The Castle of Solange - Pt. 5

"And what way is that?"

Hanna sat and folded her legs over one another. She swept her arms up and gestured at the room around them.

"The guards won't try to stop you if they feel there is no reason to. If they think you are one of us. One of Mistress's servants."

Deena glanced down at the swaying girls, their faces blank masks of pleasure. Deena tried to imagine herself on one of the cushions littered about the floor with that same vapid look on her face. The thought both lured and repulsed her.

"You would have me sit as one of these brainless whores?"

"Of course not," Hanna replied. "The Mistress Solange would never believe you had given yourself so willingly. Not after escaping Tienna. She might believe that you have agreed to serve her as I have. With part of your intellect preserved. Some shred of yourself left. A caretaker like me."

"And that is what you do? Care for these slaves?"

"I do. I care for them as much as Mistress Solange. Perhaps not a warrior like yourself, but I do what I can for them. But my motives are plain. If you save the Princess, I expect you'll save me, as well."

"And what do I have to do to play the part of one of Solange's thralls?"

"It's simple. You only need to shed the armor and put on a dress like mine. For the rest, I will guide you."

Deena considered. The armor did her little good. The threats on this castle were not steel. They were psychic. Whether she wore her padded leather or a dress would make little difference.

"And where can I find such a dress as yours?"

"Right here in the wardrobe beside me. Don't mind the girls. They see nothing. They will be dazed for an hour or more yet. And I will consider my price for aiding you a glimpse at that toned body of yours, warrior," Hanna smirked. "It has been a long time since I saw the body of a free woman. And never one as pale as you."

Deena grunted, turning her back to the woman on her way to the wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. It was made of a dark wood, and opening the doors released a sweet scent, something natural and sweet to accompany the buttery scent of the room. Inside was a wash of sheer white cloth. Deena's ivory fingers reached inside and felt the soft fabric, rubbed it between her fingers. It must have been silk. The texture was luxurious, cloth richer than any that had touched Deena's flesh.

"Decadent, isn't it?"

Deena gasped. She hadn't heard Hanna approach, but now she was standing behind the warrior, whispering against her ear. She was not wrong. The texture was slick and almost liquid.

"If you'll allow me, I can help," Hanna said. Already her fingers were unlacing the shoulders of the leather armor, loosening it, peeling it away from Deena's snowy skin. "And we will need to let this hair down. Mistress Solange's caretakers prefer a more natural look. In fact, we are the most natural of her servants. The most womanly."

Deena nodded. Hanna's hands reached out, fumbling through the tresses of Deena's ebony hair until it fell loose across her back and shoulders. Hanna leaned in closer, brushing a kiss against the nape of the neck as the curtain of hair spilled down Deena's bare shoulders. Fingers worked at the laces of the corset around Deena's midriff and then at the waist of her leggings. Deena was unsure if the fingers werehers or Hanna's. Only that she was eager to be free of them, to feel this sensual fabric against her skin.

Hanna took in the sight of the warrior's body as it was revealed to her. The harlequin's paint had turned her flesh flawless and ghostly white, her thighs thickened with muscles, her back defined with hard angles and bulging strength. Hanna ran her hands over the warrior's shoulders and pressed her fingers against the taut muscles.

"Beautiful," Hanna whispered. "But so hard. So tense. So worried. Come, let's dress you, warrior. And let the Mistress's silk give you peace."

Deena nodded again, more slowly. It felt as if time had stilled and so she could stand before the wardrobe forever and not a second would pass. She was a statue, watching while Hanna moved around her, selecting a dress and draping it over her arm as if to present it to Deena. From this angle, Hanna could see the warrior's proud breasts, the inward turn of her waist, the scrub of dark hair between her legs. Deena felt the gaze on her, but this, too, felt benevolent and took place outside of time. Despite the urging to find the princess somewhere above her in the castle, she also experienced an inviting peace.

"Yes, you will look the part, warrior. Indistinguishable from any other caretaker here."

Hanna dressed her as Deena stood. And while she draped the seductive fabric over her and wound it around her, Hanna's hands caressed her. When her hands smoothed the fabric over her skin, Deena felt a similar tingle as she had when the harlequin painted her. That should have caused worry, but such emotions seemed far away and distant, like clouds passing over the sun.

"You ook as if you could care for our girls here. Just like me. I have to confess, I have always wanted a sister of sorts here. Someone to help in the caring of the girls. But Mistress has never seen fit to give me one."

Gods, but the brush of the fabric against her skin made Deena hunger. Her body was alight with desire, even as her muscles felt lazy and weak. She lifted her arm as if to prove she could and saw that the muscle had given way to soft flesh. It was still round and thick, but with a soft padding rather than rigid muscle. Her hands moved to her belly and found the same softness as if the muscle had all melted into soft tissue under the weight of the dress.

"And the way your body entices, warrior, you look as if the girls could easily rest in your lap and cling to you like their own mother. Come, sit while I finish."