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.
Reader Advisory: The kittens of Katzenhalle can’t get enough hedonistic sexual attention. They enjoy female/female sex, light BDSM, ménages, multiple partners and even the occasional sensual enema. Meow!
Available October 12, 2012!
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An Excerpt From: PURR
Copyright © PAISLEY SMITH, 2012 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
“Disrobe and leave your clothes on the floor,” Petra instructed, then stood back to wait.
Arabella paused. “W-with you in here…with me?”
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.”
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.
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 fingers touched her. There.