The Castle of Solange - Pt. 7

Deena felt herself draining along with her milk. Her will, her need to be free, her desires... they all leaked out through her nipple into the mouth of the thin, soft-skinned girl she held. Ren, her duty as a knight, the life she led before the castle, all of it fled her. Hanna's finger parted her outer lips, spread her until her slick pink flesh was exposed, teasing their way to the entrance of her vaginal canal. There, where her pleasure was at its peak, Hanna's finger probed and circled, threatening to plunge into her but never quite satisfying her with a full penetration Instead, she remained in that teased state, filling her mouth with the sweet milk, groaning at the strokes of Hanna's fingers. Her fingers wound into the hair of the nameless girl at her breast and held her fast. It was a delirious circle of sustenance, and everything else faded in the explosion of that pleasure. She imagined being on her knees for Hanna, pleasing her while she fed another, and trading places when Hanna had her fill of Deena's tongue. An eternity of it awaited.

'Yes, my girl,' a voice whispered. This one was deeper, lustier, than Hanna's. It was the voice of the castle's owner, the creator of all the castle's perversions. 'You have fought for so long, but it is now time for you to surrender. You exist to serve me, as they all do. Every drop of my girl's milk you drink brings you closer to me. To my service. Such a good girl you are...'

Somehow, it was this promise of surrender that woke her desire to break free. While it felt that this urge to escape was buried beneath a pillow of soft desire, it was there. And Deena clung to it. She reminded herself that her skin, her name, these had been stolen from her. Her body had been altered and her strength erased to make her something more suitable for the sorceress. But she could still fight. And so she did.

She stood, the weak girl in her lap tumbling from her lap and onto the floor with a. soft and surprised grunt. As she stood, Hanna rose, too, but could not keep her breast in Deena's mouth. As both the suction at her breast and the warm flesh filling her mouth vanished, Deena felt a profound emptiness. She fought anew against a tide of sorrow, a need to settle back into the chair and give up what remained of herself to the warmth of belonging, of her role as nursemaid to the enslaved girls of the castle. She understood Hanna had never meant to aid her in finding Solange, save for opening her mind more to servitude as the sorceress's thrall. Se shoved the full-bodied woman away, growling with fury at how easily she had been seduced.

"Where are you going?" Hanna asked.

Deena felt another pull at the sight of Hanna's hurt-filled expression. She could simply embrace her once more, kiss her, allow her fingers to continue the exploration of that slit between her legs, and she would lose herself again. Her mind would be as still as the most serene lake, unbothered by ripples. She would exist in a world of hazy pleasure. But that fire inside her, the one that lifted her from the chair in the first place, urged her back to the door. The white, billowy dress flowed around her swollen body, and she was unused to the new weight and the sway of her full breasts, but she somehow made it, leaving behind her the stunned matron and her wards. Deena rushed into the hall and slammed the door behind her, letting out a choked sob as she felt the relief at how close she had come to oblivion, and how much she desired that surrender. Her armor was gone, she was weaponless, and all of her thoughts steered her time and again to thoughts of giving herself over to the soft whispering urges Slonage implanted in her mind. And yet, she would continue.

She no longer trusted herself around any living thing. She was too easily led in this moment of weakness. When she managed to wind down the hallways across the dining room and find the kitchen, she discovered a pair of maids cleaning in uniforms she associated with the royal servants: silk stockings, frilled dresses, and shoes that had the girls standing almost on the tips of their toes. She imagined trying to subdue them but found it equally likely they would hold her and force her into the same uniform, make her one of their own. before she could stop them, she, too, would be cleaning the kitchen with the same mindless smile they wore.

'Would that be so bad?' the voice inside her cooed. Was it Solange that spoke, or her own warped desires? 'Would it be so bad to give up the fight and serve?'

She bit down on the inside of her cheek, wincing at the sting of pain and the salty taste of blood, but it brought her back to herself. She waited until the maids were done and then slipped inside the kitchen. Among the utensils, she found a weighty cleaver and tested it in her grip. Her weaker arms found its heft substantial, but she could wield it. And thus Deena was armed. That made her feel better. More herself.

She explored deeper into the castle, skirting an encounter with a pair of guards wrapped in bands of black leather, covering their breasts and sex but little else. Their bodies were muscular and thick like hers had been before she encountered Hanna in that hellish nursery. Before she was made soft and weak. As if to remind her what she gae up in leaving that place, she saw that the front of her dress was wet around her nipples as she leaked milk.