Abbigale winced as her maid pulled at the laces of her corset, all but crushing Abbigale’s waist in the process.

“You don’t actually expect me to sleep in this?” Abbigale complained, even as her maid, Amber, went to fetch her nightgown.

“There won’t be time to put it on you in the morning, miss. Not with all the hair and makeup to be done. And you do want to look your slimmest for Lord Eshing, don’t you?” the maid smiled as she spoke, and waited patiently for Abbigale to put her arms out.

“I would rather not marry a man I’ve never met,” Abbigale informed her maid, refusing to put her arms out. “I would rather not be called an old spinster just because I turned twenty one! I would rather not-”

“And I would rather not listen to you complain, child. Now put your arms out.”

Abbigale glared at the maid. Arms firmly at her side, she looked the woman up and down: a woman in perhaps her forties, with brown hair pulled into a tight bun. She stood at maybe five foot six, to Abbigale’s own five foot four. The no nonsense sort, her maid’s uniform was pristine, without even a smudge on the white apron. She had only known Abbigale for a week, having been brought from her future husband’s estate, to serve Abbigale before the wedding.

Yet, despite only being here a week, she already talked to Abbigale in this manner? “I will not-”

“You’ll do what you’re bid, or I’ll use force,” the maid declared, flatly. “I have permission from your father to get you ready for this wedding no matter what it takes. You won’t be running away, like you did before the last two - not that it did you much good, the other times, I hear.” At this, the maid’s lips spread into a grin, and she leaned forward as if whispering conspiratorially to Abbigale. “Always come crawling back in the end, don’t you? Need someone to take care of you, as I understand it - spoiled little things like you don't know up from down out in the streets. Not that you need to - so long as you learn to perform in the sheets, for Lord Eshing.”

“He’s three times my age!” Abbigale protested, voice rising in pitch.

“Shhh. You’ll wake up the manor,” Amber declared, glaring at Abbigale. “And as I understand it, the last two were aged just right. What was your problem with them?”

“I… I simply felt no connection. Perhaps I am not the marrying sort…”

Truthfully, she wasn’t sure herself why she had rejected every suitor - she’d hoped that turning twenty one would drive the last of them away, but… Then her father had made this match.

“This is the price you pay for your luxury, miss,” the maid declared, mercilessly. “The daughter of a rich merchant must marry upward. It’s the only way your father can still climb. Now put out your arms, or I’ll send you to bed in your underwear.”

Abbigale glared a moment at the maid, before reluctantly stretching her arms out. Over her arms went the nightgown. A simple piece, all in white, its lacy collar covered her neck, and its hem went down to her toes. The sleeves covered her arms entirely.

“Now sit tight on the bed, young miss,” the maid told her. “And I’ll be back with some firewood in no time.” The woman smiled as she spoke, and knocked on the door to the room. It was opened by one of her father’s guards, who stood with a spear by the doorway, and the maid was allowed out.

“My father really is determined to prevent my escape, this time…” Abbigale whispered to herself,  smiling faintly. “Thankfully I thought ahead.”

Moving swiftly to her bed, Abbigale did not in fact sit down, but instead opened up the drawer of her nightstand. Beneath the supplies for embroidery, there was a secret cubby - a cubby where she kept a tiny vial of crystal clear liquid, and a small pouch of gold.

To look at the simple vial, you would never know how much money Abbigale had spent on it. She’d begged to go shopping so many times, just so that she could save some of the pocket change her father gave her. Day after day, month after month, while her father had plotted for her marriage she had plotted for her escape.

The last step - visiting the witch herself, to buy this potion - had required her to beg her former maid on hands and knees, and even then the maid only agreed because her father had made clear his intention to hire a replacement.

As it was, Abbigale had somehow pulled off the purchase without a hitch, and no one currently in the house knew of it. Even better, she had managed to keep a few gold coins from the shopping trip since - gold that she quickly tucked into her corset. Now, all Abbigale had to do was drink… and quickly, before the maid came back.

Thinking so, Abbigale hurriedly removed the cork from the vial, allowing a vaguely sweet smell to tickle at her nostrils, though, she poured the concoction down her throat.

In complete contrast to its scent, the taste was bitter. Her tongue felt like it was going to seize up, and her throat was all but burning, just from the tiny amount of liquid.

“I just hope this works,” Abbigale muttered, rubbing at her throat. She was unaware of the fur growing across her now pointed ears. She removed her hand from behind one, just as the cartilage began to move further up her scalp.

“How did the witch put it? Under the effects of this potion, I will be seen as a feline, despite maintaining my human form? And no one will recognize me, even if I march out the front doors… It seems almost too fantastical to be true,” murmured Abbigale, whose head now sported a twitching pair of cat ears.

A sudden pressure, above Abbigale’s behind, finally alerted her that something was shifting. She twisted about, trying and failing to get a good look, as something ripped, and a moment later, her underwear fluttered to the floor, torn asunder by the sprouting of a cat’s tai

A slow blush spread across Abbigale’s features in response, as she felt something long and fidgety in her dress with her. She could not get a good look, with the length of her dress, but… Considering what the witch had told her…

The opening of the door caused her ears to swivel, a completely new sensation that caught Abbigale off guard again. She took a step back, wondering what the lady would think if she saw Abbigale’s new alien features. The spell was supposed to make her be perceived as a cat - but not turn her into one! Did the tail and ears mean it worked? Or had it simply turned her into some sort of cat person? Abbigale wasn’t sure what to expect.

When the door opened, however, the maid immediately dropped the bundle of firewood she was holding, and ran straight into the room. Looking about frantically for a moment, her eyes finally met Abbigale’s… and kept going,. “Whoever let a cat in here?” she whispered after a moment. “And where’s Abbigale?” the maid began to move toward the bed, looking under the mattress, before shifting to the window. “Surely not…” the maid whispered to herself, upon realizing the window was unlocked. “We’re on the third floor…”

Giggling to herself at her maid’s oblivious comments, Abbigale quickly walked out of the room, past the guards, and toward the staircase. From there, she walked down two flights of stairs, and out the front door. This caused some confusion to the guard out front, who peered inside to see who had let the cat out.

Not that Abbigale cared. She was free! Free! And it wasn’t going to be like the last time, either. She had gold, this time, even if it was only a few coins. She’d get a job, maybe at an inn. Making food? Waiting on tables? The possibilities were endless. She didn’t know how to do any of it, of course, but she’d learn. She’d train. She’d do her best, and never have to come back to this place again. With those thoughts in mind, she practically danced her way down the streets, and into the larger downtown area.

It was mostly deserted at this time of night, of course. The only place with lights in fact, was a nearby tavern: the Maiden’s Drink. Abbigale headed toward it immediately, moving with the assuredness of her station. She had gold to spend the night, but if she could find a job there and pay her sleep off with work that would be even better. Or perhaps the innkeeper would be so taken by her beauty, and entranced by her tale of woe, that he’d offer her a bed purely from the kindness of his heart.

...The last one seemed unlikely, from Abbigale’s past experiences running away. Still! The first two were options, and Abbigale was full of hope as she pushed open the door...

Only to almost immediately have a broom pointed straight at her, the bristles poking at the delicate skin of her stomach even through the silk nightgown. 

“Shoo!” shouted a woman. “Shoo, cat! Get out of here! We have a mouser, already. Shoo!”

“But, I-” Abbigale began, but the woman only poked her hard with the broom, pushing her back onto the street. The door was closed behind her, and a muttered “How’d it even manage the door?” could be heard from within.

The potion… hadn’t worn off. Indeed, reaching up, Abbigale could feel the furry ears atop her head. Not to mention the tail, tightly packed inside her dress, and desperate to get free. How long would these unnecessary additions last? How long until the potion had passed through her system? Abbigale knew she would not find lodging as a human until then.

Miserable and cold, she decided to sit against the wall of the tavern and pull her knees against her body. Huddled up for warmth, she was thankful for the full covering of her nightgown, and what little it did to preserve her body heat. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke, her ears were still furry, and her cat tail was still present. “This can’t be happening…” she whispered, even as the woman with the broom stepped out into the road. “Please,” Abbigale began, “you have to listen to me, I’m-”

“So you’re still here,” the woman muttered, before sighing. Tucking her still present broom beneath her elbow, she reached out and casually began to stroke Abbigale’s head, running her thumb across the base of the ear. “I really don’t think I have enough mice to support another cat. If you want, though - you can stay. So long as you earn your keep.”

Abbigale was barely listening. The pets, the stroking, felt so good; good enough to make the world feel hazy for a moment. It took effort for her to step back, and break the contact. “I… I am not a cat,” she stated, trying to enunciate each word as clearly as possible.

The woman only looked at her quizzically, though.

“Th-The witch…” Abbigale whispered to herself, desperately. “The witch will know  how long this will last. Or how to reverse it. Or… Assuming even she can understand me…” The witch lived at the outskirts of town, though. About a two mile walk. It would take time to reach her - and the potion might have worn off by then - but what else was Abbigale to do? Accept a job catching mice? 

“I… Thank you for your kindness,” she told the other woman. “Late as it came.” She bowed her head, ignoring the confused expression of a woman who likely heard everything as meows. Then she darted down the streets, toward where she knew the witch to live.

***

It was close to midday that a tired, cold, and hungry Abbigale finally found the witch’s hut. She had been sure she knew the general directions, but traveling in a carriage and traveling on foot were quite different, and it wasn’t as if she’d been able to ask for directions. No one could understand her, thanks to that witch’s dratted potion.

It was only after she had already knocked on the door that it occurred to her the witch might not recognize her, either. She was considering how best to lead the witch to a dirt patch, where she could etch words into the ground, when the door opened.

Only, the woman on the other side looked nothing like the bent old crone who’d sold Abbigale her potion. She had no warts, but instead a clear complexion. She was not old and wrinkled, at all, but instead looked to be in her late twenties, or perhaps even early thirties. She had delicate cheekbones, and a small little nose, not at all like the crooked features of the witch. She did not have grey hair, but rather lustrous brown locks that flowed down her waist. Most of all, where the witch had only scowled throughout Abbigale’s visit, this woman was wearing a soft and warm smile of welcome.

“Well isn’t this a rare sight. What can I do for you, kitten?”

“Kitten…?” Abbigale whispered, dejection seizing her soul. Not only was the witch not here, but the woman who had taken her place was falling for the effects of the potion as well.

“Well, what else would I call you with those pretty ears?” the woman asked, reaching out to gently scratch Abbigale behind the ear.

An unbidden wave of bliss shot over Abbigale, incomparable to the touch of the tavern keeper. It was like a warmth, radiating from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes, a comforting feeling that told her everything was going to be alright. In fact, everything was already fine. As long as the woman didn’t take her hand from that ear, everything would be okay.

Then the hand pulled back, and Abbigale blinked as the world went momentarily fuzzy. What had she been doing, just then..? No. There was a more important question on her mind.

“You can see me?” she asked, hardly daring to believe it. “The real me?”

“Cat ears and all,” the woman promised. “I did make the potion that did it, after all.” An ever so slight smile touched the woman’s ruby red lips as she spoke.

“Then this is how you really look? Why did you hide yourself? Or… no. Before that - if you did this, then surely you can reverse it?” Abbigale pleaded. “Please. I’ll do anything you want - I just… No one will talk to me. No one will look me in the eye. They seem to know that I’m there, and occupying space, but they just-”

“See you as a cat?” The witch raised an eyebrow. “That is the potion you asked for, yes? Though I did find it strange that you didn’t bother asking for an antidote…”

“An.. An antidote? Those are required?” Abbigale asked, incredulous. “Why did you not… No. Nevermind, it does not matter. How much will you charge for the antidote?” Abbigale demanded, mentally counting out the gold she had. Not even half of what she had paid for the potion, unfortunately. 

“First, let’s get you inside,” the woman declared, that same small smile on her face. “I just finished breakfast - and as luck would have it, I made a little extra porridge this morning. You are hungry, aren’t you?”

“Starving,” Abbigale admitted. “But… Surely you can at least tell me how much the antidote will cost? If you think it’s beyond my means - I will do whatever is necessary, work whatever job is necessary, if it means being seen as a human again.”

“There will be time for that soon,” the witch promised, turning to head inside. “But I never talk business on an empty stomach. Now come inside, little Kitten.”

“My name is Abbigale, not Kitten…” Abbigale murmured, reluctantly following the witch into her abode.

Abbigale remembered the place as being quite dirty, but there was no trace of that now. In fact, the interior of the hut was all but immaculate. 

“My name is Amber, by the way. Not witch. In case you were wondering.”

Abbigale’s face flushed bright red, and her attention snapped back to the witch - to Amber.

“How did you know what I was calling you in my head?”

“I am a witch…” Amber pointed out, one corner of her lips inching upward into a smirk. “And more importantly, I’ve been around longer than you have and know a thing or two about how people work. Now - there’s a chair by the fire. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you a bowl?”

Abbigale’s stomach rumbled, as if reminding her that she had not yet eaten.

“I… If I must join you for breakfast, I suppose…” Abbigale conceded, moving to the chair by the fire. It was a rocking chair, carved of wood and free of decoration. After a moment’s hesitation, she settled down into the chair, and turned her attention to the fire. Or, more accurately, she turned her attention to the pot that was being held above the lames.

“It smells delicious..” Abbigale admitted, her stomach rumbling again.

“It’s only basic porridge, I’m afraid. Nothing like what you’re used to, Kitten. But it’ll do.” Amber had grabbed two bowls, while Abbigale was settling herself in. “Take this, and hold it out gently for me. Put your hands toward the bottom, in case any spills,” the woman instructed, handing over the bowl. A wooden spoon was already leaning against the side.

Abbigale did as instructed, and was rewarded with a steaming hot bowl of porridge. Carefully taking the spoon, she shook off what porridge had ended up on the length of it, and then lifted a mouthful to her lips.

“Careful,” Amber warned. “This is quite hot - you should blow on it, first.”

“Blow on it?” Abbigale asked, confusion obvious on her features. The food at the manor was never too hot, or too cold. Everything was served at precisely the right temperature for eating, or else her father would throw a fit.

“It’s fresh from the fire, Kitten. And fire is hot, if you didn’t know.”

“I know that much…” Abbigale muttered, cheeks flushing. “I just never would have thought to blow on something to cool it down…” Still, she did what was asked, carefully blowing on the porridge before bringing the spoon to her mouth.

It was sweet, like honey, and Abbigale’s eyes opened wide with delight. She had to restrain herself from shoving another bite past her lips, taking time to blow on it instead. This was followed by another bite, and then another, until at last she had scraped every last morsel of porridge from the bowl.

“Quite hungry, weren’t you Kitten?”

“I’m not a kitten,” Abbigale insisted. “My feline features are a temporary condition - one I rather hoped we could take care of quickly.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Amber asked, tilting her head slightly to the right. “You make a surprisingly adorable cat - especially when you pout like that.”

“I am not pouting!” Abbigale protested, puffing her cheeks out in frustration. “I am not a cat, either! I want to be seen as a human, again. Immediately.”

“Oh, but being a kitten is so much nicer, I think…” Amber smiled as she spoke. “Kittens get spoiled rotten. They get to be fed, and pet, and are given all the affectionate love they can bear. You look like you could use all of the above.”

“I… I’m not a cat. I’m a human, and I would like to be treated as such,” Abbigale insisted, cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

“...Very well,” the witch murmured, moving to place her bowl upon a counter. Next to that counter were shelves, which were in turn filled with innumerable bottles and vials of all sizes and shapes. The witch took several of these - one with orange flames flickering inside it, one with a purple haze trapped in its crystalline confines, and a squat bottle that looked as if it contained an actual cloud. She poured something from each of these into an empty vial, before corking that bottle and shaking it vigorously. Then she turned back to Abbigale, and calmly offered her the vial of liquid.

“This will turn me back to normal?” Abbigale asked, rising from her chair. “It’s the antidote?”

“Not quite.” The witch’s lips pulled upwards at the corners, forming a tiny little smile. “It’s a test. A free one, at that.”

“And why would I want a test?” Abbigale asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Because the test is to see whether you truly wish to be human. All you need to do, after taking this, is go a single hour without orgasm. If you can do that, it’ll cancel out the effects of your earlier potion, and all will be well.”

“O-Orgasm?” Abbigale asked, her cheek’s now so warm she thought they might catch fire. “I - I’ve never… I wouldn’t… That will be an easy test…”

“Then you hardly have anything to worry about,” Amber assured her, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

“...What happens if I fail?” Abbigale asked, staring at the potion in her hands.

“Then you’ll be stuck like this forever. Viewed as nothing more than an orange tabby, by anyone who happens to see you.”

Abbigale hesitated. Despite the risk, it seemed too easy to succeed. All she had to do was avoid something she’d spent all her life without. How could that truly be a test? And when her eyes flicked to the witch’s, there was still a small smile on her lips, and an amused look in her eyes.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Abbigale demanded, voice pitched low and angry. “If you’re testing me, I think-”

“It’ll send you into heat.” The words were spoken plainly, but Abbigale found herself staring at Amber as if the witch had grown a second head.

“H-Heat? Like an animal?”

Amber shrugged, in response. “You are part cat, at the moment. So it does make sense.”

“Th-Then… If I take this…?”

“It’s not as if it’ll force you into sex,” the witch promised, lips now pulling into a smirk. “It’ll simply be a battle: between your most primal, animalistic urges, and your desire to be human. A fitting battle to decide your future, I think.”

“I think I’d rather just pay you for the antidote… But I’m guessing that’s off the table?”

Amber only smiled in response.

Abbigale ran her free hand nervously through her red hair. It wasn’t as if she had a choice. If she wanted to be back to normal, then this was the only way forward. And surely it wouldn’t be that hard to resist? She was a human, after all. Not a beast. She could surely show some restraint.

Abbigale popped the cork off with her thumb, and downed the contents of the vial. The taste was sweet, with a touch of spice. It didn’t burn like the last potion did, but instead felt soothingly warm as it slid down her throat, like a hot beverage on a cold day. She could feel the warmth spreading through her entire being, in fact, a hazy warmth that made her want to curl up and nap.

“This isn’t so bad,” Abbigale murmured to herself, delighted that the challenge wouldn’t be hard. “When you said heat, I thought-”

Abbigale’s words dropped off, as sudden heat shot through her core. She was suddenly, desperately, aware of her nipples pressing against the inside of her corset. Aware of her pussy, covered only by the silk of her nightgown. Aware of herself, as a sexual being, for the first time in her life.

It was hot. It was so hot, it was hard to think. Her only solace was that there were no men about to take advantage of her in this state, or she would surely lose it. The mere idea of someone to unleash this heat upon made her want to whimper in need.

Still. There were no men. No one she could share this with. As long as it was just her, Abbigale was sure she could hold on. In fact, she was sure she had all but won. So sure that she turned to Amber, intending to gloat.

The moment her eyes landed on the witch, a small sound of need escaped her throat. How had she not noticed before, how pretty Amber was? How the woman’s dress, as green as her eyes, clung to her body in order to show off the natural curve of her waist? How the cleavage of that dress showed off the witch’s creamy white skin?

“Is something the matter?” Amber asked, voice soft as the silk that made up Abbigale’s dress, and sweet as the honey that had flavored her porridge.

“You… You’re doing something to me…” Abbigale accused, face once more a bright red. “You’re making me want… You’re doing something to me!”

“I’m not doing anything, Kitten,” the witch promised. “Though I never did say I’d make this easy on you. Tell me - is it just me, or is it quite hot in here?”

“H-Hot…” Abbigale agreed, barely able to get out the word. Her gaze shifted to the fire. “W-We should put out the flames…”

“But then it will be too cold,” Amber protested, pouting now. “How about another idea, instead? Why don’t you simply take off your clothes.Then you’ll be the perfect temperature.”

Images flashed through Abbigale’s head. Immoral images of entangled flesh and lips on nipples, lightly sucking. The witch, touching her, stroking her most sensitive spots, that no one had ever been allowed to touch - that even Abbigale had been discouraged from exploring - and Abbigale returning the favor. Sealing her lips on pink nipples, stroking another woman’s sensitive slit.

“Y-You are doing something to me,” Abbigale repeated, desperately. “Y-you’re putting wanton thoughts into my head.”

“And what kind of thoughts am I supposedly putting in your head?” Amber asked, her lips now pulled into the widest grin Abbigale had seen from her, so far. “If you’re thinking about the neighboring boy, down the road - he’s eighteen. I can get you something to temporarily make you look human to him, until things are done at least. Just take off your clothes, drink a quick potion, and go to him.”

“S-Stop playing dumb!” Abbigale cried, desperate to block out the intrusive thoughts filling her head. Bending her lips to another woman’s sex, licking out with her tongue, worshipping the beauty of another’s slit. “You… You’re making me think of women, aren’t you? Aren’t you!?”

“...Now that’s unexpected, Kitten.” Amber tilted her head slightly to one side. “Tell me. Whyever did you want that potion you bought?”

“T-To get away from my father’s planned marriage,” Abbigale explained, squeezing her eyes shut. As if squeezing her eyes could block out mental images.

“And why did you not want to marry him?” Amber inquired.

“B-Because… I didn’t… I wasn’t attracted to him.”

“And have you ever been attracted to someone?” Amber asked.

“N-Not like that…”

“No one?” Amber pressed “Not a single person? Perhaps… A woman?”

“I mean. I’ve noticed women, of course - how pretty the maids look in their uniforms, and the pleasant shape of breasts beneath clothes - but that hardly counts…”

“Oh, it very much counts, dear Kitten,” Amber chuckled. “Though I never would have seen it coming. To think - you’re attracted to women… That does make things a great deal more interesting. And easy.”

“Easy?” Abbigale asked, opening one eye to peek at Amber. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m undressing of course. Isn’t it obvious?” Amber was, indeed, undressing. 

In fact, she had her dress half off already, the hem lifted enough to show off black panties and a flat expanse of stomach. The breastband would be exposed next, and Abbigale could practically feel her clit throbbing with need. 

“I… You’re doing this to me,” Abbigale insisted, voice pitched high, halfway to hysteria. “You’re making me want to do things with women.”

“I’m making you want to do things,” Amber admitted, pulling the dress up over her head. The breastband was as black as as the panties, and Abbigale’s mouth was suddenly quite dry. 

“Then you admit it?” Abbigale asked, seizing at the words.

“I’m making you want to do things,” Amber repeated. “But even I never expected you’d want to do those things to women. I’m afraid that part is all on you…”

“N-No…” Abbigale protested, weakly. It was true that she had never felt an attraction to men, before. But women? She was into women? Was that even something people did?

“It’s more common then you’d think,” Amber assured her. “In fact, I’m quite fond of women myself. Enough so that this gives me ideas on your future…”

“Ideas?” Abbigale asked, confused. She didn’t understand. No wonder, though, considering she could hardly think straight. The potion was still filling her mind with images, and that plus the warmth was making it oh so hard to think.

“Ideas for your future,” Amber clarified. “For after you’ve failed this test.”

“I’m not going to fail,” Abbigale protested, voice a whisper. “I’m not…”

“No?” Amber lifted an eyebrow, before casually reaching behind her and undoing the clasp on her breast band, and letting the material drop to the floor.

Two magnificent breasts filled Abbigale’s view. Soft, round, and more than big enough to fill a girl’s palms. An image came to mind, suddenly, of Abbigale kissing the breasts. Licking a nipple. Sucking on it. She stepped forward, before she could stop herself.

“N-No…” she whispered. “W-Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making it harder than it needs to be?”

“At first? Because I thought you were a spoiled rich girl. One who barged into my shop and demanded a potion to fix all her problems. I wanted to teach you a lesson. But… Now? I’m starting to think there’s more to you than meets the eye. And I’d like to keep you around, to learn more.”

“Y-You can do that without turning me into a permanent house cat!” Abbigale protested.

“I could… But the idea of making you my spoiled kitten is far more fun. Don’t worry - I’ll hold you, and pet you, and feed you every day. You won’t want for anything. As long as you agree to be mine.” Amber walked forward as she spoke, hips swaying gently, breasts filling more and more of Abbigale’s view.

Surely it wouldn’t matter if she kissed one? Sucked on it, a little? It was all the potion’s fault she was feeling this way, surely, no matter what Amber said… but would there by harm in indulging, just a little bit? It wasn’t as if kissing another woman’s breasts would cause her to orgasm.

“Go on,” Amber encouraged, amusement obvious in her eyes. “I know you want to.”

“M-Maybe… Just a kiss?” Again, her voice came out as a barely audible whisper, as if she was scared of anyone hearing what she had to say. “It wouldn’t hurt… Just a little…”

Abbigale’s hands were already moving forward, with or without her verbal permission. Gently, as if she was holding a creation of spun glass, she placed her hands on the breast. Slowly, as if she was scared it might burn her with its heat, she lowered her lips to the nipple.

The breast was soft in her mouth. The nipple was hard against her tongue. She wasn’t sure what to do with either, and her eyes flicked open to Amber, begging for instruction.

“Grip tighter,” Amber told her. “And kiss it passionately. You can suck and nibble, too, if you think you’re up to it. Though those moves might be a bit advanced for you…”

Abbigale nipped the nipple, in response. She meant to do it hard, to show her displeasure, but instead she found herself only barely grazing the flesh, before sucking hard on the teat. Her tongue then darted out, rolling the stiff nipple about Another nip earned Abbigale her first reward: A soft moan from Amber.

“More…” Amber whispered, voice throaty and full of need.

“More,” Abbigale agreed, whispering against the nipple. Squeezing the tit, she kissed and sucked at the nipple, before pulling her mouth out and just peppering both the woman’s breasts with kisses.

“You’re surprisingly good. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Amber asked.

“A-As if I would ever do this without a potion making me,” Abbigale muttered in response. She was sure she was blushing, yet again, but by now she was used to it. “I’m… I’m sure this being into women thing is going to wear off, when the hour’s up…”

“Then why not take advantage of it while it lasts?” Amber asked, eyes sparkling now. “I have a bed. You could lie on it. I could teach you things - things I’ve learned, as a woman loving women.”

“...I don’t want to be a cat forever,” Abbigale muttered, looking down at the floor. “Teach me on your body? Perhaps if you stripped your underwear, I could do something with… With your most precious spot?”

“My most precious spot?” Amber asked, before chuckling. “You are innocent, aren’t you? Very well. If I promise not to make you orgasm, without your permission - will you come to bed with me?”

“How can I trust anything you say?” Abbigale asked. The thought of Amber touching her flashed through her mind, though. Fingers touching her slit. Lips on her breast. The image of Amber, kneeling between Abbigale’s thighs and smiling down at her… The mere thought was enough to make Abbigale tremble with need, and want.

Still.

“Y-You’re just trying to trick me…” she declared, softly.

“No tricks,” Amber promised. “On my honor as a witch - I will not make you cum without your permission.”

“I…” Abbigale hesitated, carnal desire warring with caution in her mind.

The desire won. She bowed her head. “Please… Be gentle with me?”

“I can only promise you’ll enjoy the results, Kitten,” Amber said, looking Abbigale right in the eyes. “Now, if you’ll follow me?”

Amber took Abbigale’s hand, and Abbigale followed close behind the other woman. Their destination was close, right behind a closed door. A bedroom, largely filled with an oversized bed. What space remained was occupied by a full length mirror, on the wall, and the nightstand.

To Abbigale’s surprise, it was the mirror that Amber took her too first. “The bed…?”

“We need to get you undressed, first,” Amber pointed out. “Now. If you’ll put your hands up?”

Abbigale hesitated, for a moment. Doing this made her feel like a lamb going to the slaughter, but she did have the witch’s word. That, and the images that kept flashing in her mind, of kisses both gentle and… less so.

Abbigale lifted her arms. The dress was pulled over her head. Her tail sprung free, immediately, before curling self consciously about her own leg. It was only when she saw herself in the mirror that she remembered what had happened to her panties: her red bush was on full display, the closest thing she had to covering for her exposed pussy.

“My my…” Amber whispered, smiling wide. “I’m almost tempted to leave you like this… but I imagine that corset’s quite uncomfortable, no? Let’s get it off.”

Saying so, Amber slipped behind Abbigale, and began to undo the tight laces. Soon, she had the corset off.

It was such a relief, being able to breathe again, that Abbigale took several lungfuls just for the joy of it. She noted, too, how each breath caused her breast to rise and fall in the mirror. Her perky nipples on display, for anyone to see, added quite a bit to the effect.

“You’re beautiful, you know…” Amber reached around Abbigale as she said that, and gently took a nipple between her forefinger and thumb. Delicately, she began to pinch and roll the already hardened flesh, before gently rubbing at it with her thumb.

“I’m… Beautiful…” Abbigale agreed, hardly aware of the words she was speaking through a haze of pleasure.

“Beautiful, lovely, and mine. Or you will be soon enough, at least…”

Abbigale wanted to protest, wanted to complain that she belonged to no one, but the fingers on her nipples and the warmth in her body conspired to steal such words away. It was all she could do just to make a little noise of frustration, and even then she thought it might really be a sound of need.

In response to that sound, Amber quietly reached up to start stroking Abbigale’s ears, rubbing her thumb against the base and petting the woman’s hair.

A small sound escaped Abbigale’s lips, in response, a rumbling noise that started in her belly and worked its way up her throat. She was distantly aware it was a purr. It would have been embarrassing, if she was capable of conscious thought.

“I can make you agree to anything right now, can’t I?” Amber mused out loud. “...But I won’t. I’m a woman of my word, after all.” Saying so, she removed her hand from atop Abbigale’s head.

Disorientation washed over Abbigale, making it difficult to keep upright. She was guided to the bed, and laid down upon her back. It was a relief, honestly, getting off her feet.

A hard pinch to Abbigale’s nipple caused her to gasp, and sit bolt upright, before falling back into the bed.

“What was I…?” Abbigale murmured, trying to remember how she’d ended up in the bed. “I was at the mirror, and then…?”

“A little too much pleasure,” Amber admitted. “But I want you to be conscious for this. I can’t make you orgasm without your active permission, after all.”

“I’ll never give it, though,” Abbigale protested, voice faint. Truthfully, she was starting to be curious what orgasming would be like. Could it possibly be better than everything she’d experienced so far? The mere thought was ludicrous - it would surely break her, if it was - yet the concept was tantalizing, all the same.

“We’ll see,” was Amber’s only response.

Amber was kneeling between Abbigale’s thighs. Bending down, to place her lips against Abbigale’s inner thigh. Kissing up the length. It felt pleasant, and warm, enough so that Abbigale found herself squirming. Though not only from pleasure.

“Are you really going to kiss me… There?” Abbigale asked, unsure if she was more excited or afraid. “I mean. I’m not even allowed to really touch… that… spot…”

“In that case, I highly recommend you enjoy the experience. Even if you don’t cum.” Saying this, Amber placed a delicate kiss upon the woman’s slit, before letting her tongue dart out to touch the core.

Abbigale was wet. She hadn’t realized it, before, but there was a definite warmth and wetness between her legs. Far from minding it, however, Amber began to lap that wetness up, licking and teasing with her tongue, then sucking at the slit.

The fingers on one hand curled about Abbigale’s pubes, giving a little tug that caused Abbigale to squeak in surprise. Then the thumb did something, teasing a little button out into the open, and gently touching it.

That alone made Abbigale’s entire body clench with need. That, plus the kisses and strokes of Amber’s tongue was filling her fit to burst with pleasure and need.

Then Amber’s free hand traveled up Abbigale’s flat stomach, palming Abbigale’s large breast, and the finger began to rub against Abbigale’s nipple.

“I… I’m…” Abbigale started, only to cry out at a harsh pinch to her nipple.

“Not yet,” Amber insisted. “Not until you tell me you want it.”

“I… I never…” Abbigale started, then stopped, biting her lip as the tongue began to play against her sex again. “Please…”

“Please what?” Amber asked, eyes sparkling as she looked up from Abbigale’s sex.

“I… I don’t know. I can’t… I won’t… I ran away from my father because I didn’t want to be controlled. Not by my father, not by my would-be husband, not by any man…”

“I’m not a man,” Amber pointed out.

“...And if I give into that logic?” Abbigale asked, voice faint with need.

“Then you’ll be my Kitten. Spoiled, loved, and given affection forever.”

“And if you tire of me?” Abbigale demanded.

“I won’t.”

“But if you do?” Abbigale insisted.

“Then I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” Amber promised. “You have my word as a witch.”

“...Then do it…” Abbigale whispered, hardly able to believe the words slipping from her lips. “Make me yours. Spoil me, love me, give me all the affection I desire. Feed me, hold me, and love me. Forever.”

“I swear, Abbigale…” the witch whispered, lowering her mouth to start kissing the slit, again. Her tongue slid inside, even as her thumb played with the clit, and her other hand teased the nipple.

Abbigale could feel the pleasure washing over her, a pressure of warmth and need building to a crescendo. Soon. She would cum soon.

There was something she was supposed to say, first, though. Something she wanted to say…What was it? It was so hard to think.

“Don’t… Don’t call me Abbigale,” she managed, at last. “My name… I’m… I’m your… Kitten!” She screamed the last word, as she came.