Pussy in Boots (Naughty Fairy Tales)

by Fox, Georgia

  She got up and moved toward him, just as he spun around, not knowing she was there. He tripped and cursed. "Damn cat! I'll put you out in the rain if you don't behave. I'm in no mood for your antics tonight. I must think what to do. How to win the hand of my lady love."

  Hand? She snorted. What he wanted was virgin pussy. He might try to fool himself, but he didn't fool Cat. So much for his honorable intentions to "rescue" his "lady love". All he wanted was to get a piece of costly rumpy pumpy before anyone else did. Typical.

  Peter was pacing now, paying her no more attention. She strolled after him, carrying the wood block in her teeth, dropping it by his toe.

  "Not now, cat."

  She danced in a circle, pretending to catch a fly.

  Rubbing his chin, he turned away, still ignoring her.

  Uh oh. Fur ball. She choked, hacked and spat it up. Better.

  Nothing. Not a glance. Not a word of concern.

  She rolled over onto her side and lay, letting her tail flap idly, waiting for a belly rub.

  Peter Proudfoot stepped over her and walked to his shelves, hands reaching for the carving he'd made of Lady Serena and her bosoms. He'd made those ta-tas too big, out of proportion and unrealistic, but then he would hardly listen to the critical opinion of a stray cat.

  Running his fingers over those carved mounds, he whispered the name of his lady and mourned pitifully. Actually, she mused, there was one thing accurate about the sculpture. The contents of the head were the same as the real version—wood.

  "My darling Serena, there will never be anyone else for me but you. You are my Heart's Desire."

  That was the final straw. Rather than stay and listen to more of this nonsensical dribble over a woman he hadn't known three weeks ago, Cat stuck her tail in the air, turned sharply and trotted out of his workshop.

  He didn't call her back or ask her where she went. He was too busy fondling wooden-head's tits. Well he was welcome to them. She'd find a new home and a better master.

  Chapter Ten

  At the end of two weeks his soldiers had found no trace of a Marquis de Revellaux. The Comte could not understand it. The slave girl had uttered that name with confidence and pride.

  "You have not searched far enough," he shouted angrily. "You will find this Marquis. And his slave. Or I'll have someone's head for this!"

  The soldiers hurried off again on their fruitless search.

  His temper wound tight, the Comte threw his goblet against the wall and watched good wine splatter the grey stone like blood.

  ****

  It rained. Cat, huddled under a fish cart in the marketplace, ears flat to her head, sulkily watched legs and feet dashing about as the villagers ran for shelter. Where had the beautiful sun gone today? It abandoned her, like Peter.

  One fat drip of rainwater squeezed through a plank in the cart and hit Cat squarely on the muzzle. She shook herself and moved slightly to the left. If the weather had taken a lasting turn for the worst she must find shelter for tonight. Perhaps a warm barn somewhere, or the loft in a stable. It was possible she could find another master by tonight, quickly endear herself to him and earn a saucer of milk. But her heart beat gained little speed from the idea. Another master was not Peter. Another man's caress would not thrill her the same way. He would smell and taste differently. He may not laugh at her tricks. Peter, she realized mournfully, had spoiled her for any other master.

  A second raindrop oozed through the old cart and Cat dodged it with a grumpy mewl. It was no good. Her thoughts were too full of that idiot carpenter and no other man could possibly need her as much. Just as no other woman could ever love Peter as much as she.

  Perhaps it was time to admit she'd learned a lesson, to be humble and seek forgiveness. To get her body back for good.

  ****

  Cat found the witch's cottage just as she remembered it. Had to hitch a ride on a cart of onions to get there, but here she was, slipping in through window, senses on the alert. It was dangerous to come back there, but what choice did she have? She leapt from the window and trotted to a corner behind an crooked old settle.

  If there was a way to undo this spell that had been cast upon her, she must lower her pride and calm that temper—the one that got her into this mess from the start—and find out if she ever had a chance of returning to permanent female form. If not for Peter, she would have stayed a cat, but he wanted a full-bodied, real woman at his side. And she wanted to be that woman.

  It was pathetic, really. He wanted only Lady Serena.

  Virgin, my arse, thought Cat with a smirk. If that Lady Serena was a virgin, she was a sailor with balls the size of apples.

  Oops! She shrank, seeing the old woman bent over her cooking pots. There she was. Ugly, ancient hag.

  "I hear you hissing Catherine. Come back have you? I wondered what took you so long and then I thought you must be enjoying yourself. I should have turned you into a warty toad. Something less playful than a cat, eh?" The witch swung around, holding her ladle in one grubby, gnarled claw. "Come on then. Out of the shadows."

  Cat hunkered down, staring from her dark corner.

  The bent old woman laughed croakily, reached into her apron and then tossed the end of a ball of wool in Cat's direction, making it wriggle across the floor like a big worm. Irresistible of course. Cat sprang after the loose end, chasing it all the way up to the filthy petticoats of the witch.

  "Someone's been feeding you well, haven't they?"

  She hissed again, showing her teeth and her claws.

  The witch chortled, tossing the wool, swinging that tempting end back and forth. "So what made you come back to me, Catherine? Are you not afraid?"

  She did her best to ignore the wool and sat, staring up at the woman who'd trapped her in this feline shape.

  The witch frowned, deep, dark lines forming across her grimy brow. "Want to be set free do you?" She laughed again, showing rotten teeth.

  Why did witches never make themselves beautiful? Cat wondered. If she had magical powers that would probably be the first thing she did with them. Being vain as she was. She sighed, twitched her nose and scratched her ear. Perhaps witches were unable to cast spells upon themselves. That would be pretty damn annoying. No wonder they were usually in a bad mood. It would be like having a big cup of cream and never being allowed to taste it herself.

  "There's nothing you can do about it Catherine, m'dear. You're stuck in that little body until your nine lives are up and then where you go is up to your maker."

  Ah yes, nine lives! How many had she spent? She'd lost track. Again, numbers were not her strong point. As a cat she ran out of toes to count upon much more quickly.

  "You must be desperate to risk coming back here again." The witch stirred her pots, looking thoughtful. "The only reason you'd dare return would be if you needed that pretty young body back." Her eyes narrowed. "For a man, eh? You must be in love, Catherine. Is that it?"

  Was she in love? She didn't know.

  "Perhaps you appreciate your youth and beauty now, more than you did before when you had it everyday and scorned those less fortunate."

  Yes, yes, I learned my lesson, old hag. Now what do I do? There was always an exit clause in any spell. Everyone knew that.

  The witch pulled up a short stool and sat heavily. "Very well then, I will tell you this. You want to know what to do? You must make a sacrifice, Catherine. You must give up the man you love and then your human shape will return. Otherwise, if you wait for those nine lives to pass, you will never have that female form again, will you?"

  Anger ripped through her small body. It curled through her claws, tightened her belly and swept her tail from side to side.

  "You must grant him his wish, his Heart’s Desire—the one thing he wants above all others— and only then you may have your body back again, sulky cat!"

  So there was no other way. If she ever wanted her old form back permanently, she must help Peter get the woman he yearned for. And then what good would
it do her to have that female shape again? Yet, she could be nearing her last life as a cat and she wasn't ready to die for good. In her heart she was still nineteen, as she was when the spell was cast. She wanted the life she should have had. It was time to say goodbye to Puss. And to Peter, it seemed.

  ****

  It had been another sleepless night and Peter rose from his bed in a foul mood. He cared to notice very little about the world around him, and when he saw the shutters knocked off the latch, swinging open, he thought nothing of it. Must have been a strong gust of wind in the night. He pulled on his clothes as he always did and set off for the forest to find wood. But he was not half way there when the itching began. At first he thought it was an insect bite, but there was no swelling on his skin and the itch seemed to spread. By the time he entered the forest, it was all over his back and shoulders. He ripped off his tunic, scratching madly at his skin. Then the itch spread to his thighs and buttocks. Even his feet inside those worn boots.

  Peter ran until he reached the stream. He stripped off all his clothes and jumped into the deepest part of the bubbling water. Relief coursed over his skin, cooling and soothing. He ducked under the surface to wet every inch of his head too and then came up, gasping for air, slicking his hair back with both hands. He heard the sound of hooves and looked about anxiously for his clothes, but they were gone from the bank side. He was naked in the water and people approached. Nothing else for it, he covered his cock with both hands and ducked down into the water so that only his shoulders and head were visible.

  ****

  Cat had just dragged his breeches out of sight behind a tree, leaving them hidden with his boots and tunic. The itching powder made her sneeze but she bore it valiantly, willing to go to any lengths for him—and to break her curse. Now all she had to do was produce the empty purse. Easy enough.

  Riders appeared through the trees. She recognized Gideon leading the pack. Gathering her courage she sprang forward into his path. The horse reared up, but he calmed it with a skilled, firm hand and the soldiers halted sharply behind him.

  Cat dropped the empty leather purse onto the dusty path and sat, tail curled, eyes wide, willing him to understand.

  After a moment he dismounted. "You're that bloody carpenter’s cat!"

  She mewled and scratched at the dirt with her claws. He looked down. With her nose she nudged Peter's empty leather purse toward him.

  Frowning, the guard picked it up and shook it upside down. "What is this?"

  She turned her head and he followed her gaze, squinting against the sun to where Peter stood in the water, stark naked.

  "My clothes have gone," the carpenter shouted. "I can't find them!"

  Gideon walked toward the stream and Cat followed, slinking around his boots. "It seems you're the victim of robbers." He showed the empty purse in his fist. "They've taken everything."

  Naturally Peter was too proud to admit he had no money in his purse anyway. He stood in the stream, blinking and helpless, scratching his wet hair, probably wondering what any soul would want with his old clothes.

  Cat stood on her hind feet and purred loudly, running her front claws down Gideon's leather boots. He bent and picked her up. "What's wrong with your cat?"

  "She's temperamental," Peter replied moodily.

  Cat crawled onto Gideon's shoulder and made a small scratch on his neck. "Ouch!" He tried to fling her off, but she held on, digging her claws into his chainmail tunic. The drip of blood was a bright mark on his neck.

  "Where is Lady Serena?" Peter called out anxiously. "I shouldn't want her to see me naked. It might shock her."

  Cat yawned, too amused for much else.

  "She is at home with her uncle," Gideon replied, his tone stern. "We are sent out to find the Marquis de Revellaux. Have you heard of such a man?" Still he was trying to rid himself of Cat, but she wrapped herself around his neck now like a fur collar, her tail curling under his rough, unshaven chin.

  Peter had, of course, never heard of the Marquis, but he wanted to know why they searched for him and Gideon explained gloomily that the Comte had decided his niece should marry the Marquis.

  He added, "If I fail to return without this mysterious nobleman, I am likely to lose my head, but we've searched for weeks and I begin to think this man does not exist."

  There was a pause while both men stared at each other in the peaceful, emerald shade of the forest. Finally, they began to put their minds to some good use.

  Cat yawned again, batting casually at Gideon's ear, until he said, "Perhaps ...perhaps we can pass you off as this Marquis."

  "To save your head?"

  "And you will win the Lady Serena." Gideon's voice quavered only a little. Cat suspected he was in love with that lady himself, but he must make this sacrifice, as Cat had to make hers, just to stay alive. Gideon surely knew Lady Serena would marry someone soon. At least, if he presented her uncle with a real live Marquis, he would save his own head from being slowly detached by a blunt axe.

  "But how can I play the part of a Marquis?" Peter protested. "I have nothing. No fine clothes. No riches—."

  Gideon managed a stiff smile. "But you've just been attacked by highway robbers, my lord, on your way to the Comte de Falaise's castle to court his niece. Of course you have nothing."

  Peter scowled, rubbing his chin. "The Lady Serena might give me away."

  "No she won't," Gideon replied with a grim smirk. "By giving away your identity, she would give away her own antics too, Master Proudfoot. She wouldn't dare let her uncle know that she met you before."

  Cat purred in relief. At last. She'd begun to think she was the only one with a fully functioning brain. She leapt from the guard's shoulders and sat, watching proudly as a tapestry blanket was fetched to wrap around Peter's naked body. He made a very handsome Marquis.

  Her heart suffered a little pinch of sorrow, but she kept her head up. She wanted out of this curse, right? Then she had to help Peter get his wish. And he didn't want her anyway. Whatever feelings she nurtured for him, she'd simply have to forget about it.

  Gideon bowed low. "My lord, Marquis. Will you allow me to escort you onward?"

  Chapter Eleven

  The Comte stared at the tall, blonde, well-hewn fellow draped in a tapestry blanket. "You are the Marquis de Revellaux?" He was younger than expected.

  "I am indeed. I was on my way to ply my suit for your niece when I was set upon by robbers on the road. I am lucky your soldiers came by when they did, Falaise."

  "So it would seem." He looked over at his niece and saw her blushing, her eyes lowered to her slippers. Evidently she liked the look of this one. Good. He would certainly add some good strong blood to the family line. "You must allow me to provide you with clothes, Revellaux, and then we will dine. You and I have much to discuss."

  The other man bowed. Abruptly the Comte felt a sneeze coming on. He stiffened. "Is there a wretched cat in here?"

  "It is mine," Revellaux replied with a small, tight laugh. "I'm afraid she insisted on coming with me."

  To the Comte's horror, a slender, jet black creature stalked into his hall and looked directly at him, almost with a challenge in its jade green eyes. He drew back. "I cannot—" He squinted. "You say she insisted? How the devil can a dumb animal insist, Revellaux?"

  "This is a very special Puss, my lord. One with exceptional qualities. She is dear to me and we always travel together."

  The Comte curled his lip in disdain.

  "She will be no trouble, that I promise."

  The cat stared, licked a paw and slowly wiped its long whiskers.

  He couldn't very well insist the cat be left outside without offending the Marquis and they still had the terms of a certain slave girl's bondage to discuss, so he must tread with care for now. The cat he could deal with later, once he had what he wanted from this young man.

  He ran his tongue along the back of his teeth as he examined the tall fellow again, took in his handsome, strong face and broad shoulder
s. "You travelled here alone but for your cat?"

  "I did."

  "It is most unwise to travel without guards. Especially when one has wealth to be taken. Sadly these forests are occasionally home to bandits and gypsies. You must be naive about such things, young man."

  Revellaux laughed. "I am not long come into my fortune and title. Due to an entailment my estate was passed on to me quite suddenly when I was found to be the closest male relative. It was a shock and I fear I have much to learn. I am an unsophisticated country bumpkin, my lord Falaise."

  The Comte nodded thoughtfully. Yes, there was an awkwardness in the young nobleman's gestures, an uncertainty. Although that could be due to his nude state and his embarrassment at being found in such a vulnerable position. But the Comte was not fooled, by this pretense of humility. The man's slave had told him the Marquis was rich and clever. This last was evident from the gift he'd sent. The very perfect gift that the Comte was unable to get out of his mind ever since it ran away.

  He gestured for his valet. "Take the Marquis to my dressing room and help him select some clothes. I'm sure we have something to fit."

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Once you are dressed, Revellaux, you and I will talk in my private chamber."

  ****

  Cat watched Peter getting dressed. The valet was silent and efficient—as were all the Comte's servants, including the two barefoot girls he'd sent to give "the Marquis" a bath. She sensed that if it were not for her sitting bolt upright on a nearby chair, keeping her eyes fixed upon him, Peter would have enjoyed his bath more than he dared let himself.

  The valet dressed him in a very fine set of garments, heavy with brocade and with fine lace at his cuffs. It was odd to see her Peter in such costly garb, but he did it credit. He was a beautiful man, she thought, with a heavy purr. It was time he wore clothes that favored his looks and didn't hide them. She felt herself falling in love all over again and that would never do. They were here to make Peter's Heart's Desire come true and then her curse would be undone.