<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c4/a2/eb/c4a2eb3622a5fd5f4149b8e094a22fa3.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Danae Vine-Lott (https://ddb.ac/characters/13428552/TAFm5K)<br/><strong>Location: </strong>Asylum - First Floor (The Captain's Chamber) - then the Upper Floor (Treatment Rooms)<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>Captain's Uniform - then white lace-up tunic shirt and black breeches, black boots<br/><br/>"As you wish, Doctor," Danae mouthed the woman's name and shard of memory, a disturbing glint in a vast and comforting blanket of darkness, flashed before her.  How many times had she been here before? She would do it again, over and over, remembering some visits, surrendering others to oblivion.  The path through the bedlam she knew well - the narrow corridors, the masked orderlies vacant-faced and black-eyed, the well-appointed drawing rooms and neatly arranged libraries, her own room on the first floor, with the window overlooking the steep and black cliffs, lashed by rain and the thrashing sea-foam.  The orderlies kept it well for her - clean, neat, and tidy in a Mordentish style, with heavy linen sheets, solid oak wardrobe and writing-desk, a sterling silver washbasin on a lion-footed tripod.  Plush comforts, worthy of her station.<br/><br/>Wordless orderlies took her captain's uniform from her, still lashed with sea-spray, and brought to her fresh towels and sponges for her bath.  Steaming water smelling of carbolic soap wafted from the pinewood tub in which she descended.  In her room the oil lamps flickered and the rain battened down on the iron framed windows.  She drank amber amontillado from a white porcelain cup scribed with winding, blue patterns.  Some exotica from the Doctor's collection, no doubt. Her cargo was not limited to fresh inmates for the asylum; exotic goods and curious obscura travelled in the holds of the<em>Mercy</em>.  Orderlies fetched her some freshly starched and pressed onshore garments.  They milled about her room and the corridors outside her room with deft poise at all times, silent and unobtrusive.  Danae thought they might have stood, motionless, by her bedside at night and she would not have been able to discern them from the furniture, for even their porcelain masks seemed when their bearer was motionless subsumed into the walls after the fashion of a lighting fixture.<br/><br/>The chamber Heinfroth had assigned for the sisters from distant Sri Raji was windowless and panelled in red velvet to dampen sound, with a floor of white ceramic tiles. Danae's bootheels clacked and the orderly who had led her upstairs, lantern in hand, closed the wainscoted door behind her.    There were polished iron rings driven into the walls on which to secure manacles, and more of these jutting from the floor, from which an inmate might be fettered by her ankles, and low leather-upholstered benches.   The transmogrification of subjugation into desire she had first witnessed in the sisters aboard the<em>Mercy</em>had run its course, and before her she beheld the lurid display of lusts borne from the steaming jungles.<br/><br/>The scandalous tales she had read years ago when she was but a cadet serving amidships on the<em>Lethe</em>were made flesh in the sinuous rutting that was such a sweet defilement of sisterhood.  Of the girls Nari, vacuous-eyed, hair plastered with sweat ground her splayed cunny against Sanya's sable-furred mound, the polished mahogany of plump hillocks disappearing into the vivid, dew-streaked coral pink.  Above Sanya's questing mouth rode Nita, her fat breasts bouncing, her rounded dancer's belly undulating - curved and soft, but girded with good, strong muscle.  Above Sanya supine frame, Nita and Nari kissed, and Danae beheld the breasts, backs, and arses she had subjected to the pitiless kiss of the martinet aboard the<em>Mercy</em>.  Mahogany skin deeply oiled still bore the welts she had brought down upon them, and yet the sisters beheld her with mindless, ecstatic awe.  Perhaps it was she, Danae, who had awakened in them the forbidden lusts that had consumed them.  With each flogging of fat, opulent arse cheeks and fat cow-tits she had broken down their shallow selves and refashioned into something new, and altogether finer.<br/><br/>They came to her, crawling, begging for the lash, licking her boots, prostrating themselves before her.  A hideous travesty of a ceremony of worship.<br/><br/>"Evangelise us," Nari hissed, offering up her tits wet with her sisters' spit, "oh Goddess, you who have taken us to this place beyond memory.  We cannot stop what you began on the<em>Mercy</em>.  This place has awakened us, we now see, when before we were blind."<br/><br/>Her sisters grovelled at Danae's feet, sighing sensuous invocations to heathen divinities.<br/><br/>Danae spoke, "You are here because the good Doctor will make you better. Do you believe that?"<br/><br/>Nita pulled her full, vermilion painted lips from Sanya's panting mouth to speak, "If so you say, so we believe."<br/><br/>Danae smiled to herself and began to unlace her breeches.  "Very well, the Doctor will see you now."<br/><br/>She thought of what Heinfroth would take from them, or whether 'take' was even the right word.  The sisters had yearned to be refashioned, to be broken by lash and whip, to have their cunnies and arseholes spread and bloom to Danae's demanding hands.  They longed to annihilate their old selves, and sacrifice these old rags at the altar of a new goddess, and so to be made anew, just as Danae had.<br/><br/>"See, now, she will be here soon," Danae hissed, and rained down hard strikes of her riding crop over enormous, quivering breasts, "the engine of your transformation."<br/><br/>Nari replied, "No, Captain, you alone are," and proffered her open mouth, full soft lips open, tongue redolent of her sisters' cunnies extended.  Danae obliged her by spitting on her tongue and Nari's eyes rolled in her head, a look of blank ecstasy overcoming her.  Her sisters begged, no demanded, a taste, seizing Nari by the waist and neck, and stealing hot, wet kisses.<br/><br/><em>They have mistaken the idol for the goddess</em>. Like the dreamers in the cave, they saw only the shadow, and not the form. They did not see that Danae was no less an inmate than they were.<br/>