Pussy in Boots

"And what's that?" asked Dick.

"We have to do something about our main rival. Just leave it to me Dick; Pussy'll sort it out for you."

***

For this engagement it was important she wasn't recognised as Pussy Perrault, Richard Whittington's political adviser, so she would have to forego her trademark black. She opened up her wardrobe to weigh up her options. She could be tabby, tortoise shell or even ginger. Pussy felt happiest as tabby. She put on a mottled brown and beige latex cat-suit with a tail, donned a sleek chestnut wig, pulled on a pair of knee length brown boots and, finally, covered her outfit with a smart camel-hair overcoat. She slipped a cat mask into its pocket. She was pleased with the look. It made a bit of a change to be tabby.

Now she was ready to stalk her victim. Toby Osbourne was the Tory Party candidate for mayor of London. He was a married man, his attractive wife and perfect children frequently being brought out to pose with him in campaign photographs, and renowned for taking a strong moral stance on issues such as family values. Significantly for Pussy, he had also issued statements saying stray cats in London were a nuisance and should be put down. Well, she'd have to do something about that!

He had a lead in the polls and Pussy needed to do something whilst there was time to narrow the gap. Damage Toby Osbourne and where would unhappy Tory voters, disgusted by his salacious behaviour and hypocrisy, go? - to a nice clean-living independent candidate...Richard Whittington. Someone who was a bit of country bumpkin but remained untainted by the corruption of the political establishment would be the natural choice for disgruntled Tory voters.

With the help of a little bribe to the doorman, she sneaked her way into Boodle's, the exclusive Mayfair club, which she knew Toby Osbourne and other Conservative politicians frequented. She knew he arranged secret trysts with call girls there. None of them had spilt the beans on his illicit affairs and weird sex, but Pussy was about to change that. There were rooms at the club members could book for overnight stays in town. Pussy had already reserved one of these and fixed it up with a hidden video camera.

Now all she needed to do was trap the rat. She peeked through the glass panelled door into the bar and saw him nestled in a luxurious leather chair cradling a double brandy in his hands. It was imperative she wasn't seen with him until precisely the right moment, so she waited patiently. She silently padded up and down the corridors of the club, darting behind pillars to hide from any of its members as she waited for Toby Osbourne to emerge from the bar. Then she would pounce.

She was in luck. He came out of the lounge alone and she would have time to accost him in the corridor. She slipped the cat mask on. It was there for disguise but she also knew it would appeal to his particular style of perversion. She waited for him, a leather boot and a sliver of brown latex peeking out from under the expensive coat as she leaned against a pillar, her green eyes fixed on his. Oh yes, his interest was aroused. As he passed she moved forward to block his path and surreptitiously ran her hand up his thigh, pawing at his crotch.

"You're not going are you? You don't have to leave yet, there's a room booked for you," Pussy purred in husky tones. "Don't worry it's all paid for. It's a treat from a friend, one of your old Etonian chums, who knows how you like a good time."

"Oh, jolly nice," he exclaimed, eyeing her with lust, "just the thought of jape I'd expect from an old school chum!"

Pussy took his hand and led the way. She smiled. Richard Whittington was lucky; she really was the best rat catcher going.

Once Pussy got him into the room, the rat was in her trap. In cat mask, ears and tail and dressed in her kinky brown latex, now unzipped to expose her eager cunt, she pounced on his naked body. They romped on the bed whilst the video cameras ran silently, secretly recording every perverted moment. Pussy pawed at his balls and cock to make him hard. She bit his nipples with her sharp teeth. She clawed at him with her long fingernails leaving trails of red marks all over his body. She licked his cock and balls all over with her remarkable tongue, launching him into paroxysms of sexual pleasure. She tied him to bed, spanked him and whipped him and then penetrated his arse with a tabby coloured strap-on. He groaned and yelped and screamed as he experienced the night of his life with this sexy cat-woman.

Poor mouse, he was totally oblivious of the price he was about to pay for his perverted liaison with Pussy... and him a family man too!

***

"Pussy have you seen the headlines in the London Evening News today. Just come and take a look at this."

"No, Dick. What can it possibly be?" she mewed innocently.

She looked at the headlines; Toby's encounter with Tabby! Witty, she liked it. The photo was a bit blurred but you could clearly see her in the cat costume crouched over an obviously naked politician. And the article inside, Tory candidate in perverted feline sex romp, was just as incriminating. Although they obviously couldn't run with anything too explicit, the pictures were sensational and left little to the imagination. And the piece also referred to the video containing disgusting sexual acts passed anonymously to the London Evening News.

"God, Pussy, do you know what this means? This will completely discredit Toby Osbourne. He was in the lead in the polls; it throws the election wide open."

"Oh, you don't say," spat Pussy.

And it got even better. With Pussy's debauched encounter with Toby Osbourne in the public domain, call girls came forward to tell their stories of perverted sex romps with the mayoral candidate. The Conservative Party disowned him immediately and his support dissolved to nothing until soon after the sordid revelations came out he was forced to withdraw his candidacy. There were a lot of votes up for grabs.

***

It was now the week before the election and Pussy was advising Dick on his key note speech, which was going to be televised and broadcast all over London. The Conservative candidate having been removed as a consequence of the sex scandal, Richard Whittington was a serious contender running neck and neck in the polls with several other candidates.

"Now Dick, there's still something missing," explained Pussy. "You need to have an emotional appeal to capture the voters. Something they can really connect with...so I've made one or two changes to your speech tonight."

Dick was on stage for his key-note address as it rolled in front of him on the autocue. He reached the section of the speech he had most reservations about. But who was he to mistrust Pussy's judgement now? He plunged on.

"And I want a London safe for our cats to live in, a place where they can prowl freely at day or night. In my first year of office I propose to set up a new helpline to help re-unite lost cats with their owners and to build a new home for stray cats in Battersea, next to the dogs home."

Dick thought this was a strange election pledge but Pussy insisted it go into the speech and convinced him it could make all the difference in marking him out from the other candidates. Her instincts had been right up to now, so all he could do was agree to it.

Londoners everywhere were glued to their television sets for the big speeches from the candidates. They nodded their approval at Richard Whittington's new policy announcements. Comments were passed all over the capital: "Yes, it's about time the council thought more about our pets," or, "What a refreshing stance for a politician to take. I'm definitely going to vote for him," and, "Well, he can't be all bad if he likes cats, can he?"

On the eve of the election Richard Whittington had just won the cat-lovers' vote...and there were over three million households with cats in London!

***

"Now we're going straight over to join our political correspondent, Nicholas Benson. This is an absolutely sensational result isn't it Nick?"

"Thank you Sophie. Yes, this is incredible. Independent candidate, Richard Whittington, has just been declared the new mayor of London. You're right, this is amazing Sophie. Just a year ago he was an unknown local politician in a rural backwater and now he's the most powerful politician in the biggest city in the country. I'm here with Richard Whittington's political strategist and campaign manager, Pussy Perrault. Thanks for coming to speak to us, Pussy. It's claimed you are the architect behind this incredible victory. Can you tell me, what has been the secret of your success?"

"Ah, but Nick, that would be telling wouldn't it? You'll have to come up and see me some time and I'll show you...meeeow."

She nonchalantly slithered away, leaving the television camera focused on a close up of her perfectly proportioned back-side wiggling into the distance and the BBC's political editor open-mouthed.

***

It had been a good day. Pussy had overseen the signing of the contract for the new cats home and she was pleased with her work. Having achieved her ambitions of a London safe for cats, maybe she should adopt another cause now. Yes, perhaps cats could do something to help London's homeless people? It would be satisfying to do something else worthwhile with her new found power and her absolute control over Richard Whittington, the new mayor of London. The debt he owed her was enormous and he would never be allowed to forget it.

It was night time in City Hall and she'd shape-shifted back into a black cat. Having been adopted as the building's official cat, she was frequently offered treats such as slivers of smoked salmon for tea and gold top milk with extra thick cream to wash them down. She'd be ready for a snooze soon but right now she padded the corridors of the offices as if she owned them, which of course she did!