Purr

by Paisley Smith

  Purr

  Paisley Smith

  Having been caught kissing a servant girl, Arabella suddenly finds herself shackled and bound for Katzenhalle Villa, where she expects to be forced into servitude. Instead, she discovers the mansion is home to other young women with Sapphic penchants—and good behavior is rewarded with kittenhood. All who reside at the villa dream of donning cat ears and tails and earning status as one of the mistress’s “pets”.

  There’s one caveat. Romantic entanglements are strictly forbidden, and this poses a problem when Arabella catches the eye of a favored pet, Giselle.

  Risking discovery, the women indulge their mutual desire, heated looks escalating to thrilling touches with fingers, mouths…tongues. Until Arabella discovers things are not as purr-fect as they seem at Katzenhalle. While breaking the rules may see them punished, the treachery of falling in love may come at a fatal price.

  Purr

  Paisley Smith

  Dedication

  As always, I’d like to give a shout out to my critique partner, the supremely talented Naima Simone. The most wonderful thing about trading works in progress with Naima (other than her invaluable insight) is that I get to read her fabulous books first!

  Chapter One

  Salzburg, 1740

  Arabella Lehmann peered sullenly through the bars of the cart as it rolled over the bumpy cobblestone streets toward Katzenhalle Villa. The imposing structure sat etched into the side of one of the mountains overlooking the town of Salzburg, possessing the appearance of a fortress rather than an alpine retreat.

  Trying to get comfortable on the wooden bench, Arabella sighed and tugged at the shackles binding her wrists, shame flaming in her cheeks as she recalled how the authorities had taken her away after she’d been discovered kissing one of the dairy maids behind the stable. Her own aunt and uncle had divulged her.

  She’d thought they’d loved her. But they had not been able to forgive her. She should have lied to them but some spark of defiance had refused her that privilege. Hands on her hips, she’d told them she had indeed kissed the servant girl—and would have done much more had she not been found out.

  Throughout the town, Salzburgers stopped to stare at the cart rumbling past. Arabella kept her chin high as she stared them down. Shame threatened to force her to look away but she fought it. Still, she wondered if they knew where she was going.

  And worse—why.

  While other girls her age discussed marriage to village boys, all Arabella could think about was kissing the servant girls. She entertained doing far more than kissing. She swallowed thickly as the memory of the one illicit touch she’d shared with another woman rose to the surface. Soft lips. Probing fingers…

  Inhaling sharply, she closed her eyes and the images crumbled to dust.

  Why did she have to be so confused? So deviant? She wished she could be like other young women, excited about marrying into a good Salzburg family.

  The cart lurched and Arabella’s eyes snapped open as the driver urged the old draft horse to start the climb up to Katzenhalle. Occasionally a girl from the town and surrounding boroughs would be swept away and placed in the care of the Komtesse Katarina von Graffenried, never to be spoken of again. Arabella had known her destiny was sealed when she’d heard the whispers between her uncle and the cart driver who’d locked her in this thing.

  She scooted forward. “Driver.”

  He ignored her.

  Undaunted, Arabella continued. “What will be expected of me at Katzenhalle? Will I be forced into servitude?”

  He shifted uncomfortably on the seat, his silence inspiring cold terror in Arabella.

  “Why won’t you say?” she asked pointedly and kicked her feet against the hay-strewn boards.

  He glanced back at her, his features cross. “The komtesse will decide your fate, girl.”

  “Fate?”

  True, no girl ever delivered to Katzenhalle seemed to leave. Arabella bit her bottom lip. “But I have not committed any crime.”

  “Hmph.”

  It was a regrettable fact that she could be fined or imprisoned—or even put to death—for acting on the fantasies that plagued her sleepless nights, but she had done nothing more than share an innocent kiss with a girl. The irony that she was being punished merely for taboo thoughts was not lost on Arabella.

  As the wooden wheels ate up the distance between Salzburg and Katzenhalle, Arabella’s unease mounted. Finally the old draft horse stopped and the driver hopped down. Arabella looked for any opportunity to run but there was none. Spear-bearing sentries trussed up in full livery stood on either side of the magnificent door.

  If she hadn’t been terrified for her life, Arabella would have been fascinated by Katzenhalle. Its pale-ocher façade stretched toward the cloudless sky. A multitude of tall windows dominated the two floors but she could see no semblance of life inside. Thick, high walls flanked either side of the enormous estate, hiding the gardens from view.

  Katzenhalle was even larger and far more ominous up close than it looked from Salzburg.

  The driver raked his sleeve under his nose and stabbed a key into the lock on the cart. As Arabella awaited her release, she gazed down the mountainside to where the Salzach River snaked through the valley below. Her pulse accelerated when the driver seized her wrist and pulled her out onto the flagstone pavement.

  Her apprehension ratcheted up several notches. She pulled back but was no match for his firm grip. “Let me go! You can say I escaped. I won’t tell anyone!” she bargained desperately.

  He grunted. “There’s no need to make this hard on yourself, girlie. Come along now.”

  No need to make it hard on herself? Arabella had no doubt she’d been brought here to be punished. Or worse. “Is this some sort of madhouse?” she asked, panic rising to a fever pitch.

  The driver sighed impatiently before hefting her over his shoulder and carrying her inside the villa. Arabella struggled but to no avail, and when she finally landed on the hard marble floor, for a moment she sat confused and disoriented.

  Villa?

  Katzenhalle was a palace!

  This was no madhouse.

  A grand marble staircase rose gracefully toward the upper story. Chandeliers with dozens of candles dripped from the vaulted ceiling. Gilt gleamed from every corner. But the aspect that most caught Arabella’s attention was the focus on cats.

  Cats dominated the painted walls, the ceilings, the art. Live cats of all colors and sizes flitted about. Some bore jeweled collars and others lounged on sumptuous pillows. Arabella had never seen the likes of such finery. From her position on the floor, she stared, awestruck.

  “Genuflect to your betters, girl,” the driver hissed as two wide parlor doors opened, revealing the most stunning woman Arabella had ever seen.

  As she glided closer, snowy ringlets from her immaculate wig bobbed around her perfectly powdered face. Ice-colored eyes appraised Arabella. Rouged lips pursed into an indecipherable pout. Layer upon layer of silver gossamer fabric spilled over the woman’s wide panniers and, as she stepped forward, the jeweled toes of her heeled slippers peeped beneath the rustling skirts.

  Despite warring emotions of astonishment and fear, Arabella scrambled to her feet and dropped into a low curtsy.

  The driver poked Arabella between the shoulder blades, thrusting her forward. “Fräulein Lehmann. Niece to Baron Georg von Gerhardt.”

  “Rise,” the komtesse said, placing her finger under Arabella’s chin.

  Their gazes collided briefly but the connection held long enough to cause a strange sinking sensation in Arabella’s belly. She inhaled sharply and lowered her stare to the sparkling diamond necklace circling the komtesse’s dainty throat.

  The komtesse took one step back. “She’s a bit unkempt
and woefully turned out, but I imagine a good scrubbing will take care of all that.”

  Unkempt? Though her aunt and uncle were not the wealthiest aristocrats, Arabella had always thought her clothing passable.

  Uniformed servants appeared as if out of nowhere.

  “Bathe her and dress her as an attendant and bring her to me,” the komtesse directed to one of the servants.

  Unable to stop herself, Arabella spoke up. “An attendant?” Her voice was louder than she’d intended.

  The komtesse’s eyes widened in surprise at the outburst.

  Undaunted, Arabella continued. “What is to become of me? Why was I brought here?”

  The rouged lips blossomed into a disarming smile. “All will be revealed, my pet.” And with a wide sweep of her voluminous skirts, she spun and went back the way she’d come.

  Bewigged male servants clad in full regalia opened two double doors at her approach and Arabella craned to view the shadowy room. Flashes of nude flesh and the sound of soft moans emanated from the chamber but the doors closed quickly behind the komtesse, leaving Arabella more confused than ever.

  What was this place?

  “She won’t give you no trouble,” the driver assured as he clapped his hat back on his head and started out the front door.

  Fear mounting, Arabella looked back. Even though the man had brought her here under dubious circumstances, he remained the only connection to her life at her aunt and uncle’s estate. “Will I ever see my family again?” she asked as the tears she’d previously refused to cry began to spill down her cheeks.

  Wordlessly, he glanced back before the big door boomed shut in his wake. Sentries leveled a heavy board over the doors to lock people out. Or in.

  Arabella’s heart sank.

  “I am Petra. Come with me, please, Fräulein Lehmann.”

  As Arabella gaped at the petite blonde maid, she considered tearing away and running as far as she could from Katzenhalle…but something about the way the komtesse had looked at her intrigued her. Unmistakable desire and dangerous promise had lurked in the woman’s eyes. Arabella’s insides tightened.

  Petra motioned for her to follow and, summoning courage, Arabella did just that. Still shackled, she climbed the stairs behind the servant, overwhelmed by the sumptuous surroundings. Even if she were destined to be a servant at Katzenhalle, her lot would be better than the one she’d faced as the niece of a minor baron who was expected to make a good marriage match—to a man.

  Candlelight illuminated the halls, attesting to the komtesse’s vast wealth. Petra led her into a bathing room where steam wafted from a slipper tub. Arabella had expected to be bathed in a wooden washtub like the one her aunt and uncle possessed. This was far more luxurious. Her fear began to melt away as she breathed in the soothing fragrances of lavender and peppermint.

  Petra withdrew a key from the pocket of her white apron and unfastened the lock on the shackles. Arabella rubbed her wrists once the heavy metal was discarded.

  “Disrobe and leave your clothes on the floor,” Petra instructed, then stood back to wait.

  Arabella paused. “W-with you in here…with me?”

  Petra nodded.

  Arabella had never undressed fully in front of anyone else that she could remember. Shame rose when she remembered the paltry condition of her undergarments. Shaking, she turned her back so the servant could begin to unlace the ties on her bodice. The room was warm and Arabella didn’t feel a chill as she shrugged out of her frock. As directed, she dropped the garment on the thick rug. Fingers trembling, she untied the ribbons holding up her skirt and then let the fabric billow downward into a pool around her ankles.

  “Everything,” Petra said firmly.

  Arabella gulped as she toed off her slippers then steeled herself before whisking her chemise off over her head. Hugging her arms over her breasts, she dashed toward the tub and plunged into the hot water. A gasp tore from her throat at the shock.

  Petra chuckled softly. “You will soon lose your reticence. There’s no need for it at Katzenhalle.”

  “What do you mean?” Arabella asked, quickly adjusting to the soothing effect of the scented water.

  “It will be necessary for you to be comfortable wearing very little clothing if you are to eventually become one of the komtesse’s kittens.”

  “Kittens?”

  Petra nodded. “The komtesse will explain the details but yes, most of us wish to earn her favor and join the ranks of the kittens.”

  Arabella took up a sponge and began scrubbing one arm. “I don’t understand.”

  Petra leaned closer as she whispered, “You were brought here because of your partiality for females, weren’t you?”

  A torrid blush infused Arabella’s cheeks. She clamped her lips shut.

  “There’s no shame in it. We all were,” Petra confessed.

  “But what does that have to do with—” Arabella began before Petra shushed her.

  A hidden door in the wall flung open and another servant paraded in, bearing a jeweled case. “I am Eleanor. I am here to coif your hair.”

  As the servants thoroughly bathed Arabella, washed her hair and then neatly snipped the ends, she pondered all she’d learned thus far. Petra’s words gave credence to the look the komtesse had bestowed on her. There had been blatant sexual interest in the aristocrat’s eyes. Still, Arabella could not discern whether Katzenhalle merely posed as a safe haven for wayward women or if these walls harbored a deeper, darker secret.

  Yet another servant appeared who manicured Arabella’s finger and toenails, trimming and buffing until they gleamed in the light. Petra helped her dress in the uniform, a cherry-and-white-striped ensemble with a shepherdess-style skirt. Swan-white stockings and embroidered slippers completed the outfit. She had never worn such costly clothing, and she couldn’t resist preening in front of the looking glass.

  Petra smiled. “I am to take you to the komtesse for approval.”

  Arabella thanked Eleanor and the manicurist before she followed Petra through the meandering hallways and down the stairs to what appeared to be a study. Her uncle’s house boasted only six rooms. The sheer massiveness of the mansion was not lost on Arabella.

  Liveried guards served as sentries, their powdered wigs immaculate as they stood expressionless at the open doorway.

  The komtesse sat behind a gilt desk that faced the massive hearth. She rose. “Ah, Arabella. This is quite a welcome change indeed.”

  Both Petra and Arabella curtsied.

  “Turn around for me. Let me see you in your entirety,” the komtesse cooed.

  Arabella revolved slowly, knowing the pride she felt at being turned out so well shone on her face.

  The komtesse smiled, but the display of pleasure held no mirth. Something devious lurked in the woman’s eyes. “Lift your skirts and show me your cunny.”

  Arabella’s breath froze in her lungs. What? She cleared her throat. “Pardon me?”

  The komtesse motioned with her fingers. “Come, girl, lift them up. Let me see.”

  Arabella glanced at Petra, who merely stood waiting, chewing her bottom lip.

  “Silly goose, pull up your skirts. That humility will get you nowhere at Katzenhalle,” the komtesse said impatiently.

  Shaking, Arabella slowly gathered her skirts and lifted the fabric over the tops of her ribboned stockings to bare her thighs.

  “Higher.”

  A voice in her head confirmed she’d wanted this. She’d wanted to be intimate with another woman, so why was she so frightened when the opportunity was clearly presenting itself? Even Petra had told her everyone here sought to earn the komtesse’s favor. In a swell of courage, Arabella raised her skirts to her waist and held her breath as the komtesse appraised her.

  “Lovely. What a beautiful black pelt you have.” The aristocrat stepped closer, fingers reaching. Her eyebrow arched in wicked amusement. “I’ll wager it’s quite soft as well.”

  Arabella’s breath faltered when those finge
rs touched her. There.

  Her pulse pounded so hard she could feel it in her ears. The digits threaded into the curls and then deliberately ventured farther, stroking their way through the sensitive folds. Arabella knew she should ask the komtesse to stop but she couldn’t utter the words. All she could do was experience the exquisite touch of another woman’s hand stroking her in ways she’d only ever dreamed would happen.

  Her gaze flicked to the sentries who stood dispassionately at the door and then to Petra, who seemed mesmerized and even somewhat envious of the komtesse’s attentions.

  “Spread your legs.” As the komtesse stepped to Arabella’s side, the whispered command tickled her neck as if had been caressed with a feather.

  A thousand thoughts at once flew through her confused mind. Two hours earlier, she’d believed she would be punished for such wanton behavior with another woman. But now she was ordered to do it. She wanted to submit completely. She’d never felt anything so sinfully wonderful. She didn’t want this to ever stop.

  Obediently she scooted her feet apart, granting the komtesse complete access. The fingers teased and caressed until Arabella thought she would melt on the very spot. She ached to close her eyes and simply enjoy the sensation but she didn’t know the protocol. She meant to give voice to words but instead a helpless whimper warbled in her throat.

  The komtesse drew impossibly closer. Arabella clutched her skirts tighter as a second hand smoothed up the back of her thigh and fingertips traced the cleft between her ass cheeks. The fingers on her mons flattened and began to massage the rigid little bud at the apex of her folds. Arabella’s stomach tightened. She arched her back just a fraction but it was all the invitation the komtesse needed.

  An insistent fingertip nudged against Arabella’s most private recess.

  She gasped, knowing she should protest though simultaneously hungering for more. Her thighs trembled.

  “Does that feel good to you?” the komtesse asked.

  “Yes, your Ladyship.”

  “Your Mistress.”

  “My…Mistress,” Arabella repeated, voice faltering.