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  “Good. This is just a taste of the delights you can experience at Katzenhalle if you will but obey the rules set forth. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my La— My Mistress,” Arabella croaked. She could no longer think coherently. Something she’d only known at her own touch was happening and Arabella couldn’t prevent it. She didn’t want to prevent it.

  “You will never be violated by a man at Katzenhalle. Here, you will only know a woman’s touch. A woman’s kiss betwixt your thighs.”

  Arabella’s desire spiraled.

  “If you serve me faithfully, then you will be granted status as one of my pets and you will know this pleasure time and time again.”

  Arabella could hear the komtesse speaking but the words trickled in as if through water. She couldn’t think past the feeling building to a fever pitch between her legs.

  The finger at her nether hole slipped through the creamy slit and then, with one wriggling push, breached the tight rim and slid inside.

  Arabella’s pulse rioted. She’d never dreamed invasion there would feel so scandalously good. All at once, the sensations culminated and burst like a sudden crack of lightning, rattling through every ounce of her being. The intensity of it fired to her scalp and downward to her toes, churning in her abdomen until she became aware of the sound of her uncontrolled, bliss-filled moans.

  Sudden coldness followed when the komtesse’s hands fell away. “You can drop your skirts now,” she said with stony frankness as she offered her fingers to Petra, who wiped away the shimmering residue of Arabella’s juices with a handkerchief.

  Even as her clothes fell back into place, Arabella would have thought she’d imagined the whole episode had it not been for the warm, wet throbbing at the juncture of her thighs.

  “You will serve as an attendant to my kittens. I have many, as you will see. The kittens are the most pampered pets at Katzenhalle and you will do well to remember it. I will tolerate absolutely no abuse of my pets, and that, mind you, includes satisfying your carnal cravings with them.”

  Arabella stared. Carnal cravings?

  “You are never to touch one of my kittens for pleasure or allow yourself to be pleasured by one of them. Neither are you to kiss them on the mouth. Mouth kissing is strictly forbidden at Katzenhalle. Punishment will be sure and swift. And public.”

  No kissing? Arabella wanted to ask the reason for a seemingly arbitrary rule, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, the aristocrat laughed, a wicked, wild laugh that sent a chill up Arabella’s spine.

  “Petra, should we give our new assistant a glimpse of the kitten den?” the komtesse asked.

  “Yes, my Mistress.” Petra swiftly walked across the study and pulled open a secret panel door in the wall.

  Arabella could never have prepared herself for the sight within.

  The windowless room contained a dozen or so beautiful women, who lazed in various positions on luxurious rugs and thick pillows. Some crawled on hands and knees while others lay curled up together. The vision was shocking enough without the details that struck Arabella the hardest…

  Each woman wore nothing except fur leggings, fur mittens, catlike ears on their heads and fuzzy tails jutting from their bottoms.

  One crawled on hands and knees to the komtesse, who bent to stroke the woman’s head. “I’ll have cream for you later, my pet.”

  The entire sight was hedonistically overwhelming. But at that moment, Arabella knew she’d do anything the komtesse asked in order to join this menagerie of female felines.

  Chapter Two

  Arabella could scarcely take in all the erotic sights and sounds of the kitten den. The komtesse seated herself on a plush throne-like chair situated on a dais at the head of the room. Soft lighting glowed dimly from the multicolored, tinted panes of Turkish lamps, casting the kittens in hues of rose and blue and gold.

  One shapely blonde kitten leisurely licked the neck of a brunette who wore white ears and a bushy white tail. Another kitten padded past on all fours and Arabella gasped aloud when she realized the tails were seated inside the bottoms of each of the women. Her cunny clenched in memory of how the komtesse’s finger had tantalized her own anus.

  “Giselle,” the komtesse’s voice rang out. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  A lovely brown-haired kitten with black ears and tail crawled toward the komtesse to brush her face against her Mistress’ skirts.

  “Precious kitty,” the komtesse cooed as she leaned forward to stroke the kitten’s head. And then she drew up her skirts, scooted to the edge of her chair and spread her legs wide, revealing a dark thatch that barely concealed the glistening pink lips within.

  Arabella stared mesmerized as the kitten-woman burrowed her face between the komtesse’s splayed thighs. Giselle tasted gingerly at first then nudged in deeper. Her tail swayed provocatively as she devoured the komtesse’s cunny.

  In the throes of ecstasy, the komtesse clutched the armrests of her chair. Her head fell back and she moaned. Her pelvis rocked into Giselle’s face.

  This morning, Arabella could never have imagined such a sight, much less such an existence. Her gaze flicked to the other kittens who all sat watching, their expressions indicating they would each relish trading places with Giselle.

  The komtesse exhaled several ragged breaths and then petted Giselle on the head. “Good kitty. Sweet kitty. You do that so well.” Drawing her skirts back down, she slid back and then patted her knees. Eagerly, Giselle positioned herself over her Domme’s lap, raising her backside and spreading her thighs.

  After gently tugging on Giselle’s tail, the komtesse slid not one but two fingers deep inside the kitten’s passage and worked them in a quick, pistoning motion. Giselle bucked. Her head dropped and her lips parted. Long, low moans spilled from her shapely mouth. And when the komtesse’s thumb and forefinger latched on to the kitten’s nipple, Giselle began to writhe in unbridled bliss.

  Arabella could not take her eyes off the luscious sight. The komtesse’s fingers glistened. Arabella’s clitoris pounded with need. A quick glance at the other kittens told her the frustrating want in the room was almost palpable.

  Sinful thoughts of lying naked amidst all these beautiful women, of being touched, of exploring soft bodies, pervaded Arabella’s mind. Her senses reeled until she thought she would swoon.

  Giselle melted off the komtesse’s lap and began to gratefully kiss her slippers. The komtesse merely leaned back in her chair and brought her cream-coated fingers to her lips. “Off with you,” she said, waving the kitten away.

  On all fours, Giselle began to crawl away but not before lifting her gaze to Arabella’s. The kitten’s bold stare sparked embers between Arabella’s thighs. Giselle’s beauty was incomparable but there was something else. Wonder. Promise. Lust?

  Unable to hold the penetrating stare any longer, Arabella looked away. “How does one become a kitten?” she whispered to Petra.

  “Through faithful service,” she offered. “I am to be initiated tomorrow.”

  “Initiated?”

  “Yes,” Petra said. “Come with me. I will introduce you to Helga, who oversees the assistants.”

  “How long have you been here?” Arabella asked, falling into step beside Petra as they exited the den.

  “Nearly a year.”

  Disappointment welled in Arabella. “A year?” She couldn’t possibly wait that long to experience more pleasure at the komtesse’s capable hands. She glanced back at Giselle, who’d stretched out on a fur rug.

  “I was uncertain that I wanted to become a kitten,” Petra explained. “The initiation is…stringent.” She gnawed her bottom lip. “I must admit, I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of that?” Arabella pointed back toward the den.

  Petra’s luminous blue eyes turned misty. “The initiation rite is different. You will see. Everyone will see tomorrow and I fear I will shame myself.”

  “I don’t understand. Do you have a choice?”

  Petra’s wistful exp
ression faded. “We always have a choice at Katzenhalle—in every matter but the ability to leave.”

  “Then why would you choose something that frightens you?” Arabella asked pointedly. Discretion had never been a virtue she possessed.

  “I can no longer suffer the need for a woman’s touch.”

  Arabella’s brow furrowed.

  Petra continued. “We are only allowed to experience pleasure if the komtesse sanctions it or if we are initiated into the den.”

  “So we are not allowed to form…relationships?” Dismay blossomed.

  “It’s strictly forbidden, and if you are discovered you will be exiled,” Petra said. “That is one of the reasons the komtesse forbids kissing. She deems it far too intimate and says it encourages insubordination. Besides, we’re not welcome on the outside. It is rumored that many who’ve gone against the rules have been locked away in asylums or worse, tortured and jailed. Only after initiation into the den will the komtesse decide who your partner is to be. Helga will explain all the rules.”

  The excitement Arabella had initially felt was quickly being dashed on the marble floor. There were more rules here than at home. Frustrating rules at that.

  “And Arabella, I caution you. Do not under any circumstances break the rules. Despite them, we do enjoy a certain freedom here that we would never know in the outside world.” She stopped walking. “Here we are.”

  Mulling over everything she’d seen and heard, Arabella followed the servant into a long narrow room that boasted a row of waist-high, padded tables, walls bedecked with various fur ears and all colors of both sleek and bushy cat tails. Each fur tail was fitted with a strategically carved wooden dowel obviously designed to seat the tail firmly in the kitten’s anus.

  Once more, the memory of the komtesse’s finger slipping past her rim and wriggling into her bottom caused Arabella’s channel to clench. Her confidence suddenly wavered. A thin digit invading her for a few minutes was hardly a thick dowel designed to be worn for hours.

  She tore her gaze from the wall to take in the rest of the room. On the other side sat deep tubs ready for filling, each one replete with a stopper and drain to carry the water outside, presumably to the river below. Unguents and oils displayed in colorful bottles lined shelves over the tubs, as well as thick drying cloths and sumptuous robes. Again, Arabella mentally questioned Petra’s reticence to become a kitten. What about the initiation could be so daunting it would prevent her from rushing headlong into kittenhood? Especially when all these luxuries would be provided.

  A woman strode toward them, her tight Slavic features made even sterner by a straight, deeply lined mouth, piercing blue eyes and gray-streaked black hair combed into a tight bun. Arabella guessed this was Helga. A tremor crawled up her spine until Helga gave her a welcoming smile. “You must be Fräulein Lehmann. Here, ceremony amongst the staff is not observed. We are all on familiar terms…Arabella.”

  Uncertain of how to respond, Arabella remained silent. She nodded her acknowledgment.

  “I am Helga and I manage the attendants to the komtesse’s kittens. Follow the rules to the letter and you will thrive at Katzenhalle. Break them and be assured, swift punishment will follow.”

  Still mute, Arabella nodded again.

  “Punishment is based on the nature of the transgression, but know that you could be banished. You have been brought here because of the komtesse’s compassion for us Sapphics.”

  “Sapphics?” Arabella asked, but instinctively she knew the answer.

  “Women who prefer sexual relationships with other women, dear. Are you of that ilk?” Helga folded her arms over her sparse bosom.

  There was no point in denying it. Not in this place. “Y-yes, ma’am.” An odd lightness of being filled Arabella at the bald admission.

  “Then you will find safety and happiness here provided you follow the rules,” Helga stated plainly. “Petra, you should rest before your initiation tomorrow. And Arabella, you will begin your training as an attendant. Hard work will earn you the komtesse’s favor. She is not one so easily swayed by a coy eye, so keep that in mind. Shameless flirting will only infuriate her.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Helga,” the woman corrected.

  “Helga.”

  The older woman drew in a breath and then blew it out with a sense of finality. “So be it. Welcome then. Good night.” With a curt nod of her head, she spun on her heel and marched out of the room.

  “She’s Prussian,” Petra whispered when Helga had disappeared from earshot.

  “Ah.”

  “Come. I’ll show you to your room. The rooms are small but we each have our own,” Petra said, venturing into the hall once more. She cleared her throat and then added in a whisper, “We have our own rooms because of the komtesse’s strict rules about fraternization. Temptation is everywhere. Do not get caught.”

  Arabella was tired and quickly growing weary of these warnings. Relief swamped her when they finally arrived at a row of doors. Petra led her to one at the end of the hall and opened it.

  The room was indeed small, but equipped with a comfortable-looking bed. After all of Petra’s overzealous cautioning, Arabella couldn’t help but notice the bed was only big enough for one person to sleep comfortably. A washstand with a pitcher and bowl dominated the opposite wall and a night table had been positioned next to the bed. Fresh linen, a stack of drying cloths and a nightgown lay folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Her room at her uncle’s estate had been a little less spartan.

  Petra stepped inside and lit the candle on the nightstand. “If you need anything, my room is directly across the hall.”

  “Thank you,” Arabella said, looking forward to climbing into bed.

  “Good night, then,” Petra said as her expression suddenly turned from placid to fearfully expectant. She gave a little nervous laugh. “Please don’t think less of me if I fall apart at my initiation tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be there?”

  “Everyone at Katzenhalle will be there. A new kitten’s initiation is a momentous event.”

  Arabella squeezed Petra’s arm reassuringly. “You will do fine,” she said, even though she hadn’t the least idea what would be required of her new friend on the morrow. “Sleep well.”

  Petra nodded and then skipped across the hall to her own room.

  Alone with her thoughts, Arabella closed her door, made her bed and changed into her nightgown. She blew out the candle and lay down but in the darkness, images from all she had experienced sped through her brain. Nude bodies. The komtesse’s mischievous smile. Women adorned with ears and tails. Gilded furniture and sparkling chandeliers.

  Her needy clitoris ached for attention so she spread her thighs and stroked it with the pad of her middle finger. She revisited the sight she’d seen in the den, of Giselle nudging her face between the komtesse’s thighs.

  Arabella had never tasted another woman, but suddenly it was all she could think about. What would it be like to trace her tongue over the swollen ridge of another woman’s clitoris? Giselle’s clitoris… How would it taste to explore the concealed crevices and soft flesh of her cunny? Instinctively, Arabella lifted her hips toward her hand as she began to massage in earnest. The komtesse’s touch had felt so wonderfully good. She wanted it again.

  Visions of bending over to be fitted with a tail caused hard desire to surge through Arabella’s loins. She saw herself being invited to bow over a lap, to have fingers thrust inside her while the dowel seated tightly in her bottom offered the most pleasurable torture. But instead of the komtesse, Arabella imagined Giselle doing these things to her.

  Bliss built and crashed over her but Arabella didn’t stop touching herself until she’d found release twice more.

  This morning, she would never have dreamed such a place existed. Any trepidation she had about being brought here vanished. Gone was a life as a baron’s niece, and available to her now was a life where she would be accepted…and possibly loved.

&nb
sp; Tomorrow morning, everything would be different. She would be different.

  * * * * *

  Arabella stood behind Eva, the young woman who’d been enlisted to train her. The preparation room seemed drastically different with all the assistants bustling about in their cherry-and-white-striped skirts. Many discussed Petra’s initiation, with some even making wagers on whether Petra would go through with it or back out.

  All the speculation and Petra’s own hesitation about the initiation piqued Arabella’s interest. What would be required of her? Arabella had pondered it but could get no answer from the other attendants, who seemed amused by her curiosity.

  The door opened and the kittens began to file in. Each woman wore nothing but a pink silk robe, which they immediately shed and passed to their attendants before climbing onto the tables and positioning themselves on their hands and knees.

  Despite what she’d seen the day before, Arabella was unaccustomed to such flagrant nudity. A hot blush infused her cheeks at the sight of all the lovely bottoms raised high, nether parts exposed.

  And when Giselle entered the room, Arabella’s stomach did a little somersault when she thought of how she’d touched herself the night to fantasies of the woman.

  In stronger light, the kitten was even more beautiful. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, the ends curling provocatively around one dusky nipple. Her gaze lifted and found Arabella’s.

  Something akin to desire trilled through Arabella’s veins, causing her stomach to knot and her clitoris to throb with the memory of her illicit activities.

  An innocent smile that seemed terribly incongruous with the display from yesterday played on the kitten’s lips.

  “In the morning,” Eva explained, dragging her attention away from Giselle, “each kitten receives a sponge bath and an enema if needed and then a thorough oiling.”

  “What’s the purpose of an enema?” she asked, surprised to find herself aroused by the thought of such a thing.

  “It makes the tail more tolerable. They must be worn until the komtesse releases the kittens. Sometimes for hours.” Eva dipped a cloth in a bowl of water she’d previously prepared and then wiped the kitten’s face clean before proceeding to the rest of the woman’s voluptuous body.