Lana’s Transformation (Part 3)

Lana stood lost in the middle of the room while Lady Tara carelessly swept aside the ruined splendour of Lana’s hair. She had no idea what was supposed to happen next. Simply leaving the salon was impossible. The past few hours had changed her too much. And suddenly she became aware of just how soaked her panties and even her thin summer skirt had become.

But Lady Tara was already beside her again and did not leave her alone in her confusion. “You’ve really made quite a mess here, my dirty little slut, haven’t you?” she murmured. “Don’t you think only a dirty slut would do something like that? Several orgasms in your own clothes, in the presence of a stranger. Are you really that much of a dirty slut?”

Lana was utterly confused, helpless and overwhelmed. On the one hand, the voice inside her was still screaming at her to escape the situation at last. On the other, she saw the strange slut in the mirror and could not comprehend what the sight was doing to her.

“Please take off all your clothes. They’re completely soaked.”

Lana obeyed. She slipped the skirt down over her legs. When she tried to pull the top over her head, Lady Tara stopped her. “Not over your head, little one. I don’t want you messing up my work.”

Lana paused. Lady Tara already had a pair of scissors in her hand. “We’ll make it easier.” With one decisive cut, she sliced through the fabric. Another cut, and the top gave way and fell apart. Lana swallowed hard. Her delicate breasts were exposed.

“Beautiful and cute,” Lady Tara assessed what she saw. “The panties too.”

Lana peeled the wet, stubborn garment down over her legs. “Pick up your things and throw them over there with your hoodie. You won’t be able to wear them again anyway.”

For the first time, Lana stood completely naked before Lady Tara in the middle of the room. Lady Tara picked up a fine, soft brush. Gently, she swept it across Lana’s shoulders and back to remove the last loose remnants of hair. A delicate shiver ran through Lana’s body. The touch was barely more than a breath, yet suddenly her skin seemed to register every single movement.

Lady Tara silently studied her work. Before her stood the result of her transformation. The radical haircut, the exposed neck and the complete change in her appearance had turned the once reserved Lana into an image that matched Lady Tara’s vision exactly. Lady Tara stepped closer. Her hands moved calmly across Lana’s back, almost appraisingly, as though she were examining the completion of her work.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly. “Exactly as I imagined it.”

Another shiver ran down Lana’s back. The touch was confusing. It frightened her, and yet there was a warmth she could not reject. Never before had she seen herself like this and felt so lost at the same time.

“May I?”

The question caught her by surprise. This time, there was no immediate resistance inside her. No panicked No. Only this confusing need not to be left alone.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Somewhere deep inside, she was frightened by the realisation that this time it was not mere compulsion behind her answer. A part of her had allowed what was happening—and that was precisely what she herself could not understand. Lady Tara gave Lana barely enough time to finish the thought. The matter-of-fact way she treated her confused Lana more than she wanted to admit. Lana closed her eyes for a moment.

Why did something she ought to reject feel so reassuring at the same time?

The question would not leave her alone. Because somewhere deep inside, she was frightened by the realisation that this time it was not merely the pressure of the situation. Something inside her had given way. And that was precisely what she herself could not understand.

Lady Tara stepped closer. Her hand slowly travelled up Lana’s back, following the line of her spine, passed over the collar and continued to the hairline and the mirror-smooth surface of her freshly shaved scalp. The unfamiliar sensation of Lady Tara’s warm hand against this completely altered part of her body was overwhelming for Lana. Every touch seemed more intense there than before and threw her completely off balance once again.

Even more so when Lady Tara slowly drew her sharp fingernails down Lana’s back, stroked across her hips and finally came to a demanding stop at her bottom.

“Would you like me to pleasure you with my finger?”

Lana was no longer sure whether it was once again her old inability to say No answering for her, or whether she actually wanted it. Lady Tara held out her middle finger in front of Lana’s mouth.

“Put it in your mouth!”

Lana obediently took the finger into her mouth and sucked on it. What on earth was she doing?! Lady Tara withdrew the finger and now brought it to her bottom.

“Bend forward, my dirty little slut!”

Lana obeyed without protest, and Lady Tara began working on her opening. Before long, her middle finger was deep inside that tight, untouched opening. Lana moaned with pleasure and bent a little farther forward.

“So you really are a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Lady Tara!”

Her index finger followed. Lana moaned even louder.

“Even an anal slut!”

“Yes, I am!” Lana gasped between panting breaths.

A third finger joined the others, and Lana bent farther and farther forward, writhing.

“Even a dirty little anal slut!”

Lady Tara worked Lana’s opening, stretching it farther and farther, as though preparing it for something larger. After several minutes, Lady Tara withdrew her hand. Lana was left with a feeling she could barely make sense of herself.

For the first time, someone had touched her there. And that someone was a stranger. But was Lady Tara even a stranger anymore? At that moment, Lana was above all a complete stranger to herself—in her appearance, her behaviour and her feelings!

The orgasm she longed for was denied to her. Lady Tara held her fingers out to her once more, and Lana accepted them again to clean them. Only then did Lana suddenly realise in panic that she was still stark naked in the middle of Lady Tara’s salon. For a moment, she had forgotten everything around her. Shame and horror returned instantly.

But Lady Tara gave Lana no time to recover and continued her controlled game without concern.

“Your makeup is completely ruined from all those tears and sweat, sweetheart,” Lady Tara observed in a cool, almost businesslike voice.

She took a step back and studied Lana’s face, where the old, subtle makeup was no longer flawless, having lost its hold beneath the sweat and traces of the past few hours. The cool salon air now sent a persistent wave of goosebumps across her skin, while the heavy stainless-steel collar relentlessly reminded her of the transformation with every small movement.

Lana was completely exposed and naked.

“Since you’ve just proven in your restraints what a dirty slut you are, don’t you long deep inside for makeup that authentically reflects that?” Lady Tara cooed close to her ear. “A face that no longer hides what has been waiting inside you all along to become visible.”

Waiting… to become visible?

Lana froze to the core. An icy shudder ran down her spine. The thought shot through her mind in blind panic. She wanted to turn her head away, wanted to raise her hands protectively in front of her face. But beneath the overwhelming inner pressure, every attempt at resistance failed. Her mouth opened almost by itself, and all that emerged from her throat was a soft, barely audible:

“Yes, I’d love that, Lady Tara.”

“Very good,” Lady Tara murmured. “Sit down here!”

She directed Lana towards a simple metal stool close to the window. Lana followed the inescapable instruction as though in a trance and sat down at the makeup station farther towards the front, directly beside the large, bright shop window.

The professional workstation stood against the bare wall. High-quality makeup products were neatly and precisely arranged there, ready to turn Lana into what Lady Tara had long known her to be. Lana searched in vain for her reflection. The absence of a mirror denied her any view of herself.

The cool metal of the small stool made her shiver involuntarily. She stared at the completely bare wall in front of her, where not a single mirror offered any refuge from her helplessness. Only the pane of glass separated her from the pavement outside.

Lana’s heart almost stopped when she suddenly realised that the passers-by could see her. She swallowed.

Waiting… to become visible?

Every movement she now noticed out of the corner of her eye on the street made her shame flare up again. She was sitting completely naked directly in front of the large shop window.

Instinctively, Lana tried to turn her head. But the movement was gently yet firmly stopped. Lady Tara was already standing close behind her again, accompanied by her dark, sweet, intoxicating scent.

“Endure it, my little slut, knowing that people can already look you over! Enjoy it!”

Lana froze!

Look her over?!

As though she were something that could be looked at and judged.

From the corners of her eyes, she caught the silent silhouettes of passers-by outside on the pavement, their curious gazes cutting mercilessly through the bright glass. Every fleeting movement out there burned against her naked skin like an accusation.

Some simply walked past. Others seemed to slow down. And then someone actually stopped.

Lana did not dare turn her head towards the street again. She could not tell where the stranger’s gaze had fallen. But she knew.

The thought sent another shiver down her back. She could still feel Lady Tara’s hand on her head, holding it in the prescribed position. The street remained nothing more than blurred movement at the edge of her vision, and precisely because of that, Lana could not escape it.

Lady Tara gave her no time to lose herself any further in her shame. Her hand released Lana’s head, and moments later a cool, soft cleansing pad swept across her cheek.

Slowly and thoroughly, she began removing the smeared remains of the old makeup. Lana felt every movement. The damp pad travelled across her forehead, followed the curve of her cheeks and finally brushed carefully over her closed eyelids.

Lady Tara’s dark scent still surrounded her closely while more blurred figures passed behind the glass outside.

With every stroke, her familiar face disappeared a little more. The face she had left home with earlier that day. But without a mirror, she could not see what was emerging underneath – or what Lady Tara would make of it.

“Your canvas is completely clean now, my little slut,” Lady Tara cooed, her warm breath brushing Lana’s bare shoulder as the faint click of a tube being opened broke the salon’s silence. “And now we’ll bring out the features that have been waiting so impatiently to be revealed.”

Lana held her breath. That suggestion again. As though Lady Tara had known all along what lay hidden beneath all those layers.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the silhouette outside moving even closer to the large window. Lana felt heat rising into her face. She knew she was being watched while Lady Tara was about to transform her face even further.

And she could see neither exactly what was happening outside nor what Lady Tara was doing to her.

Then the soft sponge touched her forehead.

The cool foundation felt almost pleasant at first. Lady Tara slowly spread it across Lana’s skin, moving over her forehead, her temples and down to her cheeks. Her movements were calm and even. Not a single unnecessary touch, not a moment of hesitation.

Lana sat still and felt the sponge travel across her face. Sometimes Lady Tara’s touch disappeared for a moment, only to return somewhere else moments later. Then she switched to a fine brush and carefully refined individual areas.

Without a mirror, Lana was left with nothing but the sensation of change. She did not know how different she already looked. She could only imagine Lady Tara altering her face layer by layer.

Lady Tara studied her face silently for a moment before reaching for the powder. A large, soft brush swept across Lana’s cheeks. The fine bristles almost tickled as Lady Tara moved it over her forehead and finally across her chin.

Nothing about it was hurried. Every movement seemed precisely considered.

Then Lady Tara turned her attention to Lana’s eyes.

“Close them!”

Lana obeyed. The soft sweep of a brush moved across her eyelids. Again and again, she felt the fine bristles as Lady Tara blended the darker shades with such patient movements that eventually the individual touches became almost impossible to distinguish from one another. Lana could only guess what was taking shape. She had no idea how much Lady Tara had already changed her gaze.

Then the sensation changed. Something cool touched down close to her upper lash line and slowly travelled across it. Lana involuntarily held even stiller. The fine tip moved from the inner corner of her eye towards the outside. But Lady Tara did not stop there. Lana felt the tip continue beyond the outer corner of her eye. Lady Tara paused briefly, started again and continued with small, precise movements.

Then came the second eye. Again that cool, precise touch. Again the fine line across her eyelid that did not end at the outer corner. Lana could see none of it. She could only feel how long and carefully Lady Tara worked there.

“Don’t move!” Lady Tara whispered.

Lana barely dared to blink. Once more, Lady Tara applied the tip, retracing the lines and refining their shape until she was apparently satisfied. When Lady Tara finally moved away from her eyes, Lana opened them cautiously. For a moment, everything was blurred. She blinked several times, but all that remained in front of her was the bare wall. No mirror revealed what Lady Tara had just done to her eyes.

Lady Tara silently studied her work for a moment. Then she reached for two small boxes and held them out to Lana.

“Which ones would you like?”

Lana looked at the two pairs of false eyelashes. Even the shorter pair was considerably longer and fuller than anything Lana would ever have chosen for herself. The second pair looked even more seductive and dramatic, with long lashes that swept outward into an almost feline curve. Neither of them! The answer was immediate. But Lady Tara had not offered her that option.

Lana’s gaze settled on the shorter pair. “The… the shorter ones.”

Lady Tara said nothing at first. She continued holding both boxes in front of Lana and studied her. “Are you sure?”

Lana felt something tighten inside her. No! Not because she wanted the long ones. She wanted none at all! But Lady Tara simply waited. Lana’s gaze moved once more between the two pairs. Then she heard herself say: “The long ones.”

A satisfied smile crossed Lady Tara’s face. “That’s what I thought. An excellent choice, my little slut.”

Lady Tara put the shorter lashes aside and removed the long, outward-sweeping pair from its box. “Close your eyes!”

Lana obeyed. She heard the soft rustling of the packaging, and moments later she felt Lady Tara’s fingers close to her face. Then something unusually soft settled along the edge of her first eyelid. Lady Tara gently pressed the lashes into place, little by little, until they were secure. The procedure was repeated on the second eye. Lana remained completely still and felt every careful touch along the edge of her eyelid as Lady Tara meticulously positioned the long lashes.

“Now you can open them again.”

Lana cautiously opened her eyes and blinked. She immediately felt the unfamiliar weight. With every blink, she could sense the long lashes extending outward. It felt as though her eyes suddenly reached beyond their own contours.

Lady Tara regarded her with satisfaction. “Perfect.”

Lana involuntarily raised a hand towards her eye, but Lady Tara intercepted it. “Don’t touch them, my little slut.”

Lana lowered her hand again. Lady Tara’s smile widened. “And don’t worry about how you’ll get them off later.”

Lana looked at her in confusion.

“You won’t be getting rid of them for a very, very… very long time,” Lady Tara cooed.

Lana swallowed and silently accepted that too. She blinked again. She still could not see how the extended eyeliner and sweeping lashes worked together. She could only feel the change.

Lady Tara continued working. A soft brush moved across Lana’s cheeks, then she felt the fine tip of a pencil against her lips. Lady Tara carefully traced their contours and then applied a creamy colour whose vivid shade Lana could only guess at without a mirror. A few final, precise touches, and then Lady Tara put her tools aside and regarded her work with satisfaction.

She was still sitting stark naked beside the shop window. Beyond the glass, the street lay in bright daylight while Lady Tara had made her face increasingly conspicuous and artificial. The thought made the wetness between her trembling thighs pulse relentlessly. She could do nothing about it.

Lady Tara’s words returned to her. Waiting… to become visible? She still did not know what Lady Tara had recognised in her. But the unsettling feeling that Lady Tara already knew was becoming stronger and stronger.

For a moment, everything fell silent. Lana sat there without a mirror, without certainty. She had no idea what face Lady Tara had created. Lady Tara allowed the silence to linger a little longer. Then her gaze moved to Lana’s hands.

“Something is still missing.”

Lana followed her gaze. Lady Tara gently took Lana’s left hand in hers and placed it on the work surface. Her long, dark-red painted fingernails formed a striking contrast to Lana’s short, inconspicuous nails. Lady Tara opened a small box. Inside were carefully sorted artificial fingernails.

“You’re going to like these.”

Lana looked at them. They were considerably shorter than Lady Tara’s dark-red nails, yet unusually long for Lana. She had always kept her own short and inconspicuous. These would extend noticeably beyond her fingertips. The nail beds shimmered in a delicate, natural pink, while the tips stood out in flawless white. I’m going to like these?

Lady Tara had already begun her work. One by one, she placed them over Lana’s natural nails and carefully pressed them into place. With each finger, her hands looked a little more unfamiliar. More delicate. More feminine.

Unlike with her face, Lana could watch this transformation as it happened. There was no missing mirror to spare her the sight. She watched as Lady Tara attached one nail after another and her familiar hands changed before her eyes.

“Bimbo slut,” Lady Tara murmured softly.

Lana held her breath for a moment.

Bimbo slut?!

Lady Tara continued working, unbothered.

When the last nail was in place, Lady Tara took both of Lana’s hands and held them out in front of her, examining them.

Lana tentatively spread her fingers. The white tips extended unusually far beyond her fingertips. So neat. So flawless. And so completely different from how her hands had looked only a few minutes earlier.

Lady Tara smiled with satisfaction.

“Perfect for my little bimbo slut.”

Lana froze.

Bimbo slut!

Her gaze remained fixed on her hands. Lady Tara had not spoken the word as an insult. It had sounded almost matter-of-fact. As though it were simply the appropriate term for what she now saw before her.

Lana said nothing. Only her fingers moved cautiously as she studied the unfamiliar-looking white tips of her new nails. She still could not see her face. But her hands already felt like part of this new Lana.

“All done!” Lady Tara finally announced with visible pride, as though she had been working towards this moment for years. She regarded Lana like a completed work of art. Lana simply did not yet know what kind. Lady Tara took a step back and silently studied Lana. “Stand up, my little bimbo slut.”

Lana hesitated for a moment, then slowly rose from the makeup stool. After sitting for so long, her legs felt uncertain. Instinctively, she wanted to lower her gaze, but movement outside the shop window made her pause. Two passers-by were walking past. One of them had turned their head towards the salon. Lana saw it only from the corner of her eye. That was enough.

Suddenly, she became acutely aware again that she was completely naked. That only the enormous pane of glass separated her altered body from the street. And that people could see her. Her first impulse was to fold her arms across her body. But Lady Tara’s hand was already resting calmly between her shoulder blades.

“Come!”

Just that one word. Lana obeyed. Lady Tara led her the few steps back towards the salon chair. Before them stood the full-length mirror in which Lana had seen herself even before her transformation. But this time it was different. This time she would see what Lady Tara had made of her.

Lana stopped in front of the mirror and slowly raised her eyes. She stared at her reflection. For a moment, she could not comprehend what she was seeing. The face in the mirror was hers. And yet with every heartbeat, it seemed to become more unfamiliar.

Bimbo slut!

The word Lady Tara now used for her so casually suddenly had a face.

Her face!

Lady Tara had made her complexion perfectly even. The foundation made her skin appear flawless without burying it beneath a heavy layer. A subtle shimmer lay across her cheekbones, catching the harsh salon light and making the narrow contours of her face stand out more strongly than Lana had ever noticed them before. Her eyebrows had been drawn in dark and precise. The clear, high arch suddenly gave her face something determined, almost challenging.

But it was her eyes that Lana could not stop staring at. The deep-black eyeliner swept across her lids in a flawless line and extended far outward into two sharp points. The thick, unnaturally long lashes made her eyes look enormous. With every blink, they moved heavily across her vision and cast delicate shadows over her skin.

Lana blinked again. Those were her eyes. That was exactly what disturbed her. Lady Tara had not hidden her eyes. She had emphasised them. Made them larger. More conspicuous. Impossible to overlook.

Lana’s gaze slowly travelled lower. To her mouth. Her lips glowed in an intense matte red. Lady Tara had carefully traced their natural shape and emphasised them only enough to make them appear fuller. Lana involuntarily parted her lips slightly. The red moved with her. She closed them again.

Still her mouth.

That isn’t me!

The thought came immediately. Almost defiantly. But Lana could not hold on to it. Because the longer she studied the face in the mirror, the less she was able to see it as a disguise. Lady Tara had not given her someone else’s features. Nothing there could conceal who was underneath.

Quite the opposite. It was still her face. Only Lady Tara seemed to have made something visible within it that Lana herself had never wanted to see.

The extreme bowl cut. The ultrashort micro bangs. The conspicuous makeup. The long false eyelashes. The French nails. The naked skin. And finally the collar.

Her gaze moved upward to the razor-sharp platinum-blonde edge of her bowl cut. No long hair fell protectively beside her cheeks anymore. Nothing framed her face, nothing softened the makeup. The ultrashort microbangs left almost her entire forehead exposed, while the hard blonde line ended high above her ears. Beneath it: nothing. The smoothly shaved back of her head. The bare nape. Her slender, completely exposed neck. And around it, the matte stainless-steel collar.

Lana swallowed. The movement of her throat was clearly visible in the mirror. Everything about her suddenly seemed visible. Her eyes. Her lips. Her neck. Her uncertainty. Everything she saw before her seemed to belong together. Everything belonged to her. Everything really was her.

She wanted to look away. But she could not. That isn’t me. The thought again. This time it sounded less convincing.

Waiting… to become visible?

The thought struck her with full force.

Lady Tara stepped behind her. In the mirror, Lana watched her approach until she stood immediately behind her. “Look at yourself, my little bimbo slut,” she said softly.

Lana did not respond. Her eyes remained fixed on her own reflection. Lady Tara gently placed her hands on Lana’s bare shoulders.

“I didn’t hide you.”

Lana felt her fingers settle against the skin of her shoulders.

“I made you visible!”

Lana’s breath caught. No! But the word would not pass her lips. Lady Tara smiled in the mirror.

“That is the face of my dirty little bimbo slut.”

Lana stared at her reflection. The girl who had entered this salon was gone. At least Lana could no longer find her anywhere. And for the first time, what frightened her was not that she did not know the girl in the mirror.

What frightened her was that she recognised her.

Without taking her eyes off Lana for even a fraction of a second, Lady Tara blindly reached behind herself and pulled open the heavy dark wooden door of a second wall cabinet. Lana looked inside and involuntarily held her breath.

The cabinet was organised down to the smallest detail. Several dozen latex and lacquer dresses hung neatly in rows, mostly in black, red, pink and white. Beneath them were carefully packaged black fishnet stockings. In the lower section, gleaming high heels and ankle boots stood row upon row. And everything was sorted by size.

Lana’s gaze lingered on the dresses for a moment. Why did Lady Tara have so many of them? And why in all those different sizes?

But Lady Tara gave her no time to pursue the thought. Her hand moved along the dresses without the slightest hesitation. She knew exactly what she was looking for. Finally, she stopped at one particular hanger and pulled out the dress.

The glossy pink immediately caught the muted salon light. The lacquer shimmered with every movement. The narrow straps and striking lacing down the front immediately caught Lana’s eye. Then her gaze travelled downward. That short?

“Would you like to wear it?”

Lana stared at the far-too-short hem. No! The answer came immediately. But the No remained unspoken. Lady Tara waited.

“Yes,” Lana finally heard herself say.

Lana did not need much imagination to know where the hem would end on her body. Lady Tara then took the black fishnet stockings from the cabinet and handed them to Lana.

“Those first!”

Lana took them and slowly pulled them up her legs. The fine black mesh clung closely to her skin. She was covered again. At least a little. Why, then, did she feel even more exposed than before?

Then Lady Tara held out the pink lacquer dress. “And this!”

Lana slipped into it. The smooth material glided over her body until Lady Tara placed the narrow straps over her shoulders and adjusted the dress. Lana looked down at herself.

No panties.

For a moment, her gaze remained fixed on the far-too-short hem. Then it shot towards Lady Tara. But she did not seem to find anything remarkable about it. Lady Tara smoothed the lacquer over Lana’s hips and adjusted the hem. Lana reached for it almost simultaneously and instinctively tried to pull it a little lower.

There was nothing to pull down. The dress sat outrageously high over her hips and only just covered her bottom. Lana released the fabric. There was no way she could go outside dressed like this.

She should have felt ridiculous in it. Cheap. Skimpy. Her gaze remained fixed on the glossy pink. But there was that other feeling again. That fascination she had come to know far too well by now. And it frightened her almost more than the dress itself.

Then she turned her attention to the ankle boots. Lady Tara took one of the Baby-Pink lacquer ankle boots from the cabinet. The Baby-Pink shimmered across the glossy lacquer. Lacing ran up the front of the high shaft, while beneath it a thick platform sole already raised the foot considerably from the floor. But Lana’s gaze remained fixed on the heel.

Thin. Extremely high.

The mere thought of having to stand on those heels made her uneasy. Lady Tara held the boot in front of her for a moment. “Would you like to try them on?”

Lana stared at the heel. No! She did not even know whether she could stand on them. Lady Tara waited.

“Yes,” Lana said softly.

Lady Tara stepped towards Lana again. “Sit down in the chair one more time, my little bimbo slut.”

Lana hesitated briefly. Then she went back and sat down in the salon chair. The leather gave slightly beneath her. Lady Tara stepped in front of her and crouched down. She took Lana’s first foot and opened the zipper on the inside of the boot. Then she guided Lana’s foot inside and slowly pulled the zipper back up. The narrow, high heel forced her foot into an unfamiliar, steep position.

But Lady Tara was not finished. She took hold of the laces and began slowly tightening them from bottom to top. Eyelet by eyelet. A little tighter each time. Lana watched as the gleaming lacquer drew closer and closer around her foot and ankle. Lady Tara’s hands worked calmly and evenly.

Pull. Tighten. The next eyelet.

Lana watched her fingers. After a while, it seemed as though there was nothing left but that same repeated movement.

Pull. Tighten. The next eyelet.

Until Lady Tara reached the top and finally pulled the laces tight. Lana swallowed. The boot now fitted her foot so closely that it seemed to have been made for her.

Then Lady Tara picked up the broad Baby-Pink lacquer cuff and wrapped it tightly around Lana’s ankle. The first strap slid through the metal loop. Lady Tara pulled it tight. Only now did Lana notice the small metal eyelets. And the two padlocks in Lady Tara’s hand.

Lana watched her hands without saying a word. Lady Tara picked up the first padlock. With a sharp, metallic Click! it snapped shut. Lana’s gaze remained fixed on it. The sound went straight through her body.

Lady Tara took the second strap. Again, she threaded it through the loop. Again, she pulled it tight. Then she positioned the second lock.

Click!

Lana swallowed. The broad cuff now sat firmly around her ankle. Both locks hung visibly from it.

Lady Tara picked up the second boot. Again the zipper opened. Again Lana’s foot slipped inside. And again Lady Tara began with the lacing. Eyelet by eyelet.

Pull. Tighten. Continue.

Lana sat perfectly still and watched her hands. The steady rhythm of the movements, the soft sliding of the laces and the increasing pressure of the lacquer around her foot made everything else fade into the background for a moment. Only when Lady Tara reached the final eyelets and pulled the lacing tight did Lana raise her eyes again.

The second Baby-Pink cuff closed around her ankle. The first strap. The lock.

Click!

The second strap. The final lock.

Click!

Lady Tara left her hands resting against Lana’s ankles for another moment and checked the fit of the cuffs. Then she slowly stood up.

Lana looked down at her feet. The Baby-Pink gleamed in the muted salon light. The small silver locks hung from both ankles. She moved one foot. The locks dangled playfully from the pink lacquer cuff. They were now just as firmly attached to her as the collar.

Lady Tara stepped in front of Lana and smiled. “There, my little Bimbo Fuckdoll. Come on, stand up.”

Lana did not move. Bimbo Fuckdoll! The word lodged inside her.

Fuckdoll!

Her skin prickled. At the same time, her stomach tightened. Something flashed before her mind’s eye that Lady Tara had neither said nor explained. Something that had nothing more to do with makeup, dresses or cut hair.

Lana slowly raised her eyes to her. Lady Tara was still smiling. As though she knew exactly what image she had just planted in Lana’s mind.

“Come!” she repeated softly.

Lana placed her hands on the armrests and carefully rose. The unfamiliar height of the boots made her sway for a moment. But she immediately caught herself and stood surprisingly securely on the high heels.

Lady Tara watched her attentively.

“Turn around and walk a few steps.”

Lana turned and slowly tottered forward. The high stiletto heels forced her into small, careful steps. Even so, she found her rhythm surprisingly quickly.

“Back!”

Lana turned again and tottered towards Lady Tara. A satisfied smile appeared on Lady Tara’s face.

“You’re a natural!” She studied Lana for a moment. “But really, that’s hardly surprising.” Her smile widened.

“After all, you’re my Bimbo Fuckdoll!”

Lana stopped in front of her. Bimbo Fuckdoll! This time, the word did not catch her entirely unprepared. And yet it sent that same prickling sensation across her skin again. Her gaze travelled down her body. Across the glossy pink of the far-too-short dress. The black fishnet stockings. The Baby-Pink ankle boots with their little silver locks around her ankles.

Then she raised her eyes to the mirror. That isn’t me. But this time, the thought was followed by something that frightened her.

Or is it?

“I’ll dispose of your old clothes. Right, my little Bimbo Fuckdoll?” Lady Tara said as though the matter had already been decided.

Lana’s gaze broke away from the mirror. My old clothes? For a moment, she saw them in her mind. The clothes she had arrived in that morning. Her clothes. She wanted to object. No! But Lady Tara simply looked at her and waited.

“Yes,” Lana said softly.

Lady Tara’s smile deepened. “Very good.”

Lana looked into the mirror again. Suddenly, the clothes she had carelessly put on that morning took on a significance they had never possessed before. They were the last things still belonging to the girl who had left home that morning. And now she had just agreed to give those away too.

Lady Tara gave her barely any time to think about it. “Wouldn’t you like to show yourself off to the people in the park for a while in your new outfit?” she asked with a knowing smile.

Lana looked at her. In the park? Like this? In her mind, she saw the path through the park. The people. Strangers’ eyes. And herself right in the middle of them, wearing this far-too-short pink lacquer dress, black fishnet stockings and these ankle boots. Her stomach tightened. No! She wanted to go home. Preferably by the shortest possible route, without anyone seeing her like this.

Lady Tara waited again.

“Yes, Lady Tara,” she whispered.

The moment she said it, her stomach tightened.

“Where do you actually live, my little Bimbo Fuckdoll?” Lady Tara suddenly asked.

Lana looked at her. Where I live? Something inside her immediately became alert. Why did Lady Tara want to know? She should have asked the question. Or simply remained silent. Instead, she gave her the name of her street. Then the house number. Just like that.

Only afterwards did Lana realise what she had just done. Why did I tell her that? Her apartment was her refuge. The only place that still had nothing to do with Lady Tara. And now she knew where it was.

Lady Tara smiled. “There’s a small private party tonight at ten!” she cooed, bringing her face so close to Lana’s cheek that the familiar cedar scent enveloped her once again. “Wouldn’t that be just the thing for you, my little Bimbo Fuckdoll?”

Lana’s heart skipped a beat. A party? Strange faces appeared before her mind’s eye. People who would see her like this. Not merely for a brief moment in the park. No! She did not want to go to that party.

Lady Tara waited. Again that silence. Again Lana knew exactly which word she wanted to say.

“Yes,” she heard herself say.

Lana swallowed. Lady Tara’s smile widened slightly.

“I’ll pick you up at your apartment at eight thirty. Make shure you had something to eat. You’re going to need the energy.”

Lana stared at her. The energy? For what? An icy shiver ran across her freshly shaved nape. But she did not ask that question either.

“Yes, Lady Tara,” Lana replied softly.

“There, my little Bimbo Fuckdoll. We’ll be seeing each other again in just a few hours. I’m looking forward to it.” Lady Tara smiled.

“And you’re going to walk home through the park!”

Through the park? Lana stared at Lady Tara in alarm.

“Of course,” Lady Tara continued, as though she had read Lana’s thoughts. “That way a few more people can admire you.”

No!

But this time, Lady Tara had not asked a question. Lana had nothing left to hide behind. No long hair, no headphones and no hoodie. Only this far-too-short, glossy dress. The black fishnet stockings. The Baby-Pink ankle boots. And a face that would draw every eye.

Her gaze moved towards the salon door. Through the window, she could see people passing on the street. Until now, Lana had barely noticed that pane of glass. Suddenly, it seemed far too thin.

Lady Tara opened the heavy salon door, and the bright metallic chime broke the silence. Lana hesitated for a moment. Behind her were the mirrors. The chair. The cut hair on the floor. The place where Lady Tara had completely transformed her within just a few hours.

Ahead of her was the street. People walked past.

Suddenly, the open salon door seemed to Lana like a boundary she did not want to cross.

“See you later, my little Bimbo Fuckdoll!”

Lana stepped outside. It was exactly five o’clock. The late-summer sun was already low in the sky, casting long shadows across the warm asphalt. Behind her, the salon door fell shut.

Lana turned around one last time. Through the glass, she saw Lady Tara standing inside the salon. Only minutes earlier, Lana had wanted nothing more than to get out of that salon. Now, for one absurd moment, she wished herself back behind the glass. At least there, no one had seen her like this.

Lana turned away. After only a few steps, she felt the first stares. Her head lowered almost by itself. The high heels clicked across the asphalt.

click… clack… click… clack

She wanted nothing more than to go home. But Lady Tara had told her to take the route through the park.

That way a few more people can admire you.

Lana swallowed and kept walking. The park was not even on the shortest route to her apartment. Of course she could simply go another way. Lady Tara was no longer with her.

Even so, a short while later Lana turned onto the path leading towards the park. Ahead of her, the first trees already stood in shadow.

Lana looked down the long path disappearing into the shadows between the trees.

This is going to be a long walk home!