Humans need courage to survive, for they face constant unknown risks: losing livelihoods, disease, loved ones, wars, famines, disasters, black swans, gray rhinos, evil mages, and dark creatures—threats beyond their control. Humans know fear; in darkness, they can't see predators, conspiracies, or enemies. This instinctual fear, honed by evolution, favors the cautious. Those unafraid of the dark or the unknown perished under beasts' claws or fell to unseen foes' schemes. Timid, careful humans survived. Humans pray, for only gods offer hope. Thus, courage is a noble virtue, the triumph over fear, a bold step into the unknown to challenge limits and protect others.
But what of someone with superhuman strength, wisdom, and perception, who sees all, foresees threats, and never risks losing freedom, passions, or companions? Would they fear? Without fear, can they overcome it and be called brave?
This philosophical question often crossed the mind of Archduchess Dominatrix, who knew all human secrets yet dismissed it. Few threats could endanger her immortal, invincible existence. Her birth's ultrasonic roar shattered her mother's manor ceiling. Raised in her mother's indulgent love, she never cried; her prodigious talents ensured success. At 20, she invented the Dominatrix Binding Spell, now widespread among vampires. At 150, she forged her family's cursed sword, Black Night's Bane, into a horcrux, achieving true unkillability, even by vampire standards. Three centuries ago, she battled an ancient dragon king, slaying it at near-death cost, gaining its boundless draconic knowledge. Since then, her life was play and pleasure. She'd even faced a demon emperor, crushing him to dust.
But when fate slips from your grasp, and omniscience fades, everything changes.
Thud! The chest was roughly handled, flipping Sophia upside down, her head slamming into the lid.
"Mmph!" Her head throbbed, but the pain wasn't her sharpest sensation. Nearly two days later, her groin hadn't adjusted to the barbed, holy plug. Motionless, she could barely endure its chili-electrocution sting, but Anna's hemp rope tied her ankles to her crotch rope. The chest's tumble twisted her feet, yanking the rope, pressing the plug.
"Mmphhh!" Pain or pleasure, Sophia's eyes rolled back. Since Anna's trap, her secret passage never rested, filled with trapped love juices. Without vampire resilience suppressing her abdomen, her bladder and vagina, brimming with fluid, would make her look like an early pregnant woman.
What's Zack doing? No morning greeting, and he doesn't know to handle gently? I'll mince him for my undead dog! Nearly 24 hours had passed since Isaac shut the chest. She was powerless—vampire strength reduced to human levels by collar, ropes, and shackles; bloodline powers suppressed; her family's sonic blast blocked by the gag; the ankle-crotch rope paralyzing her lower body.
Damn little bitch! I'll feed her to goblins as a sex slave! Unable to attack Anna, Sophia fantasized her torment to quell her rage.
She'd lost external awareness for nearly 24 hours. Her bloodline once probed minds within 100 meters, her hearing detailed sounds within three meters and kilometers of ambient noise, including ultrasound. Her night vision rivaled Anna's telescopic sniping. She was a living information hub, never cut off from the world.
To distract from crushing loneliness and unprecedented fear—her fate in another's hands—she imagined torturing Anna and Zack.
Crash! The chest seemed tossed skyward, her head hitting the wall again.
"Mmphhh!" Her eyes rolled in agony.
What's happening? Did the prison cart crash? Or is someone stealing me, a valuable treasure?
Treasure? Why think that? It's… objectification.
In human psychology, treating a person as an object is an insult, a torment.
I'm not an object!
But before she could dwell, crash!
"Mmphhh!"
What's… happening…
Crash!
"Mmphhh!"
What'll… happen to me…
Zack, do anything, open the chest, don't leave me locked here forever, please.
As despair gripped her, she heard the chest opening.
Hopeful, she gazed at the lid, expecting Isaac's face.
But an unfamiliar face appeared.
High vampire Fidel Allende Estruch opened the chest.
Her hope turned to despair. Zack, are you dead? Who'll save me? Will I be bound like this forever?
But in a flash, before Fidel noticed, the 800-year-old vampire masked her fear with calm.
"A… woman?" Fidel stared, puzzled. Sophia rarely mingled with other high vampires; only a few royals and her domain's vampires knew her. Her human-like heartbeat and breath made her scent nearly indistinguishable from a human's unless she altered her biology.
"You… idiot!" Fidel kicked Peter Estruch, Anna's blade having severed his right thigh—stunted by Sarah's Revenge—and Isaac's Moonshine slicing his hands, leaving him a one-legged torso. "Just a woman! Probably some big shot's sex slave!"
Peter wailed, "Spare me, Father! I didn't know!"
"You didn't!" Fidel tore off Peter's remaining leg, blood pooling.
"Argh!" Peter screamed.
"For a sex slave, the butcher killed twelve of my mongrels!"
"Sorry, Father! Sorry!"
"You said no witch hunters! Not only was there one, it was that redheaded butcher! Trying to kill your dad?"
"Sorry, Father, I didn't know a Belm—argh!" Before Peter uttered the forbidden name, Fidel ripped out his tongue.
"I told you, never say that name! Next time, I'll rip out your heart."
"Urgh!" Peter groaned wordlessly.
"Sleep with the slaves tonight."
"Urgh." Peter nodded, crawling away like a worm.
"Mmph." Sophia stayed composed. From their talk, she gleaned she'd been stolen as a "treasure," Anna repelled them, and Isaac likely lived. She exhaled inwardly.
"Woman, you're pretty. You'll be my sex slave." Fidel lunged at her neck.
"Pfft! What… you're a vampire?" Vampire blood was toxic to vampires; Fidel spat it out.
"Mmph." Sophia, ignoring her neck wound, signaled for her gag's removal.
Fidel dragged her out, grazing her collar, his fingers smoking as if burned, tips charred.
"Argh! Woman, what's this? Who are you?"
"Mmph." Bound by holy ropes, unable to stand due to Anna's ankle-crotch tether, she knelt humiliatingly before him.
Fidel snapped the hemp rope. Sophia, enduring groin pain, struggled upright.
He removed her unlocked gag, burning his hand again, flinging it down. "Woman, who are you?"
"I'm Sophie Safisanis. You know my family, Estruch," she said, exuding 800 years of poise and steel.
"A Safisanis? Why's your blood warm?"
"I drank a Daywalker's blood. She's my friend." Daywalker, vampire slang for Sophia, meant sunlight tolerance, albeit uncomfortably.
"Daywalker's… friend? Why can't I drink yours for that?"
"Hmph, maybe you're unworthy."
"Then why're you bound by these damned ropes?"
"Humans caught me. If you're smart, take me to Nidesia, to Lorena Safisanis. You know our family's ways. Lorena's a royal, far nobler than your kind." Sophia trusted few; Lorena Safisanis, third royal heir, was one.
"You know Camilla?" Fidel gaped, shocked. Camilla—Lorena—was infamous for cruelty and debauchery, a "viper beauty."
But Fidel caught her slip. "So, you were captured?" He grinned wickedly.
Sophia's fear materialized. Estruchs, notoriously vile, couldn't be cowed. Her fate could be…
"Want your soul tormented eternally?" Her eyes turned blood-red, voice chilling, as it had paralyzed Isaac.
But Fidel wasn't timid Isaac or human bandits. "A Safisanis threatens me, but you can't use your family's psionics. How'll Camilla know I have you?" he sneered.
"Not afraid of the Daywalker's wrath?" Her tone grew fiercer. The Daywalker's might was legendary, and Sophie, her blood-sharer, unnerved Fidel momentarily.
He recovered, sneering, "The Daywalker's lazy, childish, irresponsible. I doubt she'd care for you in her silly games." Sophia trembled with rage—her playful, lazy habits had doomed her.
"You—mmph!" Fidel, tired of her lethal tone, stuffed silk into her mouth, harmless unlike the holy gag. Even high vampires struggled under her serious aura.
"Sophie, beauty, your blood's toxic, but a high vampire's body, so perfect, I've never had." With a gesture, protective black cloth flew over, wrapping her bound form. He scooped her up. "Aren't Safisanis famed for sex and debauchery? As my sex slave, I'll make you climax to death daily."
"Mmphhh!" Sophia thrashed, the severed ankle-crotch rope gone, but the crotch rope remained, her struggles grinding the three plugs, blending unbearable pain and pleasure.
"Mmphhh!"
"Sophie, I'm no royal like Camilla, but I've 90% undead blood, a high noble. Your blood's likely thinner. Be my second wife. I'll cherish you." Mistaking her for a common Safisanis, Fidel floated, cradling her. "See my castle and your sisters."
"Mmph!" Sophia, nearing climax from the plugs' torment, barely registered Fidel's groping.
"Mmphhh!"
"Beauty, your moans are so lewd." Fidel, one arm around her waist, flew through the castle, seeking her "sisters." Kissing and licking her face, his other hand spanked her rear with vampire strength.
Smack! Smack! Human buttocks would've shattered meters away.
"Mmphhh!" Raised pain-averse, never spanked, Sophia's tears flowed under Isaac's whip. Fidel, knowing her vampirism, used far greater force, her rear tortured alongside her plugged orifices. Eyes rolling, tears streamed.
"Mmphhh!" Her body convulsed, trapped fluids swelling from the plugs.
"Beauty, climaxed?" Fidel's hand slid under the cloth, feeling a hard object beneath her crotch rope. "Vibrator?"
Not a vibrator, but a holy plug that could burn him.
"Your captors were kinky. The butcher's idea?"
He guessed right—Anna's doing.
"Mmph…" Post-climax, Sophia was dazed. Fidel kneaded her elastic breasts, warping them with monstrous strength.
"Mmphhh!" Her muffled screams were stifled.
"It'll hurt a bit," Fidel said, flying.
"Mmph?"
He tore her clothes through the cloth. Her magically conjured latex outfit, weaker than her original, shredded easily.
"Mmphhh!" Sophia ignored the molestation; Fidel's tearing yanked her crotch rope, amplifying the barbed, electrified plug's torment.
"Mmphhh!" Pleasure overwhelmed thought. Fidel tossed her to the ground to inspect his work.
Thud! She crashed from four meters, stars bursting in her vision, briefly numbing her groin's agony. Struggling upright, she was naked—Isaac's lingerie gone, her rope-bound breasts red from abuse. Her thigh-high boots remained.
Fidel grabbed her chin, yanking her up. At 184 cm, he edged out her heeled height.
"Mmph…" Exhausted, she panted.
"Beauty, look around," Fidel said.
Regaining strength, Sophia scanned. A vampire slave pen, lit by a dim chandelier, was divided by neck-high fences like pigsties, floored with straw for human warmth. Each held naked humans. Most men, collared and chained to posts like dogs, filled one pen, unable to escape. One man, brown-haired and bearded, hung alone, fresh wounds covering him, mouth gagged, hands cuffed and suspended, necrotic. Filth pooled beneath. He was Burg's missing baron.
Women had solo pens. One was hogtied on straw, another bound to a post, both gagged, whimpering for help.
Two women stood out. One, covered in semen and urine, bore scrawled insults—"Jane's meat toilet," "Peter's lust teacher." Jane Lancaster, robe gone, wore a sack hood, gagged, sobbing. Her legs were roped together, arms pig-tied to her thighs, tears soaking the hood.
The other, elegant, wore a green noble gown with puffy sleeves and a white-collared neckline, her gold-brown hair neatly bunned, two asymmetrical strands framing her wrinkle-free face. A red ball gag silenced her, eyes closed in shame and disdain. Seated on the pen's only noble chair, she radiated dignity at 172 cm. Her square monoglove restrained her arms in a U-shape, loosely symbolic, shoulder straps securing it. Inside, cuffs twisted her arms, elbows bent, forming a U at her waist. Shackles peeked beneath her skirt. She was Burg's baroness, Lynn, kidnapped a decade ago.
"Sophie, don't fear. This is for livestock. You'll have better quarters. Meet your sister, Burg's Lynn, my wife. Call her big sister."
"Mmph!" The baron wailed, silenced by Fidel's dark spell.
"Mmph!" Lynn, hearing her husband's torment, whimpered sadly, eyes shut, unresponsive.
"Dear Lynn, tell your ex not to cross me. It's better for us."
Lynn remained stoic.
"Time to see your quarters, Sophie."
"Mmph?" Sophia dreaded worse conditions.
Fidel summoned protective cloth, wrapping her. He hoisted her, legs forward, head dangling, stomach on his shoulder, bare rear by his face. Smack! His vampire-strength slap stung.
"Mmphhh!" Sophia wailed. Fidel floated, kneading her rear, spanking her for struggling, each blow drawing tears.
"Here, beauty." He dropped her from 2.5 meters onto a bedroom floor, agonizing her human-like pain threshold.
"Mmph…" Never so tortured, she lay limp, plugs radiating pain and pleasure.
"Beauty, I'll remove your crotch rope and plugs for our pleasure," Fidel leered.
Despite exhaustion, Sophia glared defiantly.
Fidel grabbed her neck, hurling her against a wall. The room held four beds, two with bound, gagged female vampires—beauties by human standards, Fidel's slaves.
Thud! Sophia hit the wall, collapsing onto an empty bed. Fidel gestured, four ropes pinning her tightly.
"Mmph…" Dazed, she barely registered.
Fidel covered her naked form, sneering, "Sophie, you're my grand prize." He tore off her boots through the ropes, vanished with his bloodline power, and locked the door, leaving Sophia and the two vampire beauties.
When I escape… I'll shred your soul… to pieces…