"Enough build-up!" said Martina. "What is this plan?"
"I'm sorry to say we can't destroy the harem cats," said Basilissa. "We'rejust not strong enough. But, with your help, we can hex them in such a waythat we'll always be warned of their approach. We'll hear a loud noise–somethinglike a siren–well before they can pounce. The hex will also allow eachgirl to mask her thoughts–nothing else–when the time comes to layher eggs." (Warblers were very nearly helpless when laying, so a sirenthen would do them little good.)
"And that's all we can do?" asked Martina.
"I'm afraid so."
"Well, it's better than what we've done so far, which is nothing. Tellus how to make it happen."
"All of you raise your arms toward the sky," said Basilissa. Theydid so. Then she began to intone the charm on which she and the others hadworked:
"Harem kitties, strong and slick,
No more will you make us kick.
When a sneaky cat comes near,
A siren's scream will rend the ear.
Warblers' tears are turned to mirth;
Harem cats bite down on . . . earth.
Harem kitties, strong and slick,
No more will you make us kick."
When she had finished, Martina spoke again. "When will this go intoeffect?"
"Sadly, it may take a few days. I'm sorry, Hostia." (Hostia justkept on weeping.)
"Chock-full of good news today, aren't you?" said Martina. "Ihave another question."
"Now there's a surprise," said Basilissa. "What do you wantto know?"
"What about that gardener?"
"The mopy-looking old man?"
"Exactly. He seems to be allied with the cats."
"What of it? He doesn't appear to be very bright, and he's certainlynot fast enough to catch any of us on his own. Let's concentrate on what shouldreally worry us."
"I just don't like loose ends," said Martina. She looked unhappy,but she left it at that.
It was now time for the meeting to disperse. The eleven had done their jobtoo well. The harem cats had scanned the area with their powerful senses–bothnatural and supernatural. The complete absence of any spoor–even a residuefrom previous weeks–puzzled them at first. At last, they divined whatmust be up. When the fays stepped out from their protective cover, six hungrykitties were waiting. Hostia got very kicky, as didthe five girls who had wept along with her.
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