Della sat in what was becoming her favourite position in her sitting room, at the seat in the window. The curtains had been pulled closed but she had slipped behind them so that she was in the cool darkness able to look out to the street beyond without reflections of the room’s oil lamps breaking her view nor there being the chance of someone outside catching sight of her. Then she heard the shrill giggling of her step-sisters and looked down to see what they had settled on in terms of clothes. It was clear that they were going to play on their old trick of switching places and so had dressed identically. Both wore a concoction of gentlemen’s and ladies’ clothing. Their chosen shade was a dark red and, as they walked to the carriage which drew up at the street side, Della was able to take in their outfits. They had tightly fitted, brushed silk jackets with a diamond pattern stitched into them. As they turned she saw that beneath they wore corsets that looked like they could deflect a sword blow. They were quilted with a matching diamond pattern and in the street light seemed to be of leather. Their skirts were full and were not only slit at the front but also pulled back. Their decency was only kept by the fact that they wore velvet breeches below and then long boots that reached over their knees; these were in a leather to match their corsets. Both wore dark red velvet masks which covered much of their faces bar their mouths. Above, their hair had been stacked to new heights and dark red tints had joined the blonde.

In a couple of minutes they had gone, but Della sat looking out at other carriages that passed, presumably heading to the palace. Occasionally she would catch site of a passenger excitedly reaching his or head out from within to call to a friend emerging from a house or in another carriage. It seemed that even the mature residents of the district were caught up in the excitement of attending this masked ball. Della felt a little ambivalent about the whole affair. Of course, she would not have wished to attend with her step-sisters who would have made her the butt of many of their jokes, but, even so, she did feel an interest to see the cream of Vorlagenstadt society displayed in their finest. She told herself there would be opportunity in the months and years ahead, and that it would be far better to attend such an event when she was ‘finished’ and adept at moving comfortably at such occasions than now when she might make an embarrassing faux pas. After a while, the carriage traffic died away and Della untangled herself from behind the curtain. She stepped back into her room; there was a new book to read that her mother had given her as a welcome gift.

Della’s eyes slowly began adjusting to the brighter light of her sitting room.

“You can go to the ball.”

Della jumped back as she heard the voice, uncertain for an instant whether she had actually heard it or whether it was in her own head. She looked about the room and then, from the shadows, stepped a lady. She was probably around the same age as Della’s mother but physically she could not have been more different. Della could tell immediately that she was a Steuerunglander and appeared as if she was ready for a long ride. She wore a wimple of some dark material, that, as it caught the candlelight, Della recognised something like leather, maybe something tighter and shinier still. It framed her face in an oval as if she were some kind of warlike nun; the long leather cape which she wore simply added to the effect. However, rather than being concealed within the wimple, russet hair rained from the top of it in a horsetail. Below she wore a black leather corset closed tightly with silver buckles down the front. It had the effect of cinching the woman’s waist in tightly and thrusting up her ample breasts as if offering them. The top of her breasts were covered in a translucent black damask and looking up from this Della saw that the woman wore a collar studded with small silver spikes. Long leather bracers, similarly studded, ran up both forearms. Rather than a skirt she had riding breeches of quilted leather which at mid-thigh ran into wide-mouthed long leather boots, finished off with the trappings of spurs around the ankle and sharp heels.

Della looked on with a mix of fascination and alarm. Seeing a man dressed this way she would have assumed him to be some kind of cavalry officer and even then in a special ceremonial outfit. To see a woman dressed like this was something exceptional. The woman seemed to giving off confusing signals that, to Della, hinted at both control and sexuality. She knew that not everyone coupled to create heirs, but if a woman was to seek a man to couple with her, surely it was best done through being submissive and welcoming rather than in this way with a real air of strength.

“Erm, er, what do you want?” Della asked tentatively as she backed away from the woman.

The woman smiled. “I am Fee Patin. I mean you no harm.”

“How did you get in here?”

“I have my ways. I have lived in Vorlagenstadt a long time, I know my way around most of the notable houses. Your step-father is far from being the first man of importance to occupy this house.”

“Well, please leave, I don’t want to have to call the servants.”

“There’s no need for that. I am here to help you. Hear what I have to say before you make any rash decisions. I know you have manners enough to listen to what I wish to communicate.”

Della hesitated. Despite this Madame Patin’s extraordinary appearance, she genuinely seemed to offer no ill-will to Della. Already she had had evidence how differently Steuerunglanders dressed and behaved compared to Pianureans and this woman was not out of step with what she had seen so far. This Madame Patin might be a maverick but she was not that different from Lady Hoch, who was of the highest standing in Steuerungland. Della told herself to be cautious in not dismissing this lady lightly; she might be influential in this city. The fact that she had been able to penetrate Della’s rooms so easily suggested that she was either skilled or influential, probably both. As an ambassador’s daughter Della was very conscious of the risks of causing offence.

“Yes, Madame Patin, sorry, your appearance startled me. Please go on.”

Patin smiled again, further reassuring Della.

“I have an invitation for you.” Fee Patin held up an ornately decorated piece of card. “I have an outfit which will fit you perfectly and allow you to fit in well at the ball. I am an old friend of the Prince and I know he will be delighted to meet you. Don’t you think you owe it to yourself and to your father to take up this opportunity for contact with the most powerful men in Steuerungland?”

“Yes, yes, I suppose I do.” Della conceded. “But I am not familiar with the customs of this land, I worry I will say something wrong.”

“A young lady as beautiful as you can never say anything that anyone would perceive as ‘wrong’ and do you think you are the only woman here from another land? Steuerungland grows very powerful and many men and women come to Vorlagenstadt hoping to gain the attention of Prince Wolfram Bezaubern.”

“Yes, you are right. I can see that. Thank you, you have reassured me greatly.” Della responded diplomatically.

Quickly she assessed what was happening here. It seemed that a female courtier had some reason for wanting Della at the ball. Perhaps there was some political game going on. However, if what this woman was saying was true, she could cause more offence by not attending than by going, no matter with whom. It was a masked ball and, to some degree, that made any blunders she made excusable or even deniable. Della realised, now that she had been presented with the chance of attending the ball, she really wanted to do so. Going in disguise simply added to the frisson she felt in attending. She looked at Madame Patin again. The older woman was standing patiently and Della felt no threat from her, instead, it seemed that all that she offered was delightful.

“You are most kind. But what shall I wear?”

Madame Patin smiled and reached behind her into the shadows. She produced a bag. “There is a fancy dress costume in here, it is of a black cat, the Prince just adores a particular type of cat so you are likely to attract his attention in this. Remember too that this is a masked ball, so if you feel self-conscious you can reassure yourself that you are unknown, you only have to reveal as much about yourself as you want. You can even use a pseudonym, Suendig is a common name here, use that.”

“I am Suednig.” Della said softly.

“Excellent, that almost sounds as if you are saying it for real. I imagine that by the end of the evening it will be.”

If she was going to masquerade as this Suendig, it seemed that any risk of embarrassment would be reduced. She could deny any connection between her and this imaginary woman. As it was, she had no intention of doing anything outrageous: she was going simply to observe and to drink in some of the flavour of the Steuerungland court.

Della now felt deliciously wicked. She was going to get to go to the ball in an outfit at once both concealing and yet standing out. She hoped that she would get to meet the prince and there was also the delightful naughtiness of playing with her alter-ego, Suednig.

Della watched as Madame Patin unpacked the bag. She was not surprised to find a pair of breeches, made from black velvet and reaching not to the knee, but, it was clear, right to the ankle, where they would be tied with a silk ribbon. The boots, Della was a little relieved to see would only reach to her ankle and had the slightest of heels; they too would be laced closed with silk ribbon. There was a corset, again of black silk and Della wondered how she would adjust to wearing something, which as Madame Patin laid it out, was clearly much more rigid than any bodice she had worn before. To cap it was a black velvet fitted jacket that was long enough so that it would sit on Della’s hips and was nipped in above, presumably to match whatever the corset was to do. Finally, there was a velvet mask, naturally designed to look like the features of a cat, even having with two ears standing out of the top.

“Now, there is no time to waste.” Fee Patin said briskly. “You must return here by dawn otherwise there will be uproar and that would not only spoil tonight’s experience but also any chance of you attending any other events like this. Do you understand?”

Della nodded, though she doubted it would be a problem. She had never stayed at a social event much beyond midnight and even that was on exceptional occasions.

“Now, my Lady Suendig, disrobe so I can assist you into your outfit.”

Della began to comply unlacing her bodice and beginning to free herself from it. She wondered if this Madame Patin had or still did work as a lady-in-waiting. She seemed to have good command of the deferential yet firm tone that such ladies required. Della guessed it made sense that the Prince had sent someone from his household, perhaps a lady-in-waiting to his mother or a sister, to bring Della to the ball. Soon she had shed her bodice, her skirt and the petticoats. Della felt that she should be self-conscious in front of Madame Patin, but the fact that she did not seemed to confirm that the old woman was experienced at making the lady she was serving feel relaxed.

“This will be in place of your petticoats.”

Madame Patin said as she held up what looked like a delicate pair of shorts, made of black silk and edged with lace. Though Della had not seen such an article before, she imagined it was what a woman would wear in place of petticoats if she chose to put on breeches. It seemed peculiar that this was a female version of the loin cloth a man would wear, but it was certainly a thousand leagues from that kind of garment and, as she took it into her hands, she wondered at how this silk would feel so close to her sex. She lowered the shorts to the floor and then stepped into them. Soon they were around her buttocks and the top of her thighs and she moved in them enjoying the caress of the silk but also self-conscious of how bare her legs, not covered in petticoats, felt. Then Fee Patin was behind her, wrapping the equally silky corset around her chest, pulling her breasts in tightly but also thrusting them upwards so, for the first time, she looked down to see the top of them with a cleavage between. Of course, many ladies wore tight fitting bodices especially to balls, but for to see herself in such a garment was exciting.

Della wondered how she was going to breathe as Fee Patin pulled the laces at the back of the corset tighter. Looking at the results in her mirror, though, Della was pleased at the effect this garment was having, pulling in her waist, further accentuating her breasts and making her torso into a sleek column of black silk. Apparently satisfied Fee Patin tied a bow. Della felt a little light headed in the corset but found she could take short breaths that kept her from fainting. Distantly she wondered if that was why flirtatious women sounded so breathy and at times seemed silly. However, rather than be uncomfortable at that, Della found it made her feel even more excited and eager to put on the rest of the outfit Madame Patin had brought her.

Fee Patin had not delayed and now held out the breeches for Della. She quickly slipped her legs one after the other into the velvet and Madame Patin slid them quickly up to her waist. There she tied it tight with the ribbon before doing the same at Della’s ankles. Wearing this item was yet a further step. The tightness of the breeches against Della’s legs and the soft black fur they coated her with, brought new sensations. Della moved, liking the way it felt to be in clothes that in some ways were restrictive yet also seemingly liberating. As she turned she saw that the corset and breeches, presumably the jacket too, were touched by ‘fairy dust’, powdered crystal that caught the light and gave a magical appearance to the clothes.

“Be seated.” Fee Patin directed and Della complied.

On to her feet Madame Patin eased short black hose that rose just beyond Della’s ankles where tied slender ribbon affixed them. The older woman put on the wonderful patent leather ankle-length boots and laced them closed. Then she stood back for a moment before handing Della her jacket. Della stood, feeling a little uneasy on the heels of her shoes but again they made her feel different, special and she was not now going to go without them. Madame Patin handed Della long gloves. They were of very tight silk and stretched to beyond the elbow. Della knew gloves like these but had only occasionally tried a pair on at friends’ houses. Fee Patin was on hand to help put them on and Della loved how sleek they made her arms appear.

Next, Della was given the jacket and she slipped it on, pleased that it covered her bare shoulders and also by how good the snug velvet felt against. The jacket was short stopping before it reached her buttocks. Madame Patin reached forward and closed a velvet choker around Della’s neck. She adjusted it so that the small silver bell on the front sat straight. Della felt these were extraordinary clothes, but that seemed appropriate for a costume ball such as the one she was about to attend.

Fee Patin stepped back and ran her eyes over Della. The young woman from Pianure felt pleased as she turned to look for herself in the mirror. The outfit was subtle, the black did not shout out, but the clothing was distinctive and, to a great degree, flirtatious. Della found she liked that and increasingly looked forward to stepping into the ballroom dressed this way.

“The final touches.” Madam Patin said as she walked behind Della.

The older woman gathered up Della’s dark hair into a ponytail and then, letting it fall, passed her arms either side of Della’s neck and then lifted the cat mask up and into place. She closed it behind her head, clicking the hooks into their eyes. The mask held firmly and Fee Patin pulled the ponytail out through a gap in the back of the mask. Now the upper part of Della’s face was covered in thin black velvet on a soft but rigid mask. Her mouth was still uncovered which made sense if she was going to eat and drink at the ball, but her nose was now like a cat’s and slender whiskers emerged from both sides of it. The mask, including the ears, looked genuinely feline. For the first time Della wondered who had made this outfit which seemed to fit and suit her so well. Had it been Fee Patin herself? Was this less about any desire of the Prince and more a question of Della being some kind of advertising device for a dressmaker’s latest creation?

Then Della felt pressure in the small of her back and as she turned she could see that Fee Patin had pinned a fake cat’s tail there; it curved up slightly at the tip. As Della moved it swung gently from side to side.

“You are ready.” Madame Patin declared.

“Thank you, thank you for all of this.”

Fee Patin gave a brief bow then walked briskly into the sitting room. Della followed and watched as the older woman took a candle to the window and pulling back the curtain waved it back and forth. Then she turned back to Della.

“Your carriage awaits. There is no time to hesitate, go to it now.” Fee Patin commanded, handing Della the invitation.

Madame Patin ushered Della to the door and down the stairs to the entrance hall. To Della’s surprise the front door stood ajar. Quickly she was out through it, closing it quietly behind her. She hurried down the path to the coach. It was both discreet and yet distinctive, made of polished black wood with a high curving roof over it. A footman dressed in livery but wearing a simple eye mask stood with the door open. Della stepped inside and found herself seated in a sumptuously upholstered coach. Surely this suggested that someone of wealth, perhaps indeed the Prince, was behind this.

The coach started off and Della went to the window and raised the blind. She had seen little of the city and the houses she passed were unfamiliar. The streets seemed to be busy and there was a feeling of excitement in the air. She wondered if this arose from some kind of reflected glory of what was happening at the Prince’s Residence. That building could be seen from far around. Della felt she now recognised the characteristic architecture of Steuerungland: ostentatious in its grandeur but with a style was somehow, at the same time, reserved.

The coach was soon pulling up in the broad crescent which fronted the Residence. There was only one coach in front of Della’s and it pulled away as she arrived. Given what time her step-sisters had set off, Della imagined that the ball would be in full flow and most guests would already be inside busy dancing. For a moment she worried that the dances she had been taught would not be appropriate for Vorlagenstadt and hoped that her dance tutor’s assurances that, at least in the field of dance, Pianure led and Steuerungland followed, were correct.

As her ebony carriage came to a halt one of the Prince’s footmen opened the door and Della stepped out feeling as if she was royalty herself. In some ways she wished her mother was here to see what a sophisticated lady her daughter could be, but in other ways Della was glad she had come alone. Here, like this, she could be the Lady Suendig and for that woman the rules could be very different; notably she could carry off a costume like this without anyone questioning it.

As Della walked away from the carriage the masked footman from it jumped down and crossed to her.

“Lady Suendig, I have been told to remind you to ask for the ebony carriage and that you need to back by dawn.”

“Erm, thank you, er...”

“Puissant, my lady.”

“Thank you, Puissant, I will remember.”

The footman seemed pleased by Della’s response and hurried back to his post on the coach. Della continued walking up the low but broad stone staircase. Above her flew numerous banners, and lanterns seemed to hang from each of the numerous cornices of the grand, pale stone building. Even from outside she could hear the sounds of the musicians, chatter and laughter. Della now hurried up the red carpet that covered the centre of the steps. One of the Prince’s officials, though a servant, wearing expensive clothing, met Della at the door and took her invitation. He then ushered through the vestibule and through the doors to the ballroom beyond. Its floor was lower than that of the vestibule so it stretched out in front of her. In the centre, guests were engaged in a formal dance. Della knew partnered dances would come later in the evening. Around the dance floor was what Della knew must be the elite of Steuerung society. She imagined that even at a standard ball here, the outfits would have been sumptuous but for this costumed, masked ball they were particularly ostentatious. Della’s eyes darted between the bright silks and satins, the velvet and even the leather. Hairstyles of both men and women were sculpted and reached skyward. Masks were a rainbow of colours and most glittered with jewels. Della felt a little self-conscious in her comparatively plain outfit, but the feeling of pleasure of being here and seeing these sights quickly outweighed her concerns.

“The Lady Suendig!” One of the Prince’s servants declared.

Della imagined she would not being the only woman coming here alone, but perhaps it was more unusual for a young lady to be here without a consort than it would be with someone older. Those closest to the stairs turned at the declaration and looked at Della making her feel self-conscious again. She imagined those nearer to the musicians on a stage at the end of the room had not even heard her pseudonym called out. Della walked down the steps trying to appear confident. She realised that after the initial glances some guests were keeping their gaze on her and, in fact, a little to her alarm, she found more faces turning her way as she walked on. Della wondered if she should have begged a bright red silk dress and gold mask from Fee Patin, as a better disguise among these assembled guests.

Della wandered through the guests, responding with a brief curtsey to the various polite greetings. She tried to affect a nonchalance to hide how tense she actually felt, conscious more than ever that she was at her first state ball and dressed in a way that could not but draw attention. Finally she reached a table where drinks were being distributed by servants. She opted for a glass of the punch. The rich fruity flavour piqued her tongue and then the burn of the alcohol bit and she gave a pleasurable shudder in response to the sensation. She had had a little wine in her time, but this, no doubt, was stronger stuff, presumably to lubricate the jollity of the evening.

Della stood watching the dancers, taking note of all the different costumes so she could provide descriptions to her friends in the long letters she intended to write. She would have to swear them to secrecy, she did not want the news of her elicit visit here getting back to her mother. For a moment, Della felt guilty, but she then felt that, in fact, she had not lied to her mother and it would simply be a topic that would not come up in discussion in the future. Della felt the urge to turn and, as she did, found a man in an outfit that made him appear like a lion was standing beside her. It was a sumptuous costume with gold brocade that appeared like fur and it even had a tasselled tail extending from the small of his back. His upper face was masked like Della’s but he had a brown mane of rich brown threads curving around his head.

“Good Evening.” The man said.

He had a deep voice that seemed to dig deep inside Della making her feel heady even more than the punch had done.

“Good Evening.” Della replied rather weakly and offered her curtsey.

“And from which part of the principality do you come?”

“Erm, from Bergausweis.” Della lied, selecting a town on the border with Pianure which she hoped would explain any Pianurean accent she betrayed.

“Ah, that explains why I have not encountered you before. How are you enjoying Vorlagenstadt, Lady Suendig?”

“I have not seen a great deal of it, you know, affairs of business.”

“Quite, well coming here, you have seen the best of it, there is no need for you to see any more, well, not unless you have a guide, a guardian, to lead you through it.”

Della felt a little excited by what the gentleman was saying. There was something about the tone of his voice that, she now realised, not only drew her entirely into what he was saying, but made her feel that she was not in a crowded room but instead was with just this man alone. His eyes too, seemed to hold her attention and Della found herself stepping a little closer and concentrating on them. She struggled to remember what she had seen of this gentleman, this lord, she assumed, so far. It had been her impression that he was in his early thirties, with bright blond hair. He wore a slender, almost sculpted beard and, despite the costume, Della had a feeling that his body was muscled from pursuing sports like riding, hunting and fencing.

“I am sorry: I do not know your name.” Della said, though her voice seemed distant to her ears.

The man smiled and Della felt a delight run through her and that she was very happy to receive his attention.

“You, Suendig, you may call me Wolfram.”

“Wolfram.” Della repeated the name and it felt as if it was delicious in her mouth.

“Would you care to dance?”

“Erm, yes, thank you, yes I would.” Della spluttered, wondering where all her confidence had gone.

Wolfram put a protective arm around the small of Della’s back and she immediately felt better. He guided her to the dance floor and held her formally ready for a two-person dance. Della imagined that that phase of the evening had now just begun. However, she found she was unable to look away from Wolfram so was pretty oblivious to what anyone else around her was doing. In the back of her mind Della wondered if this was in fact the Prince or whether Wolfram was simply a common name for noblemen in Steuerungland. As Wolfram swept her through the dance and showed no sign of letting her go from the next, Della felt that it did not matter who this man was, all that was important was that he was strong, powerful, masterful even, and that the sensation of being close to him was wonderful.

Della was uncertain of how much time had passed, but suddenly realised that now her heart beat furiously and her calves throbbed from the dancing.

“Are you tired?” Wolfram asked.

Della was a little concerned that if she said yes then Wolfram would go and find another dance partner.

“Perhaps you would like to go somewhere cooler?” He suggested.

“Yes, yes, that would be very nice. Maybe we could go and sit and talk somewhere.”

Wolfram smiled. “Ah, there is no need for a lady as beautiful as you to talk. A woman can always signal what she desires well enough without words. Come, let me show you what I mean.”

“Thank you, that would be wonderful.” Della replied not certain what Wolfram meant but more than happy to be able to go wherever he wanted.

Wolfram looped his arm through Della’s and led her from the dance floor. While she was conscious of people around her, of their bright colours and the fact that they were speaking, there were no detail to her perceptions. The only thing which featured clearly to her was being with Wolfram, being close to his strong body. Doors were opened before then and soon the music from the ballroom was distant. They stepped finally into an octagonal room and the doors were closed behind them.

“Here we are: my treasury.” Wolfram said

The air was heavy with an incense that made Della feel strange: it was not so that she felt weary, quite the opposite, her body seemed to be thrumming with energy, it was rather that she felt as if her ability to resist, any ability to make decisions was being washed from her. She looked around her and saw that she was in a large room panelled with fretted wood. The floor was patterned marble and there was the sound of a fountain coming, Della guessed, from the area that filled most of the room. It was curtained off by muslin hanging from a wooden frame set into the ceiling.

“Step through and see my most precious possessions.”

Della, still with Wolfram’s arm guiding her, walked in step as he moved to the nearest curtain and pulled it back a little. With a gentle hand to Della’s buttocks he pressed her through. Della did not know what she had expected, perhaps to see gems and princely ornaments, instead she found that she was in a space containing a handful of women lounging on black silk cushions. She saw that on this side the muslin was covered with black silk, making the space seem darker. In the centre of the area was a small fountain made of something like brass; its splashpool was of dark maroon marble. Incense burners were set around the rim and here the scent was even stronger so much so that Della worried that she would fall unconscious.

As they walked towards the centre of the space, Della saw that in front of them sprawled four women. Their outfits were similar to what Della wore: they made them appear like human-sized black cats. As they moved she could see from the way that the light was reflected from their clothes, that, rather than silk, or even leather, their outfits were of shiny rubber. They seemed to be in single piece outfits, running from their necks where belled collars sat, down over their bodies, down their arms, across the midriff and hips. Della could not really tell where the breeches, which were like a glossy skin to these women, became the boots that they had on their feet. These boots had been shaped to resemble cat’s paws.

The four women’s faces were concealed by cat featured masks that clung to their upper faces and heads, leaving their lips and tongues free to carry out what Della suddenly understood was erotic work on their fellow ‘cats’. Seeing how the women were dressed, Della’s fingers felt rather self-consciously for the mask she wore. Had she somehow been tricked into looking like these women? Who were they anyway? Had she been permitted to join some particular club of young ladies? Della watched as the women slid and eased across each other, teasing at their bodies held so tightly in the rubber. Steadily she grew more embarrassed; uneasy at what she was actually witnessing. However, she found herself continuing to step forward, feeling, despite her discomfort, that she simply had to keep watching the women pleasuring each other.

“My kitties.” Wolfram said proudly.

As he spoke the eyes of the women turned to face the Prince and they began creeping on all fours towards him, purring, clearly in pleasure at the sight of him. Della wondered if the sound was an affectation, but then a chill coursed through her as she had an inkling that these women had been changed and that they now each believed themselves to be some kind of cat-woman.

“Who are they? What are they?” Della asked, but in her drowsiness found it difficult to infer the level of unease she was feeling.

“They are the most precious and yet the lowest. They have no rights, they own nothing; they are not citizens; they are simply my property. They only have a single name, the pet name they are summoned and commanded by. They are ‘Desire’, ‘Beauty’, ‘Magenta’ and ‘Star’. They are my kitty-cats. They can do nothing under their own volition, they are utterly obedient, in fact, they have had the very ability to disobey stripped from them. Their entire being, how they are dressed, shows their one key focus: sexual pleasure. Does it not excite you to think how you might join them, to succumb to the delight of being taken from being a young, beautiful lady at a ball to being simply a sexual toy, possessed by me? Think: all the worries, the concerns of life here, of how you dress and how you behave and who you talk to and how you appear to others - all of that would be stripped away to leave you as a perfect, erotic creature. Yield, let yourself go, let yourself become my pet, my ‘Princess’.”

Della found it difficult to concentrate on what was being said to her, but for some reason she knew it excited her; made her feel special.

“Maybe you’re thinking you could never be like them, that they are a particular sort of woman. Well, you are very like what they once were, a young, well-off woman associated with my court. Whatever you might think, every woman has the potential to become like them; to become a sexual pet and you are no different. Maybe you think I have enchanted them, well you would be only partly correct. What I have done is shift their assumptions as to what is the right, the normal, way for them to dress and behave. If you think that your everyday clothes must be skin-tight rubber; if you believe that your function is to serve all my requirements; that it is ordinary to be so sexually aroused all the time and that simply everyone is subservient and obedient, then, of course, you are going to be more than happy to become one of my kitties.”

“Look at you, your clothes are hardly that different to theirs now.” The Prince continued. “That is what interested me in you, that you would come to a ball, already resembling one of my wonderful kitties, thinking that that was an appropriate way for a lady to dress at such an event. Well, I have to commend you, at this court it is certainly the right way to behave. You’ve taken the first step, now let me help you to take the rest, let me assist you to realise your true potential as a sexual pet.”

Della’s mind raced with the ideas that the Prince was presenting. She found it difficult to believe what he was saying was real. Was this somehow a dream? A truly intense, even erotic dream of a kind she had never experienced before? What did that say about the sinfulness of her mind and the dark thoughts that lay within it? Had she fallen asleep in her room? Had Madame Patin been anything but the first part of this dream narrative? Then she felt the Prince’s arm sweep behind the small of her back once more and he pressed his lips firm against hers. Della’s body felt as if struck by lightning, leaving her head spinning and her wits befuddled. However, the act did one thing, it showed her that this was real; this was no dream state.

Della found herself guided down on to a silk cushion. She knew she should be shocked, should scream, should, at least, protest, but she found it difficult to raise even irritation inside her. Her body had no desire to do anything which would risk waking her from this state. If it was a dream, then she was in no danger anyway. Della looked up and saw the Prince standing over her, still clad in his lion costume. Della felt as if he was welcoming her to his pride. Despite her condition all the feline fantasies seemed to be somehow real. Then, abruptly the Prince stepped back and for a moment Della felt abandoned.

“Welcome your new sister.”

Della heard the Prince say and realised quickly what he meant. Now there were new assaults on her senses, on her whole being, as the scent of the rubber-clad women, highly aroused, came closer. Then, in moments, Della felt their tongues, their fingers stroking, licking and teasing at her body. Della found herself both shocked, and yet, unable to fight off the attentions. Her mind dimly knew that what she was now allowing to be done to her was sinful but its delight meant she had no desire to give it up. The gentle grasping of her nipples, the weight of a thigh between her legs rubbing its glossy skin up and down her crotch, were sensations that once would have shocked Della but here seemed so right.