The Deviant of the Dark Ages Ch. 01

How wrong she was. Even as sleep began to claim her, Sara felt William's cold body pressing against her back. At first she thought it was an audacious attempt to get between her legs... until she felt his arm around her neck. It was not the gentle embrace of a lover—it was assault. By the time she realised her plight it was too late—his hand was over her mouth and his iron-like forearm was squeezing the fight from her body. Desperately, she flung out her arm towards Fira, who slumbered on beside her, oblivious to her sister's silent struggle. William simply rolled them both away and whispered in an ominously calm voice, "Don't worry, she'll be next."

Sara kicked out with the last of her strength before the world went dark.

Her eyes flew open. It felt like only a moment later, yet everything was different. She was shackled in a standing position in the centre of a small, damp cell. Her arms were held horizontal by a metal crossbar and heavy chains secured her feet to the ground. By the firm posterior pressing against hers, she gathered she was back-to-back with her sister and that they'd both been stripped of their dignity.

"Fira?" she whispered urgently, hoping her sister was unharmed. A low groan came in reply.

"Don't worry sis, I'll get us out of here," said Sara with more bravado than she felt.

"That's the last time you invite a guy over," came the sullen reply. Sara breathed out in relief. That was her sister, alright. She had every right to be angry, but Sara knew the derisive pixie well enough to recognise when she was putting on a bold face. Her younger sister was terrified.

"I didn't invite--"

"Oh, I beg to differ," said William as he entered, his deep voice booming around the stone cell. He strolled in confidently without the slightest hint of a limp. Had everything he'd said been a lie?

"'Come in already,' you said. Never underestimate the power of an invitation, my dear."

"I'm not your dear," Sara snapped, twisting her head to look at him. Fira groaned—they were wearing linked metal collars, and every sudden twitch jerked painfully on the other girl's neck.

"You are quite right. You are in fact my captive, and defiance would be... most unwise."

"Then you'll find me the most unwise captive ever to grace your chains," she retorted.

He saw that she wasn't going to yield to him any time soon and sighed. Then his brown eyes glowed to a bright red and needle-sharp fangs sprouted from his gums. Before she had a chance to react he was against her, clamping her mouth shut to stifle the inevitable scream. She watched wide-eyed as he brought up his wrist and bit hard into it, holding it up to her mouth. This all happened so swiftly that before she knew what was happening she tasted his blood on her lips. It had a sour metallic taint that made her want to gag, yet even as it flowed across her tongue it seemed to grow sweeter. Her initial repulsion turned to curiosity as the thick lifeblood continued to flow from his wrist, as sweet a syrup as she'd ever tasted. She stopped straining to turn away and sucked on greedily, the blood awakening a thirst inside her that she didn't know she had. The more she gulped down, the more alive she felt, until at last William pulled his wrist away from her. Sara moaned in frustration, licking her lips of every stray drop.

"I think she likes it," he teased her, his fangs receding and his eyes reverting to their dull brown. She blinked and shook her head, wondering if she'd imagined the whole episode.

But no, she felt different now, as though a fog was lifting from her mind—like a stronger, smarter Sara had awoken within her. She tugged at the shackles holding her wrists to the crossbar, half expecting them to break loose, but they merely clinked softly. Still, her mind was alive like never before, spinning like a dairy churn with creamy new ideas and insightful reflections.

For the first time she took in her full surroundings: she was in a gloomy dungeon cell, yes, but there was more to see than that. Some bricks were infested with moss, suggesting they were deep underground; others were chipped and crumbling, as though they'd been there for centuries. The wrought-iron fixtures around the room were a newer addition, however, as neither they nor the chains they held showed any signs of rust. Sara's knowledge of the countryside surrounding Lumina was sketchy at best, but she knew there was only one location that had been around for that long: the derelict Gormwall Manor. Evidently it was not as uninhabited as everyone believed.

She turned her focus to her captor. Previously he had lurked in the shadows, just beyond clarity; he hadn't moved, yet now Sara could see him in flawless detail. He was clothed in opulence, his deep red tunic studded with lustrous gemstones and adorned with expensive furs. He was a ruggedly handsome man, and he carried himself with pride and arrogance. There was something else about him that she couldn't place her finger on, however. His blood had power, she realised, but why? Did he realise he'd just handed her an advantage she could use to escape? And when could she get some more of it?

As if reading her mind, he said, "There will be more later if you remain a good girl."

Sara swallowed the retort she was going to make—about how she was not a child to be coddled—and simply nodded. She didn't mind being coddled by this man, she realised.

William stroked her scarlet head and walked back around to face the younger woman. Fira was bewildered by this point: her sister's attitude had transitioned from defiance to compliance in the space of a few seconds. Whatever he'd given her, it can't have been good. She'd need every beguiling charm in her arsenal if she wanted to win this enigma's favour and avoid the same fate.

"Now, you are a sweet thing," he said, his umber eyes soaking in her exposed curves. "I wonder, does that sweet allure extend to your temperament, or will your behaviour prove as indecent as your sister's?"

Fira forced a smile. "Oh, but you seem to like indecent girls," she said coyly, thrusting out her busty chest.

"That I do," William chuckled as he groped one of her mounds appreciatively. "There are so many adventures to be had with one so... well-equipped for them," he murmured, his rough fingers toying with her nipples. As if betraying their eagerness, they swelled under his touch, radiating a warm cherry-red hue as his fingers danced around the sensitive nubs.

"For instance..."

He produced a coil of fine wire and pressed it to one of her swollen nipples, wrapping it around the bud with expert precision. The wire was easily moulded by his touch, but it held firm around her nipples like a tiny vice. Fira gasped as he looped the wire through her collar and repeated the process to her other nipple, lifting her breasts up to sit as perfect globes against her chest.

This all happened so swiftly that it was another few seconds before Fira realised her mouth was hanging open. The tiny nubs that crowned her shapely breasts now glowed a fiery scarlet in their metal snare and burned something furious to match.

Her soft green eyes widened as they met his, bewildered at how he could just do that to an innocent girl. But she bit her lip and remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her suffer. William simply smiled and stroked her hair as though she'd passed some kind of test.

"I think we shall get along marvellously, you and I."