Della awoke as Magda pulled back the curtains. It was clear that she had fallen immediately asleep on getting into bed and there was no evidence that she had not been there all night.
“Is madam ill?” Magda asked slowly. “It is late in the morning.”
“Yes, Madga, I am feeling very weary. Please bring breakfast to me and then draw a bath. If my mother asks for me, then tell her I will rise before luncheon but feel in need of rest.”
“I shall, madam.”
“Are my sisters awake?”
“I do not know. They returned very late from the ball.”
Not at dawn, though, Della imagined. However, her step-sisters were hardly early risers at the best of times. She was not sure whether that would make her own non-appearance at breakfast more apparent. She was sure though, that their excitement at the events of the ball would distract her parents from asking Della too many questions.
Della did as she had planned and enjoyed a relaxed breakfast in bed followed by a bath. By the time she was finally in her day dress, not only did she feel like normal but thoughts of the previous night had taken on the character of a lively dream. She did wonder how much of it had been real anyway. It was clear that she had consumed too much alcohol and that the incense had played various tricks with her mind. The fact of her being with the Prince did seem rather far-fetched and she wondered if she had simply fallen victim to a lower ranked noble playing at being Steuerungland’s ruler. After all, she had not seen much of his face and that room might have been a lounge; the women in it some kind of performers.
By the time the gong rang to signal luncheon, Della was deep in the latest novella that her mother had passed on to her and her interest was in that, rather than whatever she had seen the night before. Della’s mother did ask after her health at the luncheon table, but Della responded that she had not slept as well as she might have done, but she was better now for having had a quiet morning. She was feeling a little guilty but also felt that she was not actually lying, rather, not filling in the details for her mother, probably not a bad thing given that she was increasingly uncertain of them herself.
Of course, with Marica and Vedette at the table she was not obliged to say anything more. Though they were back in more sober dress, their hair still betrayed the extremes into which it had been crafted the previous day. Della was surprised that they got to eat anything as they appeared intent on describing the status and the costumes of every single person at the ball. Both of the young women seemed to have been quite successful in lining up suitors and while Marica was commending the wealth of the Graf Vonderkueste, Vedette praised the courage of Ritter Wald.
“How about the Prince: did either of you dance with him?” Della’s step-father asked with a manner of gentle ribbing.
“No, none of us stood a chance.” Marica responded a little sourly.
“Early on in the evening he was dancing with various Markgraefins and Herzogins, you know, the older set, and there was an assumption that when the more intimate dances began he would begin to choose from the younger ladies...” Vedette continued.
“But then that woman, the black cat one, Lady Sunndin or whatever her name was, she appeared, late, and he danced with no-one else. Then they disappeared.” Marica concluded bitterly.
Della coughed, spluttering on the mouthful of pickled cabbage she was eating. To be presented with this account of ‘Lady Suendig’ made her blush across her whole body. Fortunately with the focus on Vedette and Marica’s story no-one paid attention to how Della was now looking. The recounting of what her step-sisters had witnessed reminded her, that, even though parts of the evening had been consisted of dreams or at least had been dream-like in nature, a lot of what had happened had been real: Prince Wolfram had danced with her repeatedly before taking her off to his exotic chamber.
“Oh, I imagine that she was a companion long established with the Prince. You said he was dressed as a lion and she came as what, a black cat?” Nencia outlined rationally.
“Yes.” The two sisters responded.
“Well, there you are then, they had conferred on their costumes and picked ones of a kind. I can imagine that there will be announcement of the Prince’s marriage very soon. He is more than old enough to do that. I think you’ll find this Lady Sunndin is in fact some foreign princess.”
Della would normally have accepted her mother’s explanation, but was uncomfortable to know the truth and yet not be able to say anything. She guessed that even if she admitted that it had been her in the black cat outfit and she had been masquerading as Lady Suendig, none of her family would believe her. Anyway, she was no foreign princess and, from what she recollected, Wolfram had been offering her something very different from becoming his wife. As the memories of what he had actually said, of what he had offered to make her, came back to Della, she felt dizzy. She was glad she was seated so avoided falling over. She reached for the water glass and drank from it quickly before pouring some more. Then the bell at the front door rang out and everyone looked in the direction of the sound.
“We are not expecting anyone.” Nencia observed.
“It is probably just an official message.” Arrigo suggested.
The family continued eating as Nencia asked her step-daughters about the food and drink at the ball. Then one of the footmen entered.
“Sir, there is a message, erm, a representative from the palace, the Prince is here.” He said hurriedly, bowed and handed over a letter.
Arrigo took a pair of half-moon spectacles from his top pocket and read the message.
“Um,” he said at length, “this is most peculiar. It is not the Prince, however, it originates from the Chamberlain’s Office which means it originated with Prince Wolfram himself. That means we are obliged to comply.”
“What is it?” Nencia asked. “Not a further conflict with Pianure?”
“No, no, something seemingly more petty than that. I suppose the whims of princes have to be pandered to. Wolfram is not renowned for such things, but this seems genuine. Perhaps it is a consequence of his ball.”
Della took that to be a discrete suggestion that Prince Wolfram might still be sobering up.
“What is he asking?”
“That a particular boot, that his representative has brought, is put on the foot of all the ladies in the household.”
That statement roused immediate concern in Della’s mind, but she held out the hope that even if this was the boot that she imagined it could be, the consequence of it fitting her foot as she now assumed it would, could not be something sinister.
“The servants too?”
“Erm, well, I suppose so. It says ‘all females of the household’ who have entered womanhood. I imagine that means who have their monthly cycle.”
“Yes, that might be, but what is this all about? Sending a boot to our house?” Nencia asked irritably.
“Not just our house. This message says every house in the city starting with the houses of quality. I imagine it has already been to the houses of all those lords and ladies that Vedett and Marica were sharing the ballroom with last night.”
“And they expect our daughters to put this thing on?”
“You too, my dear.”
“And what is the purpose, just some peculiarity of the Prince?”
“No, well, yes. There is some rationale. Apparently this boot belonged to a masked lady at the ball last night who left it behind. The Prince is eager to invite the lady in question to return to him, but, aside from the fact that her foot fits this boot precisely, he has no indication of who she might be. Obviously a number of ladies may come forward saying that they were this masked woman and this is the only way he has to truly test such statements.”
Now Della found her breath becoming short and her heart thumping. Desperately she tried to think of some reason not to be presented with the boot that she assumed would be in the form of a cat’s paw. However, as she thought back to seeing it on her foot the night before, she found her concerns were quickly replaced by different, more powerful sensations, that continued to make her embarrassed, but this time filled her with excitement.
“I see. Well, neither myself nor Della have even been near the palace or the Prince, surely we are exempt. I am not eager to have on my foot something every leading woman in Vorlagenstadt, and all her servants, have already had on their feet, their foot. Surely there are hygiene issues?”
“These seem to have been addressed. The boot is cleaned after each wearer’s turn.”
“I see.” Nencia said, clearly trying to think of some reason not to comply with the Prince’s demand but not finding one.
“I think we need to comply with this request. The sooner it is begun, the sooner it will be over. I have no desire to provoke any form of diplomatic incident given we have only been here some weeks. You are only doing what the highest ladies of this country have already done. Come, we will find this representative now. It is fortunate that you are all at home.”
Arrigo sent a footman to assemble all the women of the house in the servants’ dining room and then to bring the representative into the drawing where he led his wife and daughters. It turned out that the representative was accompanied by other men carrying flasks of some pungent cleaning fluid, cloths and brushes. Her mother had four chairs set in a line and Nencia, then Della’s step-sisters and finally herself sat on them and removed the appropriate right shoe. Della was glad she was seated. Her heart was working so hard that she worried that she would not simply pass out but that she would suffer some more grave injury. The process went quickly as the boot proved to be too slender to fit on the feet of her mother, Vedette or Marica. There was some hesitation as the Prince’s men cleaned the boot inside once more. Then, kneeling, the representative, who, though a servant was decked out in finery, brought the boot up to Della’s foot. She gasped as he slipped the glistening rubber footwear on to her.
As the pawed boot slid further and further up Della’s foot she realised how well it fitted and what that meant. She could not deny the Prince his prize and that was herself. In addition, she knew, unlike the other women who had attempted to wear this erotic footwear, what it truly signified, something much more that simply the whimsy of a royal: it meant transformation and it meant the most exquisite slavery. Della knew that she could do nothing now to prevent herself being changed into ‘Princess’, one of the Prince’s ‘kitties’. She gasped at the thought of the life of erotic slavery that lay ahead of her. However her mind may struggle with the thought, Della could not prevent her body from yearning for what it meant. Her nipples were erect and so sensitive; there was fire and juice between her legs; her skin tingled with the knowledge that it would was to be coated in the tightest, slipperiest, shiniest rubber.
“This is the one.” The representative said formally.
“What? No, there is some mistake. Della has never met the Prince, never been to the palace!” Nencia was almost shrieking.
“She is the one.” The man repeated, indicating that there was no room for debate.
Nencia passed out and Della was left having the boot removed, realising that her life was about to change forever.
“Miss, you are to proceed to the palace.” The man said. “We have a coach for you.”
Della shot a glance at her father, but he looked back blankly, seemingly with no idea of how to respond. He went to his wife who was being brought around by her step-daughters.
“Erm, will I need to pack? Clothes, my books.”
“No, no, everything will be provided for you.”
Della’s head was spinning with all that was happening. Her mother seemed put out by the development, but Della knew that a true understanding, at least in part of what was about to happen to her, was hers alone. Della went over to Nencia, flanked by Vedette and Marica. Their appearances made it clear that they were using looking after their step-mother as a much needed distraction from the jealousy, the anger even, that they felt over Della suddenly stepping past them to gain access to the Prince.
“Oh, well, this is unexpected. Great kudos for us. I am sure it is a mistake. You’ve not even met the Prince before.” Nencia said briskly as if running through explanation,s seeking one that would fit or at least calm her.
For a moment, Della felt that she should tell her mother the truth, but guessed it was probably better for Nencia to simply believe that her daughter had got caught up in some court politics. Della wondered if she should lie and say that she would come and visit but was uncertain if that would be possible.
“It has come so soon. I had thought it most likely that one day you would marry a man who lived far away, someone prominent, from another country, I had not expected it just yet.”
That reassured Della a little, glad that this kind of thing was not entirely unexpected. By the moment, Nencia seemed to be growing in confidence. Della realised that her actions the previous night had distanced herself from her mother and if she had ever wanted to remain with her mother, she would have made a different choice when Fee Patin had appeared. Instead, she had picked what most young women selected, to develop her own life as her own woman, or, in fact, as some man’s woman. As she thought about it, was what she accepting now any different to what Nencia had done when she had married Giovanni and then Arrigo? With that thought she felt heartened that this was the next natural step in her life.
In turn Della kissed her step-father, her step-sisters and her mother. An ornate coach ,which was attracting attention even in this prestigious neighbourhood, was waiting and Della hurried to it without even looking back. She kept her eyes focused inside as she began to think about how she was going to be changed in the coming hours and what it would be like to be clad in the skin-tight rubber and become one of the Prince’s kitties. These thoughts brought back clearly all of the memories of the night before and she realised that increasingly she was eager to be among the other cat-women.
The carriage headed in the direction of the Residence, but, reaching it, the driver did not head to the main stairs but to a side entrance. There the door to the carriage was opened and Della stepped down. She walked through the entrance and into a corridor. A footman guided her through the building before bringing Della to the octagonal room that she recognised. Della knew that this was going to become her home.
Tentatively, feeling that she was once more in a dream, but knowing that this was entirely real, Della stepped forward slowly and passed through the curtains into the silken interior. The Prince, in plain though expensive clothes, sat in the chair Della had occupied the previous evening or, in fact, she realised, that morning. She wondered if she had not drunk too much if the Prince would have altered her then and there. Perhaps he would not have done, as this way, at least, there was some semblance of formality. Even princes were not overly eager to provoke protests by having young ladies simply disappear. Lined up in front of him, kneeling, were his four kitties. Each wore the shiny rubber clothes that Della knew would be what she would soon wear. Beyond them stood a hanger with a set of rubber clothing on it; next to it was a long but slender mirror.
The Prince stood and came over to Della, smiling. Though she could see more of his face and his blond hair, this did little to change her impression of him. However, quickly, she realised that as she focused on his smile and then on his intense eyes, she could not longer look away; her whole attention was on this man and nothing else.
“My Princess.”
Wolfram said with that voice that seemed to embed the words deep into Della. She felt somehow that whatever he would say would be truth and, more than that, things that she would have thought herself, they would be as if they had come from her own thoughts and be entirely natural for her to fulfil.
“You are Princess.”
Princess wondered why the Prince was telling her that, she knew it, but, of course, if it pleased him she was happy to accept whatever he wanted to do.
“I am Master.”
Again, Master was stating the obvious, but Princess felt a delightful shiver of pleasure run through her.
“You are one of my kitties.”
Princess knew that to be true, but it did mean she felt peculiar standing here dressed in these loose, textile clothes. She thought of her kitty sisters and was eager to be clothed like them once more.
“Yes, Master.” Princess responded.
Master extended a hand and gently clasped Princess’s throat. She realised that her collar was missing and hoped that Master would soon restore it to her neck.
“Kitties have no need of speech, your purrs show your pleasure in serving me.”
Princess tried to agree with Master, but found only a purr came from her throat. As it did she delighted in that, knowing it showed her to be a real kitty and not just someone playing at it. It was part of her utter loyalty to Master, even if she wanted to, she could not betray any of his secrets.
“Now, we must get you out of those horrid clothes and back into your wonderful kitty skin, your sin-skin.”
Princess found herself quickly unlacing her bodice. As she shed it and unwrapped her breasts then went about taking herself from her shoes, petticoats and skirt, Master carried in over the free-standing wooden hanger from which depended the rubber outfit that would be hers. At the base were calf-length boots with the cat’s paw boots that Princess was so eager to ease her feet back into.
Quickly Princess was naked, that seemed entirely natural in front of Master, though she was quivering with excitement about sliding into her kitty skin. She did not have to wait long as Master unhooked it from the hanger and brought it over to her. It seemed to be the perfect size for her. It opened at the back where a row of small shiny black metal buttons would close it tight again, with an overlap so that none of her skin would show. The outfit would cover her feet and glove her hands; even the mask for her face was attached.
“Step in.” Master commanded holding the back of the outfit open.
Princess hurried forward and, supporting herself, on the hanger’s stalk, slipped first one leg and then the other into the outfit. Some fluid on the interior allowed it to slide across her skin easily, coating it quickly with a new rubber layer. She looked down at how her legs and feet were now were covered in the glistening black and knew she was eager to have the rest of her body looking this way. Quickly Master tugged the outfit a little higher so it settled to cup her buttocks. As with the other kitties, a rubber cat’s tail emerged now from the small of her back, staying in the position it was set into but pliable if Princess or Master chose to alter that. For now it sat in a way very similar to how the tail had done on Della’s outfit the night before, though Princess had no clear memory of that and certainly none of any woman called Della.
“Now the arms.” Master commanded.
Princess reached out her arms and Master slid the sleeves on to them, tugging the rubber so that in a few moments her hands were covered in shiny black gloves. Master walked round behind Princess and tugged the outfit from there, closing it tight on her shoulders and, to a gasp of delight from Princess, across her breasts. Princess shuddered with the pleasurable sensation. Master did not hesitate to button the rubber outfit closed, pulling tight across Princess’s back as well as her front. It buttoned up right to the base of her neck.
“Now, you will change further, the final stage so you truly appear as Princess.” Master explained and it filled Princess with excitement.
For the moment the mask hung free on to her back. Master walked round slowly and from inside his jacket produced something that looked like sheep shears. Princess made no complaint, whatever Master chose to do to her was wonderful. In the next few minutes he began to crop away her hair, not overly far but so that her style ended up looking more like that of a boy’s than the long tresses she had had previously.
Master looked at his handiwork and then reached forward to bring the mask over Princess’s head. As Princess felt the rubber mask clinging to her head and face, looking out through the eyeholes she wondered now how she would be seen by others, as one of the kitties barely distinguishable from the others. Princess did not feel she had lost her identity but instead had been given one by Master which was purely about her as an exotic, obedient pet and that pleased her so much.
Princess felt a real urge to strut and to preen her sleek, shiny body, but felt that there remained some stages before she could do that. Master was now kneeling and brought first one of the boots. Princess loved the process as he lifted her foot up and then deftly slipped the paw-like boot over her glossy foot and up her calf. In a matter of moments, the other boot was being put on and Princess looked down at these exotic footwear loving how they seemed to have transformed her foot entirely. Now she could really imagine herself as some kind of humanoid cat.
“The final touch and then I will properly introduce you to your sisters.”
From his jacket Master produced a collar that he put around Princess’s shiny neck. At the front was a ring that would hold a leash and dangling below it was a name tag that Princess knew would have her name, though written words and reading them were something she did not really understand. Master buckled the collar around Princess’s neck and stepped back.
“Perfect, simply perfect. Come, see.”
Princess obeyed and followed Master as he led her to the mirror. As she walked, a little tentatively at first in her new boots, Princess realised that there was a slit over her sex, another at her buttocks. She imagined Master required these so it was pleasure for her to have them. She had some inkling of how her sex would be used and memories of seeing horses and other livestock engaged gave her an idea. She felt excited that Master would use her the way that a strong stallion or indeed, a tom cat, would use its mate.
As Princess came to stand in front of the mirror she looked in delight at her rubber cat form. Her name tag shone in the light as she gently ran her hands up and down her shiny, shapely body. However, it was the collar, the item which showed she was owned that she loved the most. She turned to Master to purr her pleasure.
“Excellent Princess. Now to your sisters. I am sure they want to play with you. I will let them do that first but then your lessons begin.”
Princess nodded that she understood. Master took her to the four other kitties and she was introduced to them. Then he commanded them all to play. Princess was uncertain what to do, but Magenta took her hand and led her over to the silk cushions. She sat Princess down and then began kissing her. Meanwhile Beauty began to stroke at Princess’s breasts in a way she found was soon having her gasping. Then Desire was nuzzling her head between Princess’s legs and as her tongue began lapping at the new kitty’s sex she realised why the slit was there. Soon she was carried away as her sexual lips parted and her nubbin hardened making it ideal for Star to rub with her fingers. Assaulted so wonderfully in every intimate part, Princess was soon panting and moaning with pleasure, so pleased to be a kitty, so pleased to be among her sisters. Her slippery jet-shade body writhed and convulsed as it sought to cope with all the new, so-delicious sensations. Then a shriek came from her and there was whistling in her ears and white light in her eyes. Princess felt that she would be torn asunder, but somehow it was such a wonderful feeling and she recognised that this was what ecstasy meant.
Princess slumped back, her heart thumping and her body shuddering with what it had just felt. She was so glad that she was a kitty if this was what she would experience. She knew she had no desire to be anywhere else or do anything else. Princess knew her life had to be serving Master as one of his especially prized pets.
Princess had barely caught her breath when Master came over to her. He had shed his jacket and unlaced the top of his white shirt. The crotch of his breeches had been unbuttoned and Princess saw that his sexual organ was coming to attention.
“Desire, come bring Princess, show her how to suck me off so well that I beg for release. You others may continue with your play.”
As commanded, Desire, who was a little taller than Princess and with a slightly more tanned skin but similar in body profile, took Princess’s hand and, as Magenta had before, took her where she was needed. Princess imagined this was how things were done and, given the pleasure Desire had just provided to her, she was more than happy to go wherever the other kitty led. Master had returned to his chair and his member now stood erect out of his breeches.
“Princess, you love my cock above all else. You love to toy with it, you love to slip it into your pussy, but above all you love to lick and slurp at it, hold its round warmth, its hardness deep inside your mouth and to drink down the nectar that comes from it.”
Princess simpered at these words, but in instants felt they were entirely true. Now she really yearned to be sucking on Master’s cock and was pleased Desire was here to show her how to do it to the best of her ability. Desire knelt before Master and Princess mimicked her.
“I’ll get to that virginal honeypot of yours this evening, but for now, what I need is a good hard sucking. Desire, begin, show Princess what to do. Guide her so that she becomes as good as you at this.”
Princess watched attentively as Desire took Master’s cock at its base in an ‘o’ formed by her fingers. She slid her hand up and down the stretch of it before extending her tongue to repeatedly ring its tip. The slowly she brought it into her mouth and seemed to ripple her tongue beneath it. From Master came grunting sounds that Princess took to be signs of pleasure. Now Desire slowly guided the cock from her mouth and held it nodding to Princess to bring her face forward. Slowly Princess tried to do what Desire had done, but found it difficult to move her tongue in the same way; she guessed her skill would develop in time.
“Good, Princess, good.” Master muttered, however, and Princess was pleased.
Princess kept working with her tongue, loving having Master’s flesh inside her mouth. Desire directed her with nudges to slide her mouth back and forth and to close and open her lips at different stages. Then Master’s hand clamped the back of Princess’s rubbered head and locked her with the full extent of his member inside her. Then he yelped and Princess felt hot liquid gush into her mouth. No doubt this was Master’s salty nectar and she felt privileged to drink it down.
“Excellent, by all that’s holy, excellent Princess. Oh you are a worthy kitty.”
Princess felt true pleasure in her success: she had clearly pleased Master. Princess delighted that she had become one of a few women to be so privileged, to be one of the Prince’s kitties and to be able to drink from his flesh. She loved the Prince so entirely and was sure she always would.