Bindings of the Subjugator Ch. 03

Once again I must remind you that this story will have some upsetting themes, including but not limited to:

rape, mind control, domination, slavery, physical abuse, humiliation, violence

All characters involved in sexual acts in this story will always be above the age of 18.

Chapter 03: The Vengeful Servant

Debts of suffering, repaid at last...

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The sun would soon be setting on the Dumal Barony. For most, it would be an evening much like any other. However, in a forest near the lord's mansion known by the locals as the Backwoods, in a remote, unassuming cave, far away from any unwelcome eyes and ears, two voices schemed in the dark. If all went according to their plans, the baron would soon be going through a living hell.

Nergal took a few moments to admire his handiwork. The meek and emaciated slave girl he had found on that night hadn't even been 5 feet in height, but now she stood tall at 5' 8". Her lifeless, dejected amber eyes had taken on a shine of renewed purpose and vigor, and her malnourished form had filled out into the feminine curves of a slender, athletic young woman, the picture of peak female condition. Her skin, once deathly pale and scarred, was now flawless and had taken a healthier tone. Her baby-blue hair had grown much softer and longer, her silky locks now falling down to the small of her back. Her breasts, once barely even noticeable, could now proudly fill out the palms of her hands. Clad from the neck down in studded black leather armor, she wore a black silken hooded cloak, which covered her back down to her round, shapely rear.

Nergal was not so easily swayed by the hazy temptations of lust, but he could certainly tell he had created a very attractive and desirable woman, and he basked in the knowledge that he owned her in her entirety. Emily was completely and utterly his, and she would wear the proof upon her very body. Dizzyingly complex, intricate runic patterns blazed a soft purple glow over her entire body with the exception of her face, and dreadsteel bindings adorned her neck and wrists, the enchantments engraved upon them were now bathed in the same purple glow, having synchronized with their host.

Though the subjugator could not recall any of the millions of souls he had enthralled in the past, he somehow knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Emily was among his finest works. Nergal had truly outdone himself, and his newest pawn would one day be feared as an unstoppable harbinger of death, wreaking havoc upon his enemies, he was certain of it. With the amount of mana the demon had poured into this one, he would have been dissatisfied by anything less.

And now, for the finishing touch. For the time being, at least. "Hold still."

"Yes, my Master."

Nergal curled a claw underneath his thrall's chin and focused a drop of mana into this last enchantment. The glowing runes on Emily's skin and on her bindings began to dim, before fading from sight completely. They would not be visible unless he wanted them to be. The girl glanced herself over in slight confusion, but did not panic. She could still feel her master's will imbuing her with demonic power.

"My Master, why hide the blessings you have bestowed upon me?"

Unlike during their first conversations, Emily now felt comfortable enough to address her Master directly whenever she wished to know something, and she understood that such behavior would be acceptable, so long as she did so with the reverence she owed him.

"It is necessary. To those of my kind, these symbols have meaning, they can be understood. You would hold no secrets to them, and should you ever be captured, they would be able to vandalize my work, render you defective. I find this possibility... undesirable."

It was indeed common practice for Feldrenar to conceal what their most valuable pawns were capable of. One would be foolish to reveal their hand in the midst of combat.

The seal he had installed upon his minion just now was one that would prevent others from seeing, and therefore accessing, his work. Unlocking the seal was a twofold process, it was implanted onto a specific part of the thrall's body and responded only to its creator's manaprints.

In short, the seal could only be unlocked by Nergal himself, by concentrating a drop of mana underneath her chin. Though forcing one's way through such a seal was theoretically possible, it was a very tedious task and rarely worth the effort.

"I see. Thank you, my Master. I wish to belong to you and you alone, for as long as you will have me."

"And you will serve me well. Now, let us be off. I believe there are debts you wish to settle, and our pact bids me to assist you."

*******

"It has been an honor to receive you, Prince Claine. I pray you will find that my proposition is to the greatest benefit of us both."

Both men were smiling as they exchanged farewells, and yet neither of those smiles reached the eyes. Even now, they were estimating one another, trying to determine how useful the other would be in their schemes.

"And what a pleasure it was to be so warmly welcomed, Baron Dumal. Rest assured that your generous donation will not be forgotten. I believe much greatness can be achieved if your support remains unwavering. Be well, my friend."

"And you as well, your Highness."

As he stepped off the royal airship and back into the docking tower of his own estate, Baron Gillon Dumal was confident that today had gone as well as it possibly could have. With the king on death's door, the nobles were vying for the favor of those with a claim to the throne. That doddering fool of a king had yet to name his successor and so the nobility had been forced to curry favor with the princes before knowing which of them would ascend the throne.

But for Lord Dumal, the choice had been quite simple. Duke Howes supported First Prince Detrick, so that was not an option. Gillon's goal was to supplant Howes as duke, and Detrick would not facilitate this goal at the expense of one of his most fervent supporters. At best, he would merely in turn shield House Dumal from the Howes, but Gillon could not afford to be so passive. The status quo favored his adversary.

Second Prince Honard was renowned for his virtue and piety, making him another unviable choice. Gillon was very aware of his own reputation, and he knew that a man like Honard would never sully his name by associating with House Dumal, and so the point was moot.

That only left Third Prince Claine, something of a kindred spirit. Ever the underdog, Claine had learned to use every trick in his sleeve to gain the upper hand over his brothers. He was cunning and meticulous, and he knew when to swallow his pride. Gillon knew all too well what it was like to use the hand fate had dealt you to brawl above your weight.

The Dumal lands had been blessed with large amounts of gold, and this had somewhat evened the playing field between them and their Howes masters. But with a bit of luck, the scales would soon tip in Gillon's favor. His donation tonight of 5000 gold pieces was very much a transactional affair. Claine was undoubtedly considered the most unlikely to ascend the throne, but if he succeeded, then the Howes would be put in a very precarious position.

When the baron entered his bedroom, he was glad to see two young blondes waiting for him beside his bed in nothing but slave collars. Gillon Dumal was not one to count his chickens before they hatched, but he had had a feeling that his meeting with Prince Claine would stoke one of his more... wishful fantasies, and he had been right.

Once he had supplanted that fool Cainen as duke, what was to stop him from claiming some of his daughters for himself as tribute? The bastard had 8 of them, he probably wouldn't even notice. What were the names of his youngest again? Lyssia and Mary? That sounded right. Not that they would have much need of names if Gillon had his way.

One of his attendants for tonight went to close the doors while the other undid his trousers as he sat on the edge of the bed. Oh, how he hoped to one day make that fantasy a reality. To see those two blonde noble girls kneel at his feet instead of some nameless farmers' daughters from who the hell cares. To see the anguish on their faces as they were forced to submit to the man who had humiliated their father, and become his breeding sows. it was high time Gillon produced himself an heir instead of frolicking with whores.

Speaking of which, he still had to replace his little blue bitch. She hadn't been all that expensive, unlucky parents were always eager to get their Azelle daughters out of their hands, but cursed girls were uncommon. And Emily had been SO much fun. She had long given up on resistance, but Gillon could always see the gleam of hatred in her eyes. It was exhilarating, every time. But she wasn't worth wasting the time and resources it would take to find her. Besides, she was probably a corpse by now anyway. Oh well.

If she was alive, and she found her way through the woods into some town, she wouldn't find anyone willing to listen to her. Emily was no threat to him in any way.

*******

Under the moonless night sky, a lone shadow emerged from the Backwoods, heading for the baron's mansion. Running faster than anyone should be capable of, yet making not so much as a sound, the figure flashed through the field towards the rampart wall.

Emily was more than familiar with the layout of the estate. Within the outer wall was a luxurious hedge garden, decorated with lavish golden statues and elaborate fountains. At the center of the garden stood the mansion proper, 4 storeys of white marble walls crowned by a gable roof of ceramic tiles. The layout of the mansion was a squared 'U' shape facing towards the one gateway of the rampart wall, and a wide paved path connected the two, adorned on either side by rows of extravagant gold statues. At the end of the left arm of the 'U' was the docking tower where only the baron's own airship was docked at the moment. There had been another earlier, but it had left a few hours ago.

About 100 meters from the rampart wall, Emily stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed the presence of something she never had before, but now realized had always been there. The outside of the wall was shrouded in a detection barrier, unseen veils and sheets of mana waving aimlessly through the air. No wonder the guards had been alerted so quickly during her escape.

Emily activated the demonic sight her Master had so generously gifted her, her eyes emitting an amber glow, and the barrier was revealed to her. With purpose, she moved forward, dodging and weaving through the intangible curtains that would alert the mages of her presence. Were she a normal human, this would have been a futile endeavor, as the aura emanating from her would have inevitably triggered the barrier. However, Lord Nergal had muffled her aura, drastically limiting the space it occupied, and Emily was able to squeeze through the gaps between the rippling sheets of mana, like a wraith through the night. To an observer, it would have looked like a frenzied dance, her body contorting rhythmically in an impressive display of flexibility as she made forward progress.

Clear of the barrier, Emily made for the next obstacle: the wall. It stood at about 40 feet in height, but the assassin climbed it in a matter of seconds. She vaulted over the ramparts and landed in the hedge garden on the other side. Emily navigated silently through the greenery, taking occasional detours to avoid a guard on her way to the mansion.

The first part of her mission was simple: eliminate the mages. Baron Dumal kept two in his employ, one general purpose mage, tasked with various miscellaneous arcane tasks. The upkeep of the barrier, the healing of injuries... snuffing out the infants in the maids' wombs when the Master impregnated them. Emily herself had made quite a few visits to Mr. Grayson over the last two and a half years. He never gave her a reason to hate him, which was as nice as people got for Emily, but now he was an inconvenience to Lord Nergal and she wouldn't lose any sleep over his death.

The other mage was the airship technician, in charge of the upkeep of the Gold Maiden, the baron's personal vessel. He was also responsible for the safe docking of the lord's most esteemed guests. Jewels of craftsmanship and enchanting, airships were a symbol of wealth only the rich and powerful could afford. Most barons of the Five Holy Kingdoms did not qualify for this level of luxury, but House Dumal was far wealthier than their peers. Emily rarely saw the technician; she wasn't even sure the man she had in mind was the right guy, but his quarters were in the docking tower, and she would find out when she got there.

The assassin reached the mansion wall, and she began to scale it. The surface of the wall was quite smooth, and it should have been practically impossible to climb without proper equipment, but Emily found grip where there was none. She knew exactly where her first quarry would be, and like a spider on the wall, she made her way to a window on the 4^th floor of the back left corner of the 'U'.

Perched on the windowsill, she drew out from the sheath at her hip a black dagger, engraved with the signature blood-red runes of her Master's blessing along its edge. She slid it into the crack between the window panes and cut through the locking mechanism like a hot knife through butter. She carefully opened the window and slid in without a sound, closing it behind her.

Inside, the shelves along the walls were lined with dusty tomes and scrolls, labelled vials and pouches, containing various potions and reagents. At the center of the room was drawn an incantation circle, which emitted a soft glow. In the corner to Emily's right was a bed, much humbler than the lord's, but still nicer than what she had been afforded during her time here. Mr. Grayson sat at a table to her left, poring over some text while absentmindedly tapping his finger on the wooden surface of the table. His back was turned to her, and he hadn't heard her come in. There had been nothing for him to hear.

The mage was a balding man in his forties, what remained of his hair already graying. He seemed so much smaller now that Lord Nergal had improved Emily's body. She didn't know much about Mr. Grayson's past, but she knew he had graduated from the Imperial Sorcerer's Academy in the Remician Empire, the most prestigious magic school in the land. Lord Dumal took security very seriously and had not hesitated to procure the services of an elite mage.

Emily held her blade tightly and hurried over to her prey without so much as a noise, the silence broken only by the sound of fingernail hitting on wood repeatedly. In one swift motion, the assassin stabbed the man in the back of the neck to silence him, then sliced down along his spine, before delivering one final stab through the heart. He slumped lifelessly onto his desk. There was nothing anyone could do for him anymore. And for Emily, there was no turning back. She was officially a murderer. And it... didn't feel any different.

Emily had hunted and killed many animals during the past week, and this felt just like that. She knew it definitely shouldn't, but that's how it felt. She had read that the act of taking another person's life was a traumatic experience that caused crippling guilt, but Emily felt nothing. She had simply carried out her Master's will. And there was more to be done.

*******

Under the moonless night sky, Nergal sat in the shadows, waiting for the front gate to be raised. The entire manor was surrounded by a detection barrier, with the exception of this gate. If the demon attempted to simply barge into the premises, disregarding this barrier, he would be signaling his presence to his prey, as well as the security detail, insuring a bloodbath.

While certainly entertaining, that would have been... counterproductive. Nergal intended to claim for himself the monument to decadence that was Dumal mansion, along with its staff. How foolish it would be to slay those who would soon serve him.

Nergal's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the gate being raised at last. His servant had fulfilled her task. He stood up and marched forward, weapon in hand. Crossing the threshold, he found Emily retrieving her bolts from the corpses of the guards stationed here. Nergal counted 5, an acceptable loss.

"The mages?"

"Both dead, my Master."

Good. Nergal absolutely could have taken them himself, but he would have had to expend his own mana to do so, which he was currently dreadfully low on. For now, it was better to simply get them out of the picture. There would be more sorcerers to enthrall eventually. Besides, it was a perfect opportunity for Emily to fulfill her purpose. She had been performing adequately so far.

Nergal marched unopposed on the path leading to the mansion. Emily walked behind him, dreadsteel crossbow in hand. The lavish monuments to man's hubris that lined the way seemed to stare at the intruders in the darkness of night, outraged, yet impotent. They were but statues after all. As they entered the courtyard and made their way to the main entrance, Nergal examined the baron's domain with great approval. Truly a display of opulence and excess, befitting of a Feldrenar. How generous of House Dumal to have prepared such an exquisite abode for his arrival. He would enforce his claim upon it before sunrise.

*******

Emily was absolutely ecstatic. She had fantasized about this moment so many times, and now it was about to be a reality. She could barely believe this was really happening at long last. And it was all thanks to Lord Nergal.

What a wonderful man he was. He had taken her under his wing, protected her from the baron's minions, healed her body and mind, undoing the trauma of years of abuse and loneliness. He had made a place for her at his side, offering companionship, guidance, purpose, protection. If it was the binding that forced her to think of him this way, she didn't care. The demon had only asked for her eternal loyalty in return, and after all he had done for her, he would've had it regardless. Emily would fight for her master, she would die for him. He had given her a life. A purpose. He had transformed her into both a beautiful woman and a deadly assassin. He had given her this opportunity to exact revenge, he had even restored her maidenhood, taken against her will on her 18^th birthday.

That day had haunted her for so long, she remembered vividly the first time Lord Dumal had forced himself on her. He had pinned her down, kicking and screaming, crying and begging, before savagely defiling her, tearing through her hymen and claiming her last remaining dignity for himself. She remembered the shame, the despair. She remembered feeling like little more than a sack of meat, like she didn't deserve to think of herself as a person. Like she was less than even an animal.

Before that day, the torment had consisted mostly of physical punishments: the lash, the extra hours of grueling work, the denial of meals. But when she became a woman, it got so much worse. The punishments were aimed to break her will and sense of self-worth. He debased her and forced her to debase herself. And she would make him regret every second of it.

Emily navigated through the halls she knew so well, leading her new Master to their prey. When she saw the entrance to the master bedroom, Emily was overtaken by a strange feeling. She had crossed these doors countless times before, yet now she entered not as a victim, but as a predator. Anger coursed through her veins when she saw him, lying back naked on his bed with a contented smile on his face. This man was evil, his soul black as tar. How could he sleep so soundly after what he'd done?