Purr

by Paisley Smith

  Arabella could only imagine being allowed to touch such beauty as she watched Eva gently smooth the cloth over every curve, every swell, every flat plane. The kitten spread her knees wider as Eva paid extra attention to the folds between the woman’s legs.

  When she finished, Eva massaged fragrant oil into the kitten’s skin, then brushed her long blonde locks before slipping on a headpiece that gave her the appearance of having gray cat ears. Matching mittens added to the ensemble. Each mitten had been fashioned out of the same fur as the ears and reached just over the kitten’s elbows. Similar fur coverings were put on each leg and fastened like stockings above the knee.

  Arabella could not help but observe all the other kittens being trussed up in their furry finery. And when it came time to don the tails, each kitten perched on the table, ass high, head down, knees apart. Dampness gathered between Arabella’s thighs as she watched Eva coat her fingers with some sort of greasy substance, which she then slathered on the kitten’s puckered rosette.

  Arabella’s mouth went dry as Eva wriggled a finger into the little hole. Other assistants behaved similarly, eliciting moans and sensuous hip shaking from some of the kittens. Eva added a second finger and worked the pair in a slow motion in and out, stretching the aperture to prepare it for the tail dowel.

  Whenever an assistant removed her fingers, a groan arose, indicating the kittens didn’t want the sensual prodding to stop. Others sighed in pleasure as their dowels were inserted.

  One kitten dropped to her side, squeezed her thighs together and began rocking her hips, obviously striving for a quick orgasm.

  Helga appeared and smacked the kitten’s bottom with a black leather strap. “Marta! Stop that at once. Do you want the komtesse to punish you?”

  Marta cast Helga a surly look marked with the hint of an impish smile. “You know I enjoy the komtesse’s attentions. Negative or otherwise.”

  Helga snorted but could not quell a grin. “Not on this day. Today belongs to Petra.”

  When they were all clad in their kitten costumes, they climbed off the tables and sauntered out the door, presumably to convene in the den.

  Once more, Arabella’s attention was drawn to Giselle, resplendent in her black ears and tail, her full breasts bobbing enticingly as she padded toward the door. Their gazes met again and Giselle quickly looked away. Lightning fired through Arabella’s limbs, settling deep in her belly. She’d never felt such a marked attraction before and the desire to know the comely kitten better filled her with anticipation.

  “Are the kittens assigned to a particular attendant?” she asked Eva.

  Eva shrugged. “The kittens tend to gravitate toward attendants they like and everyone falls into a comfortable pattern…until a kitten is banished or leaves.”

  “Do many get banished?”

  “I’ve seen it happen a few times since my arrival four years ago,” Eva said as she began to clean her station.

  “And what about leaving? How does one choose to leave this place?”

  Eva’s gaze suddenly seemed oddly hollow, as if something haunted her. “None of us know, since anyone who leaves is not permitted to return.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “It’s best you don’t bring it up. The komtesse would not approve,” Eva whispered.

  Arabella picked up the basin of water and followed Eva toward the drain where the excess was dumped. “Would she punish me?” Arabella joked.

  Eva stopped, her gaze flashing toward Helga then back again. “Do not speak of it.”

  “But—” Arabella began, recalling the playful look in the kitten’s eyes when Helga smacked her with the strap.

  Eva seized her arm and squeezed with a force that surprised Arabella. “Do not anger the komtesse. In fact, it’s best you don’t attract her attention at all.” Her voice was but a hot whisper that left Arabella confused.

  “Now come,” Eva said. “We are to watch Petra’s initiation.”

  After packing away all the accouterments from their stations, Arabella walked alongside Eva to the den. The fragrance of incense wafted from the room. Inside, everything had been transformed for the initiation. The throne had been removed from the dais and a table similar to the one in the preparation room had been put in its place. This table sat lower to the ground and Arabella noted a pair of silver manacles attached to the sides. Would Petra have to be restrained?

  The kittens all lounged on fur rugs and big throw pillows while the komtesse entered and sat in her chair, which had been positioned off to the side but maintained a premier view of the stage.

  The servants and assistants stood in the back of the room, all talking amongst themselves until a robed Petra emerged from a chamber flanking the den and ascended the dais.

  A hush fell over the assembly as the komtesse began to speak. “Do you, Petra, present yourself to be initiated into the kitten den of your own free will?”

  “Yes, my Mistress.”

  Even from here, Arabella detected the apprehension in Petra’s eyes.

  “Do you agree to abide by the rules laid out for you? You will not consort with any kitten whilst away from the den. You will not consort with any kitten without my express, spoken consent. You will not kiss another inhabitant of Katzenhalle on the mouth. Neither will you enlist the servants or assistants to give you release. Do you pledge your loyalty to Katzenhalle and to the other denmates?”

  “I do.” Petra’s voice wavered.

  “Do you pledge your fealty to me?”

  “I do, my Mistress.”

  The komtesse clapped her hands once. “Begin with the initiation!”

  Two women wearing black leather cat masks that covered the tops of their heads and half their faces stepped out of the shadows. Catlike eye openings had been cut into the masks and pointed ears stood up on top. Leather straps made up what little clothing they wore, with studded strips crisscrossing between their bare breasts and between their legs. They, too, had been fitted with tails, though theirs were fashioned of leather and hung past their knees, branching into wicked-looking plaited thongs at the ends.

  Petra trembled as the catwomen removed her robe and laid it aside. She gnawed her bottom lip as she turned and bent, positioning her hands on the low table.

  “What are they doing to her?” Arabella asked, unable to look away from the sight of Petra’s upturned bottom.

  “First she’ll receive a spanking,” Eva whispered.

  “A spanking? For what transgression?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s a light one, but a precursor to what she would be dealt if she were to displease the komtesse.”

  Still, the idea of submitting to such treatment in front of all these people both horrified and titillated Arabella.

  Silently, one of the catwomen took up a leather strap and stood to Petra’s side. Petra flinched when the first blow struck. She emitted a rough breath and braced herself as a second and third swat landed, striping her pale cheeks red. Two more ended the oddly provocative ordeal and both catwomen made a show of petting and massaging the offended flesh. Arabella guessed similar such treatment would follow.

  A glimmer of dampness glistened on Petra’s opening. From where Arabella stood, the spanking looked far more arousing than punishing.

  “Now she will submit to the purification,” Eva said.

  One of the women brought forth a tall stand on which hung a weighty-looking bag with a tube attached to it.

  An enema? Right here for all to see? Arabella’s breath hitched as one of the women coated Petra’s rosette with greasy lubricant and the other inserted the nozzle, which disappeared with ease inside her.

  The muscles in the backs of Petra’s legs corded and tensed. And when the catwoman released a clamp on the water tube, Petra whimpered helplessly. The ordeal seemed unending as the bag slowly emptied. She alternately squeezed her thighs together and bucked her hips, as if her body both relinquished control and struggled against the unwelcome invasion and unexpected pleasure. Any humility
she might have previously possessed vanished as she groaned.

  A droplet of water trickled down one inner thigh as her buttocks squeezed taut then relaxed, only to tighten again.

  “Give her release,” the komtesse said blandly.

  One of the catwomen reached between Petra’s legs and began to stroke her clitoris until Petra shook and moaned.

  Arabella stared. Had Petra really found sexual satisfaction in the act of taking and holding all that water while everyone watched? Arabella found herself questioning her desire to join the ranks of the kittens. No wonder Petra had been afraid.

  Finally, one of the women eased the nozzle out and permitted Petra to scurry off the dais and back into the antechamber, where Arabella presumed she’d release all the water that had been forced into her bum.

  “Is it over?” she asked Eva.

  “Hardly,” Eva said. “Now we wait until she comes back then the women will take her virginity.”

  Arabella’s eyes widened. “How can a woman take another woman’s virginity?”

  Eva snickered. “You’ll see.”

  Mind awash with possibilities, Arabella glanced at Giselle, who sat alone on a fur rug until the komtesse motioned with her fingers for the kitten to come.

  Giselle crawled across the floor and dutifully nuzzled her face between the komtesse’s splayed legs. Arabella watched, imagining that the brown-haired beauty tasted her instead of the komtesse.

  Gripping the armrests of her chair, the komtesse shuddered then relaxed as Giselle sat back to await praise. With a languid smile, the komtesse leaned forward to stroke Giselle’s face. “On your feet, precious kitty.”

  After standing, Giselle stepped closer for the komtesse to suckle one of her pert nipples into her mouth. Arabella’s clit jolted when Giselle’s gaze found her own. Still staring, the brunette inched her legs apart to admit the komtesse’s fingers.

  Desire raged through Arabella. Her face and the back of her neck flamed hot. Perspiration beaded and trickled down her spine. She should look away. She should not witness something that should be so intensely intimate but she couldn’t tear her gaze from Giselle’s bold stare.

  Still nude, Petra stepped out of the chamber, breaking the spell as the komtesse pushed Giselle away and dismissed the kitten with a wave of her jewel-bedecked hand.

  Clearly unsatisfied, Giselle returned to her spot on the fur rug.

  Arabella turned to Eva. “Does the komtesse do that often?” she asked, disappointed for the kitten.

  “Do what?”

  “Tease them,” Arabella said for lack of a better description.

  “The komtesse always finds her pleasure. If the kittens achieve orgasm, it is because the komtesse deems it fit.”

  How unfair. Arabella inhaled, trying in vain to stifle her need to comfort Giselle.

  “I wish I were Petra right now,” Eva said, drawing Arabella’s attention to the dais, where a very frightened-looking Petra positioned herself on the table on her hands and knees.

  The masked women returned, one wearing an apparatus that caused Arabella to gasp aloud. The device looked exactly like a man’s erect cock fashioned out of black leather. The catwoman wore it strapped around her hips with the phallus jutting indecently for all to see.

  “Is she going to—” Arabella began, but Eva interrupted, obviously excited about this part of the initiation.

  “Yes. She’s going to fuck her with it.”

  Chapter Three

  Arabella gulped. She shouldn’t have been shocked by the word as much as by what transpired on the dais before her very eyes, but she was.

  “Won’t it hurt her?”

  “Silly goose. That’s the point. The komtesse wants her kittens to be playthings and you can hardly enjoy her fingers rutting in your cunny if you’re a virgin.”

  Inwardly, Arabella shrank. Katzenhalle provided so many freedoms but so many other things that she found scandalous. No wonder Petra had been afraid.

  “Besides,” Eva continued, “there will be so much pleasure to follow.”

  Flaunting the phallus, the catwoman stepped in behind Petra and raked the lubricated tip through her folds. But rather than prod Petra, the catwoman merely waited for her to inch backward, thus taking the cock into her passage of her own free will.

  Petra let out a whimper and pushed back all at once. A raucous cheer rose in the den as the masked woman withdrew and turned toward the audience. From here, Arabella could not see the virginal blood on the phallus, and she was glad of it.

  But just when Arabella thought the tribulation was over, the other catwoman, also brandishing a leather cock, stepped up behind Petra. Even from her position in the back of the den, Arabella could see the greasy lubricant gleaming on the black leather.

  “Now her bottom will be prepared to receive a tail,” Eva said, craning to see better.

  Arabella’s lips parted in a mixture of dread and desire as the catwoman rubbed the tip of the greased phallus on Petra’s rosette. Her legs and arms trembled as she readied herself for the intimate invasion. When the cock pressed closer, Petra lifted her bottom almost imperceptibly and the end of the thick shaft slipped past the rim.

  Arabella’s anus tightened at the thought of taking something that big inside her there. Surprisingly, she didn’t deplore the idea but rather found it intriguing. A drop of her own juices oozed down her inner thigh and she too found herself stretching to watch the phallus slowly penetrate Petra’s ass.

  Petra shook as the thing eased all the way inside her. This time the cock wasn’t immediately removed but instead, the masked woman gripped Petra’s buttocks and began to rock her hips, delivering slow, short thrusts.

  Deep moans spilled from Petra’s parted lips. She met the thrusts, urging her teasing tormentor to increase the speed and depth. The catwoman braced a hand on Petra’s back and moved faster and harder, slapping her groin against Petra’s backside over and over until the initiate threw back her head and released a strangled cry of pleasure that caused Arabella’s loins to blaze with need.

  The catwoman withdrew the phallus, took a cloth and gently cleaned Petra before she was coaxed to lie on the table and submit her wrists to be shackled.

  “Here’s where Petra’s real fun starts,” Eva said.

  The komtesse clapped her hands twice and one of the kittens ascended the dais and buried her face between Petra’s legs. Moments later, Petra gasped as pleasure overcame her again.

  Another kitten followed.

  “Does each kitten get a go at her?” Arabella asked, her own voice hoarse with arousal.

  Eva nodded. “Lucky bitch.”

  But Arabella’s attention shifted from Petra to Giselle, who had crept back to the komtesse to brush her face against the aristocrat’s legs.

  “Naughty, salacious kitten,” the komtesse crooned as she gestured for Giselle to bend over her lap. “You know what this means?”

  Giselle nodded and pushed up on the tiptoes of her fur-clad feet.

  The komtesse lifted the tail high, tugging enough to remind her charge just where the device was seated. Giselle bit her bottom lip.

  Arabella’s mouth went dry at the sight of the soft, moist folds displayed before her. What would it be like to trace her tongue along that juicy slit? The komtesse roughly caressed then smacked Giselle’s bottom several times, leaving behind the blush of handprints that must have inspired the most sensual burn.

  “Step up. I want to taste you,” the komtesse uttered huskily.

  Dutifully, Giselle climbed up, bracing one foot on the armrest and the other on the back of the chair. The komtesse leaned forward to lick between the kitten’s thighs. Giselle rolled her hips with a slow sensuality that made Arabella’s mouth water. And when the kitten’s gaze clashed with Arabella’s again, her knees went weak.

  “You were warned about consorting with the kittens, weren’t you?” Eva asked softly, obviously taking notice.

  Arabella tore her gaze from Giselle’s. “Yes, of course
.”

  “Temptation is thick at Katzenhalle. Be careful,” Eva cautioned before she moved to get a better view of the happenings on the dais.

  As well as pleasuring Petra, the kittens had obviously earned the privilege of pleasing one another. Throughout the room, women lay with legs sprawled, getting devoured by fellow kittens. Some managed to taste each other at the same time and still others lined up to be prodded by the masked catwomen.

  Arabella doubted she’d ever become accustomed to such carnality. She glanced toward the door and wondered if she could withdraw without detection. The need to touch herself reared so great she didn’t think she could stand it much longer.

  “Dear, you look peaked,” one of the other attendants whispered.

  Arabella fanned her face with her hand.

  The woman smiled. “It can be a bit overwhelming. Usually by this time, no one notices if you step out into the hallway for air. Just don’t be gone too long.”

  Arabella nodded and eased her way to the door. Once out of the den, she leaned against the wall and breathed in the fresh air. The fragrance of sex and sweet cunny lingered in her nostrils and she shook her head as if she could dispel the erotic memory of naked bodies entwined, of plaintive moans and faces contorted in the throes of pleasure.

  No one else was about. She could wait no longer. She plunged her hand under her skirts and there, leaning against the wall, she rubbed herself, intent on finding quick release. Images of ivory thighs opening to reveal succulent treasures within haunted Arabella.

  Her crease was already slippery and her fingertips glided over her swollen clitoris with ease. She squeezed her legs together and bucked against her hand. Pleasure hovered near. Almost…

  A gasp startled Arabella and she jolted, snatching her hand away from the apex of her thighs and letting her skirts flutter back down. She blinked furiously, face flaming with shame—until her eyes focused on Giselle, who looked almost as frightened at the sight of an unexpected person.