Purr (7 page)

“Everyone will be at the initiation. If Karin goes first,
perhaps we can escape during the melee,” Arabella suggested.

Giselle mulled it over. “I don’t know. The komtesse would
know if I was gone.”

“You managed to leave for a few moments before. Suppose we
used that chance to escape.”

“What about the guards? They don’t attend the ceremony.”

Hopes dashed, Arabella heaved a sigh. “That’s true. Though
the ceremonies are our only hope to evade Gudrun.”

“I agree.”

Again, the taboo delights Petra had experienced flashed
through Arabella’s mind. She too felt she wouldn’t be able to withstand the
very public spectacle. “How did you fare at the initiation?”

“I bore it,” Giselle replied simply. Something bleak flashed
in her eyes that caused Arabella’s heart to ache. “I continue to bear similar
punishments in the komtesse’s chambers.”

“We will get out of this place. Together,” Arabella said.

* * * * *

Arabella peeped out from the antechamber as a smiling, naked
Karin ascended the dais. Cheers resounded, followed by the komtesse’s rite of
initiation, to which Karin heartily agreed before turning and bending to
receive her paddling.

Arabella’s feet refused to work but she knew she had to tear
herself from the erotic site and search for a chink in Katzenhalle’s formidable
armor. No one was watching—
her
, anyway. She took two steps back before
whirling and racing out into the hall. If anyone happened upon her, she would
attribute her mad dash to nerves.

There was only one unlocked door at the front of the villa.
All the windows were barred. She looked out over the back gardens. A high stone
wall surrounded the vast lawn. When she’d first come here, she’d guessed all
the protection was for the inhabitants of Katzenhalle. She’d guessed wrong.
Escape seemed hopeless.

“What are you doing out here?” Gudrun’s low voice boomed in
the hallway.

“Trying to calm my nerves,” Arabella admitted.

Gudrun marched toward her, clapped a meaty paw on her
shoulder and ushered her back toward the antechamber. “Come. You are to receive
your rites whilst Karin is in the stool chamber.”

Panic blossomed. Arabella’s heart felt as if it were beating
in her throat. Blood rushed so fast and thick through her veins, she could hear
her pulse pounding in her ears. Her eyes watered and everything became a blur
as the catwomen took her from Gudrun and escorted her onto the dais.

Arabella glanced at Giselle. It was a mistake. Tears welled
in her eyes. She couldn’t possibly endure this. Every eye in the den was upon
her naked form.

She could barely utter the words when the komtesse recited
the rite of passage. Time flew at breakneck speed as one of the masked women
turned her and placed her hands on the low table. Shame flamed in her face as
she realized she was bending with her bottom high in the air, her most
vulnerable parts exposed for all to see.

The paddle swished and landed with a sharp smack on her
bottom. Arabella whimpered as the blow ignited her senses. In spite of
everything, blood pulsed in her clitoris and she realized she was actually on
tiptoe in anticipation of the next swat.

It fell on the opposite cheek, sending an erotic blazing
fire through her loins. Control eddied away. She could do nothing but withstand
this…experience this.

“Again!” the komtesse ordered.

Arabella held her breath and received the paddle’s smack.
She exhaled as the sting bloomed into a warm, sensual throb.

When the catwomen began petting and rubbing her bottom,
Arabella thought she might orgasm from the contrasting pain and pleasure. The
cheering crowd melted away. Her eyes closed as she sank deeper within.

A firm nudge against her anus rudely brought her back to
reality.

The enema!

“Oh God, no,” she heard herself whisper but the nozzle was
already sliding into place. She gritted her teeth against the biting pain as
her rim stretched to admit the thick spout, and once her sphincter closed
around the mouth of the device, her inner muscles throbbed against the wicked
intrusion.

She clawed at the table, fighting the natural urge to reach
behind and dislodge the apparatus. The tube slapped against the back of her
thigh as one of the women fastened it to the water bag. Arabella glanced at the
bulging sack. She’d never be able to take all that. Her mouth went dry.

She tried to remind herself that many of the kittens
welcomed this procedure, and even drew pleasure from it. But somehow she
doubted she would.

The clamp clicked and the bag gurgled and in seconds, water
trickled into Arabella’s bottom. The feeling was not unpleasant. In fact, she
found it exhilarating. Still, her legs trembled as the fullness became too much
and she struggled to fight the urge to release. Just when she thought she could
bear no more, fingers searched between her legs and began to massage her
clitoris.

Sensation bloomed.

She rocked wildly against the hand, driven by uncontrollable
desire. Her sudden climax overwhelmed her. Shattered her. She cried out as her
cunny clenched around its own emptiness and her ass spasmed around the nozzle.
She’d never imagined such pleasure as swell upon swell crashed over her.

But it quickly ended when one of the catwomen removed the
nozzle. Arabella’s physical urge to eliminate returned with a vengeance and she
raced, close-kneed, from the dais to the stool closet.

After her initial purge, she sat weak-legged and shaking.
She clutched the wooden bench, startled when it wiggled slightly. Leaning to
the side, she looked down to see a narrow opening…

And the river below.

A plan began to take shape in her head.

When she had completely released the water, two attendants
quickly bathed her and sent her back to the dais. Even as she was bent over the
table and restrained, her thoughts snaked around the idea that the bench could
be removed. It wasn’t too far a drop into the river. Of course, they would have
to somehow get serviceable clothing and try to get it outside Katzenhalle without
dropping it in the river. And money. How could they get passage to France short
of stealing horses?

She bit back a pained cry as fingers slipped into her
channel, breaking past her barrier to ease the passage of the leather phallus.
All thoughts of escape fled and Arabella’s gaze found Giselle’s as the cock
slid inside. Just last night Arabella had wanted
Giselle’s
fingers
inside her. Her touch would have been gentle; this invasion felt strange and
intrusive. She gritted her teeth as the device stretched and filled her. But no
sooner than it claimed her, the thing withdrew.

Perspiration beaded her forehead and upper lip. Her spine
misted with sweat. The onlookers cheered.

Giselle’s gaze diverted but Arabella could not twist to see
what had caught her lover’s attention. One of the catwomen began to coat her
sensitive rosette with a greasy substance as Giselle crawled on hands and knees
out of Arabella’s sight.

The komtesse! That bitch!
Hard shards of jealousy
exploded in Arabella’s breast. She struggled against the chains binding her
wrists as one, then two fingers breached her rim and invaded her. Her arousal
warred with heartbreaking need for Giselle. Tears formed in Arabella’s eyes as
the phallus nudged her bottom. The tip slid in and out, teasing her, readying
her. More intruded, but the expert catwoman knew just how much pressure to
apply.

No matter how hard Arabella tried to cling to her anger that
the komtesse was, at this very moment, claiming her lover, she could not
concentrate on anything but the easy slide of the thick phallus filling her
bottom.

She sucked in a breath through her teeth and then blew it
out slowly as her body adjusted to the deep penetration. This was no finger.
Nor was it a nozzle. Her blood heated. Her inner muscles throbbed around the
slippery leather. Lashes fluttering closed, Arabella rested her head on the
wood and allowed herself to experience the taboo pleasure of being fucked in
the bottom in front of a hundred onlookers.

Fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips and the catwoman
pumped slowly but deliberately. The other catwoman reached between her legs and
stroked her mons until Arabella began to rock, intent on achieving climax.

Her head lifted and her mouth opened. Low moans spilled from
her lips. Her arms pulled hard on the chains, the burn in her muscles only
adding to the combatant sensations of pleasure and pain radiating throughout
her body.

Orgasm slammed over her again and when the last vestige of
it shadowed away, the kittens lined up to complete the initiation. Some touched
her, plunging their fingers inside her cunny, her ass. Some swatted her with
the paddle. Others seized her by the hair and lifted her head, pushing her
mouth between their legs. Fingers plucked at her nipples.

Faces disappeared until all that remained were bodies,
fingers, mouths, cunnies.

The muscles in the back of her neck ached as she strained to
taste each one thrust before her. Her channel grew deliciously sore as time and
time again the lusty kittens brought her to orgasm.

At the end of the initiation, she walked on trembling legs
to the preparation room and flopped down on the first table she came to.

“Well done.”

Giselle’s whisper brought Arabella back to life. “I have a
plan,” she returned quickly.

Giselle stared but only for a moment before she moved to
mount her own table.

Arabella was too tired to think anymore. She closed her eyes
as her attendant began massaging scented oils into her tired muscles.

When the servant with the silver salver appeared, everyone
looked to Giselle, especially since, on the previous initiation day, Petra had
been overlooked in favor of the komtesse’s favorite.

But this time, the servant bore
two
cards on the
tray.

One for Giselle.

And the other for Arabella.

Chapter Six

Giselle lay on her bed but she could not rest. In less than
an hour, they would be summoned to the komtesse’s chambers. As long as Giselle
had been at Katzenhalle, she’d never known the komtesse to request two kittens
simultaneously.

Nerves tangled in her stomach. Part of her worried the eagle-eyed
komtesse had seen the looks exchanged in the den, that she
knew
what had
already transpired.

Another part of Giselle feared for Arabella. Although she’d
borne the brunt of the rigorous initiation, it was nothing in comparison to the
komtesse’s sexually aggressive behavior.

What if Arabella balked? Worse, what if the komtesse ordered
Giselle to mete out punishments to the newly inducted kitten?

I have a plan…

Arabella’s whispered words snaked through Giselle’s head.
What sort of plan, she wondered?

She twisted onto her side. Suppose they were able to escape.
What then? Guilt flared as she imagined walking away from a woman who was
clearly smitten with her.

Images welled of Arabella’s dark head sensuously bobbing as
they’d made love the night before. Giselle squeezed her thighs together at the
feelings the memory aroused. Blood engorged her clitoris, leaving a softly
throbbing pulse in its wake. She inhaled.

Last night had been the first time she’d
shared
pleasure with another woman. She took punishment from the komtesse. She did as
she was ordered and lost herself in the loss of control.

But she’d never come together with another woman with the
intent of finding mutual satisfaction.

The memory of soft, caressing hands traveling over her skin
settled uncomfortably in Giselle’s belly. She swallowed. She had enjoyed it.
She had become aroused by giving as well as receiving. With a woman.

A soft knock sounded on her door.

Before rising, Giselle steeled herself. It wouldn’t do to
let the komtesse see any sort of reaction from her regarding the new kitten.
And Giselle didn’t doubt the komtesse would be watching for it. Why else would
she have requested they both come at once?

Giselle opened her door to discover Gudrun. “It is time,”
the gruff Prussian said.

Giving a nod, Giselle padded past her and into the hallway,
where Arabella already waited. The two avoided eye contact as they started
toward the komtesse’s chambers.

When they arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Gudrun
stopped. “You show her the way from here, yes?”

“Yes, of course,” Giselle said.

Both clad in nothing but thin robes, they climbed the
stairs, not deigning to share even so much as a murmur until they were out of
Gudrun’s earshot.

“What is your plan?” Giselle asked quickly.

“The bench in the stool closet is loose,” Arabella
whispered.

“I don’t underst—”

“It’s loose and could easily be pried the rest of the way
off. The river runs below. Can you swim?”

Giselle’s lips parted. She stared, stunned. A certain panic
gnawed at her at this very feasible idea. Until now, escape had seemed like an
unattainable goal, a fantasy. Now, the reality of it terrified her to the core.
“I can swim.”

“The difficult part will be getting clothes and money for
transportation.”

Giselle bit her bottom lip. At the mention of clothes, her
first thought had been glimpsing the komtesse’s wardrobe cabinet, which bulged
with all manner of sumptuous gowns. “Would you be willing to attempt this
tonight? I too have an idea.”

“Tonight?”

“We might never get the opportunity to escape Gudrun’s watch
again,” Giselle said as the flimsy pieces of her plot knitted together in her
head. “We can go unnoticed to the stool closet. There’s a hidden passage in the
komtesse’s chamber that leads to her study.” She eyed Arabella. “And her study
has a door to the den.”

“But what about clothes? We can’t venture out like this.”
Arabella gestured to her robe.

“Follow my lead. And above all, whatever tortures the
komtesse metes out to you, act as if you are in heaven.”

They turned the corner and the presence of two male sentries
silenced them. One opened the door and they went inside.

Arabella gaped at the luxurious gilded surroundings. The
komtesse lounged in a violet silk robe that spilled over her
yellow-and-white-striped chair and sprawled in a pool on the dark fur rug. With
one pump-clad foot propped on a tufted footstool, she sat toying with the
cream-colored satin bow at the top of her stocking.

A long-haired white cat leapt down from her lap and scurried
away.

“In the bath with the both of you,” she said, her gaze
raking them in unconcealed appraisal.

“Yes, Mistress,” the kittens said in unison.

Giselle led the way to the bathing chamber. She slipped off
her robe and stepped into the water, which had been sprinkled with rose petals.
Arabella followed and sat facing her.

The tub was large but not so big that the two women did not
touch. Arabella’s toes flirted with Giselle’s inner thigh. Their eyes met and
held and Giselle’s insides somersaulted. She couldn’t tell if her reaction
stemmed from guilt or from something else. And in spite of the possibility that
they might either escape or perhaps even die later this night, all Giselle
could think about was tasting the newly initiated kitten’s succulent sex.

“Aren’t you two a lovely pairing?” the komtesse mused from
the doorway. Her heels resounded on the marble floor as she stepped into the
bathing chamber.

“We are here to please you, Mistress,” Giselle offered.
“What is your bidding?”

“I would watch you taste one another,” the komtesse said.
“And then I would have you both taste me.”

Giselle’s nerves tangled. The komtesse had never requested
such actions without first dealing punishment. Something was wrong. Spies were
everywhere at Katzenhalle. What if someone had overheard their plans of escape?
What if someone had seen her coming or going from Arabella’s room? Giselle
tried to conceal her apprehension.

“Dry yourselves,” the komtesse ordered.

Both kittens stood and began blotting their skin with
towels.

“Each other,” the komtesse clarified.

Giselle stepped out of the tub and offered her hand to
Arabella as she got out. Awkwardly, the two women dabbed at each other’s wet
skin, trying not to give anything away with a meaningful glance or too intimate
a touch.

With perceptive eyes, the komtesse watched. She drew in a
breath. “I’ve changed my mind. I would have you please me first.” With that,
she turned and exited the bathing chamber, the train of her robe billowing in
her wake.

Arabella opened her mouth to speak but Giselle pressed a
finger to her lover’s lips and shook her head. They dropped their bathing
cloths and followed after the komtesse.

The aristocrat sat once more in her chair, robe agape, legs
splayed to reveal a neat triangle of wet, dark curls and the already juicy slit
at the juncture of her thighs.

“On your knees, my pets,” she drawled.

Giselle and Arabella sank onto all fours and crawled,
catlike, across the thick rug. The komtesse slid her hips to the edge of the
seat and opened her legs wider before gathering the two heads downward. There
was hardly room for two without coming into very close contact. When Giselle’s
mouth brushed her lover’s, she glanced up at the komtesse, who observed with
narrowed eyes. Was she waiting to see if they committed the forbidden sin and
kissed?

How could they not kiss in this position?

Giselle turned her head and sucked at the soft flesh of the
komtesse’s thigh while Arabella moved in to lave the aristocrat’s clitoris.

Fingers toyed in their hair and Giselle complied when the
komtesse urged her mouth back toward the center. Once again, the lovers’
tongues swept over each other’s as they tasted the komtesse.

The komtesse’s breathing deepened. Faint moans spilled from
her lips. Finally, her head fell back against the cushions. Giselle took over
and latched on the engorged hood and sucked. Hard. Arabella slid a finger into
the komtesse’s passage and in moments, her body grew rigid as ecstasy came upon
her. Giselle and Arabella did not stop until the woman gently eased away.

“Each other,” the komtesse said breathlessly.

Giselle stretched out on the floor and opened her legs as
Arabella dropped between them and began to mouth her.

“Look at me, Giselle,” the komtesse commanded.

Giselle turned her head, her gaze connecting with the
komtesse’s. Giselle knew there was no hiding the pleasure she felt. She covered
her breasts and kneaded them before pulling at her own nipples. Instinct
demanded she watch Arabella but she didn’t dare relinquish the komtesse’s hard
stare.

“Does it feel good to have her tongue on your cunny?” the
aristocrat asked.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Do you think you will find release?” the komtesse asked
pointedly.

Giselle swallowed. She was so close right now. Her lashes
fluttered as she struggled to maintain the gaze. “I hope so, Mistress.”

Arabella’s warm mouth felt so soft. Tender yet firm lips
plied Giselle’s needy flesh.

“Usually you would have to suffer the lash before you find
bliss,” the komtesse chided.

Giselle’s spine arched off the floor. She wanted to rock her
hips, to spread open her legs so wide her muscles burned, to let this elusive
orgasm rack her from head to toe.

The komtesse’s gaze flicked to Arabella and at that moment,
Giselle could fight it no longer. She sucked in a sharp breath as ecstasy
thundered through her. Her eyes closed. She spiraled until reality faded like a
dying star in the heavens. In her mind, she repeated Arabella’s name over and
over. Somehow she managed to cling to a single shred of common sense and did
not utter the word aloud.

Pulses of rapture still radiated from her center as she got
on hands and knees to switch places with Arabella. Giselle dipped to taste the
drenched lips opening before her, but a hard smack to her bottom gave her
pause.

Her head twisted and she eyed the komtesse.

Katarina grinned. “Ah, the sting is hardly as sweet
after
the pleasure, is it, my pet?”

Giselle’s answer was to raise her bottom higher and lower
her head once more between her lover’s thighs. Fire blazed as the komtesse’s
palm slapped one nether cheek then the other. Sweet feminine nectar spilled
onto Giselle’s tongue as she alternately licked and suckled Arabella’s cunny.

A possessive finger pushed into Giselle’s passage and thrust
in and out. Not since her own initiation had she enjoyed such overwhelming
sensation. She reached to toy with one of Arabella’s breasts, plumping and
plucking. The muscles in Giselle’s legs burned as she used her other hand to
reach between her own legs to massage her clitoris. And when Arabella’s body
arched and stiffened, Giselle found bliss again.

The komtesse sat back on her heels and heaved a sigh before
licking the cream from her fingers. “On your knees, girl,” she told Arabella.
“Head down.”

Arabella’s gaze brushed Giselle’s before she twisted onto
her stomach and raised her bottom. The girl was scared. Giselle had seen it in
her eyes. Hopefully the komtesse would not be too harsh. It would not do for
Arabella to whimper and beg. Not tonight.

The komtesse reached for the juicy aperture and thrust one
finger inside. “Feel how slick she is.”

Trembling, Giselle allowed the komtesse to guide her hand to
Arabella’s cunny.

“Put your finger inside with mine,” Katarina murmured.

Giselle worked a digit in alongside the komtesse’s. Arabella
moaned her pleasure and rocked her hips. When the komtesse’s hand smacked her
ass, Arabella hissed but clearly enjoyed the contrasting sting. Giselle’s own
channel clenched in response.

The komtesse withdrew a glistening finger only to wriggle it
into Arabella’s rosette. The new kitten gasped. A shard of jealousy flared in
Giselle at the pleasure her lover must feel at being prodded in both orifices
simultaneously.

“Isn’t that pretty?” the komtesse asked. She turned to
Giselle. “I can feel your finger through her flesh.”

Arabella began to pump her hips, obviously wanting the women
to bring her release once more.

“Spank her,” the komtesse ordered, even as she smacked the
new kitten’s backside.

“Yes, yes!” Arabella cried.

Giselle joined her mistress, flattening her hand for maximum
impact as she thrust her finger in and out of the sopping cunny.

“Don’t stop!” Arabella pleaded. Her hands balled into fists.
The muscles in her shoulders and back tensed.

The komtesse’s finger drove hard and fast. Arabella pushed
back, taking all the two women could give. More. And soon Giselle felt the
velvety inner muscles of her lover’s passage gripping her finger. Wild moans
echoed in the komtesse’s chamber until Arabella pulled away and sagged onto the
rug.

Giselle’s heart filled with the sudden longing to cradle
Arabella in her arms, to kiss her mouth and hold her. Somehow, the veteran
kitten resisted. “It feels good to be spanked, doesn’t it?” she asked instead.

Arabella’s brow furrowed but only for an instant before she
writhed sensuously on the rug. “Yes. My pleasure is so heightened by the
contrasting pain.”

Giselle turned to the komtesse and swept her thumb over the
aristocrat’s powdered cheek. “In all our encounters, you have never agreed to
be the submissive one. Wouldn’t you enjoy knowing the pleasure afforded by
giving up control to another? To one you trust?”

The komtesse let out a hollow, nervous laugh. But
indecision—and lustful interest—flashed in her eyes.

Giselle pounced. “Don’t you wonder what it’s like to have
every last bit of will stripped from you? To be able to let yourself be free to
enjoy your darkest desires? Let us show you the wonder of submission,
Mistress.”