With the sun traversing the sky, lengthening the shadows within Aida’s bed chamber, Immari made her into something different. Any vestiges of the known lines of her face erased with every stroke of the brushes Immari used. Black kohl lined her eyes, the ripe redness of waxy paint shading her lips into a delicate pout. Lashes stiff, brows combed and dusted with powder, she had a vague look of surprise affixed to her features. The thick cream Immari applied to the whole of her face and far down her chest made her look ill, but Immari’s satisfied hums and the curve of her lips said all was as it should be.
“Come now, child. It’s time you dressed,” Immari murmured, hands almost gentle as they guided Aida from the stool to stand by the heavy wardrobe where the dress hung.
Except it wasn’t the dress Immari reached for. Instead, she opened another wooden case. Smaller, the red hued blackness of the wood gleamed in the scarlet golds of the setting sun as Immari pulled foreign items from the black velvet interior. Some contraption resembling a gown’s bodice, with heavy cord and ruffles of lace. Line appearing between her darkened brows despite the itching pull of the paints, Aida stared hard at the other items. She recognized stockings, but the fabric was sheer so that Aida could see the breadth of Immari’s palm through it. Thin black ribbons of satin dangled in Immari’s fingers, but the momentary relief at recognizing such a simple item of her wardrobe vanished as a much abbreviated shift appeared from the box.
“I can see through that!” Aida took an unconscious step back. Shaking her head in denial of the indecent transparency that would no doubt show the curve of her breasts with the low neck of the gown he expected her to wear. It would skim her thighs, providing no protection below the skirts that now seemed of little substance.
“Come back here,” Immari snapped, grabbing Aida’s elbow and dragging her back into position. “You will wear what he has chosen for you.”
“Immari, look at it! I… This… No!”
“Enough of this. Arms up.”
Immari didn’t wait, the loose neck of the diaphanous shift pulled over Aida’s head. Somehow she avoided the powders and paints, not disturbing a single pin in Aida’s hair as she tugged the gauzy material into place. The silken cord moaned in dismay as Immari pulled it taut, the line of fabric hovering above the dusty pink points of Aida’s breasts.
“Immari, please,” Aida began, cut off as Immari slapped the strange device to Aida’s stomach, pushing her hand to hold it in place.
Moving behind Aida, Immari threaded the cord through eyelets, her huffing breaths scalding the back of Aida’s neck. The hiss of the cord when Immari pulled it preceded the uncomfortable sensation of being pinched.
“Breathe out, girl.”
“But—”
“Now!”
“Immari, what is this—” Aida broke off on a wheeze, the stiffened silk and boney channels collapsing her lungs while Immari pulled the thing even tighter. Tied off, unable to draw a proper breath, Aida fumbled for a grip on the vanity before she fell over. Thoughts swirling as fast as the room spun, she saw herself in the mirror. A shriek of dismay spilled over her lips as she saw what the contraption did to her body. Molding it into something lush and perverse, mounding her breasts high and cinching her waist to accentuate the breadth of her hips.
“You’ll get used to the corset. Now step in,” Immari said, gruff to the point of a command as she held the gown open.
Strained breaths shaky, Aida lifted a trembling leg. Stepping into the gown with a low moan matched only by the quaver of her lips and the wave of tears that threatened to tumble over her lashes.
“Don’t you dare start that sniveling, Aida Vertia. If you ruin all of the hard work I’ve put into readying you, we will have to begin again, and he will be most displeased if you are late.”
“How can you be so cruel, Immari? You know what he’s making me—”
“That is enough.” Brows pinched, she refused to meet Aida’s eyes as she eased the snug sleeves of black lace that bared much of Aida’s arms in place. Asserting a stern air, she bustled behind her charge to begin the lengthy process of working the tiny black pearl closures.
Adrift in a sea of despair as she caught one glimpse after the other of the creature in the mirror that she couldn’t recognize as herself, Aida kept her silence. Refusing to be chastised like a child for fearing what Otaso planned, hating that she couldn’t stop the trembling that wracked her body as Immari finished dressing her. Leaving her endless moments to turn the horrors of what might come tonight over in her head until she vibrated with the tension of it. He’d parade her in front of the very people he hid her away from. The men he warned would hurt her in unimaginable ways, that only he could keep her safe from.
Night approached. The fireplace and candles roared to life, startling Aida into a thin scream. It was some magic of Otaso’s, happening every evening as the shadows grew dark in her rooms, yet the reminder of his power only set her further on edge.
The knock on her door stopped her heart, the delicate muscle refusing to continue its plaintive rhythm in her chest.
“There’s my lovely little doe,” Otaso said, the rough timbre of his voice thick and dark.
Chapter 2 Aida
The daily ritual of it had her performing the deep curtsey, so much more difficult now with the uncomfortable pressure of her new undergarment. The
