The Castle of Solange - Part Two

Another of those infuriating giggles. "That's what they all say. And then they start to feel how good it is to be one of Mistress's girls. You'll understand in a minute."

Tienna disappeared from view. That, somehow, was worse than her clownlike visage hovering above Lycee. When Tienna returned, she carried two bowls. A brush leaned against the lip of one. Tienna sat them on a wooden table near Lycee's head. She was humming again, a merry demeanor as she stirred the contents of the bowl with the brush. When she lifted it, Lycee could see that it was coated in a thick white paint.

"Hold still," the ringmistress said, "or don't. Either way you'll be part of the circus in no time."

She was giggling again when the brush swept across Lycee's forehead. The paint was heavy against her skin and very cool. It was almost soothing. And where the brush touched her, leaving behind the white paint, her skin tingled beneath it. It was a very pleasant sensation. When the brush made another line across her forehead, Lycee even closed her eyes, allowing that cool, pleasantly prickly sensation sweep her along into a sense of peace. She had to get free of the table, of course, and find Princess Ren, but it wouldn't hurt to allow herself a moment's peace. The paint could easily be wiped away once she was free.

Even Tienna's humming was less irritating when paired with that wonderful sensation of the paint coating her face, now brushed over her cheeks. Her face must look quite strange, she thought, half pale and half her usual ruddy color. Tienna's face looked smooth, almost like that of a doll. Flawless. It was beautiful, if she allowed herself to think such thoughts about a woman. She barely considered men objects of sexuality, and never a woman. But Tienna was quite beautiful, even with the garish makeup.

"You are so pretty. What's your name, anyways?"

Lycee started to speak and found she could not. Her mouth opened and closed, but she could not quite call to mind the name given to her. It was on the tip of her tongue, a maddening feeling that she was close to the word, but it fluttered just outside her mental reach.

"Having trouble remembering? That's fine, sweetie. I'll do all the remembering for you. Just relax and enjoy yourself."

The voice was soft and warm. It seemed to wrap around her like a blanket, comforting her. If only she could remember...

"Oh, my! You are so beautiful! Your face is almost done. Just some red for your lips. And maybe for your eyes, too. Won't that be pretty?"

Yes, she supposed it would be. Her eyes flitted down to her hand, still bound to the stone table. A vague alarm broke through her state of relaxation as she saw the tan flesh of her arm being replaced by a slow creep of white, leaving her arm hairless, smooth, and artificially pale. The paint on her face was not only a cosmetic. It must be enchanted, perhaps by the sorceress Solange herself, and that ivory color was now spreading down to the very tips of her fingers. The nameless warrior knew that if she allowed herself to remain in this soporific state, she would be lost.

Already, her mind was filled by images of her muscled body in an acrobat's costume, skintight and colorful, while she tumbled and leaped for the amusement of a castle filled with similarly entranced women. She would be one among their number, a toy for Solange, and a mindlessly happy clown, just as Tienna was.

But she could not let that happen. She needed to escape. She could not free herself from the shackles, but perhaps she could convince Tienna to free her. Tienna, who was bent over her, stirring the contents of the second bowl, preparing to further paint her face. And part of the warrior wanted to let it happen. She could use that desire, perhaps.

"What is my name?" the warrior asked.

"Hmmm," Tienna wondered, pausing before she could paint the eyes of the bound woman. "I think something pretty. How about Deena? Yes! i like that! Deena the Dancer!"

The warrior, whose true name was lost to her thanks to the transformative paint, accepted her new name as Deena without question. It was both an affect she intended to use to free herself and a new truth. yes, her name was Deena, and no other name could be recalled. And so Deena smiled.

"Deena," she said.

"Yep! And now we just need to finish your makeup and we'll be ready to get you into your costume. A little practice and we can present you to our Mistress."

That word - Mistress - made Deena shiver. Another truth weaving its way into the fabric of her being. How easy it would be to allow herself to forget all that had come before and allow her body to betray her. The thought of being a performer for Solange, for Mistress, made her pussy clench and warm. She would dance for Mistress's pleasure and be rewarded by an eternity of mindless bliss. Only the joy of Mistress and her court would matter. And her reward for being pleasing would be to feel that thoughtless pleasure that a toy might feel. Deena shuddered.

"Oh, I see the idea of pleasing Mistress is becoming clear to you. It is what you are for, after all. What we all are for. And Mistress loves playing with her new toys. I envy the attention she'll give you. At least until a new toy comes along. Let's get you ready so we don't delay Mistress's pleasure any longer."

"Tienna?"

"Yes?"

"My wrists hurt. Will you loosen them? And then you can finish my face. I want to see my costume."

Tienna again paused. The brush was between her fingers, held like a quill awaiting a scroll. Tienna looked suspicious, as much as her painted expression would allow.

"Please, Tienna. I-" Deena bit her lip. "I want to touch myself."