Read PURR Online

Authors: Elizabeth Black

Tags: #fetish, #mnage a trios, #erotica, #breast fetis, #folk tale, #elizabeth black, #cat, #shifter, #gypsy, #puss in boots, #sexy, #bondage, #cat shifter, #lactation, #fairy tale, #hungarian, #puss










New Dawning International Bookfair





A Twisted Fairytale



Elizabeth Black

Copyright © 2011 Elizabeth Black

Smashwords Edition




Dreaming of the ogre's coming misfortune put a bounce in Muca's step. Ah, schadenfreude! The summer breeze blew blossoms in the air that floated around her head like dancers in a minuet. Birdsong floated in the trees along the lane. The sun played peek-a-boo behind gossamer clouds that dispersed in the afternoon sky like wisps of smoke, brushing her shoulders like a warm kiss.

As she strolled along, she wondered how her nefarious plan would play out with the villagers. She waved at a tall man whose skin burnished in the hot sun as he shielded his eyes from the brightness.

"Holå, cat!" He called. "Didn't we see you yesterday?"

"Yes you did. I was on my way to see the king. I went bearing gifts from the Marquis of Carabas."

"I heard of your Marquis of Carabas but I've never seen hide nor hair of him. How did the king like his gifts?"

"The rabbit was fat and the partridges were juicy. Perfect introductions for my Master!" Her grin was so broad she felt her muscles in her jaw tighten. Lying came so easy to her with her years of practice. Being a cat, subterfuge was her way of life, and her musings about the Marquis of Carabas were no different. Of course, there was no Marquis of Carabas. Her Master was a lowly and poor cobbler. With her help, she knew he was destined for great fortune. Her creation of the Marquis of Carabas would bring him the riches both of them needed to get by in this rough world.

"So tell me of your Marquis. Why haven't we met him?"

"He's new in these parts, and that's why I've come to you." Muca watched as young women in the field snipped tender leaves with their lips and dropped the leaves into baskets hanging around their necks. She had never seen such a means of harvesting, and the curiosity was killing her. "What on earth are they doing?"

"They are harvesting tea leaves for a special crop Derp the ogre wants to deliver to neighboring villages. He specially chose the women himself. They must be virgins with breasts at least the size of a C-cup. Derp insists the women have shapely curves to appease the gods. Their hands must never touch the leaves, only their lips. This tea is an elixir of the gods, and fairies originally harvested it. Now, only shapely virgins may harvest the tea with their lips in order to maintain the magical taste and effect."

I seriously doubt there's a virgin amongst them.
Muca stared at the women who puttered about the field, bent over at the waist. Full breasts strained their bodices, and Muca felt a stirring in her core. Their cramped posture made her back hurt the longer she watched them. She shook her head in astonishment over the absurdity of the spectacle.

"That's the most asinine thing I've ever seen. Do you really believe what that ogre tells you?"

"No, but what can we do? He owns the land. We farm any way he demands, otherwise we'll be homeless."

"How would you like to farm for a new master? One who will take your needs into consideration and make your lives much more comfortable?"

"Who might that be?'

"The Marquis of Carabas, of course!" She reached into her knapsack and pulled out a few paper packets and several cuttings planted in soil. "Take these seeds and cuttings. Plant them now, in your best soil. The cuttings are of the most succulent Italian basil, grown in the most fruitful fields outside Tuscany. The seeds are the rare Budjo rosemary, native to the Orient. Plant them now. They will grow very quickly, and you may split the plants to make more. The flowers also bear seeds."

She held her jaw firm and tried not to blink too much, lest the farmer catch her lying. She held her breath until he accepted her offer. He didn't need to know she found the basil growing wild in her favorite meadow. Nor did she reveal the word "budjo" was Romany for "swindle". Not that she'd ever swindle these farmers. They were too important to her ultimate plan of establishing her Master, a poor cobbler, as a wealthy landowner in the village.

No, the rosemary was merely plain Italian rosemary grown from seeds found in her Master's home. The only one she intended to swindle was Derp the ogre. She had to get him out of the way to make room for her Master, soon to be known all over the village as the Marquis of Carabas.

"Why thank you, cat. Please feel free to stop by the village Inn before you leave town for our Harvest Festival. There will be dancing, drinking, and … " His grin hinted at untold delights Muca could only imagine. "…
fine activities."

"I shall take you up on your offer, kind sir. I have only one favor to ask of you."

"Name it."

"When the king drives by tomorrow and asks who owns these lands, tell him the Marquis of Carabas."

The farmer placed his hands on his hips, and grinned at Muca. "I have no idea what you're planning, my good friend, but if the end result is getting all of us out from under Derp's thumb, we will do what you say."

"Thank you very much then, and enjoy the new herbs. I shall see you at the Inn shortly."

She wandered further down the dirt road, watching a butterfly flit along a breeze ahead of her. Intrigued by the farmer's comments, she wondered what delights awaited her at the Inn?

In moments, she came upon a farmer, his wife, and their baby. Black hair hung in his face masking his bright green eyes just as when they first met. The farmer straightened, watching her saunter down the road. If only she could convince him of her latest plan! Her life – and that of her Master, a poor cobbler – depended on it.

She stood walked like a human, a long and lithe spotted tawny cat wearing thigh high boots and nothing else.

She was surprised the farmer hadn't tried to drown her for being a witch's familiar the first time he laid eyes on her.

"Good afternoon, cat! How went your trip to the king?"

She smiled, happy he recognized her. She gave the farmer a confident smile, eager to continue her plan. She strode to him, and gave him a deep, elegant bow. "Very well, my friend. He enjoyed the gifts of my Master, the Marquis of Carabas." The farmer's wife nursed her infant, her full breasts spilling out from beneath her flowing cotton blouse. Such a hypnotic sight! An urge overwhelmed her to take a suck herself. She had a weakness for soft, enormous breasts, especially ones filled with milk. Her groin warmed, and shifted her stance to take the pressure from her arousal. "You have a fine infant there. How old is he?"

"Six months, and my wife has lost all her baby weight. Those breasts are especially nice, particularly late at night when it's cold outside." He smiled, walked to Muca, and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I see you're as enraptured as I am of her."

"She is indeed a fine woman, sir."

"Stop gossiping about me, you two." His wife gave Muca a saucy look as she switched the baby from one breast to the other, giving Muca a momentary glimpse of a brown nipple. Her nipples grow erect at the beautiful sight.

The farmer laughed and slapped Muca on the back, making her tip forward, nearly losing her balance. "Tell me more about this Marquis of Carabas. Why have we never seen him in these parts?"

"He's new to this region. My Marquis is a very busy man. He has recently returned from China after hunting down some rare herbs and exotic textiles. A sultan introduced him to his youngest daughter, and although my Marquis was flattered, he simply couldn't bring himself to take her as his bride. Just this past month, an Italian countess courted him! Italy is far too distant a land for his taste, since he prefers Eastern Europe, so he had to let her down easy. He has toured many kingdoms from here to the sea, and he likes this area best. As a matter of fact, he's looking for land here, and he would love to own the fields you harvest."

"Little chance of that happening. I doubt Derp would give up his lands without a fight." He waved an arm towards the field, and for the first time Muca saw a checkerboard pattern built into the soy field. "Derp made us deface our soy field for his own entertainment."

"What on earth is that?" Muca eyed up the field, trying to make sense of what she saw. She expected life-sized chess piece bishops and knights to take their places on the squares.

"It's a game board for Derp's latest form of entertainment that costs us a fortune." He threw a towel to the ground. His brows knitted together, face contorted with rage and frustration. "It's for a game Derp calls "Cow Patty Checkers". He demands everyone in town place bets on where his prized steer will drop a load, and we always lose. Derp has stolen much money from us with this dreadful game."

"What's "Cow Patty Checkers"?"

"Everyone places bets on which block the steer will grace with its shit. Then, Derp releases the animal onto the field. We wait while it takes its good old time wandering from block to block, munching on clover and swatting flies with its tail. Then, it squats over a square and takes a huge dump – always on the square Derp has chosen. We are robbed like this at least two or three times each month."

"That's more asinine than the women in the other field harvesting tea leaves with their mouths!"

He tossed his arms up in a gesture of futility.

Muca's rage stirred for the man whose spirited chatter grew on her. The more he talked, the more she liked him, not to mention his physique aroused her in ways she hadn't felt in a long time. Add her amorous stirrings for his supple wife, and the two of them captivated Muca's heart. She didn't enjoy seeing people she liked feeling so cornered.

"Ah, yes! Another one of Derp's brilliant ideas to keep us humiliated prisoners of his whims. I suspect Derp does something to the field over the square he chooses, like sprinkling the steer's favorite grain so it heads right for it." Muca's heart lurched for the poor man, but his lovely wife distracted her attention as she nursed her infant.

"Derp is horrid," the woman said. "He won't leave us alone. We lock our doors at night now since we hear him wandering around the grounds late at night. It's terrifying."

Outraged at the news, as Muca concentrated on their story, she grew more intent up on helping them rid themselves of Derp's rule forever.

"If I were able to prove it, Derp would probably kill me anyway, so there's no point in stopping him. We can't make enough of a living to gain any independence here because Derp finds ways of taking our money as well as our land, our women, and anything else he wants. I'm surprised I've been able to keep my wife away from him, although he's expressed interest."

The more he talked, the more Muca knew what she must do. Not only would she improve her Master's standard of living with her great plan, she wanted to help this farmer and his wife. "What if the Marquis of Carabas came to own these lands? Would you enjoy his rule more than that of the ogre?"

would be better than that ogre! He steals from us. Burns down our homes if our village gets too big. Kidnaps our women for his personal use. We're too scattered and poor to stand up to his abuse."

"Leave that to me. All you need to do is tell the King when he drives by tomorrow that these lands are owned by the Marquis of Carabas. I'll take care of the rest."

"What's in it for us, cat?"

"A better way of life, a fair and compassionate land owner, and comfort you've never felt before. Does all that meet your qualifications?"

"It certainly does. You have a deal! How can we ever repay you?"

"Invite me to your Harvest Festival. I would love to spend more time with all of you. And I'll show you that I'm perfectly capable of partying with the best of you in ways you can't imagine!" Her gaze fell upon his buxom wife who gently placed her sleeping infant in a pram. The hunger didn't get past the woman's husband, who smiled his approval.

"You must stop by. The Festival is going on now. Feel free to head to the Inn. We'll be there shortly."

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