The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Three days after the night Sarah and Charlie shared together was to be the next blood gathering organized by High Novice Gertrude, who had returned from her bout of food poisoning in a foul suspicious mood. Sarah gave her a wide berth, in her heart praying to her One God that Charlie would manage to control herself and appear as though she was fully under the quieting draught’s effect. Sarah had told Charlie that should the knight want it, she could arrange for a full dose of the draught to be given to her, but Charlie had refused, repelled by the thought of losing consciousness once more. With her current dosage, she was able to control her urges, she had told Sarah, although the way she had whispered it softly with a look of lust in her eyes as she stared at Sarah’s lips made Sarah’s pussy get wet instantly.

For three days and three nights Sarah kept away, unwilling to risk losing the one chance she had of being with the woman with whom she now realized she had fallen in love. High Novice Gertrude, in any event, was watching the ward like a hawk, a permanent frown on her face. Whether she sensed that something was not quite right or whether she fought with internal demons of her own, Sarah could not ascertain, but she worried nonetheless, and stayed away.

When the hour of the blood gathering was upon them, High Novice Gertrude remained skittish, and looked around nervously. After confirming that Sister Agnes was locked in her office, she started rounding up the novices and having them dress the blood sinners that would participate in the gathering. Sarah did not know how to feel—she was worried that Gertrude might cancel the gathering, while at the same time wishing she did so, because she feared what might happen to Charlie that night.

But Gertrude did not cancel the blood gathering. Everything had been arranged for weeks now, and since her business was conveyed by word-of-mouth, canceling and antagonizing clients would not reflect well on her reputation. Moreover Signore di Viroli was supposed to come that night, and he was a most unpleasant person to displease.

And so it was that an hour after the midnight prayers, Gertrude came to Charlie’s bedside. The high novice had withheld the quieting draught from the blood sinner earlier that day, as usual before blood gatherings, and Charlie had already starting to shake due to her rising blood fever. The Daemon within her was awakening and was hungry.

Sarah watched from afar, not daring to approach because of Gertrude’s skittishness, congratulating herself for having managed to slip Charlie a tiny dose of the quieting draught, enough that she would not have to suffer the full effect of her blood fever. That had been Charlie’s suggestion. Sarah had wanted her to take more of the potion so that she would be more aware, but Charlie had refused, shaking her head and saying that she needed to be acting as close to possible to the way she normally acted during blood gatherings, to allay suspicions.

Charlie’s fears, given Gertrude’s attitude, were not unfounded. And so Sarah followed Gertrude after the high novice had wrapped a robe around Charlie and brought her down to the kitchens and then to the passage that would lead them down the cave systems to the blood gathering, Sarah helping some of the blood sinners that needed her help to walk due to the effects of the quieting draught.

Everything was ready in the caves. Candles and torches had been put up and pushed away the darkness. The gentlemen had arrived and were chatting with novices, who as usual enjoyed a little bit of flirting with the gent, happy to speak in their normal voice, and they greeted the arrival of the blood sinners with hoots and a round of applause.

Sarah groaned silently as she saw Signore Pasquale di Viroli wink at her before letting his eyes stray towards Charlie and smile a smile that was nothing if not wolfish. Sarah’s blood turned cold. He was different. He always looked like a man that knew something you did not. That night, he looked like a man that had won a battle you did not even know had been waged.

Gertrude handed Charlie to a nearby novice, and Sarah noticed that Charlie was shivering more noticeably now and moaning softly and clutching her own breasts through her robe in such a fashion that Sarah wondered whether or not the dose of the quieting draught she had received had been sufficient to take the edge off her blood fever, but could not tell either way.

Gertrude headed towards Signore di Viroli, and Sarah, having handed the blood sinner she had been helping to another novice as well, managed to hover near Gertrude so that she could listen in on the conversation between il Signore and the high novice.

Signore di Viroli was in high spirit. “My dear Gertie,” he said, his accent thick, his voice theatrical. “So good to see you tonight. Have you thought about my offer?”

“Your offer? Yes,” Gertrude sighed, and shook her head. Di Viroli offered to purchase Charlie every time he attended the gatherings. “I’m afraid I cannot do it, Signore di Viroli. It is too dangerous. It would raise too many questions were the lady to leave with you and disappear.”

He smiled a smile that contained no humor. “Five hundred thousand pieces of gold is not a paltry sum, High Novice.”

“Indeed. But it would do me little good were I to be put to the Questions by the sisters, should they through some investigation discover that I am doing this. I am sorry, Signore di Viroli, I truly am. But perhaps we can come to an arrangement, so that you may have some sort of exclusive access.”

Sarah, who had been with nobility before, was reminded of Lord Charnia, and suddenly she was afraid, afraid that Di Viroli would do something drastic. He was not a man to be thwarted in his wishes, and Gertrude was doing just that.

Sarah felt a stab of fear in her heart, a sense of doom, an intuition that something was about to go wrong, and she wanted to run towards the room into which Charlie had disappeared and take her away from all of this. But she could not. And so she stayed put, worrying, as Di Viroli gave Gertrude a tight smile and the high novice smiled apologetically in response.

Di Viroli went to Charlie’s door. Sarah watched helplessly as the nobleman enter the room in which her Beloved lay writhing on the bed, a ball of lust waiting only to be sated, and Sarah vowed that she would intervene were Di Viroli to do anything untoward. Di Viroli, Charnia, the rest of the men in this One-God forsaken realm, they were the reasons for most of the evil in the world.

Meanwhile, Charlie could tell immediately that Di Viroli was angry when he entered the room. Charlie had just enough quieting draught in her body so that her blood fever did not completely overwhelm her, but could feel the need, the desire, ready to erupt just underneath the surface. She was sweating, alternatively hot and cold, and she shivered as Di Viroli put his cloak on a hook by the door.

His mere presence affected her body. He was so big, so tall, so strong. Her cunt got wet immediately, her breasts flushed, her nipples hardened, her skin tingled; she feel an almost overwhelming desire to crawl to him.

Charlie knew that were it not for the quieting draught coursing through her veins, she would be doing just that, crawling to the man only to kneel before him, to pleasure him, to harden him so that he might plunge his shaft deep inside her and assuage that yearning deep in her womb.

Di Viroli looked her up and down with lust in his eyes, spending an inordinate amount of time on her breasts and on her groin as though he was peering through her robe, as though he could see how ready she was for him, how aching. He had seen her naked before, of course, had used her body, had quenched his lust with it several times, and she had responded to him as the most shameless of pleasure girls would to a wealthy patron.

Charlie watched Signore Pasquale di Viroli unlatch his belt with the long sword and slip it over a hook in the wall, and remove his tunic and fold it upon the chair by the small table. Her hand, of its own volition now that she was not concentrating, slipped underneath her robe and started caressing one of her nipples with light fingers, and she shivered as a wave of desire swept through her. A moan escaped her.

Di Viroli smiled as he watched her, shedding his undertunic. He was a powerfully built man, and he looked good, Charlie had to admit. Her body ached for him. She knows that in order to get through the night, in order to gather all of the information she needed to plan for an escape during the next blood gathering, she needed Signore di Viroli to think nothing was wrong, and in order to do that Charlie knew that she needed to give in to the Daemon.

On the bed, her back against the cold stone wall, she let her hands roam over her body, parting the robe over her chest and baring her aching breasts, her nipples begging to be suckled, bitten, pinched. Di Viroli’s eyes stared straight at them, and Charlie moaned against her best intent. She parted her robe further, baring her wet pussy, and she wondered whether Di Viroli could smell her arousal from where he was. She certainly could, and it drove her Daemon even wilder.

Di Viroli, naked but for a tight sash around his waist, stepped towards Charlie. Her eyes were driven to his cock, large, erect, its bulbous head looking threatening. She felt her mouth salivate, her pussy gush. She wanted to spread her legs wide and invite it inside to ravage her and plough her out. The desire was so strong it frightened her. She had never experienced her blood fever while being able to analyze it, and it was powerful. More powerful than she ever dreamed it might be. If not for the quieting draught, she would be a puppet for the man’s every twisted desire, which she would perform with glee, with abandon, with relish.

Di Viroli stepped up to her, and looked at her with his head leaning over, a question in his eyes. “You’re very controlled tonight, my dear. It is impressive. Usually you attack me before I have a chance to undress and walk up to the bed.”

He reached a hand to caress her cheek, and Charlie resisted the urge to suck his fingers into her mouth and show him what she would willingly do to get him to take her.

As if reading her mind, his eyes looking deep into hers, he ran a thick thumb over her wet lips. “Are you resisting? I believe you are! Amazing!”

He pushed his thumb into her mouth, and Charlie moaned as her hips twitched, jealous of the attention her mouth was getting. She had to give in. If she kept on acting differently than she usually did, Di Viroli would become suspicious, and maybe say something to High Novice Gertrude, who would investigate and maybe ruin her plans. She had to give in. She had to become the slut that Di Viroli wanted her to be. And it would be so easy—just letting go and letting her Daemon take over.

She did. She released the Daemon, and sucked hard on Di Viroli’s thumb, taking it deep inside her mouth as she groaned and straightened up and gyrated her hips and brought her crotch close to his other hand, seeking contact. She sucked loudly, sloppily, trying to be as enticing as she could be.

“There’s something different about you tonight,” Di Viroli said, feeding her his fingers. “I like it. I like it a lot.” He pushed his fingers deeper into her mouth, staring at her lips the whole time. “That’s it, my dear. Surrender. Surrender to what you know you want, you need, you crave...” His voice was soothing, and Charlie shivered.

Almost without realizing it, she slid down to her knees in front of the large man, his cock right before her, calling her, teasing her, and her mouth opened and she could clearly imagine its hard flesh pushing between her lips, its pungent taste as it slipped over her tongue, its bulk as it pressed down the back of her throat. Her pussy clenched with envy.

She was just about to slide her lips over his hard cock, just about to engulf it and quench her thirst when Di Viroli grabbed her hair and pulled her head back.

“Not so fast, my dear. I want to hear you beg.”

He said nothing else, just stared at her, and Charlie internally flushed with anger and embarrassment—how dare he force her to beg for his cock? If only he knew who she was—but the blood fever raged within her and she had surrendered to it.

“Please—” she heard her own voice plead with longing. “Please... give me your cock, Sir... Take me... Fuck me... Rape me... Just give me your cock... Please!”

Di Viroli grinned and pushed his hips forward, and his cock slipped between Charlie’s lips and her pussy drooled its juices down her thighs as the thick shaft drove into her mouth and hit the back of her throat.

She sucked, hard, a long groan deep in her throat, Di Viroli’s hands on her head keeping her from pulling her head back. She did want to. She practically came as the thick shaft remained embedded in her mouth, as she pressed her tongue against its underside, as she swallowed over and over again so that her throat would massage the hard shaft and make it come and spew its juices inside her, drowning her in blissful oblivion. She wanted him to come, to come so hard she would pass out herself.

When he pulled her head back, she took a deep breath, expecting him to grab her head again and thrust his cock back into her mouth. She wanted it. The blood fever was raging, and she craved for him to possess her, however he wanted. His pleasure was her pleasure, his release was her release. The part of her that was still Charlie was both fascinated and aghast at her own behavior, at her own justification for her actions. She was acting like a slut, and enjoying it thoroughly. There was no denying the spikes of pleasures coursing through her body.

Di Viroli did not fuck her mouth again. Instead, he pressed her back onto the bed. “Get on your back and grab your legs. Pull them up and open, like you’re offering yourself to me.” He stood, his hands on his hips, his cock twitching slightly in the penumbra of the room, her spittle on his skin catching the flickering light of the torches.

She did as she knew he wanted, grasping her legs behind the knees and pulled them up to her breasts, spreading her thighs, the picture of the pleasure girl readying herself for a man about to possess her more than that of the woman waiting for her lover.

He climbed onto the bed and between her legs, and Charlie could not help shift her hips to try to get them closer to his cock, so that he could slip inside her and fill her up. She wanted him. Needed him. She moaned a low moan that Di Viroli understood perfectly.

“You want my cock, don’t you, my dear? Your blood is hot, your cunt is hungry, and you know that only my cock will satisfy you, don’t you?”

Charlie, her eyes closed, nodded, and groaned, thrusting her hips upward despite the awkwardness of her position. She had surrendered any self-respect, had given herself over to her blood fever. If anything, it would allow this ordeal, this extraordinarily pleasurable ordeal, to finish earlier than otherwise.

“Beg me,” he whispered, his breath hot on the side of her face. Charlie turned her head to kiss the man towering over her, but he pulled back and repeated his statement. “Beg me.”

“Please...” she said, her voice dripping with desire. “Please fuck me... fuck me hard... as hard as you want... I’m all yours... all yours... I need you... need you inside me... Please...”

“Not bad,” he said, slapping his cock against her pussy with a twist of the hips. Charlie gasped and tried to push back against it but it was gone again. “But you can do better. How about ‘I am Charlotte of Artagnia. Fuck me like the little slutty cunt I am.’”

Before she could do anything about it, Charlie opened her eyes and looked at Di Viroli, and she could see that he saw the shock in her face. He grinned, and with one shove pushed his cock all the way inside her. Shock gave way to otherworldly pleasure for Charlie, whose moan turned into a scream as the head of Di Viroli’s cock made its way into her depths.

And through the ripples of ecstasy that crisscrossed her body, Charlie shivered. He knows.

As if he was reading her mind, Di Viroli spoke, his cock deep inside her, not moving, simply enjoying the tight sheath squeezing him. “That’s right, my dear. I know who you are.”

He pulled back and then slowly pressed into her again, making her clench and moan and grab his shoulder. The sensations from her pussy were too much—she could not concentrate on what Di Viroli was saying.

Di Viroli looked deep into her eyes as if he wanted to catch every nuance of sentiment Charlie experienced. “I didn’t believe it at first. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. You look different without your armor, without your uniform. But I can’t deny the truth any longer. You are Charlotte of Artagnia, knight of the Royal Guard, the Old Guard, and you are a wanted woman. The Queen has set a price on your head, you and your brethren. I knew you had escaped, had even heard the rumors of your blood fever, but this I did not expect: Charlotte of Artagnia, squirming like a pleasure girl all over my cock.”

To punctuate his statement, he pushed his cock hard into Charlie, who gasped and pressed her legs on Di Viroli’s sides. She wanted him to take her harder, so much harder. “Fuck me,” she pleaded, unable to control herself.

Di Viroli closed his eyes, and savored the moment. He pulled back and pushed into her again, and Charlie ran her nails down his back in pleasure.

“We met before, did you know? At the court of Lord Anathia, a couple of years ago. The King came to visit, and you were part of his escort. The personal guard of King Altobar. Such a pretty little bitch keeping the almighty King safe from harm. I fantasized about you, Charlotte of Artagnia, from that point on. And now look at how Fate put you on my path again.”

He started fucking her faster, ploughing his cock into her harder and harder, to the delight of Charlie who was in the thrall of her blood fever, still conscious enough to realize what she was doing but unable to control herself, forced to lie back and witness the ravaging of her body.

“I wanted to buy you from that Gertrude cow even before I knew who you were. You were just too good to pass up. But now that I know who you are, there is no way I’m leaving without you tonight. That cow doesn’t want to sell you? Fuck her. I’ll take you anyways. Who’s gonna stop me? Her? Ah!”

He shoved his cock into Charlie with one particularly hard thrust and to Charlie dismay her body started shaking from the leading edge of a climax that pulled a scream from her throat.

Di Viroli watched her while grasping one of her breasts in his hand and squeezing hard, the pain adding to her pleasure and sending her over the edge, and she came underneath the nobleman, her body clenching and releasing and clenching over and over again while her hands pulled him closer to her.

“I love how you come, my dear Charlotte. Do you mind if I call you Charlotte? We’re going to have a lot of fun together, you and I. My very own Knight of the Royal Guard, Charlotte of Artagnia, slave to my cock and to the pleasure it brings her. I’m going to keep you in my bedroom, chained to the wall, your hands tied, so that you cannot get any satisfaction and you find yourself going mad with lust. You will beg me to fuck you, beg me to ravage you, beg me to do whatever I want to you, and when I do, you will serve me like no girl can serve any man, like a wild animal, like a beast, like a Lust Daemon. It will be glorious.”

His thrusts were getting more powerful as he spoke, aroused by the images he was summoning in his mind’s eye of Charlie sex-starved and drooling, as the real Charlie beneath him kept riding the wave of her orgasm, her body a blanket of nerve endings stimulated by the male body pounding into her.

“I’ll get you a little costume, too,” continued Di Viroli, his eyes boring into hers. “One of those masquerade balls knight costumes, cut short and meant to arouse more than anything else. And I’ll have you call me King, and pledge your loyalty to me, and your obedience, and your body and your mind. I shall be your master and your lord! Ah!”

With a lunge he buried himself so deep in Charlie’s pussy and so hard that he bruised himself, but he never noticed. Spurt after spurt of his semen splashed inside Charlie, and the sensation threw the young knight further into her climax, and she clutched Di Viroli’s shoulder and bit him to keep from screaming out loud. They crashed down onto the bed together, breathing hard, intertwined, a single mass of limbs.

Coming down from her climax, Charlie could think again, now that her body had been temporarily quenched. She could feel the Daemon linger in the background, gathering energy, waiting for the right time to surface once more and overwhelm and debase her.

Di Viroli was up on an elbow, looking at her, absent-mindedly pinching one of her nipples. “I can see you are more yourself now, Charlotte. Although I bet I can get you all hot again.” He pinched harder, and Charlie gasped, and her hips twitched on their own. The Daemon roared; her pussy spasmed. She could feel Di Viroli’s seed leaking out of her, and the feel of the thick liquid on her skin sparked her desire as well.

“Did you know I wanted to be a Royal Guard?” said Di Viroli, now grasping her breast with his full hand. “Oh yes, it was a dream of mine. But they rejected me. I pleaded my case, to no avail. I was a great fighter, and I was willing to put the welfare of the King above my own. But they did not think I was good enough. I met with this one knight, Count Athia, who told me that they only accepted a small number of applicants into the Royal Guard, and that I should not feel slighted. But I did. THey thought I was not good enough.”

Charlie stiffened—partly because of the name of her lover, partly because Di Viroli had pushed two fingers in her pussy, thrusting them in and out slowly.

“And yet they let you in as a Royal Guard, Charlotte. Over me. Probably over others as well. And I wonder—did they let you in so that they could pound this tight little pussy, Charlotte? Did you agree to fuck them so that they would let you join? Did you become a whore for them, Charlotte?”

He pressed the two fingers he had lubricated in her pussy between her cheeks and against her ass. Charlie gasped at the sensations, fire coursing through her veins, as Di Viroli invested her rear opening. Her body thrived on the sensations, and she could feel the Daemon aching for more, as if a large beast emerging from a deep slumber and getting its first taste of meat.

“I’m going to fuck your ass next, Charlotte. Oh, I know, we’ve done that before—I know how much you enjoy it—but this time, we’ll both know who it is that gets buggered. The great Charlotte of Artagnia, knight of the Royal Guard, one of the finest blades in the Kingdom, taking it up the ass like the lowliest pleasure girl.”

Di Viroli was getting excited again, and his fingers went in and out faster and harder, and Charlie’s sphincter hugged them tight, to Charlie’s dismay. She felt Di Viroli’s cock hard against her thigh, and however much she wanted to resist it, she pressed her leg back against it, and moaned lustily.

Di Viroli grinned. “I wonder what your fellow knights would say if they could see you now, mewling from my fingers, craving a thick one in your womb, begging for it?”

He leaned in close. He smiled malevolently. He clearly was enjoying himself enormously. “No wonder they let you in. To have such a pretty thing in their midst at their beck and call, ready to spread her legs at a moment’s notice. They’re in hiding now, at least those that haven’t been caught, but I bet they’d come out if they heard that Charlotte of Artagnia was not only alive but happy to service their cocks again. That would put me in good standing with the Queen, too, if I deliver them to her. And I could get my revenge on Count Athia, too. ”

Di Viroli’s breath on her face and his fingers in her behind were not enough to distract Charlie from what Di Viroli had told her. Some of the knights had escaped the Queen’s purge. They had not all been captured and executed. And Oliver was among them.

The thought, the hope, the image of Oliver waiting for her, welcoming her, gave Charlie’s wavering will something concrete to hold on to. Her body still ached to be filled and drowned, but her mind, for a few precious seconds, was clearer than it had been for the entire evening.

And a few seconds was all the time she needed. As Di Viroli gloated, the knight thrust forward hard with her head and a loud crack resounded as her forehead connected with the bridge of the nobleman’s nose.

Di Viroli jerked his head back and shouted in pain, blood exploding out of his nose. Charlie balled up her body and reached down to grasp the arm Di Viroli used to finger-fuck her; she twisted it and kicked hard at the elbow, and heard a satisfying crack and another scream of pain from Di Viroli, who flung himself off the bed clutching his dangling arm.

Charlie swung off the bed herself, and almost lost her balance. Her body was not responding quite as she hoped it would, and she felt underneath the adrenaline pumping in her veins the rush of lust and desire that pressed her to turn around and jump on Di Viroli and impale herself on his cock. It would feel so nice, it would fill her up so well. Charlie gritted her teeth, and took a step towards Di Viroli’s discarded scabbard.

But Di Viroli had shaken off his shock and his pain, and taking advantage of Charlie’s momentary lapse, slammed into her from behind. They both crashed into the small table, smashing it to smithereens. Di Viroli let out a roar of pain, but he had done what he had intended to do, which was to knock Charlie out temporarily.

The young knight was shaking her head to clear the effect of the impact of her head against the stone wall, and Di Viroli had a comparatively easy time grabbing her by the hair and tossing her back onto the bed. He was injured, his right arm dangling uselessly from his broken elbow, but he was still larger than Charlie, and mad as hell. And Charlie was stunned, and her body’s needs took over.

Di Viroli growled as he used his weight to pin Charlie to the bed, and he pulled out a dagger from a sheath in the broad sash he had kept around his waist. “You bitch,” he snarled. “You stupid stupid bitch.” He brought the dagger down and skewered Charlie’s hand into the wooden frame of the cot. Charlie’s hand exploded in pain, and she screamed.

Di Viroli let go of the dagger and wrapped his large hand around Charlie’s throat. He pressed, squeezing hard enough to choke her but not hard enough to permanently damage her.

Charlie’s tried to grab the hand that was clamped around her throat with her own free hand, but she was running out of strength. Her body, meanwhile, interpreted her agonizing hand and her choking as sexual play, and she felt her pussy gush with desire, savoring the pain, the danger. Unbidden, her legs spread, and her hips started humping. Charlie wanted to stop herself, but could not. She was starting to lose consciousness, the whole world darkening.

“Look at you,” said Di Viroli. “All hot and bothered like a hungry slut. Charlotte of Artagnia, spreading her legs and begging to be fucked. You like this, don’t you? Hey? You like this?” He laughed. He squeezed his hand on her throat. “I told you I’d fuck your ass. Had you been nice, I’d have let you suck it and get it nice and wet. But it’s gonna go in dry now. We’ll see how well you like that!”

He lined up his cock, already hard and rearing to go, between Charlie’s legs, never letting go of her throat. “Get ready, you little—”

He never finished his sentence. A loud crack resounded in the room as a table leg swung from behind him connected with the back of his head and sent him sprawling onto the bed and onto Charlie.

Sarah clutched the table leg in her trembling hands, her body responding to the adrenaline that had been pumping into her ever since she rushed into the room upon hearing the crashing noises and the screams to find Di Viroli choking her lover and abusing her. She did not remember picking up the table leg, let alone swinging it at the nobleman.

Di Viroli groaned in pain and clutched the back of his head, a thick coating of blood pouring through his fingers and staining his pale hair.

Sarah stood, holding on to the leg of the small table, trembling, fearful, unsure of her next step as her eyes jumped from the prostrate form of Charlie who was grabbing her throat trying to catch her breath with long drawn intakes of air, one hand still pinned to the cot frame, to the crouching form of Di Viroli, who was growling incoherent words under his breath.

Sarah did not know whether to go and help Charlie, or whether to hit Di Viroli again and knock him out. That she had hit him with all of her strength and still he remained conscious frightened her more than she would have cared to admit. Her body shook uncontrollably.

She trembled further and clutched the table leg until her knuckles turned white when Di Viroli took the decision out of her hands by straightening up and turning towards her. He looked at his hands, red with his own blood, then up at Sarah, and his eyes were full of anger.

“You stupid bitch,” he snarled, and he showed teeth.

Sarah’s eyes went wide, but she strengthened her hold on the table leg, and when Di Viroli took a step towards her she swung at his chest.

She did not have the element of surprise this time, and Di Viroli without difficulty deflected the blow which had little strength behind it. He backhanded Sarah with a blow of his own behind which he put much of his weight, sending the young woman sprawling to the ground, stunned.

“You may be cute as all hell,” he said, his words calm although it was clear he was fuming, “but you have a lot to learn about minding your own business. I am happy to provide your first lesson.”

At that moment, High Novice Gertrude and another younger novice rushed into the room, having heard the noises and having seen Sarah enter just moments earlier. They both stopped in their tracks, and Gertrude quickly took in the scene—Charlie on the bed with one hand pinned by a dagger to the cot and the other around her throat trying to regain control of her breathing and her body, Di Viroli standing looking mad with blood on his hands and on his neck and the side of his face, and Sarah on the ground curled up into a ball and sobbing. Gertrude’s mouth opened and closed, as the novice next to her gasped and grew pale.

Di Viroli looked up. “Ah, High Novice Gertrude. Glad you are here. It seems your minion here took it upon herself to play white knight in a useless display of irony. I was about to teach her a lesson in respecting her betters. I trust you will serve as a witness to this demonstration.”

He returned to Charlie on the cot, and pulled his dagger out of her hand, forcing a hoarse scream of pain from the knight.

“Signore di Viroli,” said Gertrude, her voice breaking. “I’m of course extremely disappointed any of this happened. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that puts this unfortunate event behind us.”

Di Viroli, his demeanor calm and in control once more, smiled unpleasantly. “Oh, of that I’m sure, High Novice Gertrude.” He emphasized Gertrude’s title as if to mock it. “And first on the list will be Charlotte here, that you will let me carry away.”

“Charlotte?”

Di Viroli’s smile this time was amused. “You really don’t know, do you? You really are as dumb as you look,” he said, turning his attention back to Sarah.

He crouched next to the fair-haired novice, and after planting his dagger into the ground next to her, grasped the young woman’s long blonde hair and pulled her onto her back, unfazed by the scream of pain she let out.

Di Viroli never even bothered to glance at Gertrude and the other novice to ensure they did not do anything. He knew women enough to know they were cowed and would remain so.

He straddled Sarah, who was now crying, and ineffectually tried to pummel his chest with her fist. He slapped her hard, once, twice, and all fight left the young woman.

“And now for your lesson, my pretty one.” He reached for his dagger once more and pressed it against Sarah’s robe over her stomach, hooking a small fold of the material and slicing through it. Sarah’s eyes grew wide when she felt the cold blade kiss her skin without breaking it.

Di Viroli smiled, and thrust the dagger upwards, ripping through the robe all the way to its collar, cutting through both the material of the robe and that of the tight band all novices wrapped around their breasts.

As the now useless garment parted, Sarah’s chest was exposed to Di Viroli’s gaze. He looked admiringly as Sarah’s large breasts were revealed.

“Now would you look at those,” Di Viroli said, shaking his head. “You were planning on keeping those two beauties all to yourself, weren’t you? That’s mighty selfish of you.” He planted his dagger into the ground by Sarah before grasping a handful of the soft and sensitive flesh, and squeezing hard. Sarah yelped.

“You must have been very popular with the boys in your little village with these. I was thinking of just punishing you and leaving you here, but I may have to revise that plan. Maybe I should punish you and then take you with me and Charlotte. The poor girl will need some company after all...”

Sarah was too terrified to truly comprehend what Di Viroli was saying, his good hand on her breast bruising her.

“First, though,” Di Viroli continued, unaware, or perhaps simply uncaring, of Sarah’s terror, “you must be punished for your lack of respect. For respect for one’s betters is the bedrock of civilization, without which we would be no better than those Barbarians from the Eastern Lands. No, for our society to function, everyone must understand their place, and disciplined when they stray.”

He pulled the dagger out of the ground. “And your punishment, young novice, is to accept this offering into your womanhood,” he said, his eyes dark, his grin lopsided, with no humor in it but cruelty. He leaned down, his mouth a breath’s away from Sarah’s face, and his voice lowered. “I will fuck you with this dagger, you little bitch, and I will ruin you. I hope you enjoyed your previous fucks, because from now on, if you survive, whenever a man shoves his hardness into you it will hurt like nothing else. It will be fun to hear you bargain for men to use your other holes when they fuck you.”

He grinned, and Sarah’s blood ran cold, and her body stiffened in fear. As the mind is wont to do in moments of incredible stress, hers latched on to the most incongruous detail imaginable, and she wondered how such a cruel and insane man could have such sweet breath—mint, or something of that ilk. She wanted to scream, but her throat was not responding. She wanted to crawl away, but her limbs were paralyzed. She closed her eyes, and tried to find whatever solace she could in prayer.

Di Viroli straightened, and used the tip of his dagger to cut through Sarah’s dress and her undergarments, baring her sex.

He looked at it for a moment, and made a mock sad face. “A shame to destroy something so beautiful.” He ran the tip of the dagger lightly over the lips of Sarah’s pussy, who found herself whimpering. “Ready?” he asked her.

Would he have thrust the dagger into her in one sharp flick of the wrist, or would he have pushed it in slowly, twisting it along the way?

Sarah would never know, for as Di Viroli savored the look of terror on her face, his body seized. Sarah heard a sickening crunch and saw the tip of a sword emerge upwards from Di Viroli’s throat, and a shower of blood poured over her. Horrible gargling sounds came from Di Viroli, who reached up for the blade coming out of his throat only to cut his own fingers on the sharpened steel.

Charlie waited until the last spasm from Di Viroli’s body died down before sharply twisting the sword upwards and half-severing the nobleman’s head from his neck. Di Viroli’s body folded and Sarah, who could no longer contain the scream that was threatening to erupt from her chest, shuffled from underneath his massive body, panic all over her face.

Charlie took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Her hand throbbed, but she ignored it. Her body, aroused from Di Viroli’s treatment, craved satisfaction, but she ignored it. The sight of blood and brain matter leaking out of the remains of Di Viroli’s head did not bother her in the least, but she had not expected the rush of sexual desire that stabbing the nobleman brought her. She idly wondered if she was getting an inkling of what it might be like to be a man.

She felt herself ready to submit to her craving, the rush of the attack threatening to overwhelm once more the little of the quieting draught that was still coursing through her system. The sight of lovely Sarah, her robe torn apart, her bare breasts beckoning, her pussy open and accessible, all served to drive Charlie wilder. The look of fear in Sarah’s eyes did not assuage those feelings—if anything, it egged Charlie on, who felt within her the Daemon longing to take his pleasure from the fair-haired young woman by force. Charlie’s hand clenched on the hilt of the sword.

A whimper shook her out of her daze. She looked up sharply while at the same time lambasting herself for getting so easily distracted in the midst of combat. That was a beginner’s mistake, the kind that ensured you got killed in battle. A mistake that she, Charlotte of Artagnia, proud knight of the Royal Guard, did not make. She curse the philtre that had turned her into what she was, cursed Rochefort who had given it to her, cursed the Dark Mage, cursed Sarah’s One God.

The whimper had come from the tall young novice that had come into the room with High Novice Gertrude. Charlie stared at the tall novice who looked like she was about to be sick but still could not tear her gaze away from Di Viroli’s bloody corpse.

Charlie shifted her gaze towards Gertrude, who was staring straight back at her. Even through the storm of lust assaulting her, Charlie could assess the situation. Gertrude was scared, but felt she had to act for her own survival. What she would do Charlie did not know, but she suspected she would bolt and seek help, for Gertrude would not seek confrontation. What form would that help take Charlie did not know, but she had no plan to wait and find out.

In one smooth motion, she crouched and picked up the dagger that Di Viroli had dropped when he threw up her sword, and threw it at Gertrude.

She had no hope of scoring a hit, of course—one did not throw a dagger and have any hope of it hitting the target blade on, let alone kill someone. Knifes simply did not work that way, as any warrior knew. But few people could withhold reacting when a knife was thrown in their direction, and Gertrude was not one of those people. With a shout, she ducked, losing her balance.

In the time it took for the knife to clang against the wall behind Gertrude, Charlie had closed the distance separating her from the two novices, and had driven the sword into the high novice’s chest before Gertrude could recover.

The look of disbelief and pain on the high novice’s face brought a thrill of satisfaction and once again lusty pleasure to Charlie. She savored it for a second, relishing the buzz in her nipples all the way down to her pussy, before turning aside and running the sword through the tall novice that had remained motionless next to Gertrude.

Charlie breathed in and breathed out, calming her trembling body, before wiping the sword on Gertrude’s robe and going to rouse poor Sarah who looked on horrified and clearly still in shock.

“Sarah! Get up. We have to go.”

Sarah looked up at Charlie, uncomprehendingly.

Charlie picked up and slipped into Di Viroli’s tunic, and tightened his belt and scabbard about her waist. She wrapped herself in his cloak. It was too large, but it would do. She bandaged her wounded hand as best she could with a cloth.

“Sarah! Let’s go!”

“Now?”

“Yes. Now. We probably don’t have much time.”

“Now?”

Charlie bit back a harsh response. She knew she would not fare well alone, not with her blood fever. As much as she hated to admit it, Sarah had been right, and Charlie needed her. Charlie crouched by the pale young woman.

“Sarah. Look at me. You want us to be together, yes? Then come with me. Now. This is our chance. We can be free. Together.”

“Together?” Sarah looked at Charlie, her eyes wide, her pupils dilated.

“Yes. Together. You and me. But we have to go now, Sarah. Right now.”

Sarah seemed to wake up at that, and stood, unsteadily. She wrapped the tatters of her robe about her and followed Charlie out of the room.

Outside, gentlemen and novices gave them strange looks, unsure what to do and how to interpret the noises they had heard coming from the room. Sarah picked up her bag and her cloak hanging on a hook, then she and Charlie ran down the cave, away from the passage that led back to the kitchens, towards the entrance where the men that Gertrude invited to her blood gathering came into the cave system. No one followed them.

The drop in temperature announced they were nearing the outside world, and they emerged under a moonless night sky.

Charlie had not idea what to expect upon exiting, and would not have been surprised to find a group of soldiers or a camp for the footmen of the patrons of Gertrude’s gathering.

As it were, there was no one save a single horseman waiting by two horses. As Charlie jumped him and dispatched him before he even had time to draw his sword, she noted the design of the man’s clothes and deduced he must have been Di Viroli’s footman waiting for his master to return. Charlie thought it fitting that Di Viroli’s horses would help them escape.

She felt the pull of the man lying dead on the ground, and a strong desire for male flesh washed over her, making her swoon in place. Her pussy screamed for attention, and her knees buckled.

Sarah was there to hold her up, and Charlie surprised her by grabbed her head and kissing her hard, driving her tongue into the fair-haired young woman with an intensity that submerged Sarah, who melted into the kiss with all of her soul.

“Can you ride?” Charlie asked when she had recovered.

“Not well.”

Charlie nodded. “You’ll learn. For now, ride behind me, we need to put as much distance as possible between us and this place.”

Charlie climbed on Di Viroli’s horse, knowing that he would be able to carry the two women. She helped Sarah climb behind her, and took the reins of the other horse in her wounded hand, ignoring the pain, and soon they were galloping away.

Charlie was keenly aware of Sarah’s arms wrapped around her chest, her heat on her back, her breath near her ear. Charlie’s pussy gushed, her mouth watered, her mind spun. She wanted nothing more than lay the girl down and take her, over and over again.

“Are you okay?” asked Sarah.

“The potion... I think it’s fading... This is going to be bad.”

“I have some quieting draught with me. In my bag. I snatched some. It will help, while it lasts.”

Charlie silently thanked her, and drove the horse harder. That was one problem solved, at least for a little while.

They rode on, and Charlie cast her mind back to what Di Viroli had told her earlier, about the surviving knights of the Royal Guard being hunted down. Was Oliver, her lover, the man she loved, among them? Was he still alive? If he was, he could be found. Thinking of him sent another shiver of lust coursing through her body.

Where are you, Oliver? she thought. I need you!