A Small Price to Pay Pt. 01

Features f/m sex. Themes include consensual d/s and specifically femdom. Also there is a vampire. Part of a series.

The story takes place in the 15th century, the late middle ages, somewhere in the Holy Roman Empire (medieval proto-Germany).

All characters are over the age of 18.

"I will go to the countess," I told my parents.

My mother's eyes widened. "Erik, you cannot... that woman... you know the terrible price she exacts."

My father said nothing, staring at the ground, his eyes downcast. I knew he agreed, but he was too afraid to say so. He did not want to be the one who sent his son to the vampire's den.

"I know," I told mother. "But the Kossmanns have gone too far this time. If I don't go, we can't be certain we will have a field at all next year."

My mother ignored my words, looking at my father instead. "Yannik, perhaps we can sell the land after all. Surely it's better than..."

My father shook his head. "Not now, Sina. We have already planted half the crops. They won't pay for them. Perhaps this is what they want," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. He still did not look me in the eye.

My mother looked between us, but she knew father spoke truth. And anyway, we had rented the same plot for generations, having acquired a contract to do so almost a century ago, in the wake of the Plague. We couldn't just sell that right to the Kossmanns now, just because they kept harassing us and stealing our seed.

"Mother, it's not as though she kills anyone," I tried. "The Bolenders had gone to the countess just two months ago to beg for help with their bandit problem, and Mikael Bolender came back with three soldiers two days later."

The truth was that the countess, for all that she was a vampire, was still better than the other lords. Viscount Lotz, who swore fealty to the countess, would never entertain a petition made by a mere farmer. The countess even listened to her serfs; she was certain to listen to a free tenant.

And true, there was always a price, but I had spoken with Mikael Bolender once, and he had admitted, flushing a little for some reason, that it hadn't been bad at all. He had even shown me the scars, and told me that the townspeople often petitioned the countess and wore the scars like marks of favor. That said, townspeople were a little strange.

"When are you planning to go?" My mother asked shakily, knowing the matter was already decided.

"I will go tomorrow evening. Ulrich is going to bring the taxes to the castle. I'll take a ride on his wagon."

My mother nodded. "That Ulrich... he doesn't fear the countess either, or her household," she said, though I wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.

The next evening, I'd put on my best clothes - a tunic dyed bright red reaching my knees, together with simple woolen hose, as was the fashion at court. I wore good leather boots - only secondhand. Knowing it was rather chilly outside, I also wore a loose woolen robe that I had bought in the market the very month before.

I trudged my way towards Ulrich's house. I had to pass by our fields and then the much larger holdings of the Kossmanns. I took a moment to spit on their field, but there were still workers doing the planting and I was afraid they'd seen me so I increased my pace.

When I finally came up to his house, he was still loading the cart with goods from the taxes.

Ulrich was the only one near the village of Bruglen brave enough to ride all the way to the castle and deliver the taxes, at least out of those with a cart. He didn't do it for free though, and some people cursed him for doing nothing and pocketing more than his due. On the other hand, no one was eager to take his place.

He was a man of thirty six, twice windowed. He had two daughters, both already married, and so his home was rather lonely.

I called to him in greeting and he waved back, resuming his work. When I came closer to the cart I started helping him without a word - he wasn't charging for my own trip, so I felt I should help.

He clasped my hand when we were done. "Thank you, boy," he nodded. "I think I have a spare hunk of cheese somewhere arounds. You'll probably be thankful for it before long."

"Eighteen summers make me a man grown, Ulrich," I frowned. "Thank you for the cheese though."

"Well, certainly a man who ought to be wedded," he remarked, not unkindly.

I shrugged, not liking the question. In truth, I didn't want to marry anyone. I was tall and solidly built, with a shock of long blonde hair that reached the nape of my neck. In the summer, I'd seen girls watching me as I tilled the fields, working without a tunic under the beating sun. I didn't mind, but at the same time I felt little satisfaction. There was always something missing, something I couldn't name, without which the idea of intimacy seemed pointless.

I hadn't always been that way. When I was young, I had adored Christa Basinger. She was the daughter of Stephan and Mara Basinger who rented a plot of land almost as large as the Kossmanns'. They owned half a dozen cows, and Christa made the best cheese anywhere near Bruglen.

She had been a tall, black-eyed girl with messy dark hair that always got in her eyes. We had played together since before I can remember. Each day with her was a new adventure. We fought monsters, climbed trees, saved kingdoms, and were knighted thrice over.

At some point, our games became a little different. I recalled the childish shiver of excitement when our lips met the first time. We'd been fighting a duel and I'd slipped on some leaves. She offered me a hand and pulled me up to my feet. She must have pulled too hard, because we ended up tangled together, our faces embarrassingly close. She crossed the distance, lips pressing against mine, bold as ever.

Life wasn't as simple as a childhood fancy, however. Our parents - or rather Christa's parents - hadn't approved of the match, and that was that. She had married Torben Flügel two years ago, and bore him their first son. I had been to their wedding. I thought she'd seemed happy, but we didn't speak. I'd still been a little in love.

I couldn't tell Ulrich any of that, though. "You know how complicated everything is back at the farm," I said. "I can't marry yet, not when mother and father need my help."

"Well, that's true enough... If it's gotten so bad you have to go see the countess," he said.

It was obvious we had to depart by the deepening darkness, and I was glad to drop that conversation. I helped Ulrich hitch his mule to the cart and tried to find a comfortable place to sit, between bundles of leather, fur, cheese, flour, and oil.

After a few minutes, Ulrich produced the promised hunk of cheese, together with a piece of bread. The cheese was good, and I could tell Christa had made it.

"Have you ever met the countess?" I asked between bites.

"Not really. I saw her from a distance, but only once," he said wistfully.

"What did you think of her?"

"Oh, just that she was the most beautiful woman in the world," he replied. "And the most dangerous one too."

I chewed on that for a few moments. "Did she look any different? From humans, I mean?"

"She was as pale as snow, but they say all the nobles are like that. Wherever she walked, men dropped what they were doing and just stared. Some women too, she was that beautiful," he recounted. "That's all I can tell you. Anyway, you will receive an audience. When I next see you, I expect you to tell me all about her."

"Don't worry, Ulrich. I'll be back soon enough," I said a little more confidently than I felt.

Everyone knew the countess never killed anyone, except for bandits or deserters. But everyone also whispered about strange disappearances in the same breath, never quite stating they thought the countess was responsible.

It took a few hours until we finally reached the rise that led to the castle. It was huge, built of towering gray stone with a great canal and a lowered drawbridge. The walls looked three meters thick, topped by crannelations and occupied by dozens of men. It was a little frightening by itself.

We stopped by the lowered drawbridge, behind two more carts. The twilight was a perfect time for business, since both the countess and the merchants were awake, so I wasn't surprised to see others waiting in line.

One of the footmen approached us. He quickly recognized Ulrich and clasped his hand warmly.

"Good evening, Ernst," Ulrich told the footman.

Ernst nodded. "You too. The taxes, I take it?" He asked, glancing at the cart.

Ulrich nodded. "The usual."

"Didn't know the lady takes boys as well," he said, gesturing at me.

Ulrich chuckled. "No, he is a petitioner. Wants to see the lady about a matter."

That seemed to surprise the guard, and he looked me up and down. "You know the price, boy?" He asked.

"I know the price," I nodded.

"Well, you're a little young, but I hear the lady likes 'em young," the man said with an ugly grin.

Ulrich smacked him with his stick and the man jumped back out of range.

"Sorry, sorry," the footman laughed. "Don't worry, boy. Lots of stories about the mistress, but she has always done right by me and everyone in her keep," he said with a friendlier grin.

It took another fifteen minutes until our cart was cleared, and by that time two more had stopped just behind us. Ulrich drove into the keep in silence.

The keep stood taller than the walls. It was surrounded by circular towers, flags waving from each one. I didn't really know most of them, but I knew the countess's sigil - a shield bearing a sword, a bat, a shield, and a star. I thought one of them was for the kingdom and the other for the empire, but I wasn't certain. I wasn't even sure what an empire was.

There were more armed men inside the walls, most of them wearing coats dotted with metal rivets - some kind of armor, I knew. One or two wore heavy-looking mail underneath colorful tabards. I heard the distant sound of a smithy, the rhythmic banging echoing between the walls.

Ulrich drove until we were next to a small building of white stone and stepped off his seat. He fed the mule on a carrot and patted its neck, whispering to it softly.

I got off the cart, and Ulrich clasped my hand again, then after a moment gave me a brief hug. "Good luck, Erik," he told me. It felt too much like a goodbye.

"Thank you," I said. Soon enough Ulrich knocked on the door of the building, bringing out a tired-looking woman wearing a dirty apron. It was time to go.

I walked to the entrance of the keep proper. The gate was massive, the thick iron portcullis open. Two footmen stood beside it, chatting idly.

"You there!" One of them called out. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm here to petition the lady countess," I said with the most confident voice I could manage.

Both of them looked at me at that, with interest rather than any kind of pity. "You do know the price, then?"

I nodded.

"Good," one of them said and exchanged a few more words with his companion. "Follow me."

I followed the man into the keep. The interior was dark and shadowy. Great stone walls hung with tapestries flanked a cavernous hallway with a domed ceiling. Our footsteps echoed loudly, and for a moment it seemed like an army was marching lockstep with us.

The footman led me to a thick wooden door which he pushed open. Inside was a simple room with some chairs and a wooden table with a book. A painting of some sort of battle hung on the wall.

"Wait here," the footman said. "A servant will be with you soon."

I nodded, a little overwhelmed.

After waiting a few minutes, with no one showing up, I surreptitiously opened the book and started reading. I'd learned the skill while attending church, but sadly I had little to read besides scripture and the family contract.

I understood the words well enough, though I was out of practice. It seemed to be some kind of history of a battle involving the Romans (which I had heard about). The vellum was far better preserved than the church's scripture had been, and the scribe's hand far neater.

I was shocked out of my trance when the door swung open. In the doorway stood a boy with delicate features and long blond hair, wearing a gold-trimmed doublet that extended down to his thighs, together with a pair of dark blue hose. His hair was almost of a color with my own, if a little paler. A thin sword hung at his side. He looked a little younger than me. I sheepishly placed the book back on the table and closed it.

The boy arched an eyebrow at the book. "You can read, then. A bit unusual, isn't it?"

I shrugged. "It's a useless skill. I don't have anything to read besides scripture."

"Still, it's a good skill to have. You never know when it will come in useful," he said.

I just shrugged in reply.

He studied me for a moment. "Well, my name is Beatrix. I am a... I represent the lady countess in various matters from time to time," he finished.

I blinked. Then blinked again. "Bea..." Surely, that wasn't a man's name.

The boy, or rather the girl, gave me a flat look. "Yes, I am a woman," she said dryly.

I stared at her, a little wide-eyed. Now that I knew where to look, I could see a certain suggestion of curvature around her chest. I realized that the hair, quite long for a boy, was rather short for a girl, reaching just under her jaw. She had large blue eyes and her delicate, angular face was adorned with a slightly upturned nose. Pretty, if not quite beautiful.

Knowing she was a woman, I mentally adjusted her age. She was probably older than me after all.

"My fashion choices notwithstanding, we are here to talk about your petition," she said.

"I apologize, milady," I said.

"I'm not a lady," she replied. "You can refer to me as ma'am, if you like."

"Thank you, ma'am."

The girl nodded, satisfied. "What is your name?"

"Erik Bernauer."

"What is your grievance, Erik Bernauer?" She asked somberly.

"A land dispute. My family rents a plot of land from the countess, our contract signed almost a century ago. A nearby tenant desires our contract for himself. Each time we refuse him, he harasses us. This time, on the day after the refusal, a large sack of seed was stolen and two of our goats killed in our own goathouse. The goats were left cut open."

The girl frowned. "I see. And this isn't the first time this has happened?"

I continued, describing the various ways in which the Kossmanns attempted to frighten mother and father into selling their contract.

In the end, the girl seemed a little impressed. "And you still don't plan to sell it," she said finally.

"No, ma'am,"

She favored me with a small smile. "You are good folk. I'm sure the lady countess will reward your tenacity."

I smiled back. The girl's words and demeanor made me a little more at ease, and I managed to ask the question I had been studiously avoiding since my decision to petition the countess.

"Ma'am, about the price... how much does it hurt?"

Beatrix chuckled, then flushed a bit little. "Let me show you something," she said. She pulled her hair away from her neck and showed me what looked like scars. They were small, unnoticeable in almost all circumstances, but there were more than just two. There might've been two dozen, overlapping and crossing each other. The girl seemed proud of them, if anything.

"The price is really nothing," she said when I finished admiring the bite marks. "Many people in the castle 'pay' it willingly."

"Why?" I asked, knowing the surprise was written on my face.

The girl cleared her throat. "Ah, well, I'm sure you'll understand..." she managed, then reddened some more. Whatever scraps of professional demeanor she had were now completely gone.

"So she doesn't actually need...?"

"Oh, no," Beatrix said, happy to get away from an embarrassing subject. "The price is so people don't make frivolous petitions. You peas-- you folk are all so scared of the countess, if you actually come this far, your petition must have some merit."

She seemed to study me as I took a moment to digest her words, then surprised me by touching her warm hand to mine for a moment, face still a bit red. Abruptly, she got up, hiding her expression behind her hand. "Well, I'll leave you to it. I'm sure the countess will be here soon," she said, and left the room.

I blinked after her as she departed, more than a little confused at her odd behavior. I recalled that Mikael had been quite reticent to talk about the price himself. I shelved those worries for the moment, since the matter seemed inevitable, and went back to my book.

Beatrix came back after a few hours. She seemed to have recovered from whatever had happened earlier.

She greeted me with a smile. "The countess has decided to hear your petition," she said. "I'll escort you."

I got up and followed behind her. Beatrix's strides were long and a little manish, and she was only a little shorter than me - making her quite tall for a woman. Following behind her, my eyes seemed to drift down to those hose, and I rather quickly realized why I hadn't seen other women wearing them.

Though her rear was covered by the long doublet, the hose still displayed her thighs rather indecently. I found my eyes lingering on those thighs more than once, to my consternation.

Then suddenly we stopped, and for a moment I thought my indecent staring had been found out. But instead Beatrix gave me a smile and opened a large oak door engraved with vines and cherubim. Inside was a simply appointed room, panelled with rich dark wood. There was nothing on the walls and the floor wasn't carpeted. A single large bed stood to one side.

She turned to me, that strange flush back on her face. "Wait here, and... enjoy yourself," she whispered. She winked, and she was gone.

I entered the room and stared at the large bed with mounting alarm. Surely this wasn't... surely...

It was sometimes whispered that the countess took her pleasure with her supplicants, and not just their blood. It wasn't a story repeated by those who had petitioned her, but perhaps that served as more evidence. It was certainly a secret I didn't intend to reveal.

As evidence, there was Beatrix's strange behavior to consider, and then the words of Mikael Bolender that didn't seem so strange anymore.

Beatrix had so many little scars. Did that mean she had lain with the countess so many times? But they were both women. Surely they didn't... but then again, the way she'd acted when I'd raised the question...

I took a seat on a chair and my mind started churning over possibility after possibility, question after question. Did I want to lie with the countess? Surely men were supposed to want to lie with women, and the countess was said to be very beautiful. To be sure, all the rumors said that beauty was used exclusively for nefarious purposes, but perhaps that wasn't so important.

I had never lain with a woman before. Would I be unable to satisfy the countess? Or perhaps that was her preferred way. There were stories about vampires seeking virgins, but the virgins in question were always female. And yet, since the countess was a woman, didn't that mean she would prefer male virgins?

What if I refused? Would she have a way to compel me? Of course she would, she was a vampire. How would she do it, I wondered. Would she simply overpower me and force me to do her bidding? Or perhaps she would influence my mind somehow.

I imagined the vampire swooping down and tackling me to the bed, her body pressing against mine. Her arms would be as immovable as steel. She might start by kissing me, perhaps, and I would be unable to resist. Then she might command me to pleasure her, and I would be unable to do anything but obey. I swallowed, feeling a little hot all of a sudden.