The House of Carabas

By Jaap Boekestein

“Can I finally take off these boots, young Sir?” Impatiently, Pusselinne whipped her tail through the air while she looked down on the naked Enriquez von Brasseburg who kneeled before her on the floor.

His hands caressed the riding boots, all the way up to her thighs.

Pusselinne shivered. The bedroom of the inn was cold and drafty. She hoped Enriquez would get on with it. Of course she had her own lovely soft fur, but nothing between her throat and underbelly.

Yes, she had hair down there. She was a servant hominal. Not a harlot or such.

Which never stopped the old baron from... Ah, now that was a man. Nothing like his youngest son.

The same youngest son was still busy on his knees. Slowly Enriquez kissed the well-worn leather and Pusselinne suppressed the urge to knock him on the head and go to bed. The thick blankets looked ever so inviting, even if they weren’t particularly clean. To judge by the smell, at least four other guests had used the bed since the linen was last washed.

“Yes, yes. In a minute,” the black haired young man whispered, his mouth hung open and he had a dreamy look in his eyes. His handsome face was covered with little pearls of sweat. “But first, my sweet cat-Goddess, grant me your mercy.”

Pusselinne put her soft, furry fingers on his shoulders and looked at his back with some doubts. Most of the scratches hadn’t healed yet and some had started to bleed the last few hours in the stage coach.

“Young Sir, are you sure?”

“Do it!” Enriquez demanded, begged, almost cried out.

With a silent sigh, and yes, deep down with sudden excitement, Pusselinne obeyed.

Ten claws sprung from her fingers.

***

“You can stay with marquise De Carabas for all I care,” the innkeeper shouted above the heavy rainstorm. “You are banned from this establishment with that kind of creature!”

The big man closed the heavy oak front door with a bang.

With all the dignity he could muster, Enriquez picked up his hat and bag from the dirt and turned to Pusselinne.

“You are responsible for this! If you hadn’t woken the guests with your cries...”

“My cries, young Sir?” Pusselinne hissed. She was tired, cold and wet, had lice in her fur and wore an uncomfortable page outfit – oh, all those lovely dresses she used to wear!

The last five days in the care of Enriquez hadn’t gone well. Why in Von Faustes’ name had the youngest son of the deceased animancer chosen her as his part of the inheritance? Not that there had been much to choose from. The eldest son got the house and grounds, the second son the big growing bottles and kennels, which left Enriquez - after the lawyers paid off his gambling debts, as stipulated in his father’s will - only with Pusselinne, and the stringent advice to find his fortune somewhere else. His brothers didn’t plan on supporting his many vices.

As usual Enriquez did not listen to Pusselinne. “Where do we go now? I am getting wet!” he complained.

This time, Pusselinne managed to suppress a hiss. To find somewhere to stay for the both of them would be a challenge in this backward town. Most citizens considered her a demon breed, conceived and grown in a bottle without a soul. The folk around here would sooner throw a Turk a birthday party than to let her stay. Persuaded by coin, the innkeeper had put them discretely in his remotest room for the night, but after waking the other guests he had showed no mercy.

Nasty little man!

“Still, what were his words again?” thought Pusselinne out loud. “Marquise De Carabas? Hmm, back in the coach someone also mentioned that name. He apparently is a rich noble who owns most of the valley. Since the death of his wife, he seems to live secluded in his castle, served by a whole army of hominaux. So, that was what the innkeeper meant!”

Enriquez made a gesture that expressed relief. “Ha! So the scoundrel has unwillingly given us some good advice. By the sound of it, the marquise De Carabas is a gentleman who won’t refuse a weary traveler to stay for a night. Especially not the son of a baron and a fellow animancer.”

Pusselinne didn’t share her master’s optimism, but kept quiet. What choice did they really have?

***

The broad road to the mansion of the marquise was easy to find. It meandered up to the top of the hill and was lit by ether lanterns. The new-fangled illumination fed Enriquez’s optimism.

“Such a modern gentleman will be far above the narrow-minded views one finds in these parts. Civilized company and hospitality are assured!”

“Hmpf,” replied Pusselinne, but Enriquez didn’t hear her.

Without being challenged, they reached the castle. No doubt, once upon a time, robber knights had controlled the surrounding valleys from a castle on top of the hill, but that was centuries ago. The old castle had been demolished and replaced with a grand mansion with a beautiful view of the surrounding lands. Even in this late hour, inviting lights were visible from the large windows.

Enthusiastically, Enriquez rang the bell.

“Open the door! Here stands a gentleman in need of aid!”

Pusselinne stayed back a few passes, her features hidden under the hood of her cloak. Modesty was expected from hominaux and in public she was willing to live by that rule.

Despite the late hour, someone answered the door pretty quickly. The straight, imposing hulk was a hominal. A lion’s mane rolled majestically over his broad shoulders; his face expressed benevolent wisdom. Yellow eyes, silk nose, strong jaw. His silk livery was meticulously clean and without any wrinkles at all.

Pusselinne smelled him and turned week in the knees. It wasn’t the cold or the hunger. The smell of raw strength filled her nose. Warm, hot, dominant.

The servant must have smelled her too, but he ignored her and looked at Enriquez.

“Sir?”

Even his voice was majestic. Resonant as a bronze church bell.

“Enriquez von Brasseburg. Travelling animancer. I would like to speak with your master.”

“The master doesn’t receive any visitors,” replied the lion-servant. He started to close the door.

“Wait! Wait! I am not just anyone! I am the grandson of Heinrich von Brasseburg, the first pupil of the great Herr von Faustes himself! My grandfather was there when Hippolo, the famous first animal-man, crawled out of the growing bottle! Who perfected the aqua vitae for the great Von Faustes? Right! My grandfather! He was the confidant and right hand of the master. Without him you would not even exist, lion-man. Tell your master all this. I am certain he won’t refuse me.”

Enriquez could be very eloquent, if he really wanted something.

“Von Faustes, Von Brasseburg,” said the lion-hominal – Pusselinne felt his voice in her belly and lower still, “these are big names. Creators gone now; deceased.”

“Their knowledge lives on in me,” boasted Enriquez. “I am not a common animancer who makes boring, standard hominaux, copying from a template he doesn’t even understand or can improve. The world is full of dog-soldiers, mole-miners and bull-laborers. No, I can create new forms! I am an artist, not a mere artisan.”

The lion-hominal had made a decision. He stepped back. “Please come in, Sir. I will ask if the marquise can receive you.”

Hastily Enriquez entered the mansion. Pusselinne followed no less quickly.

She could not help herself and for a moment, let her tail stroke the gigantic claw-hand of the lion-man.

“Pusselinne,” she purred softly, like only she could.

He retracted his hand deliberately slow.

“Armanos,” he growled ever so softly.

Owww. Pusselinne was warm before the door closed.

***

Pusselinne had never smelled so many hominaux in one spot. At home the old baron had only kept her around, the hominaux he grew, like his father did, were special products, expensive and exclusive, and they never stayed long. Originally, Pusselinne had been ordered by some French noble, but he was committed by his mother-in-law to an insane asylum before he could pay, so baron von Brasseburg kept her around for the time being. He grew quite fond of her, as did his son Enriquez.

Armanos’ personal scent was still strong, but beyond that she could smell a rich tapestry of odors. Dog, horse, bird, sheep, bear and much, much more. Excited, Pusselinne’s tail whipped back and forth.

The extravagance of smells was completely lost on Enriquez. He was sitting near the hearth with a glass of wine in his hand and a smile on his face. The remains of a copious meal and several empty plates rested on a low table. A huge, soft bed – clean, told Pusselinne’s nose – waited.

“Life is good!” Enriquez exclaimed. “A place to sleep, my belly full of good food, wine to drink.” He burped and giggled. The second bottle of wine had definitely gone to his head. Or maybe the third which he was finishing now.

“Strange the marquise didn’t receive us. One would expect one wants to know who is sleeping under one’s roof,” Pusselinne commented.

“One, one, one’s,” sang Enriquez as he waved with his hands, spilling his wine. “No doubt we will meet the gentleman tomorrow. It was already late, maybe he was tired.”

“Yes, maybe.”

Pusselinne rose and walked to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Hominal things, Sir. I want to be deloused before I get in bed.”

“Hm, yes, yes. Excellent idea! Get those crawly little bugs killed and return to me.”

“I will, Sir.” In good time, when you are asleep.

***

Although she was as silent as her animal forebear – she had gotten out of those ridiculous riding boots and now felt the Persian rugs and marble floors under her bare feet – Pusselinne had only walked down one passage before she was intercepted by Armanos.

Prrr!

In the dark, he seemed even bigger.

My what big... everything you have.

“Everything to your satisfaction?” he inquired.

“Everything... Uh, yes. Master Enriquez is quite pleased with his quarters, and the meal, and the wine. You won’t get another peep out of him, tonight.”

He looked at her, with those big, yellow lion’s eyes.

Suddenly Pusselinne felt like he knew everything about her. Every secret, every thought.

Not that he needed to dig deep. Her tail was upright, her hair bristled, her claws were half unsheathed. Baron von Brasseburg had always laughed when she was like that: “You are the most honest creature I know, sweet Pusselinne.”

She couldn’t help it, it was in her nature.

“Everything to satisfaction with you?” Armanos inquired. He bared his teeth, just a little.

Wuuuuuhhhh.

“Well... eh, I maybe could use some help.”

“With what?” Was he growling or purring?

The human part of her made her blush, which was only visible on her bare throat.

“I am usually very clean, but... with all the travelling and those inns... I think I have attracted lice. I need someone to inspect and de-lice me. If... If you have some powder and maybe one of the servant girls who can lend a hand?”

She looked at him. Actually she wanted very different things right now, but hey, she wasn’t an animal! She could control her urges, if she wanted to. And right now she really wanted to get rid of those little bugs crawling through her fur.

His face was unreadable.

“No, I don’t have a girl who is adequate. The female hominaux are all avian-type. Chickens, geese, those kind of lineages. All feathers. They just don’t seem to get the hang of fur.”

“Ah. Oh, I see.”

“But I can groom you, if you want me to.”

Her tail quivered silently. “Can I trust you, Sir?” She smiled, teeth and all. “Not to take advantage of the situation?”

“Certainly. I am Armanos. You can trust me, mademoiselle Pusselinne.”

Ha! We will see about who will take advantage of whom.

***

Hmmmm, go on.

His hands softly searched the fur on her back, although Pusselinne was pretty sure he had killed the last of the lice quite a while ago. She wriggled a bit with her behind and let her tail – completely by accident! Sure... – swipe over his face.

He growled, softly, from the back of his throat. So far Armanos had restrained himself, but Pusselinne was not sure how long he could hold out. She definitely had teased him mercilessly. Her terrible page outfit and dirty undies were soaking in a bucket with water and soap. She lay naked on his bed, on her belly – for easier access, surely - with Armanos sitting beside her.

“I will have a few dresses when we are finished. It wouldn’t do to have you walk around naked.”

No? Pusselinne could quite well imagine the two of them... walking around naked. And doing a few other things.

“Indeed, that would be inappropriate. We are not animals,” she remarked. Her tail was entwining his. At the base of his tail she exercised a little force. “Are we?”

Oh! That had exactly the effect she was hoping for. His claws grew quite a bit, his breathing got heavier.

Come and get me, Big Hunter.

He didn’t. Oh, he had such control over himself.

All the more he will be an animal when he lets go.

“No,” Armanos growled, but did he answer or refuse her? Maybe he wasn’t sure himself.

“Although part of us is. And always will be,” purred Pusselinne. Smiling, she bared all her sharp teeth.

Quick as lightning she turned around and bit his wrist, thin sharp teeth sinking deep into the massive muscles.

She flung through the room, but landed with her lightning quick hominal reflexes on all fours.

Armanos jumped her, all claws and teeth; all animal.

She shrieked with delight.

His clothes were no match for her claws. Fur and muscles and more were revealed.

The first round was all animal, he biting her neck, forcing her down on the bed, entering from behind. She hissing, wrestling, kicking, enjoying every wild moment.

Yesyesyesyesyessss!

Humans were fine, but they just couldn’t match the brute force, the wild exhilarating feel of teeth and claws.

The second time, he took his time, did all human things that excited her. The points of his claws ran ever so lightly over her face, her throat, her breasts and nipples, belly and down there.

Pusselinne groaned, begged without words. She felt his tongue and lips and teeth all over her body. It was like she was on fire.

Bastard! Bastard! Owww, go on!

He did go on. Teasing, without mercy, giving pleasure every moment that lasted an eternity. He made her pay for letting him lose control. He showed her how cruel he could be, how human.

The lamps were smoking and flickering by the time they were finished. Pusselinne rested in his big arms, panting, her tongue out.

“Hmpf!” was all she could manage.

He growled. It was a deep, satisfied sound.

After a while she said: “I wish tomorrow doesn’t come. I wish I would never have to leave.”

Armanos was quiet for a while, like he was considering something. Finally he spoke: “Maybe that is possible. Is your master really the animancer he claims to be? The marquise has growing bottles and all the other equipment, but he lacks the creative talent. He tried, but every creature was still born. Maybe the marquise is willing to employ your master.”

Pusselinne laid in his big arms, listening to his words and heartbeat. Both were lovely, promising so much.

If only reality was so easy to bend! She felt a pang of sadness, but she wouldn’t lie.

“Enriquez has the talent of his grandfather, and his father taught him well. I have seen him create beautiful hominaux and he could be one of the greatest animancers, if it wasn’t for his weak character. He drinks, he gambles, his sexual tastes are bizarre and perverse. Well, for humans, I guess. Keep his vices under control and he will create exquisite hominaux. That’s all I can say.”

“I will ask the marquise,” Armanos said. “Maybe there is a way. I...” His breath stopped because Pusselinne’s tail was around his once more, and around something else.

Revenge time, Pusselinne thought, you are not the only one who can tease.

When Pusselinne returned to Enriquez’s bedroom, she found her young master sound asleep.

She didn’t wake him.

***

“It can be done,” said Enriquez after inspecting the laboratory. There were workbenches, big growing bottles, valves and tubes and a thousand and one other things. “Everything is here. But I want to discuss my fee with the marquise. I am an artist, I am the grandson of Heinrich von Brasseburg. I don’t work, I create.”

“I am sorry to say, the marquise is indisposed for the moment. His spell of fatigue continues, I am afraid. But I am fully authorized to communicate your requirements to the marquise,” Armanos said. He was as formal and regal as yesterday at the door.

Pusselinne, now in one of the dresses Armanos had lent her, a lovely silk and velvet piece with an embroidered bodice and lots of ribbons, was just as formal, although she could not help that her tail quivered every now and then. She would love to lock up babbling Enriquez in the dusty laboratory and ravish Armanos on the spot – or be ravished by him, that would work just as well. Sadly, with her human master around, such things were impossible.

“Where is marquise De Carabas?” Pusselinne wanted to know.

Armanos looked at her, his big yellow eyes unreadable. He nodded in the direction of a part of the mansion. “The marquise lives in the east wing, which is behind the blue door. For the health of my master it is forbidden to enter that part of the palace.”

Enriquez waved impatiently with his hand. “We won’t disturb the gentleman’s rest. A man’s private quarters are his private quarters. Now for my requirements. First I need...”

Pusselinne looked at the wing that Armanos had indicated. The east wing was built on the steepest part of the hill, the rocky side going down all the way to the valley. Between the green ivy leaves several windows were visible.

So that is where the mysterious marquise De Carabas lives?

***

That night Pusselinne arranged a distraction for Enriquez: half a dozen bottles of wine, a huge hot bath and three servant hominaux to scrub his back, and such. The three swan-sisters were very pretty, with fluffy down covering their faces and arms, and probably other places of their body. Their beaks would definitely be something new for Enriquez, and knowing his taste, he most likely would enjoy the experience.

Pusselinne went to Armanos, a smile on her face and casting her eyes downwards in completely false modesty. “My Lord.”

Armanos growled. “No ‘Lord’, we are equals, mademoiselle Pusselinne. Please come in.”

She entered his room and turned around while he closed the door.

“I am sent here by my master to inquire after the answer of the marquise. Does he meet the demands of my master?” Can we stay, or must we leave?

“I have talked to the marquise, and he said yes. As long as Enriquez von Brasseburg creates new hominaux, he is welcome to stay and he will get paid.”

Pusselinne looked at Armanos. “I am glad to hear that. Very glad.”

“So am I.”

He watched her, all control, but underneath there was a hunger. He wanted her, oh how much he wanted her!

She had seen cats – animals – play with mice, and she felt exactly the same way. Although Armanos certainly was not a mouse. Far from it! But still she was playing with him.

A few ribbons.

The dress fell down. She wore nothing else.

Pusselinne nodded. “Aren’t we equals here?”

He understood. Armanos took off his clothes. His vest, his shirt, his shoes and stockings, his pants and finally his undies.

Prrr. Muscles and fur, shining in the lamplight.

“You trust me?” Pusselinne asked.

“Yes.” There was not a moment of hesitation.

“Sit on the bed, and enjoy.”

He sat down, a little bit puzzled, but excited.

She walked up to him, got down on her knees and took his manhood in her hands. Pusselinne looked up, grinning, all her needle sharp teeth bare. She licked her lips.

He suddenly understood what she was going to do.

Yes? she asked with a look.

Yes... he replied with his eyes.

She could detect a little bit of nervousness in his eyes. She grinned some more and closed her mouth around his flesh.

***

That evening, they fucked and fucked and fucked some more.

Late at night, far beyond the clocks stroke twelve, Pusselinne slipped out of Armanos’ bed.

The giant lion-man was deep asleep, exhausted, satisfied to the bone. He snored. His whiskers moved up and down in a hypnotizing rhythm.

Borrowing his shirt – what sweet scent! – Pusselinne left the room quiet as a shadow. In the dark she found her way through the deserted passages of the palace.

The door to the east wing was big, blue and locked.

Pusselinne suppressed a hiss. No doubt Armanos had a key. She should have stolen it!

She looked around. There would be servant-entrances to the east wing, but where those were, was anyone’s guess. What if...?

The summer’s night was sweet and warm. Pusselinne climbed out of the window and tried the ivy vines.

They easily held her weight.

She started to climb towards the windows of the east wing.

One window drew her as a moth to the flame. Behind the half open curtains shone the light of a single lamp, beckoning her.

Cats have nine lives, Pusselinne thought while she climbed on. And they always land on their feet.

Too bad she was only half a cat. She was pretty sure humans only had one life, and they usually landed on their face when they fell.

All the thinking of falling and landing was naught, because she reached the lit window without any problems. The window was open and the curtains moved softly in the night’s breeze.

Carefully Pusselinne took a peep.

At the other end of the room, a figure sat in a chair with his back to the window. Due to the light it was hard to see any details. Pusselinne could tell the man, if it was a man, wore a nightcap with a silver tassel. Most of his body was covered by a blanket. She listened and sniffed, but neither ears nor nose could tell her anything.

Was this the mysterious marquise De Carabas?

There was only one way to find out. Pusselinne slipped into the room.

No sound at all. No snoring, no breathing.

Even before Pusselinne saw the mummified face with the skeletal grin, she knew what was going on.

The old man was dead. For quite a while. His skin was a leather mask hugging the skull. His long silver hair hung neatly combed down over his shoulders.

She sat in the darkness and after a while she asked: “What are you going to do with us? With me, with Enriquez?”

Armanos, who stood naked in the door opening, growled. “I was a fool to think you wouldn’t discover the truth. My master, the marquise, died years ago, not long after the death of his beloved wife. We kept things going...”

“So you wouldn’t be sold to another master, or destroyed, or put in the army, the mines or a brothel for the females.”

“Yes.”

“But now I know. I repeat my question, what will happen to us?”

Armanos stepped forward and Pusselinne froze. She was no match for his strength. Maybe she was quicker, but he was so much stronger.

He put his hand on her shoulder, no claws extended.

“Just like humans, we hominaux grow old and die. We need new blood, new souls so this can keep on going: a place where hominaux live free from slavery.”

She looked him in the eyes, big and yellow.

“So, that is why you accepted Enriquez. You need him. And you need me to keep him in check.”

“I need you for more than that,” Armanos growled. “I would never harm you. You... You stole my heart the moment I smelled you, back at the front door, in the rain, hiding under your cloak.”

Owwww. Again Pusselinne felt her knees turn into jelly, but she fought the feeling. She needed to be strong.

“I can keep your secret and I can make Enriquez cooperate. Just give him enough to eat, to drink and to fuck and he will be happy. And if you need to forge a signature or document, he is your man. Like I said, he has many vices.”

“That can be arranged,” Armanos said. “And you?”

She looked at him.

“You know what I want.”

***

“This new hawk-line will be wonderful!” Enriquez exclaimed. “Can you imagine, feathers, a sharp beak and claws.”

Outside the world was winter white, but Enriquez was happily at work in his laboratory.

Pusselinne had come to bring him lunch and to listen to his latest ideas.

“It would be a sight to see them parading around in riding boots,” Pusselinne remarked. And they are welcome to it!

“Yes, yes,” Enriquez replied dreamily. “on that account, I want you to order three pairs of new riding boots, with some... uh, modifications. They need spurs, you know. And those heels. I want them thinner, with a metal tip. I have a sketch somewhere. I want the heels to be stiletto thin!”

“I think we can find a cobbler who can make such boots. I have heard of a poor cobbler delivering remarkable work.”

“Fine, fine!” Enriquez went on explaining new plans.

Pusselinne smiled but wasn’t really listening. In a while she would be in Armanos’ arms, enjoying the warmth of a fire, and some other kind of heat. Life was good.

No, life was wonderful.

When she finally left Enriquez, she could not resist tickling the nape of his neck with her claws, like one would reward a sweet pet.

Pusselinne smiled.

It was important to keep pets happy.