Care

She addressed the girls present, saying, "Finish preparing her and bring her over here for the next step." Hercules offered her his arm, which she accepted, snuggling against him, ignoring Diana as she received care while they continued to wash and prepare her.

The maids seized Diana with expert hands, their nails tracing cold furrows on her still-quivering skin. One of them roughly spread her trembling thighs, a stifled laugh escaping her at the sight of her glistening sex, purpled by Circe's brutal attentions.

"You're going to like this," she said. "I'm going to put an ointment on you that will burn but will heal you." Without any gentleness, the women dried Diana. As the pair left the room, her attendant wasn't lying: the ointment felt like a burning ember on her sex.

Diana screamed as the burning ointment spread over her raw flesh, her muscles twisting in agony of this new **** disguised as healing. The maids held her tightly, their fingers digging into her bruised arms, as the magical substance worked its way through her flesh, healing and reviving every exposed nerve in a cruel fire.

The healer said to Diana,

"This is called Circe's merciless mercy," as she applied it to her anus and spread it as far as possible, for Hercules had more than brutalized the now vulgarly stretched opening. Diana bit her lip until it bled to stifle another scream as the burning ointment seeped deeper into her violated body, her insides twisting in the corrosive heat. The healer thrust two fingers in without warning, spreading the mixture over the throbbing internal walls, each movement causing a violent spasm in the Amazon's damaged muscles.

But even then, the necklace still poisoned her senses with its lie.

Completely broken, Wonder Woman allowed herself to be prepared, soaked in massage oil perfumed with heady scents. She was prepared for long minutes, the oils penetrating her body, intoxicating her like never before. She was so skilled that she entered a sensory trance she had never experienced before. She felt her body surrender to this state, which amplified her physical sensations; each touch became a deadly duo of pleasure and pain.

The maids began to apply makeup to her face, while others waxed her pubic hair, saying,

"We're going to wax you like a good little whore." They made it a point of honor to do it as painfully as possible.

The maids brutally pulled on each pubic hair, tearing out the roots one by one as Diana moaned, her hips jerking with the sharp pain. One of them spat on her swollen genitals before spreading a scalding lather, the mother-of-pearl razor gliding with calculated slowness to prolong the ****.

Silent tears streamed down the Amazon's made-up cheeks as the makeup artists turned their attention to her breasts, even adding subtle touches of makeup.

The makeup artists' expert hands moved in vicious circles around her nipples, hardened by suffering, spreading a makeup made from burning wax that tinted them an obscene pink while simultaneously sensitizing them to the ****. Diana gasped as one of them suddenly pinched the swollen tip, sending a wave of pain mingled with the strange heat that the magic necklace was distilling through her veins.

The icy fingers of a servant suddenly plunged between her parted lips, spreading a mentholated balm that burned like raw ice on her sensitive tongue. Diana flinched, a stifled moan escaping her as the cold bit into her mouth.

"Your fetid breath will thus be concealed." The servant withdrew her icy fingers, leaving Diana gasping for breath as the mentholated balm burned her tongue and throat. Her lips trembled, numb with the cruel cold. These preparations dragged on for a long time; she felt like nothing more than a doll, their contempt making them sick.

When it was over, the one who seemed to be in charge signaled to some guards who approached and lifted her, still groggy, pushing her toward the next ordeal that awaited her. Circe had no pity; she had something even worse in store for her. She fell to the ground, the guards showing no mercy.