The Tables Turned
#1 of The Tables Turned
The Tables Turned The Tables Turned
The club was getting too muggy for the small feline. The front door seemed to be miles away in the
sea of undulating furry bodies. Lydia began to push her way through the thinnest part of the crowd, to the
back exit. The burly guard gave her a look as he pushed open the door for her. He probably wanted to
remind her that leaving through the front was safer, but the loudest holler couldn't contend with the roaring
music that shook the club. She knew she should take the front way to the main street, but she was desperate
to get away from the sweat and the sound.
It was only after the door was shut behind her, and the alley became almost impenetrably dark,
that she had second thoughts. There was a fence, topped with barbed wire, blocking the direct route to the
front of the building. She considered pounding on the door to be let back in, but she was sure she wouldn't
be heard. Better to just walk around the back alley to the side street than to let herself panic over nothing.
She had taken a mere three steps into the shadowy alley, when she realized she was not alone.
Her whiskers twitched as her ears tried to follow a faint sound? breathing? There was a scent here;
a familiar scent. Over the rank smell that wafted from the dumpsters in the summer heat?
But she couldn't put her finger on it. Every cell of her being was screaming, "Danger!"
Her first instinct was to run blindly through the strange place; to get into the light. She took deep
breaths, calming herself. She picked up the scent again, and realized what it was. Musk? the smell of a
horny male.
She broke into a dash, dropping her bag and scattering loose change and lipsticks. A paw grasped
her tail, momentarily. She pushed off the ground and leapt, leaving her assailant with a fistful of her fur.
She could feel him gaining on her, as she rounded the corner of the building.
She stumbled beneath a pool of amber light, from a single lamp that had been strung between the
buildings. Lydia turned and looked over her shoulder, just as she caught her foot on the edge of a box and
saw her pursuer, a weasel. He hissed, "You little cunt", as he made another grab for her already damaged
tail. She braced herself to launch out of his grip again but he grabbed the base of her tail in his other paw,
tightly.
Lydia's scream was stifled by a massive paw. The weasel was going to rape her or worse and she
was terrified. She tried to sink her teeth into his paw, but only managed to graze it. He backhanded her
across the face, hard enough to stun her temporarily. He turned her to face him and her skirt was hiked up,
her panties torn viciously away. She screeched and was slapped again. "Shut up and take it, you little bitch.
If you fight, I'm going to hurt you."
The cat shook her head furiously and kicked at the brown fur with all her might. One combat boot
connected with his knee and he grunted. He leapt on to her and bit down on her shoulder, pinning her with
his slim but powerful body. There was an audible click and the sight of the switchblade knife in the weasel's
paw made her freeze.
"Now, I want you to lie still, like a good little kitty. You don't make a fucking sound, and maybe I
don't have to fucking cut you. Nod if we have an agreement." Lydia nodded slowly, fighting the tears that
were forming in her eyes. "That's a good kitty. You aren't going to fuck around anymore, right?" She shook
her head deliberately.
Lydia nearly panicked again as he put his paw over her throat, but he didn't press down. He just
held her there with her ears laid flat against her head; the concrete sending fingers of cold up through her
thin clothing. With his other paw he dragged the razor-sharp edge of the blade up her skirt. The velour
fabric fell to either side of her body as the knife made its way from her knees towards her navel.
She resisted as he tried to spread her legs with his knees. He pressed down on her throat and she
allowed her legs to be parted. She shuddered as he inhaled deeply, obviously savoring the smell of her
body and her fear. He shifted the knife to his other paw, so that it was being held against her throat.
He was careful not to press too hard with the knife as he used his free paw to grab each of her
breasts, giving them each a rough squeeze. Lydia felt his paw pads dragging along the raised fur of her
inner thigh. His finger paused on the pucker of her tailhole before coming to rest on her pubic mound.
"You're making a mistake. You don't know who I- Ooow!" Lydia was interrupted by his fingers
pinching her vaginal lips painfully. "I told you to be quiet", the weasel snarled at her. He tugged at her lips
before grabbing her tail and yanking it downward. She whimpered painfully but didn't speak.
She closed her eyes as the tears began to course over her cheeks. Some of them trickled down
her whiskers and paused before falling to the ground. The weasel resumed toying with her breasts and
taking in her scent. Her breath caught in her chest as she heard him fumbling with his belt buckle.
Then the knife was gone from her throat and his weight lifted from her body. She heard him utter
a string of profanities and forced her eyes opened. Her jaw nearly dropped at the site of the two large tigers.
One of them had the now-silent weasel lifted off of the ground by the scruff of his neck.
"Mistress Lydia, we thought we heard your voice. The bouncer said you came through the back.
You told us to pick you up out front at midnight and when you were late, we?" She cut him off with a wave
of her paw. The sight of the weasel, hanging by his scruff and clawing at the giant tiger paw that held him,
caused her to regain her composure.
"Todd, give me your shirt." She put her paws on her hips, keeping her eyes on the weasel. "Yes,
Mistress Lydia", the tiger who had been speaking pulled his shirt off. She lifted her arms into the air and he
slid the shirt over her head. It was as long as a gown, on her tiny form. "Where is his knife, Jim?" she
addressed the tiger that still held her would-be rapist in the air. He tossed her the closed blade and she
smiled.
They emerged from the alley, Todd carrying Lydia so that she was cradled in his arms. Jim carried
the weasel upside down. His paws were like vices on the smaller fur's ankles. Jim hurled the weasel in to the
back seat of the van and got in after him, pulling the door closed with a massive paw. Todd set Lydia down in
the passenger seat, before closing the door and going around to the driver's side.
"I'm not a very good bottom? What is your name?" Lydia spoke from the passenger seat without
turning. "Fuck you, you damned cunt. I should've?" There was a loud slap from the back seat. After a
moment of silence, he answered, "Lee".
"Well, Lee?"she resumed, "I'm really not much of a submissive. I think it's safe to say that you
have fucked up. You see, despite my small stature I can be one malevolent bitch." She gave him a moment
to let her words sink in. "What are you going to do?" he asked.
Suddenly, she turned sharply and leaned over the seat to face him. "No!" she hissed, "You are no
longer in a position to be asking questions. If you speak again before we get home", she tossed Jim the knife,
"Jim is going to cut you."
She sat back and ran her finger down Todd's muscular arm. "I'm going to need a bath, Todd."
He replied, "Yes, Mistress." She paused, "I think Lee will need one as well. He's positively rank." Again he
replied, "Yes, Mistress." She smiled as they turned up the road to home.
To Be Continued...
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