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"Behold! Sarishara--City of One Thousand & One Dreams!"

The assembled crowd let out a gasp of wondrous astonishment as the plump calico that they had all gathered to bear witness to swept a handpaw in the air above him. A cloud of glittering particles hung above the richly-dressed merchant and showcat. For a few moments, it seemed that was all that was going to happen, but then they became reforming into a moving tableau of the fabled--some would say infamous--City of the Sands. Before their very eyes, the ensorcelled particles of sand had reformed into an animated vista of its towering spires and domes--a relatively simple cantrip, but no less amazing to folk unaccustomed to even lesser forms of magic. This also included one Rahka Treshinu.

"Amazing..."

The slender, teal-furred feline gazed up wistfully. Even a sand-formed silhouette of the fabled metropolis was enough to stir the wanderlust that dwelt in his soul. As it always did when he felt its tug, the walls of the small town he had called home the entirety of his young life felt restrictive. Confining. The security and calmness their secure embrace brought to the lives of all those living in the peaceful town was no longer sufficient; Rahka wanted more out of life than placid safety. He wanted adventure.

As as an apprentice scribe, he lead a relatively comfortable life by the standards of the day. He was able to read and write and enjoy the perks of education--including access to oft-florid tales of excitement and adventure in written form. The kind of adventures enjoyed by the characters of the crudely bound novels and woodcuts he purchased to fuel his imagination made his life feel ever-more dull - a feeling that only deepened whenever travelling showmen, minstrels, and other wandering entertainers rolled into town to spin their own tales of their travels and adventures. He was always left with a keen belief that fame, fortune, and excitement could be his too if he were allowed to seek.

Rahka's family however, they were not supportive of his ambitions. In the past, whenever he expressed his desire to travel and see what the world outside of the town had to offer, his father had always promptly--and firmly--informed him that he should put the gift of literacy he had been fortunate enough to be blessed with to better use than reading sordid tomes and woodcuts, such as transcribing taxation forms or royal decrees. Foolish dreams should be left well behind.

But what dreams they were! In them, Rahka saw himself as many things: a travelling acrobat, an agile thief, a noble warrior, or even a bodyguard or personal attendant to one of the ladies of noble birth whom called fabled Sarishara home. That last one was his favourite. He let his imagination linger upon it...often.

Tales of daring adventure--and sensual and scandalous escapades--continued to inflame that desire to see the world outside the walls of his home and travel far and wide, starting with Sarishara.

Sarishara...City of One Thousand & One Dreams...City of Adventure, Wealth, and scantily-clad and_scandalous_ noble ladies...

He would do it; he would run away from home and escape the drab life laid out before him, whether he wanted it or not. In fact, he would do it this very night!

And so he did.

That self-same showman, who Rahka learned was named Pook, had eventually caved into Rahka's relentless pleading to be allowed to join his caravan for the return journey. The panther's education--a rarity amongst anyone outside of noble birth or the merchant class--made him a valuable commodity and useful tool. He would again find himself counting coins and scribbling on parchment during the journey, but this time it had a purpose leading to something greater.

They left dawn. Though Rahka was not an unkindly sort and he had left his father a note informing him of his departure and expressed sentiments of appreciation and fondness, vowing one day to return, nevertheless he hadn't be able to resist also making it a declaration of independence from dwelling in his shadow and his seemingly pre-destined life of administrative drudgery.

For six weeks the caravan journeyed along the trade-ways, stopping off at one village or another and dazzling the local populace with similar demonstrations of a theatrical mix of sorcery and alchemy in exchange for supplies, trinkets, and what coin the simple villagers possessed. He learned a thing or two watching the fast-talking traveller in action and bearing witness to the conversational tricks he played, such as flattering a customer and his family in the midst of a negotiation. Or subtly massaging a mark's ego until they believed _they_had the better of the showman, and not that they had been played for a fool. Rahka reasoned it would prove useful in the City of the Sands, where out-of-towners would be seen as guidable marks for similar trickery.

They reached their destination on the first day of the seventh week. For several days prior to that though, the great desert metropolis had drawn ever closer on the horizon. Pook had irritably weathered a hail of questions from the excitable panther with whom he had shared his journey, either answering truthfully or sometimes just pulling a fabrication or exaggeration out of the air to satisfy his inquisitive guest. By journey's end, Rahka's head was filled with even more half-truths about the city, leaving him even more firmly believing that Sarishara was both everything he had hoped and dreamed it would be...and a few things that he wasn't quite expecting.

Just like the ensorcelled tableau had shown, there were indeed were spires and domes aplenty, both noble and religious, rising high above the walls protecting the roughly circular city. What it hadn't shown though were the slums. The opulence dripping from the High Pasha's palace rising high above the city's the city's core did indeed radiated outwards, but it a long way to fall before it fell upon the heads of those living on the ragged edges of wealthier districts. By the time it reached the poor folk, often the most industrious, it had been sieved and filtered along its way, leaving it a feeble drizzle rather than a rainfall of shared prosperity.

Still, there was a vibrant life here and more exciting than anything Rahka had ever experienced in his short life--even within those poorer areas. Faces belonging to a hundred different breeds of anthropomorphic life could be seen mingling and rubbing shoulders, exotic wares and spices sold by the dozen, and voices and paws lifted up in unusual songs and dances all added their own qualities to the metropolis's spice of life.

Freed from his obligation from the showman and having bade him good travels ahead, Rahka was now watching one of the exotic dancers for which Sarishara was famous. His first port of call had been the 'Seven Veils Inn', a place of noteworthy attention recommended to him by his travelling companion.

Thus far, at least when he dared to look up from his drink, the dancers wore rather less than that number of veils. The slender-limbed panther's cheeks burned hotly beneath their pelt of fur as he glanced at their scandalous and sinuous gyrations, trying--and failing--to conceal his amorous attention. Pointedly sipping at his cup of wine in short gulps and trying to keep his heartbeat from seemingly echoing around the tavern, Rahka could feel his embarrassment deepening again as one of the dancers he had been watching, a long-limbed Mau with small, pert breasts, gracefully stepped on his table and smiled down at him. She had been aware of his keen-eyed attention for quite some time now, but had bade her time until the moment felt right before approaching a new potential patron.

"Pray tell me, sirrah; just what is it that you so interesting about that cup of wine?"

"I...ah..."

Rahka blushed harder than he perhaps had ever before in his life as the aroma of the sweet fur-scent dabbed onto her fur tickled his nose. He had heard the soft musical chimes and tinkling of the bells and cymbals clasped at her wrists, ankles and fingertips, as she approached, and thought himself ready to dally with those alluring beauties he had read and heard so much about. And yet, here was one before him, and he was...well, so far not exactly the stuff of legendary charm.

"I..."

Inwardly cursing at himself for his hesitation, he forced his head up to meet the gaze of the beautiful feline. However, it was no small task to avoid lingering upon the softly brushed and pure-white fur of her naked thighs and belly. It was especially difficult to not stare at he shallow crests of her veiled breasts. Golden eyes dancing with an inner amusement greeted his when he finally did meet her gaze--though it did not appear to be or feel like mocking amusement in response to his amorous conduct and demeanour, but merely gentle and friendly amusement, the kind that sought to entice him to speak and linger his gaze longer upon her. After all, her beauty was there to be enjoyed and she would take professional pride at attracting the lingering attention of patrons.

More coherent words died on his lips as without prior warning, the comely feline knelt down on his table and leaned forward to gently stroke a curled hand down his cheek. It took every ounce of his willpower to avoid trembling at the gentle caress, or lingering too long upon the exposed cleavage, or her pink nipples clearly visible through the diaphanous material clinging to them.

"Your face is new to me, sirrah," the Mau purred in a soft, lilting tone as she circumnavigated his face to caress his other cheek. She tilted her head inquiringly. "From where do you hail?"

"J-Jaheel," Rahka visibly swallowed after he somehow found the willpower to coherently answer. She was the loveliest creature he had ever laid eyes upon, beautiful and exotic. "I come from Jaheel."

"You are a long way from home, young one," the dancer remarked with a further tilt of her head to the other side, as if she were keenly regarding him. "What brings you to Sarishara?"

Rahka wanted to retort that he was far from a 'young one', that he had come of age several years before, but ultimately knew that the dancer had meant no harm by it. For all he knew, he was a young one to her--it was difficult to guess the Mau's age. She was astonishingly beautiful and possessed an ageless grace and air of wisdom that was far from what he had expected to see in a seedy tavern at the edge of the merchants' district.

"I...ah..." Rahka cleared his throat and steeled his nerves, determined now not to show nervousness again in the presence of one so lovely. He made his next declaration clear and true, with no waver in his voice. "I came to seek fame and fortune in the City of the Sands."

Much to his inner dismay, the Mau merely let out an amused sounding purr. "My, my! Bold ambitions indeed and so proudly spoken..." she leaned in, lowering her voice to whisper huskily into his ear. "...are you going to carry me away as your prize, adventurer?"

"I...oh, uh...I me-"

She let out a trill of pleasant-sounding laughter as he blushed deeper still and began stammering out a babbling answer. This he cut off immediately as he remembered his earlier declaration of confidence in the face of beauty. Instead, he then found himself smiling self-depreciatively, finding his voice and confidence again and daring to utter a flirtatious retort.

"I-If that is your wish, milady?"

He was rewarded with a peal of trilling laughter, a husky purr, and most wonderfully of all...a kiss. The lovely dancer bent down, lifting her be-ribboned tail and twitching it in a display of approval. She brushed her lips against his cheek, sending an electric thrill down his spine as they made contact, then leaned back and gazed at him with liquid-gold eyes framed by the fringe of her cream-white braided hair.

"I like you, sirrah!" she declared. Rahka couldn't help but feel the ego-massaging effects of such a declaration. A cynical part of him did however wonder if this is something the alluring dance did for every customer that caught her eye. She leaned in again, now spreading a handpaw against the table edge for balance. Her eyes gleamed mischievously as she tapped her whiskered nose conspiratorially with the other."There's more to you than meets the eye."

She continued to gaze at him, eyes twinkling with an air of mischief about them and the smile on her short-muzzled lips spread. Rahka felt a prickle run up his back--the sensation of being thoughtfully scrutinized was very palpable. Finally, after several moments of contemplative silence, she leaned forward once more, lowering her voice so only he could hear her. "Come to the gates of House Valeria at dusk-tide tomorrow. Someone will recognise you and allow you entry."

Rahka blinked, mouth opening and closing several times in surprise at the very unexpected invitation. An invitation to just what though, he had no idea...only fantasies. He felt his cheeks flaming beneath his fur as a few lurid images immediately surfaced within his mind, but he quickly forced them down and looked up...to find that she was gone. He was alone once more, with only the lingering perfume of her fragrant fur-scent as evidence that she had ever been there before him. But now he possessed a very enticing invitation, from an equally enticing feline. He had sought adventure and new experiences, though much to his surprise, one had found him first.

Emboldened by his experience, the adventurous panther smiled to himself. He suddenly felt giddy and elated, with the possibilities of a private liaison with the exotic beauty dancing in his mind. It felt empowering and swept away all his precious nervousness and shyness. Cockily leaning back in his chair, Rahka took hold of his goblet, drained the last dregs of wine and raised it in salute to the vanished dancer.

"I accept!"

---

"House Valeria? What business be you havin' there, boy?"

Still chewing on a doughy, flaky mass of a flavourful sultana and almond pastry, Rahka waved a teal-furred handpaw in an effort to bid the seller to hold further questions for the moment. The impatient, stout-bellied feline, his fur as dusky as desert sand glared at him and tapped his footpaw.

"Well?"

"I...ah..." Rahka pushed spilling flakes of pastry back where they belonged as he struggled to both find an answer and coherently give it. The hungry panther's stomach growled happily at the much-needed organic refuelling. Ravenous hunger had caught up with him when he had awoken the next morning, sprawled out on the pallet of stuffed straw that had served him as a bed for the night. He had wolfed down a bowl of spiced porridge and three-day old bread, the only meal offered by the innkeeper for guests, and then gone looking for something fresher_and _sweeter to satisfy himself with. That, and answers to just_what was_ and where he might find House Valeria. The intriguing white-furred feline had neglected to provide directions with her invitation, in spite of knowing that he was a newcomer to the city. The emphasis that she put on h_ouse_ had led him to believe that it was a place of note and that there was a very good chance of finding someone who knew where it lay within the sprawling metropolis of Sarishara.

Rahka swallowed hard and tried to move the doughy lump down his throat; now he wished that he'd purchased something to drink to go with his sweet treat. He quickly stowed the additional one he had purchased into his knapsack, then realised that the baker was still staring expectantly at him with his arms folded and resting on his generous paunch.

"Well," Rahka lifted his chin, puffed out his chest and put on an air of haughty dignity. He now felt more than a little annoyed by the street hawker's impatience and was now determined to rub any prestige he might gain into his face, even if what he said wasn't the whole truth. "I have been invited to attend a banquet by a prominent member of House Valeria."

He had no idea if the exotic Mau held any noble status at all or even her name. Almost immediately he felt his confidence beginning to waver as the peddler broke into rapturous laughter. The plump, sand-furred feline's belly jiggled as he clasped his paws over it in an effort to contain his mirth.

"Invited? You?"

"Yes, me."

The slender panther glared at the baker. His cheeks were already burning with embarrassment as the roars of laughter drew the attention of everyone else in the busy market square.

"Don't make me laugh, boy!" The portly feline gradually got his laughter under control, jowls and whiskers twitching. "An' jus' where did ye meet this...prominent member?"

"In the, uh, Seven Veils...Inn?" Rahka lowered his voice, now mumbling uncomfortably and fully expecting to be the object of mirth whatever he now said.

"I'm sure ye saw _many_such wonders deep in ye cups," the hawker, now recovered from shaking with another burst of silent laughter, shook his head and regarded Rahka with a single beady eye. "Why would one of th' noble houses be rubbin' shoulders with fleapit scum?"

Rahka said nothing, having no answer to give to such a question and too embarrassed to say anything else. He heartily wished that a hole would swallow him up, rather than bear the disbelieving scorn for even a second longer. Mercifully, the peddler must have caught his souring expression and raised a thick-fingered conciliatory paw.

"Easy, boy. Jus' jestin' with you, but ye spin quite a tale," he chuckled and pushed another pastry, this one made of curls and twists of dried bread knotted together and covered in sweet frosting across the counter of his mobile stall toward the panther. "Take this in return for th' entertainment and I'll tell ye where you can find Valeria--for all the good it will do ye."

---

Dusktide was fast approaching when Rahka crept nervously to the bronze-clad gates of House Valeria. As expected, it was indeed a place of noteworthy prominence, situated deep within the wealthier districts of Sarishara. He had felt distinctly out of place making his way along the finely cobbled streets; they were a far cry from the dusty, well-trodden paths that the poorer parts of the city made do with. He ignored the suspicious stares he received from the haughty citizens and their bodyguards and lackeys, instead purposefully striding past them with an air of deliberation and purpose, always watchful for the landmarks the baker had given him and for the sigil of Valeria: a prancing, long-eared desert fox.

Now arrived, he peered through the gates. He was...now unsure what to do, his anxious showing in the way he was shifting from one footpaw to the other. Sculpted greenery, picked out by globular lamps, stretched out behind the gates in the direction of a silhouetted domed and many-pillared mansion. The whole affair had an air of stately opulence.

Should he call out? Rahka anxiously looked about him, fearful of passing city guards who might mistake his loitering for nefarious intent.

"Mistress Samarah will receive you."

At the sudden sound of a cultured voice, he visibly started and let out a surprised hiss. With his ears pinned back, tail fluffed and fur standing up, he wheeled and took an instinctive step backward. The speaker was a cloaked figure, who was clearly feline from the way that tips of pointed ears poked out from slits cut into the fabric, as did a thin tail protrude in similar fashion from the back. He or she held a long pole with a lit globular lantern at the end, which they now shone toward the gate and then slipped a key into the gate's ornate bolted lock. Whoever it was, they were very light on their feet and had approached without Rahka hearing them. They did not introduce themselves, leaving an obvious question in Rahka's mind.

"W-Who are you?"

The mysterious figure either didn't hear it, or they chose not to answer him, instead pushing the creaking gates open, stepping in and then beckoning toward Rahka. "I will escort you to Mistress Samarah. Please, follow me..."

Without another word spoken, the hooded figure closed and locked the gates after Rahka had delivered a stiff bow and hurried in. Now leading the way toward the domed mansion, they paid little attention to Rahka beyond halting once to allow him to catch up.

At least he had a name now, Rahka thought as he followed the mysterious gate-keeper, and it was one that seemed eminently fitting: Mistress Samarah.

---

"My thanks, Valfor. You may return to your other duties."

"As you wish, Mistress."

The hooded figure bowed deeply. Rahka was still none-the-wiser as to their identity, nor did such clarification seem likely as his escort turned and departed. The Mistress in question had turned out to be the exotically beautiful dancer from the tavern--something that Rahka had wholly not expected. Perhaps a servant, or even a wild-natured scion, but not the head of a noble house! Mistress Samarah looked even more radiant in her own domain. The noble Mau, clad in diaphanous purple and blue silks that left very little to the imagination, reclined comfortably upon a pile of richly embroidered cushions framed by silk drapes that gave the circular chamber to which he had been escorted a cosy atmosphere. Samarah's golden, dark-slitted eyes regarded him warmly as he nervously stood before her, periodically averting his eyes so they did not appear to be lingering upon her gauzy semi-nakedness. There was a wryly amused but welcoming smile on the lips of her short, whiskered muzzle.

"I bid you welcome, sirrah," Samarah declared in a soft, but expressive tone of voice. "And extend my thanks to you for accepting my invitation."

Rahka swallowed hard to clear the painful lump in his throat before finding the presence of mind to bow, albeit rather more stiffly than had his escort. Nevertheless, he could tell that she appreciated the gesture as the smile spread and she gave him an approving nod. Rahka stood and clasped his hands to behind his back so he didn't fidget. "T-Thank you for inviting me, Mistress Samarah."

Again he could feel a sense of approval, with the sultry Mau inclining her head as she languidly pushed herself up. The selectively-diaphanous silks only just about managed to shroud full exposure of her feminine beauty. Still fearing he might accidentally cause offence, Rahka politely averted his eyes. His blushing embarrassment only deepened as she chuckled in response to his demeanour; it was a lilting, musical purr that was pleasant on the ears as her beauty was to the eyes.

"You may look, sirrah," Samarah playfully admonished. Stretching, she languidly yawned and purred out her pleasure at the release of pent-up tension. "We of Valeria delight in the beauty of the body, freely displaying the gifts bestowed upon us by the Maker of All Things." A shiver ran along her lithe frame and she let out another pleasured purr, now placing a long-fingered handpaw down on the cushion before her. "Sit, sirrah...I will not bite," she winked at him and pointedly shuffled back to give him a little more room to do so. "Since you have been astute enough to remember my name, would you do me the honour of revealing your name?"

Rahka fought to keep the heat rising up his neck again as, hesitantly and somewhat awkwardly, he accepted her offer to sit with her. It was clear that the majestic beauty and demeanour of a feline of obvious noble birth, along with her sensuous demeanour and musky fur-fragrance, was having a _powerful_effect upon the already-shy panther. Still, he managed to answer her. "R-Rahka. My name is Rahka."

"Rah-ka."

She repeated his name a second time, again drawing out the syllables in a lilting, breathy purr that sent a shiver down his spine to hear it spoken in such a sensual manner. When she didn't venture anything further, he shifted his posture nervously and cleared his throat.

"I-If I may ask, and n-not that I'm not honoured, but why did you extend your invitation to me? Why were you, one so noble, dancing at the Seven Veils Inn?"

Logical questions to be sure and a curiosity to be sated, but they felt impertinent all the same. Samarah merely let out an amused purr at his hesitation in asking, his host now pouring perfumed wine in to twin goblets. She offered one to him, which he dutifully took with a thankful nod.

"The Blessed of Valeria are not meant for the eyes of those of noble birth or heavy in coin alone, Rahka," Samarah nodded approvingly as he took the offered wine and then sipped it at, smiling as he let out a purr of his own at the sweet, fruity taste. "Those whom we wish to embrace into the service of Valeria may also spring from the most humble of roots. We just help them...flourish." She gazed at him over the rim of her own goblet with golden eyes that twinkled in a knowing fashion.

"E-Embrace?" Rahka blinked uncomprehendingly and gulped down the mouthful of wine he had just taken. He was now feeling a little woozy, though he pinned that down to his nervousness and the allure of his host, rather than the effects a few sips of wine might have, now matter how richly-flavoured it was. He didn't think he was that much of a lightweight. "If I may a-"

"Shh...drink, Rah-ka," as she dragged out the syllables of his name, he again felt a deep blush suffuse the skin beneath his vibrant teal fur, doubly so when she leaning over to press a clawed finger to his muzzle to hush him. Samarah let out another amused purr and then pressed her palm to the bottom of the goblet and gently guided more of the wine into his mouth. "All questions will be answered, but for now, you are a guest of Valeria. I will attend to and dance for you."

Polite words of protest that he was comfortable enough died on his lips as Samarah stood with languid grace. Gazing over the rim of his goblet as he obediently drank, the sense of dizzying warmth and disconnection from reality deepened as the heady wine flowed across his tongue and his oh-so-lovely host began to tie ribbons onto her tail and around her ankles, each of them tipped with tiny and softly chiming bells. Samarah possessed an allure that went far beyond the physical, but her bodily beauty and grace were undeniable. Seemingly satisfied with her appearance, the noble dancer reached over cupped a brass-framed polished glass globe hanging from a ceiling chain and closed her eyes, speaking a few words under her breath that Rahka did not understand. He nearly spilled his drink as the globe glowed and it began to emit a drum and sitar rich melody; it was now as if several musicians were also present and playing for their pleasure.

Rahka steadied his drink and met the eyes of Samarah, now feeling drawn to do so and saw her gentle amusement at his reaction to the ensorcelled stone. Before he could ask about the magical marvel, his graceful host began to move in time with the beat; her movements were subtle and elegant, a dance designed to compulsively ensnare the attention of those whose eyes fell upon it and leave them hungry for more.

Samarah danced with the most liquid grace he had ever seen. She was now standing on the very tips of her footpaws and curling her arm and handpaw into the air before sweeping them slowly down and around to send the unfurling ribbons tied about her wrists fluttering in the air, holding it for the briefest moment before sweeping around and undulating her hips and exposed midriff, repeating the dance in time with each strident, exotic beat. Rahka watched her with rapturous attention, feeling his breath catching in his throat as she started to dance a little quicker each time the tempo of the music increased. He doubted he could take his eyes off her even if he wanted to now; all concerns and anxiousness had melted away in the wake of the elegant, erotically-charged performance.

"We honour Valeria, in her name and ours."

She gazed at him again as she intoned the honorific, this time with an air of expectation as she slowed the rhythm of her dance and stepped as close as she had ever been to him. She let slip some of the gauzy silk from her hips, exposing naked thigh-fur to his eyes and the scandalously evocative straps of the jewel-encrusted thong that hid her intimacy from view. Rahka let out a strangled-sounding purr as he followed the slender curves of her hips and his eyes traversed the length of the strap to the gauzy triangle of silk that lay at the end. He swallowed another sip of wine for courage before daring to speak.

"W-We honour Valeria."

The hoarse, breathless words tumbled from his lips; Rahka could not help but feel a flush of pleasure as she then smiled and inclined her head in response to him astutely guessing the correct response.

Time began to lose its meaning as Rahka drank more of the wine and watched as Samarah danced for him. He felt utterly intoxicated, and not just by the fiery intoxicants, but by her presence and grace. He now actively hungered for every glimpse of unfettered nakedness she revealed as over time her dance become more lurid, more blatantly sexual, and primarily comprised of the rolling hip and belly movements that many of the common tavern and marketplace dancers favoured. He floated upon a cloud of sweet wine, pure-white furred curves and heady scent, his cares and concerns left behind as he bore witness to the breathtakingly exotic and increasingly hypnotic performance. He was utterly entranced by how the Mau moved with such grace and found himself unable to take his eyes off her for a moment. He did not even realise that it had been quite some time since he had last blinked.

"Rah-ka..." Samarah purred as she knelt before the glass-eyed panther and extended a delicate handpaw to cup and caress his cheek. His response was merely a soft and distant whimper, as if from afar. "...be embraced."

The alluring Mau's eyelids fluttered closed as she leaned in to bring her lips to his and kissed him. As the mental trigger was given, a liquid darkness and a sudden sense of falling overcame the sluggish Rahka, the soft texture of her lips and the perfume of her fur-scent soothing him until they too vanished as his senses were dimmed completely by lapsing into unconsciousness.

Mistress Samarah gently lowered the slender panther down onto the cushions. She smiled to herself as she made sure he was comfortable and stroked her cheek. The alluring Mau's eyes now shined with an affectionate, but cunning, light.

"Sleep well, my chosen pet...sleep and dream...dream of service to Valeria, as I did..."

---

They had travelled far specifically to see him dance. Wealthy patrons all, they had travelled from Rannipur, Tsarkland, and as far afield as the Golden South to pay homage to Valeria and enjoy the pleasures that the noble house could bestow upon them.

All eyes were upon the lithe panther. They scrutinised him with hungry, almost avaricious anticipation; all if them were eager to see Samarah's newest pupil perform. The raw eagerness on his audience's faces sent a thrill down Rahka's spine. This...excitement was something he had come to crave, as did the egos of all performers skilled enough in their craft to attract and hold the attention of others. Sensing the time was right, he struck a graceful pose, one that took advantage of the wispy smoke rising from incense tapers to shroud his semi-naked body and add an air of sorcerous mystery. Mistress Samarah herself had bathed and dressed him for the occasion, humming contentedly to herself as she washed his fur in perfumed oils and then slipped the golden rings and bangles that would form the most visibly attractive portion of his costume onto his fingers, wrists and ankles. He had blushed deeply, with the warmth spreading across his cheeks as she fitted a shallowly cresting golden-ringed halter to his chest--one that was normally reserved for females. Lastly she began fitting the final part of his bedleh costume: a sarong tied around his hips that would both protect his modesty and reveal tantalising glimpses of the contours of his maleness and the skimpy thong he wore. Unlike the majority of the dancers, Rahka was not merely clad in silk. Samarah had introduced him to garments woven from a wondrous material that was both pliant and strong--even when stretched--and held a pleasingly smooth texture. Both the hip-tied sarong and the arm-length gloves she pulled over the fur of his handpaws were formed from the same rose-tinted material.

Gold and Rose...those were his_colours and had formed the basis for the dancing name she had bestowed upon him and by which he would be introduced to his audience: _Golden Rose.

On cue, the sitar player in attendance began to play a slow and melodic tune. With no small amount of practised skill, the be-spectacled calico's fingers plucked at the strings of his exotic instrument. Rahka closed his eyes and breathed deeply, focusing upon the hauntingly beautiful music and its stately tempo and willing it to permeate his flesh and blend with his soul.

"Ahh...yes..."

Ignoring the breathy exclamation from one of his watchers, Rahka bent his wrist and lifted his arm in a sweeping motion, holding it for a couple of seconds before rotating his wrist and bringing it down again. The feline dancer's movement was fluid and graceful, as one would expect after long and tiring hours practising artistic control over his body before Mistress Samarah; to be sure it had been gruelling and often frustrating, but it had paid off. He could feel the eyes of his audience viewing him with rapt attention as he pirouetted gracefully. The tempo of the melody had now quickened; Rahka opened his eyes and was pleased to see that their heads had turned to follow his movements--a subtle test. Then the plump and soft-featured drummer began to play, with his thick yet dexterous fingers tapping out the beat and striking more emphatic sounds with the flat of his palm. Rahka started dancing faster, now taking his first twirl and sending the gleaming ribbons of his sarong swirling in his wake. His audience started clapping along with the beat of the drum, from which he felt another surge of pride and satisfaction--he had their attention! Smiling and meeting the gaze of each of them, he began to sway his hips to and fro in a most alluring fashion. Rahka had now given himself entirely over to the quickening pace of the strum and beat of sitar and drum; his dancing steps were both trained and instinctual. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the polished shields that reflected the light, seeing an exotic mix of male and female in appearance reflected back at him, one guaranteed to tantalise his audience with the titillating combination.

This is what he lived for now; it was the life that Valeria had honoured him with.

---

"Mmmph..."

Rahka's eyelids felt heavy and gritty as he awoke from the slumber he had no clear memory of lapsing into. There was a lingering throbbing between his temples, though mercifully it was ebbing away, leaving him able to concentrate upon opening his eyes.

"Good morning, Rahka."

A familiar voice, feminine and melodic, intruded itself upon his befuddlement. He blinked and then frowned as he tried to clear the fuzz from his mind. A memory...not quite vivid enough to discern, had been triggered by the sound.

He remembered...remembered...dancing. Yes, that was it: he had been dancing for...someone...more than one...in a tent...no wait...it had been the beautiful Mau who had been dancing for him, he had drunk too much wine...sweet, sweet wine...but no, he remembered something else...Rose...Golden Rose...

Unable to make full sense of the fragmented memories and images, the furrow in his brow deepened. Unable to resolve them into a clear remembrance the panther instead tried to push himself up off...whatever it was he was lying on. He let out a groan as the effort of doing so set his temples to thumping, then something caught his attention; he had not heard the glittering pinkish-red gemstone framed within gold fall from his forehead where it had been placed, but there it was on his lap.

Gold and Rose.

He tried to speak, but his voice weakly caught in his painfully dry throat and instead came out as a weak and indistinct mumble. Then Samarah was there, the noble feline bringing a goblet of chilled water to his lips. Her voice was soft and soothing and the water cool and refreshing.

"Drink, my pet. The effects from a Soul Dream take their toll on the body. Drink your fill."

Rahka nodded, not fully aware of what she had just said, just that her tone was caring and inviting and that she offered relief from his thirst. Finally, after slaking his immediate need and feeling soothed, he now had the presence of mind and strength to speak. His voice though was still raspy and spoke of an inner weariness. Something she had said had retroactively piqued his curiosity.

"Soul...Dream?"

"You have been chosen, Rahka, and called into the service of Valeria." Samarah purred. She now withdrew the goblet and instead cupped two delicate clawed fingertips under his chin and gently raised it so he might better gaze upon her. Rahka blushed as he saw that the alluring feline was practically naked. The scant few pieces of jewellery she wore now were merely adornments rather than an effort to conceal her ripe femininity. She also wore arm-gloves of the same style and sleek material as those in his dream; he now felt a strange nostalgic longing as fragments of recollection reasserted itself in his waking mind, for a life he had not yet led. What was real and what was not was becoming..._difficult_for him to recognise.

"How long...was I asleep?"

"From dusk until dawn."

Rahka blinked again as his mind tried to reconcile that with the passage of time that he _felt_he had experienced, which was far longer, weeks in fact. "But...we...the training...I remember..."

Realising he was close to babbling, he snapped his mouth shut as a slow flush spread beneath his cheek fur. Samarah merely smiled, her golden eyes twinkling with gentle amusement.

"There will be plenty of time for that soon, my pet. Now that Valeria has opened your heart and soul to that which you desire the most."

"Why do you...call me that?"

Rahka blushed deeper still as she let out an amused purr and leaned forward to stroke along his jawline and then cupped his cheek.

"Valeria has also called you into my service as Mistress of her House," she gazed at him for long seconds before speaking again, her voice soft and soothing, inviting in tone. "Do you object to serving me and House Valeria,Rah-ka?"

Rahka shivered at her touch. He had to bite down on his lip to stifle the throaty moan of nervousness and longing that almost slipped out. The sensation of yearning seemed to strike deep, touching that part of the soul where the recollection of the extremely vivid dream was now imprinted. He was left aching for it to be true...for it to be real...as he mentally relived parts of it through the filter of nostalgic remembrance.

"No..."

Samarah smiled, now leaning forward closer still to press her lips to his in a brief kiss. He shivered at their silk-soft caress before she pulled away to whisper into his ear. "Valeria welcomes you into my harem, Golden Rose."

Rahka let out a strangled, rasping moan as she kissed him again. The embrace was fiercer and more impassioned; he could feel his heart beating quicker as she guided him back down into the silk cushions upon which he had awoken. Embarrassment, yearning for that life he had dreamed of, and raw desire pooled into a dizzying miasma of sensation that suffused and aroused him. The combination was intoxicating: the soft caress of her lips, the feeling of furred feminine curves pressing against his own slender frame, and the sweet perfume which tantalised his senses in other ways.

"T-Thank you, M-Mistress..."

The hoarsely whispered words tumbled unsteadily from his lips; the honorific sounding--and feeling--wholly n_atural_ and completely right. Whether it had been a deep-seated desire to serve another that had been awoken, or if it had been through the sorcerous means of the Soul Dream that such a desire had been irrevocably imprinted into his mind, he would never be able to say. It was said that Soul Dreams did reveal the hidden desires of those that underwent them, but the truth, as with anything, could be subjective. For Rahka, the desire to serve now simply was and that was enough.

"Mmm, good boy..."

The sound of her approving purr would be reward enough for anything she might ask of him. Gazing into her golden eyes as the soft-sandpaper caress of her Samarah's tongue slipped across his jawline to dance across his short feline muzzle., Rahka reflexively flinched as the long, supple digits of paws slipped inside the parted robe he had woken up wearing and pressed against his chest fur. Then as his breath caught in his throat as he fantasized about what may be about to happen, his Mistress's darted down to retrieve the gemstone that had entranced him so completely within the instructive 'Soul Dream'. She clipped the framed stone to the empty pendant clasp that hung on a chain around her neck and then let it fall free. , suspended above him as she arched her back to straddle him.

"You will find Soul Dreaming to be both pleasurable and instructive, Golden Rose," Samarah flicked the hanging gemstone and sent it into a gentle spin, with the hypnotic jewel glittering in the torchlight of the circular chamber in which he had spent the night. "You may even choose to indulge in it yourself at will, or rather, my will."

Rahka was instantly captivated by the glittering gemstone, his attention stolen away by its hypnotic beauty. As a sorcerous artefact, there was more than just physical attractiveness behind its allure; he wasn't even aware of the moment he lost himself within the hypnotic influence of the magical gemstone, bathed in the vibrant colours that would be his very own from that moment on.

Gold and Rose.

---

"Mistress wants me to test you, Rose. We can't let her down, can we?"

Zahirah giggled. The sand-furred lynx's fruity laugh was echoed by the other harem girls. Of all the senior initiates, Zahirah had thus far been the most friendly and welcoming to him. Rahka, clad only in orange-dyed diaphanous silks and gauze, grinned at the thought of performing another task for his Mistress. Wryly appalled at the thought of genuinely doing so, he then solemnly shook his head. Zahirah, having different plans for him than dancing, giggled again and slipped a hand across his thighs, now straying down to the helplessly stiffening member that he had previously tried to hide by clamping it between them and which had been coaxed into life by sharing the company of attractive and semi-naked females.

"Come out to play, little one."

Further giggling erupted from the other female harem girls as the lynx tickled his maleness, all the while chanting playfully in a sing-song tone of voice. Rahka trembled, unable to stop himself from letting out a stuttering pleasured gasp and even going as far as to compulsively part his thighs to allow her easier access.

"Mmm, not-so-little-one is free now to play..." Zahirah purred. The feisty fluff-eared temptress grinned over her shoulder at her fellow senior initiates before turning back to Rahka and waving her finger in a chastising manner. "Not me, Rose. You. Mistress has decreed that your self-control _must_be tested. Now, take hold of yourself and ah, coax some more life out of your not-so-little one, hmm?"

Rahka let out a strangled groan of protest and desire; his stiff rod of pinkish flesh quivered with the desire to be touched. A little shyly, but obediently, he gingerly slipped his hand down under the shrouding gauze and wrapped his fingers around his maleness. The harem girls with whom he shared service to the Mistress with all tittered and let out appreciative coos as he fully exposed and began to squeeze and stroke it.

"Good, Rose," Zahirah gave him a stern nod. "Now, Mistress has instructed that you are not allowed to find Valeria's Joy until I say you can. Is that understood?"

The panther's eyes had rolled back as he began to squeeze and stroke his flesh. The nervousness he had felt about doing so in front of the older girls was now ebbing away and instead was being replaced by feelings of nascent ecstatic pleasure. The thought of holding himself, now that he had plucked up the courage, was not a particularly pleasant one. He knew though, that the thought of displeasing Mistress was an even _more_unpleasant thought. Unable to speak now as he forced himself to slow the pace of his self-exploration, he jerkily nodded and took a deep, steadying breath.

Zahirah nodded and made as if to turn and leave him to his pleasure but then stopped. The mischievous lynx whirled around and grinned devilishly. "Oh," she remarked in a theatrically off-hand way. "She also told me to make it difficult_for you, so mmm, hmm, mmm, that is just what I am going to do. _Watchme, Golden Rose, and don't stop teasing yourself..."

Rahka had to bite down his lip to silence a whimper as the comely lynx stood and started rolling her hips, undulating in a fluid wave of motion with the other girls clapping out a beat. Zahirah was very attractive, possessing refined buxom peasant beauty. Her humble origins reflected itself in her brassy demeanour and more forthright attitude, born from a social strata that had little time for anything else. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she had taken a liking to him, with both of them hailing from peasant stock. The vision of furred and curvaceous flesh cavorting in an ever-more lewd manner only added to his lustful arousal. With wavering focus, the femininely-dressed panther struggled to both keeping his eyes locked on her and work his member. Much to his surprise, he found that his passions were being keenly driven toward a climaxing peek and not wilting under the pressure of a public exposure and performance. Gasping and panting, now bracing with his free hand to steady himself as his pleasured convulsions became more emphatic, Rahka gazed up with lust-dazed eyes and wordlessly begged for freedom to release his pent-up passions.

"Remember, Rose. Not until I give the command..."

It was far more difficult to put into practice than merely wishing it to be so. Rahka fought to slow his self-pleasuring, in spite of then being deliberately teased and encouraged to touch himself harder and indulge himself faster by the sultry desert lynx. He wanted to please Mistress more than accept sweet release, though. And so forged every scrap of will that he had into a mental dam bracing itself to hold back his impending climax. Then, without warning, Zahirah upped the ante. She dropped to her knees above his lap, pulled aside the thong that hid her feminine folds and grazed the tip of his member with her dampened sex. Then before he had a chance to buck, she grabbed and took his handpaws in hers to steady her balance as she straddled him and clamped her thighs around his hips.

"I've wanted to test you like this for a while, Rose," Zahirah purred out in a breathless tone, the lynx's chocolate-hazel eyes softening as hers met his. There was tenderness and genuine affection to be seen in her expression, rather than brassy teasing, and she gave his handpaws a fond little squeeze before releasing them. "Let us honour Valeria together."

"W-We honour Valeria."

The words tumbled instinctively from his lips and were punctuated by a heavy groan as the lynx lowered herself down onto him, embracing his member within the generous folds of her wetly intimate flesh. With the slow and steady handclaps to guide them, the pair fell into rhythmic lovemaking that was a dance and an art-form in itself. Zahirah expressed her own pleasure as Rahka's held her in his arms, the attentive lover now steadying her as she rose and fell. He fought a long and hard battle to hold back his desire to climax, and he was thankful that some of the deliberate teasing she had previously subjected him vanished in the wake of her own physical pleasure. It was with no small amount of eagerness that the curvaceous lynx gave permission. The scent of her raw desire competed with that of the incense that perfumed the air.

"Valeria's Joy..."

No more needed to be said. Rahka groaned out his own eagerness and ecstatic pleasure as she clenched her inner muscles to coax out that which had been tested and desired for. His seed exploded deep into her, sending both of them into spasms of climatic pleasure as they reached the peak of their sensual union that was both test and an opportunity to slake secret passions held dear in both their hearts.

---

"Shall I brew some tea for Rose, Mistress?"

"A fine idea. I feel he might need something invigorating after being put to such an_enthusiastic_ test..."

An hour later, Samarah could be found smiling as she pulled warm and comforting blanket over her dozing pet and newest initiate into the service of Valeria. Male initiates were rare and much-treasured. The Harem Mistress was glad to have found one as sweet-natured and eager to learn and serve as Rahka. "Rest well, Gold and Rose," she murmured softly as she caressed his cheek and felt him stir in his sleep. "May your dreams be filled with both my love and that of Valeria...

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