Trouble In Thigh High Boots

By Elizabeth Black

This isn't your mother's Puss In Boots.

This erotic version of Puss In Boots, "Trouble In Thigh High Boots" is a story packed with hot, sexy, body humping adult fairy tale erotica.

"Trouble in Thigh High Boots is a delightfully creative retelling of the Puss in Boots tale. It is a tale that has been told myriad times, but never in such a wonderfully imaginative way. The characters are enchanting, and the story flows beautifully. The love scenes are sizzling."
-- Hitherandthee of Night Owl Reviews

WARNING: Tita isn't your run of the mill Puss In Boots. She's a cat shapeshifter who turns into a mouth-wateringly sexy human woman with a sex drive to match. This story includes M/F, F/F, M/F/M/F, light bondage, and lactation. This erotic fairy tale will get you hot in all the right places. Definitely for only 18 years and over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Black
• Release date: Sep 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301343744

Book preview

Trouble In Thigh High Boots

By Elizabeth Black

Scanning, uploading and/or distribution of this book via the Internet, print, audio recordings or any other means, without the written permission of the Publisher is illegal and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and characters are fictitious. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

Cover illustration and design by Dawné Dominique

Elizabeth Black

Web site: http://elizabethablack.blogspot.com/

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/elizabethablack

Twitter: http://twitter.com/ElizabethABlack

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Black

All rights reserved.

Second Edition January 2017

Dedication

For my husband Bill, my son Buddy, my step-son Jim and his wife Shana. To my editor and cover artist for their fantastic work. For my friends who have supported me throughout my writing career. To my fans who have enjoyed my books. Also, to my cats, who provided endless hours of entertainment while I worked hard on this book.

CHAPTER ONE

Tita gaped at her angry new master who held a rope in one hand and a knapsack in the other. Her day was only going to get worse if she didn't act quickly. Dylan grasped the nape of her neck and hoisted her high—which was no mean feat since Tita weighted more than a sack of potatoes—and stared into her large, sapphire eyes.

"What am I going to do with you? Disappointment and frustration reigned in his voice. My father leaves his farm to my oldest brother and his mule to my middle brother. I get you. A cat."

She writhed in his grip to no avail. He held her fast. She feared her yowling only enraged him more. One claw grazed his cheek and he cried out in pain, but his grip did not loosen. Tita's heart raced in terror as he stomped from his ramshackle home to the lake beyond.

At the lake's edge, she clawed and flung her long, lithe body to and fro as Dylan struggled to shove her into the knapsack. When he tossed the bag aside and walked into the water until it reached his belt, she clawed her way up his chest and onto his shoulder. With a roughness that terrified her, he yanked her free and grabbed her around her waist and by her scruff. When she felt the icy water on her legs, she shrieked in pain and fear. No longer able to remain quiet, she found her true voice.

Wait! She pulled her legs from the icy water. I can help you. Please don't drown me!

In seconds, water engulfed her, the shock of the cold tightening her skin and clenching her stomach. Dylan had dropped her. Unable to swim, she struggled to right herself, but her claws found nothing substantial to grab. In her writhing, one paw hooked itself into Dylan's belly – she knew because she heard his outraged cry of pain – and the rest of her followed her paw's lead until she adhered to his rough, cotton shirt with her tiny, sharp needles. Dylan wrapped his arms around her, ran from the lake, and retreated to his home, cat bound around his belly like a wet, fur-covered fanny pack.

Once inside, he pried her loose, claw by sharp claw; she collapsed exhausted on a rug in front of the hearth. Dylan left her side. Where's he going? Is he going to find another way to kill me? Is he getting his sharpest knife and preparing me for his dinner tonight? When he returned, he wore dry clothes and carried a wool blanket. Afraid he meant to smother her, she moved out of his way, but her strength had depleted. She could only shuffle away a few inches, in no way avoiding what she feared was a terrible fate.

Instead of forcing the blanket over her face, he reached out one hand and stroked the long, tawny fur on her head and back. Tensing at his touch, she froze but soon relaxed as he stroked her body. He tickled the underside of her jaw and she curled her face onto his palm, closing her eyes in the utmost expression of trust. He's not going to hurt me after all.

So, cat, he said, how are you able to talk?

First stoke that fire and then I'll tell you.

He folded the blanket and placed it over her. The kindness of his gesture did not escape her notice. He placed his last three logs on the smoldering embers. She felt a momentary pang of guilt that he used those logs he must have been saving to help her; but being a cat, she did not feel guilty for long. Guilt was not in her nature.

The muscles in his strong back flexed as he stoked the fire. He really wasn't a bad sort. A little too slender for her taste, but she ascertained from the meager pickings on his dining room table that he didn't eat much, and not by choice. Slim-hipped and long-legged, his body filled out at the shoulders and arms, where bulk and muscle grew. She eyed up the leather pumps, tall boots, and fancy ladies’ shoes on a bench near his worktable. Ah, he's a cobbler. So that's why his arms and torso are so well-formed and strong. No wonder his grip around my body was very forceful. He had the strength to overpower me.

Heat from the roaring fire rolled over the blanket, warming her face. She kicked off the blanket and rolled around on the rug the way cats are wont to do, allowing the delicious heat to warm her through to her tired bones. Soon her fur fluffed as it dried, puffing out to make her look much larger than she actually was. She smiled and fixed her gaze upon her new master, who stirred a spoon in a cast iron pot hanging over the flames.

So, cat, how are you able to talk?

What's in the pot?

Stew, and you're welcome to it if you answer my questions first. How can you talk?

I'm not your ordinary cat.

Obviously.

Enjoying his confusion and utter disbelief, she wanted to have a little fun with him. Imagine, a new master! Her previous master, his father, lavished her with love; succulent foods; the most supple, thick cream; and plenty of attention. She wondered what she could do to help her new master see her in the same light. He thinks I'm only a worthless cat, good enough to hunt down mice but not enough skin on her bones to make a snack. He certainly can't trade me in for that mule he wanted so badly. The townspeople would laugh at him… but if they only knew! Once he sees me in my true form, he won't know what to make of me or his new situation. How about if I show you rather than tell you? But first you must promise me something.

You're in no position to make demands.

Of course I am. I have you at a disadvantage. Plus you're too curious for your own good.

Alright then, get on with it. What do you want?

She pointed a claw at the table. I want that knapsack you tried to drown me in, and I want that pair of thigh-high boots.

What on earth would you do with a pair of boots as huge as those? They'd never fit you.

Oh, yes, they will. Just watch me. I'll prove it. She shook her body until her