The Castle of Solange - Pt. 8

It was easy to hide in one of the many rooms of the castle, most of which were empty. Those that were not she avoided, peeking in and quickly closing the door on whatever depravities she found.

Finally, there were stairs. She climbed them with care, pausing every few steps for signs of danger. She listened hard but heard only her breathing. She climbed, winding up as the stairs bent until she was on the third floor of her journey. By her estimation, this should be the main floor. Back home at the castle of Falmore, the second floor was home to the throne room and the hall where she would hold court with the other knights. She was barely recognizable now. She would have to retrain herbody when she returned with the Princess. And, should the fates allow, the head of Solange.

The stairs opened into hall. Unlit torches lined the wall, the light provided by glass-covered windows that distorted the view of the land surrounding the keep. Deena waved the cleaver, ready for battle. She could hear music playing and smell something sweet, like the aroma of burning incense. If she followed the sound, she was sure she would find the mistress of the castle. She took tentative steps on bare feet, crossing them over one another, her swollen body crouched low as she moved. The taste of blood on her weapon would banish the last of the sorceress's influence, she was sure of it. Her old training, perhaps even her original name, would come back to her.

A door on her right opened. She turned to face it and saw the surprised expression on the girl's face. It was an almost laughable mask of surprise. Deena grabbed her by the neck and pushed her inside the room, closing the door behind her. She had to drop the cleaver once inside, placing it on a high table near the door. Only after the door was closed did Deena consider the grip under her hand and the strange feeling of fur between her fingers. The girl squawked, clawing at Deena's hand and leaving behind thin red lines. A soft white dow covered her and her ears sat atop her head instead of on the sides. Her nose was slightly upturned and darker, and thick whiskers extended from the sides of her nose. Beneath the gold skirt she wore, a tail swung, coated in the same soft white fur.

"What has the witch done to you?" Deena gaped.

The look on the cat-girl's face was pathetic, frightened and near panic. Her emerald eyes were slitted like a feline's, and moved from Deena's face to her wet top. Seeing the creature's attention diverted to her chest gave Deena an idea. If her breast was going to leak, perhaps she could use that to her benefit. Maybe the milk would have the same sedating effect it had on the girl in the nursery. Deena pulled her dress apart and exposed her pale breast. She pulled the cat-girl's head to her nipple and felt a rough scratch as the thing's tongue tasted the leaking nipple and then fixed on it. Deena wrapped her arms around the kitten's slender frame, her eyes drooping while the creature fed. Feeling her milk drained gave her pussy a chance to warm again, and she felt the emptiness of her cunt. She wanted Hanna's fingers again, or perhaps something more substantial to fill her.

The cat-girl relaxed as she fed, and Deena embraced her, allowed her hands to explore the bare, furred back of the creature. The room was some sort of laundry, and the cat-girl must have been tending to clothes. Another warped slave to the sorceress.

'Another sensual creature to serve me,' Solange whispered. 'Like you. Soon you will be mine, pet. Or you can wait right there. I'll find you. And two kittens can leave that room.'

Deena grunted and shoved the cat-girl away. She swayed on her feet, which Deena saw were closer to paws.

"Rest," Deena told her, easing the creature to the ground.

The cat-girl knelt and swayed, just as the girls in the nursery had. Her milk, Deena realized, was another tool of Solange. It kept her servants placated and the nursemaid, in this case Deena, aroused and eager to feed the others. Deena retrieved the cleaver from the table, which she assumed was used for the folding of clothing, and exited back into the hall. Her body was alight with desire, and Deena knew there was no more time to wait. She would march into the hall and find the Princess. And, likely, the sorceress who held her.

The hall opened into a wide room. Just as she anticipated, a throne was centered and raised on a dais at the far end of the hall. A red carpet with gold trim led to the foot of the throne. Wide columns supported the high stone ceiling. A half-dozen of the black-clad guards lined the carpet. before the throne was a mass of cushions. On those cushions were girls wound together in the throes of ecstasy. Looking down on the lesbian orgy was the sorceress herself. Solange. The orange-haired, tan-skinned seductress whose voice tickled Deena's brain. She looked up at Deena's entrance and her full lips spread wider in a smile.

"Ah, a warrior has come. Guards, bring her to me, please."

The guards turned as one and stepped onto the carpet. Deena's mouth curled in a growl. This was something she understood. Something she could fight. She lifted the cleaver over her head and crouched. Despite the weight and exaggerated curves of her fuller body, she knew battle. And the harlequin had gifted her with an acrobatic nature she employed now. She moved quick, tumbling forward and slashing out, easily slicing at the back of one guard's knee and severing valuable cords. The woman yowled and fell while Deean rolled away, springing to her hands and back to her feet before another, bringing the cleaver down on the arm of another guard and forcing her to drop the elegant sword she wielded.