“SIRENA”
By Angel Blair
* * *“You’re clever.”
For all her surprise, Isolde managed not to drop what she’d been holding. It was just some goblet, she supposed, but it looked valuable. And that was what really counted. She wouldn’t let some hand maiden get the upper hand. “Am I?”
“It’s not easy to sneak in here.” The sound of a heavy door being shut. It had been left open when Isolde got here, and she’d figured the cover of darkness would be enough.
Apparently, she’d miscalculated. “Really? I found it quite simple.” Her hand brushed the pommel of her sword, down to the grip.
“Ah, ah,” the voice warned. “I can scream for help faster than you can draw a blade.”
“Want to bet?” Isolde asked. “Screaming for help doesn’t mean they’ll get here before I kill you.”
She’d expected anything but laughter. But that’s what the girl did; she laughed. A sweet sound, that twisted something in Isolde’s stomach. “Oh, if you wanted to kill me, you would have when I’d surprised you. We both know it’s far too late now.”
Isolade frowned. “Too late for what?”
“Would you just turn around?” the girl asked. “I don’t know why you still think you’re hiding.”
With a heavy sigh, Isolde turned on her heel.
She swallowed. This was no handmaiden. This was the auburn-haired, well-dressed princess of Dolothin. And she had caught Isolade red-handed.
If she made it out of here, the Guild would have her head. Or maybe her hands. She couldn’t decide which was worse.
The princess held her lamp close to her chest, keeping herself in the light. “Take off your hood.”
“Or what?”
“Don’t be difficult.” She moved to the torch on the wall, opening the front of her lantern. “You haven’t tried to run. You know that would be unwise.”
Isolde watched her bring the candle to the torch, and winced as the room filled with light. “I’m assessing the situation.”
The princess grinned. And it was sort of distinctly unpretty, in a way that Isolde didn’t expect. She hummed something, a tune under her breath. Even with her lips closed, Isolde could tell she had a rather high singing voice.
“You’re trapped,” she said. “You did all the research on how to get in, and that’s very well and good. I can respect you for that, especially as a lady. Us girls, we never get chosen to do the tough jobs. Do we?”
Isolde glared. Did she like to play with her food, then? Was she trying to play a trick on her? “I don’t have to tell you—”
The princess began humming again, the same song. She took out her braid as she did so, combing her fingers through. “You will tell me anything I ask.”
Isolde blinked. It was a nice song. Very easy to listen to, she supposed. Or maybe the princess just had a nice voice. “I will- I- What?”
“Pretty girl,” the princess said, gently and sweetly at once. It wasn’t her speaking voice. It wasn’t quite a song. It was just a funny way of speaking. “Fair thief of mine. Won’t you tell me your name?”
“Isolde.”
She shook her head. She should- What? How had that happened?
“And from where do you hail?” Her voice was so soft. A better sound had never been heard, Isolde thinks.
“The swamps.” She nibbles her lower lip. “I mean, the Guild, the- I’m a pickpocket, I- The Guild—”
The princess held up her hand, and Isolde fell silent. “Listen to my song.” She took one step forward. “Listen to my voice, and let yourself fall. You are not afraid, sweet thief, fair girl. You are not afraid of me.”
Of course she wouldn’t be. The princess was just a girl, perhaps the same age as Isolde. And yes, she was a bit taller, but that was it. Well. She wasn’t as thin as Isolde. She had the curves of a woman who could eat regularly. Nice, round hips and large, firm breasts.
It wasn’t fear Isolde felt. It was envy.
“Pretty little Isolde.” The princess took her wrist. “A dashing little thief.”
The other hand found her hair, her cheek. Isolde tried to pull away.
The princess began humming again, like she was soothing a child. Her fingers caressed Isolde’s bare cheek, and though she frowned, she didn’t stop her humming.
Isolde heard the tune in waves. The high note would capture her attention, drive all the other thoughts from her head. Then the princess would go into the lower bars, and for just a second, Isolde could regain her thoughts. But before she could come up with a proper plan, another high note would come along.
She felt terribly confused, all of a sudden. Like her thoughts were being mashed around in her head. “What—”
“You won’t hurt me,” the princess said. And then, smiling, she sang, “You will never hurt me, for you care for me too much.”
“I don’t care about you.”
Her grin widened. “You’re so strong.” She hummed, and then took in a breath. When she exhaled, it was not words she sang, but notes. The same melody, unfiltered and uncovered.
Isolde felt her eyes roll back in her head. The goblet fell the the floor, and she slumped back.
“Ah, ah.” The princess caught her. “See? See how much trouble you’re in? I can do anything I want, and you’re not even going to notice.” Her song came out again, in a warble. Each bar she hit felt like sparks in Isolde’s head. She was faintly aware that she was being moved, being put in an armchair.
“You’re under my spell,” the princess sang. “You’re under my spell.”
“I’m under your spell,” Isolde repeated. Though her eyes were open, she felt as though she was seeing nothing at all.
“You can’t resist me.”
“I can’t resist you.”
“You don’t want to resist me.”
“I don’t want to resist you.”
Isolde’s head lolled back, rested against the soft cushions of the princess’ chair.
“That’s it.” That was her speaking voice. Her normal tone. But Isolde heard each word with a certain sort of punctuation, a nail being hammered into her brain. “Relax. Breathe deep, and relax. Don’t fight me. You can never fight me. You don’t want to fight me.”
She shifted in the chair. To get more comfortable. To sink nice and deep into this comfort, and never get up.
“Take off your dirty boots while you tell me about yourself. How did you become a thief?”
Automatically, Isolde reached for her boots. “I was taken in as a child. I was raised me as one. They said it was to help me, but now I’m forever in their debt.”
“You poor thing.”
“I don’t want to be a thief,” Isolde said. She pulled off her first boot, and wiggled her toes. “I just want my freedom.”
“Is that why you tried to rob me? You thought you could steal something impressive enough to win your freedom?”
“That was the plan.” There was the other shoe, both now on the floor. Isolde crossed her legs.
“That won’t do.” More humming. Isolde softly moaned, bracing her hands on her knees. “It is arousing, isn’t it? My song makes you feel so good.”
“So... good...”
She sang. This time, it wasn’t a tune. It was just a set of scales. But Isolde felt each note like a thumb on her clit, rubbing circles deep into her body, her mind.
“Take off your clothes.”
She unbuckled her pants, and slid them down her legs. She was already leaking, and her pants were sticky with sweat and cunt as she kicked them aside. Her jacket came next, a series of buckles undone as quickly as she could managed.
The princess hummed as Isolde undressed, and each note made her limbs feel terribly heavy. Like she was moving through thick mud, but the mud was in her head as well, making it so, so hard to do the simplest of things.
By no small miracle, she managed to pull off her blouse.
“There.” The princess’ hands were in her hair, tugging it back and pinning it up. “Now you almost look decent. What’s your name?”
“Isolde.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a thief.”
“No.” The princess hooked a finger under Isolde’s chin. “I hate thieves. You’re not a thief.”
“But—”
“You’re not a thief,” the princess said, sing-songing once more. “Forget what you were. Forget everything you ever were.”
“Forget?”
The scales again. The scales, making Isolde even hornier, even wetter than she was before. Oh, what had the princess wanted? What had she been asking for?
“You’ve been confused.” The princess stroked her lower lip. “You think you want freedom, but you don’t.” And then, in song, “You don’t want to be free.”
Isolde drove a finger into her cunt, gasping as she felt her own wetness. So much of it, so good- “I don’t want to be free.”
“You’ll never be free.”
“I’ll never be free.”
“You don’t have a will of your own.”
“I don’t have a will of my own.”
“Mm, you’re touching yourself. That’s so pretty. That’s so nice to watch. Use two fingers, and fuck yourself nice and slow on your hand.”
Moaning and whimpering, Isolde obeyed.
“What are you, Isolde?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.” The princess cupped her cheeks. “Eyes open. You can see me, again. You’re not lost in the fog anymore.”
She was so beautiful. Such a beautiful princess. “I—”
“Don’t speak,” the princess said. “Keep playing with yourself, but don’t come.” She leaned in. Their cheeks brushed, and the princess’ lips found Isolde’s ear.
She pumped herself harder. Consumed by lust and obedience, and finding that it was impossible to tell the two apart.
“You want someone to command you,” the princess whispered. “Someone good and kind. And that’s me. Your princess.”
“My princess—”
“Your purpose.”
She felt so good. Her fingers were stuffed so nicely in her cunt, and each time she thrust she could feel it right against her clit. “My purpose.”
“You’re my handmaiden,” the princess said. “You have always been my handmaiden.”
And then—
Then—
She whispered a song. So soft, so melodic, Isolde could barely hear it.
But she felt it. In the deepest part of her being. The mud was being washed away, cleansed by purity. And there was nothing left of Isolde. Nothing left at all.
“I will fill you,” the princess whispered. “I will make you who you were meant to be.”
“Yes. Fill me, I’m so empty. Make me yours.”
Their noses brushed. A kiss, soft and tender. “Have you come yet, handmaiden?”
“I’m not allowed to.”
“But you’re so close, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my princess.”
“Stop,” The princess said. “Stop, but stay exactly as horny as you are. Keep that imprinted in your mind. That constant lust, that wetness, that’s who you are. Always horny. Always aching, always so close to coming but can’t without my permission.”
She moved her hand from her cunt, feeling the loss like a physical ache. “Oh,” she whimpered. “Oh, it’s so much, I’m so wet. I’m so close, I’m so wet please—”
“Shh, shh. Stand up.”
The princess retreated to her wardrobe, flinging open the doors.
She’d had never seen so many toys. So many means of pleasure. She clenched her thighs, shuddering as her wetness leaked down her leg.
“Here,” the princess said, pulling out something like a chastity belt. “Spread your legs, handmaiden.”
The handmaiden did as she was told. Her cunt felt a cold breeze, only magnified by the dampness.
“You’re going to look so pretty as my slave.” The princess approached her, opening the device. Now, the handmaiden could see that there was a thick phallus at the base, one that would fill her to the very brim.
“Oh, my princess—”
“I know.” She grinned. “This excites you terribly. You’re so horny, you don’t know how you’ll resist coming as I—” She began to slide the toy into the handmaiden’s cunt. “Fill you so deeply and fully. This is in your cunt, just as I am in your mind.”
The handmaiden wailed in pleasure, breaking far past the point of orgasm. The sensations were driving her mad, as her walls desperately worked the toy that rest inside her.”
The sound of a lock. “Only I can remove this belt. And I will at length, to play with you. To do as I please. But if I’m not here, you can fuck yourself on it as much as you like. And maybe, if I’m feeling generous, I’ll even let you come on your own.”
Tears pricked in the corners of the handmaiden’s eyes. Her princess was so kind and good, so utterly perfect in every way.
She undulated her hips in her belt, mewling each time the cock thrust deeper inside her. She brought her hands to her chest, pulling her nipples and moaning in pleasure.
“A handmaiden is a pleasure slave, you know. You’ll be servicing me for all of your days. Your mouth on my cunt, my breasts, wherever I want it. You are a being of pleasure, and you exist to please me.”
“Yes,” the handmaiden gasped. “I want to please you. I must always please you.”
“So good. Now lift your arms for me.”
The handmaiden obeyed.
The princess brought a corset out, fastening it and tying it tightly. The handmaiden’s breasts felt so swollen and full, as they practically fell out of her top.
“That’s your basic uniform, see? We’ll put a dress over it, and no one will know that you’re just a horny little slave underneath.” The princess studied her handmaiden. On a whim, she pinched the skin of her handmaiden’s sensitive breasts, laughing as the handmaiden pleaded for release.
The sound of the princess’ laugh was nearly too much. It was so sweet, so pure, the handmaiden couldn’t resist falling to her knees. “Mistress, please—”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Mistress pat her head. “Are you feeling too good? Is this too much?”
The handmaiden mouthed at her princess’ skirts, nuzzling at the apex of her thighs. “Let me serve you. Let me serve you.”
Grinning, the princess led her crawling handmaiden to the bed. She lifted all her skirts and fell back with a laugh, exposing her perfect, shining cunt. “Come now,” the princess ordered. “Come, and lick me as you do. And don’t stop coming. Just come and come and pleasure me until I tell you to stop. My mindless, perfect handmaiden.”
The handmaiden came with the first lick, the taste of her princess sending her into ecstasy. She came on the phallus, soaking her belt, grabbing her princess by the thighs and fucking her with an eager tongue.
“Oh,” the princess sang. “That feels so good, oh, OH—”
She hit the highest, prettiest notes the handmaiden had ever heard.
And she, like a good little pleasure slave, obeyed each note with all her might.