The Thorn Boy

by Storm Constantine

  I pressed my hands against my eyes, and for a while all the grief within my heart welled up to smother my newfound serenity. I had riches, yes, and a loyal feline friend, but I was essentially alone, devoid of a companion of the heart, with whom I might make love or talk about the mysteries of life.

  Then I felt a soft touch upon my arm, of gentle fingers. Alarmed, I dropped my hands and uttered a cry of shock. I beheld a young woman, who backed away from me, her eyes wide. She crouched down before me, utterly naked, her skin the color of honey, her body hunched into a position of alertness.

  ‘Who are you?’ I demanded, while within me conflicting emotions made war. My male instincts were aroused by the surprise of finding a naked girl in my garden, but she was still an intruder. What was she doing there?

  The girl held up her hands to me, and now her expression was pleading. She shook her head slowly from side to side. Her face was small and heart-shaped, utterly enchanting.

  ‘Speak!’ I said, ‘or I must summon my staff to evict you.’

  The girl’s face was puckered with anguish. She shrugged her shoulders in an ophidian motion, which seemed to indicate impatience, then touched her mouth with her fingers. I realised she could not speak.

  I reached down and took her forearms in my hands, lifted her to her feet. She did not seem at all ashamed at her state of undress, and I could not help but admire the trim conformation of her body. ‘Are you lost?’ I asked her.

  She smiled then and shook her head. It was a fierce smile, quite without fear, and a strange tremor passed through me. She held my gaze without blinking, pushing her long amber hair back behind her ears. Then, she dismissed me from her attention and held out her arms before her, twisting them around as if to examine them for the first time. After this, she shrugged and began to walk away from me. Aghast, I called out and she paused and glanced over her shoulder, before resuming her walk back towards the house. I felt that she knew this place well, but how? I think perhaps it was at that moment I realised Simew was nowhere to be seen. A chill coursed through my flesh. No! I called her name, scanning the trees and bushes, but of course it was my lovely visitor who turned her head to answer the call.

  Pu-ryah had heard my prayers and answered them. As I had dedicated myself to her, so she rewarded me. Simew had been transformed into a woman, the most lovely woman I had ever seen. I caught up with her by the cloister that flanked the back of the house, and here took hold of her arm.

  ‘We must be discreet,’ I said. ‘The servants must not see you undressed.’

  She shrugged again, as if to imply she would concur with my wishes, but didn’t really care whether someone saw her or not. I went into the house before her, and led the way back to my private chambers, checking round every corner beforehand to make sure the coast was clear. In my rooms, I turned the key in the lock, and leaned against the door to gaze upon this magical creature. She stood in the center of the room, looking around in curiosity. Now, the world must appear very different to her. Then she turned her attention upon herself, and began to stroke her body in long, slow movements. She raised her hand to her mouth and licked it. I was entranced by her, my cat woman.

  ‘You can no longer wash yourself,’ I said. ‘The human body is far less supple than a cat’s.’

  She gave me a studied look, as to contest that remark. Her mouth dropped open and expelled a musical, feline cry. She was not mute, then. My flesh tingled.

  She slunk towards me, her eyes half-closed. I heard her purring. When she was very close, she butted her head against my cheek, uttered a chirruping sound. I seized her in my arms. She wriggled away, still purring, and ran nimbly to my bedroom. I followed her and found her crouched on all fours, on the bed. She turned round in a circle a few times, before collapsing gracefully in a curving heap, peering up at me seductively through a veil of hair. The invitation was unmistakable. I approached her and she rolled onto her back, as was her custom. I reached down and stroked her belly, conjuring louder purrs. Her skin was softly furred by tiny, transparent hairs. I ran my hands up over her firm breasts and she arched her back in delight. Emboldened, I continued this tactile investigation, sliding my fingers down between her muscled thighs. All I found was welcome. Lust overtook me and I tore off my robes. Simew positioned herself on all fours once more, her glistening vulva displayed provocatively, her hands kneading the bed clothes before her. When I entered her, she screeched; her whole body became rigid. Never had coupling been so swift for me.

  Afterwards, she did the most astounding thing. I watched in silent amazement as she contorted her body without apparent difficulty and set about washing her private parts with her tongue. Then, she cleaned herself all over, licking her hand to reach more inaccessible areas, unable only to attain the back of her neck. I lay in a stupor beside her, aroused once more by her bizarre behavior. When she came to lie against my side, purring, I laid her on her back and took her that way. Her desire was kindled instantly and she appeared to enjoy the change of position.

  Throughout that day, I taught her many tricks of the art of love. The servants came to my doors, but I would not allow them entrance. No doubt they thought I had succumbed to melancholy once more. But then, they must have heard the howls and grunts emanating from the bedroom, and drawn their own conclusions, upon which it is better not to dwell. Simew could not help but sound like a cat when throes of delight overtook her.

  How she loved the sexual act. I had always suspected cats were masters and mistresses of carnality, but now, with Simew transformed physically into a human, while retaining feline sensibilities, I had no doubt. She was quite impossible to sate. The more we coupled, the more hungry she became. I remembered that the member of a male cat is barbed, and people say that during feline copulation it is only when he withdraws from the female’s body, thus tearing her delicate flesh, that she finds satisfaction. I had no wish to hurt my beautiful lover, but how could I provide her with what nature had denied me? Eventually, her agitation became so great, I put my fingers inside her and raked my nails along the slick flesh. She uttered an ear-splitting howl and lashed out at me, her body bucking. Within her, powerful muscles gripped my fingers and warm liquid flowed down my wrist. Then, as the convulsions subsided, she lay quiet, her eyes half closed, a soft purr rippling from her throat. I felt exhausted.

  When I stood up to go to my bath room, I found my body covered in scratches, welts and bites. My member seemed to have shrunk back into my body in an attempt to escape my lover’s demands.

  Weak, I drew my own bath and lay there for some time, blinking in the steam. I had never felt so utterly complete. The sexual urge had been drained from me. I had filled Simew’s cup to the full and now my vessel was empty, but the experience had exhilarated as much as sapped me.

  I knew that I could not keep Simew a secret, nor did I want to. I had no women’s clothes for her and this must be attended to before anything else. As I went back into the bedroom, drying my tender flesh with a towel, I gazed upon her lying amid the tangled sheets, her damp hair spread around her shoulders. She was sleeping now, but for how long? I dared not leave her alone, because Simew was accustomed to having the run of the house. If I locked her in my chambers, it was likely she would awake and then howl at the door until one of the servants came to her aid. Medoth had keys to my rooms. He would no doubt be summoned to let the cat out. It had happened before in my absence. I dared not think about the consequences of that.

  In the end, I woke her with a gentle caress and told her we must go out of the house and purchase garments for her. As always, she appeared to understand my every word, although I sensed she was not altogether pleased with my suggestion. I remembered the occasion when a previous lover of mine had bought her a jewelled collar, and the manner in which that gift had later been found shredded under the dining-table, its expensive gems scattered by playful paws.

  I dressed her in one of my own robes, using sashes to create a suitably fitted garment. Simew growled a few times as I made
her hold out her arms to assist my adjustments. I bound up her hair as best I could, then led her from my chambers. Medoth had clearly been lurking nearby, and now came forward to hear my orders. Without explaining the presence of the oddly-dressed female at my side, I demanded my carriage be made ready for a trip to town. Discreet as ever, Medoth bowed and obeyed my word.

  The trip was not without its awkward moments. The proprietress in the dress shop we visited seemed to accept my story of a visiting relative having had an accident with her luggage, but unfortunately Simew was unable to behave in the way that women usually do while purchasing clothes. The noises she made, the attempts to bite from her body the gowns she found most offensive, plunged the staff of the establishment into silent horror. I laughed nervously and explained she had an hereditary affliction of the mind. At length, the proprietress suggested frostily that we take one set of garments now and that the rest might best be examined and tried on in the privacy of my home. Someone from the shop would be sent round the following day. I understood her desire to get rid of us, because several other customers had already vacated the premises in alarm at Simew’s behavior. Spilling coins from my purse into the tight-lipped woman’s hands, I agreed readily with her suggestion and Simew and I fled the shop. She was dressed now in a simple gown of soft green fabric, and wore emerald slippers on her feet. The outing had been a trial, but at least my lover was now dressed.

  In the carriage on our way home, I tried to explain to Simew that it might be best if she remained silent in the presence of other people. Clearly, I had a lot of work to do with her regarding etiquette and good manners.

  The story I concocted for the servants was that Simew was a distant cousin of mine, who had arrived in the night, having escaped a brutal father. I could do nothing but provide sanctuary, and indeed had even extended my services to offering her marriage, so that she would be forever safe from paternal threat. The servants were all stony-faced as I told them this story, and it was Medoth who ventured to tell me my cat was missing. I think he guessed the truth at once, because Pu-ryah was his goddess, but he did not voice his suspicions to me.

  So the transformed Simew became part of my household. I decided that once I had trained her enough to be presentable in company, we would be married and all of my friends in the city would be invited. To the servants, I repeated the story that Simew - who I now called Felice - had been ill, because of the treatment she’d received from her father. Her mind was slightly damaged, but it could be cured, and patience and love were the medicines she must receive. Because she was still essentially Simew, it didn’t take long for the household to learn to love her. Everyone became conspirators in my plan to transform this wild girl into a young woman of society. To her, I think it was all a game. She was playing at being human and thought it was hilarious to ape our behavior. She learned to laugh, and it was the most thrilling expression of joy any of us had ever heard. It brightened every corner of that vast house; she was like an enchanted light buzzing through its halls and chambers. No-one could have overlooked her cat-like habits, but they were prepared to tolerate and then to change them.

  The portrait of Pu-ryah was hung in the main hall, and Simew would often stand before it, staring into that feline face, as if remembering with difficulty the days when she had looked the same.

  One of the strangest things about Simew the woman was her incomparable clumsiness. As a cat, she had always seemed a little heavy on her feet, and no fragile things had ever been safe in her presence, but now she seemed unable to enter a room without knocking something over. At dinner, wine glasses were spilled with regularity, quite often onto the floor. Medoth arranged that a servant equipped with a pan and brush was always stationed near the door. We got through so much glassware and crockery that eventually I bought Simew a set of her own, crafted from gold. These, she could not break by accident. It took a while to teach her to eat using cutlery. She found that these implements simply delayed the consumption of food and would sometimes lash out and me and growl, when I pointed out a young lady of breeding would never eat food directly from her plate without even the agency of fingers. ‘Simew,’ I murmured one night, with fraying patience. ‘You are here to be my wife. The Lady herself has arranged it. I’m doing all I can to keep my side of the bargain, please oblige me by keeping yours.’

  Then, she laughed and shrugged. ‘All right,’ she seemed to say, but there were still lapses.

  Neither could she take to immersing herself in water to bathe. The shrieks and clawing that occurred when we tried to enforce it became too much, and eventually we had to compromise. At morn and eve, her personal maid would clean her body with a damp sponge. This she tolerated - just. The maid was often scratched.

  It was also difficult to accept Simew’s gifts, which invariably she brought up from the cellar or in from the grain store. I would hear her muffled chirruping as she made her way to my studio, and then she would fling open the door with a dramatic gesture of her arms. A mouse, or even a rat, would be hanging from her mouth. It was worse when they were still alive. Her eyes would be shining and she’d run to me and drop her prey at my feet. I suppose she expected me to eat it with gratitude. It took some weeks to rid her of this habit, and I ached to see the sadness my disapproval conjured in her eyes.

  She loved perfume though, and I indulged her craving for it. Scent was like a religious tool for her. She never wasted it, nor mixed aromas but, after her bathing routine, chose with care which perfume to wear. This she would apply with economy to her throat and wrists, lifting her hand to her nose to take little, contented sniffs from time to time throughout the day. It was an adorable habit.

  At night, she would be waiting for me in my bed-chamber, clothed only in delicious scent, purring softly in her throat, kneading the pillows. She rarely offered herself to me submissively now, but grabbed me bodily and threw me down onto the bed to begin her pleasure. I taught her technique perhaps, but she taught me something more powerful - the instinctual sexual drive of an animal. I realised that cats had their own beliefs and that sex was very much a part of their devotion to their spiritual queen. They had a language we could not understand, that functioned nothing like a human tongue, but it was language. In time, during our love-making I too began to make the sounds and Simew displayed her approval with purrs. Pu-ryah was always very close to us in our bed-chamber.

  Simew the cat, the house mourned. The housekeeper decided she must have stolen or killed, and I went along with this idea, but my grief could not have been that convincing. Perhaps no-one else’s was either, for as time went on I have no doubt that more than one of my staff suspected my new love’s origins and then passed their suspicions around, but we all had to pretend.

  Eventually, I decided that Simew was ready to present to society. The household was put into a frenzy by the preparations for our grand marriage. My friends already knew I was betrothed to a mysterious distant relative, and more than a few had been most insistent about meeting her - especially the women - but I had remained steadfast in my refusal. ‘She has been very ill,’ I said. ‘She cannot yet cope with social occasions.’

  ‘I have heard,’ one lady remarked at a soiree, ‘that she was locked by her brute of a father in a cellar for years on end. Shocking! Poor dear!’

  I inclined my head. ‘Well, that is an exaggeration of her trials, but yes, she has suffered badly and it has affected her behavior.’

  ‘How dreadful,’ another murmured, touching my hand. ‘You are so good to take her under your wing in this way.’

  I could not say that had I possessed wings, it’s unlikely I would still have been there to accept their sympathy.

  I do not know what my friends expected when they finally met ‘Felice’, but I know the experience amazed them.

  Our nuptial banquet took place on an autumn evening. During the day, we had undergone a quiet wedding; a priest from Pu-ryah’s temple had come to the house to officiate at a ceremony that had been written especially to accommodat
e my bride’s inability to speak.

  In the early evening, Simew’s maids dressed her in splendid gown of russet silk. Her hair was twined with autumn leaves of gold and crimson and I adorned her neck and wrists myself with costly ornaments of amber, topaz and gold. She appeared to be as excited as any of us at the prospect of being introduced to my friends.

  I waited downstairs to receive our guests as they arrived, while Simew underwent the final primpings and preenings in our chambers. I wanted to present her once everyone had gathered in the main hall. I wanted them to see her descend the stairs in the caressing lamp light.

  Ultimately, the hour arrived. My friends were clustered in excitement around the stairs, and I signalled one of the maids to summon the new mistress of the house. I continued to exchange pleasantries with the guests and it was only when the assembly fell silent that I knew Simew was among us. I turned, and there she stood at the top of the stairs. I shall never forget that moment. She was the most radiant, gorgeous creature ever to have entered the hall. My heart contracted with love, with adoration. She stood tall and serene, a half smile upon her face, and then with the most graceful steps slowly descended towards the company. I heard the women gasp and whisper together; I heard the appreciative, stunned murmurs of the men.

  ‘May I present my wife,’ I said, extending an arm towards her.

  Simew dipped her head and glided to my side. She smiled warmly upon the gathering and together we led the way in to dinner.

  Bless my love - she behaved with perfect decorum as the meal was served. Nothing was tipped over or broken; she ate modestly and slowly, smiling at the remarks addressed to her. Those sitting nearest to me lost no time in congratulating me on my fortune. They praised Simew’s beauty, grace and warmth.