The Baroness Goes Bimbo

The hall was as tall as it was broad, stretching out from heavy oaken doors like a vast stone gullet. A vaulted stone roof painted in deep reds and glittering golds, lit by dozens of torches in black metallic sconces. Shadows flickered over windowless walls covered with old tapestries showing bloody deeds and dark, carnal rituals. A single red carpet stretched from the entrance to a raised dais, on which sat a throne carved from black wood and inlaid with brass. The pale, slender figure on the throne stared down at the whimpering man at her feet, bloodless lips curled into a smirk.

"And who is this that dares to kneel before me?" Victoria Dumont said.

"Jacque Girault, my lady," The man said, his head bowed far enough to touch the carpet. He was strong enough. Perhaps even handsome in a way, with his solid jaw and curling blonde locks. Not her type, but then again... who could satisfy her anymore?

"Is this who you have chosen to keep me sated?" She said, turning now to the crowd that milled about at the end of the hall; as far from her as they could manage.

"Y-yes, Baroness," The eldest said, his voice cracking.

"And tell me, Jacque..." Victoria brushed her long black hair back from her face as she peered down at her prey, "Do you come to this place willingly?"

"I do, my lady," He replied.

"Do you swear to serve me, for as long as I see fit to own you?"

"I swear, my lady."

She smiled, her fangs bared. And lunged forwards.

***

Victoria wiped the blood from her lips and sighed. The crowd had long since left her to feast, so all she had to do was not bother them for another generation, and the villagers wouldn't storm her castle. Though, sometimes she wished they'd give it a try. It would be far more interesting.

She stood, gesturing to the slumped and pale body on the floor. It took a few seconds, but finally, Jacque stood as well, shaky and wooden like a puppet. He had that same blank expression the other servants had like he was half-asleep. She snapped her fingers, and he snapped to attention. At least he was a quick learner.

"Who do you serve, Jacque Girault?" She asked.

"You, my lady." His voice wasn't quite monotone, but near enough.

"And for how long do you serve?"

"Until my dying breath and beyond, my lady."

"I'll hold you to that," She said, turning and walking past the throne. He followed her like a good little puppy. Like all the rest had. Five hundred and seventy-four years as a vampire and they all reacted the same to being enthralled. For such an unpredictable species humans were so... boring.

Her boots clicked along the stone tiles and wooden floorboards as she ascended deeper into the castle. A few pale-faced servants drifted past her, going about their duties with barely a reaction to her presence. Victoria's hands slid around the back of her dress, undoing the intricate knots and ties until the black gown slid off her body and hit the floor. A maid stooped to pick it up, following behind as the shift, corset and chemise followed. Then the boots, the stockings... everything tossed away, leaving Victoria to strut with her slender ivory curves on full display.

Not that any of her servants cared. Even her newest recruit barely reacted to her body.

Gods, that annoyed her.

Being naked in her castle had started as an indulgence; a way to stir up some excitement within her. But now it was just a habit and a convenience. No one visited her unless it was time for an offering, so there was no point getting dressed up. Still, she would have liked it if there was some reaction. A little redness to her thrall's cheeks, or a slight tightening in their codpieces. Just the tiniest hint of attraction to a body and face that could be carved out of marble; was that too much to ask for?

Victoria passed a dust-covered library -the books all long since read and re-read- and her laboratory -neither science nor magic held much in the way of secrets now- and the armoury -what good were opponents who refused to even try to hurt you?- and up to the master bedroom. She padded across lush carpets, dropped onto the four-poster bed and sighed.

If she'd known how boring immortality was, maybe she would have stayed a peasant girl.

She looked over to the door, watching Jacque step inside. She'd almost forgotten he was there, given how quiet he had been. He stood like a statue, the only motion his slow breathing. Victoria watched him for a few seconds; he was handsome, of a sort. A little rough, a bit too country bumpkin for her tastes. Still, he didn't need a pretty face to keep her entertained. She slid to the edge of the bed and waved him over.

"Jacque," Victoria said, "Worship my legs."

"As you wish, my lady." He knelt immediately, taking her calf in his hand and gently nuzzling up it. He was still quite warm, and his breath tickled her smooth skin.

"With your mouth and tongue," She ordered.

"As you wish, my lady."

"Oh, do shut up..." Victoria rolled her eyes, lying back as he peppered her thighs with soft kisses. This one had definitely been a romantic. Probably a girl or two down in the villages who were crying their eyes out over him being chosen. She curled a finger around his blond curls, her skin tingling as his tongue darted over it. His palms were rough, but his stroking was soft and slow. It was a nice view, and a wonderful sensation, but...

Well, there was no spark.

He was just obeying her because he was a thrall. A servant. No passion there, not really. Victoria exhaled slowly, lying back and letting him work. Still, he seemed happy enough, even if she wasn't. They all seemed oddly pleased now that they didn't have to think. Didn't have to worry about making any hard choices, didn't have any responsibilities... no sense of boredom...

There was a certain appeal to mindlessness.

A delicate finger traced along her folds, eliciting a gentle coo of pleasure. Yes, a definite appeal; a blind, endless parade of bliss as she was passed around like a toy. A perfectly obedient little slut at the beck and call of a faceless master, commanding her to kneel and service him. Never a single thought, just the drive to serve. To surrender and to obey. To be a pretty little pleasure puppet.

Victoria shook her head and pulled her fingers back from her cunt in disgust. She waved Jacque out of the room and rolled onto her stomach, drumming her fingers against her temple. Again with the fantasy...! That stupid, nagging fantasy. She wasn't ashamed of having it, exactly, but it did seem somewhat inappropriate for a woman of her status.

Though, what status was that? She had wealth, prestige and a village under her thumb, but beyond that, she was little more than a monster who ruled by fear. A lonely monster, at that. The last time there'd been any passion in her bed was a hundred years ago, when that delightful young adventurer had almost defeated her. Almost.

Victoria smiled to herself, remembering the way his whip had felt on her skin. The way he'd tied her hands with rope. He could have killed her then and there, but she knew how hot young blood ran, and it wasn't long before she had him slaking his lust on her bound body. He'd made a wonderful bedroom toy afterwards, filling many a night with ecstasy. Her thighs ground together, a little groan escaping as decades of frustration began to rear their heads.

Perhaps letting herself submit wasn't quite so bad.

But submit to whom?

She rolled onto her back and huffed. The villagers were the obvious bet, but there was no guarantee they wouldn't try to destroy her. There certainly wasn't anyone else in the castle she could rely on, and commanding one of her thralls to dominate her was just absurd. And even if they did use her like she intended, total mindlessness was dangerous. No, she needed a way to control it; to limit any effect, so she didn't lose herself entirely. To do so would be utterly mortifying... but then again, would she care if she was mindless? And what if someone abused her in that time, took advantage of the submissive nature?

She batted at her temples and swore. Ugh, why did she have to worry about every little detail? An idiot could just charge in without a care in the world!

... An idiot, hmm?

***

It had taken her a while to find texts that could help her, and even longer to dust off the old enchanting equipment in the lab. Her thralls shuffled past outside, blissfully unaware of what she was doing amongst the humming and throbbing of various arcane runes and occult devices. The desk in front of her was littered with scrolls and books and loose pages of notes. Her fingers brushed over brass filigree and traced over carved stone circles, sparks of magic leaping from her hands into the equipment. She had no idea how long she had worked -with no windows in the stone walls and bright chandeliers it could be morning or midnight- but finally, she was finished.

Victoria held the leather choker in her pale hands, the smooth ruby set at the front seeming to glow with a dull light. The enchantment was unusual, to say the least. Perhaps cursed would have been a better word; a progressive drain on the wearer's intelligence, triggered by a specific action. The weaving had been intricate, the spell carefully planned to prevent any accidents. Had she been any less meticulous then there was a very real chance she could lose her mind completely. So she had bound it to something that was very hard to achieve by accident; something she had almost complete control over.

She would quite literally cum her brains out.

Victoria took a shaky breath as she wrapped the choker around her neck. It wasn't quite the same as mindless obedience, of course. But that would likely require a master to bind herself to, and that was out of the question. But letting herself drop down into an airhead was close enough. It would make her obedient, submissive, and easily controlled by anyone who found her... She quivered at the thought. She could reverse it, of course. Just a quick command word and she'd return to her brilliant self once again. There wasn't much point if she didn't have complete control. Though, losing control did have its own appeal as well...

She shook her head, stepping out of the uncomfortable chair. The choker needed testing, of course. Just to be sure. But she couldn't test it on her thralls -they were already simple- which meant she needed to test it herself. Her heart was pounding as she pulled up a long couch lying back on the plush cushions. She didn't need to breathe, but she still took a few long, slow breaths to steady herself. Nerves? This was just a simple test. An easily reversible trial run. There was no reason to be scared.

Her fingers stroked her folds, already slick with arousal, and she whimpered.

The soft silk cushions brushed against her skin as she squirmed on the couch, soft coos of pleasure leaking out of her as she rubbed her slit. Her head swam with fantasies and memories: the young woman who had been her first, red hair like a fire pressed between her thighs; a pair of young vampires she had indulged with after her turning, their cocks still warm and throbbing; an orgy of bloody debauchery some hundreds of years ago, coming back in flashes of pleasure and pain. Victoria's back arched as pulses of pleasure shook her body. The pressure was mounting quickly, fingers busy on both clit and nipple, the coos turning to moans and bordering on screams.

The memories were replaced with new fantasies: rough hands around her neck, forcing her onto her knees; the tinkling of a chain leash; jeering crowds as she was humiliated, violated over and over. Her thighs squeezed around her fingers. Her heart pounded in her ears. Closer and closer. Her breath hitched, and for a second she feared her hand would give in before she could finish. And then a flash of white filled her mind as she screamed. Her body tensed and shuddered as pleasure ripped through her.

It was more than an orgasm; it was a rush, a wave of something washing over her mind. She could feel the ruby at her throat burn brightly. Feel not just her body but her mind convulse with release. She wanted to keep going, to tease out a second or a third to keep the rushing magic in her mind but her fingers wouldn't go. They ached and gave up, leaving her to collapse back into the cushions and pant.

Victoria's pale, slender body was slick with sweat, her limbs weak and twitching. It had been a long time since she'd felt like this. She moaned, writhing on the couch and stretching herself like a cat. As the white haze fell away, she sat up, a hand against her temple as she tried to assess herself.

Her head felt light. Not empty, but like someone had turned a valve and let a torrent of steam leak out of her, relieving pressure. She looked down at the books that lay scattered about the desk. She understood the arcane scripts and multitude of languages, but it was harder to read. It took longer, required her to squint and move word by word rather than skip across sentences at a time. Her heartbeat quickened as her shaking hand moved up to the ruby, brushing across its smooth surface.

She hadn't expected the effect to be so strong.

Victoria had anticipated a little change; a slow, controlled descent into mindlessness. But this... she'd be skipping down to a simpleton in just a few steps! Would she even be able to recognise when she'd gone too far? Be able to see when she needed to reverse the spell when her mind had been so thoroughly drained? Gods, would she even want to?

She shivered, her cunt throbbing at the thought.

The command word was on the very tip of her tongue before she shut her mouth. It was dangerous to keep going, but also... exciting. Thrilling, even. Gods, she hadn't felt this way in decades! She was still trembling from her orgasm, still craving another burst of pleasure as she fingered herself stupid. She could get addicted to the feeling of her mind getting sapped away...

She could go a little longer. After all, the command-word would always reset her, no matter how far she went. What was the harm in testing her limits?

But she was still too nervous. And her fingers were already cramping despite her undead nature. She needed to... to let someone else decide how far down she went. Yes, that was it. She needed to submit.

Victoria stumbled out of the laboratory and called for a cloak from one of her maids. By some lucky chance, the evening twilight was turning to dark night, meaning she could move freely over the land. The villagers would no doubt be scurrying away to their homes, fearful of a dark presence that hadn't graced their land for many centuries.

Perhaps it was time to repay them for all their sacrifices.

***

The village was just as dark and deserted as she had expected. Clusters of wattle-and-daub houses creaking in the smallest of breezes, lit by the sickly yellow light of lanterns hanging above every door. With a flutter and the quiet snapping of cloth being whipped Victoria dropped out of her bat-form. The cobblestones were cool under her bare feet. The heavy black cloak covered her frame completely. After all, she didn't want to ruin her surprise.

At the centre of town was the market square -though triangle would be more accurate- and just behind the central well, the inn towered above all other buildings. She remembered when it had been the town hall before she'd claimed complete dominion over the little area. The heavy wooden doors were new. She gently rapped her knuckles on the black wood and waited. A small slot at eye level opened.

The eyes within widened, and the slot slammed shut again.

Victoria's lip curled into a smile. She dragged a finger slowly down the small gap in the centre, a magical spark floating off her finger. She could hear heavy iron bolts drawing themselves back on the other side, and panicked whispers turning to shrieks of terror. With a wave of her hand, the doors burst open.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" She asked as the wind settled.

The patrons huddled at the back of the large common room, their faces almost as white as hers. Men and women with cheeks rosy from alcohol or cold, their simple tunics and smocks gripped tightly by their own nervous hands or terrified relatives. The roaring fire beside them seemed to dim as she took her first step inside, the doors slamming shut behind her.

"What a lovely night for a stroll," Victoria said. She stepped across the worn wooden floor, brushing her fingers along round tables as she passed them. She scooped up a drop of beer and tasted it. Not bad, for a cheap brew. A dozen pairs of eyes followed her as she slowly stalked around the room. "Don't you think so?"

"What do you want?" One of the older ones asked. He brandished his walking stick as threateningly as he could, "We paid our dues. You promised to leave us alone!"

"My promise was not to kill you all. That doesn't stop me from paying a visit every now and then," She said, "And I think one has been long overdue."

"Was my Jacque not enough?" A woman shouted. A pretty one at the back, with a round face and curly brown hair, "Have you come to take more from us you, you... hellspawn!"

"Your Jacque, hmm? Don't you worry, he was more than enough for my tastes. And well trained too."

"Trained?"

"Well, someone had to teach him how to do those things with his tongue. That was you, wasn't it?"

The woman blushed furiously as a few of the others gave her looks. "I-I don't-!"

"Oh, hush. I barely used him," Victoria smirked, "There's no passion in a thrall. Not much of anything, really. I might as well fuck a piece of wood. And believe me, I have tried. It grows so tiring after a while."

"Whatever it is you're here for, you won't get it!" The elder said, "We can only take so much, you know!"

"And what if I were to tell you we could all benefit from what I have to offer?"

"What could a monster such as yourself possibly give us, besides misery?"

Victoria smiled, brought her hands up to her neck and let the cloak slip from her shoulders. The crowd quietly gasped. She could feel their eyes on her naked body, feel them staring at her long, slender legs and subtle curves. Fuck, there was the reaction she had been craving. There was the desire, even if it was tinged with fear.

"What I can offer," She said, "Is myself."

"What kind of trick is this?" The elder was clearly struggling to keep his eyes on her face.

"No trick. I already told you, there's no passion to be found in a thrall. My bed has lain cold and empty for over a hundred years. I may be an undead monster, but even I have urges." Victoria sat on one of the large wooden tables, propping a leg up on a nearby chair, exposing her cunt to the crowd. Her hand slid over her stomach and down between her legs, a little coo of pleasure escaping as she rubbed her folds. Gods, she was already damp down there. The anticipation, the thrill of being exposed... she'd missed this so much.

The crowd watched in a mix of confusion and terror as she licked the juices from her fingers, a fanged smile making some of them wince away. Still, she could see something growing in the men's britches. See a blush on the cheeks of the women. She gasped as she slid a finger inside her, groping her chest with her other hand.

Finally, someone stepped forward. A man, tall and broadly built with long, dark hair and a neatly kept beard. He reminded her of someone. Maybe she'd taken one of his ancestors as a thrall? Victoria smirked up at him as he towered over her, her eyes moving down to the prominent bulge in his britches.

"Well, aren't you the brave one?" She licked her lips.

Without warning, he shoved her back onto the table. Rough hands grabbed her thighs, pulling them up and pinning them close to her torso. Her heart beat faster in her chest than she'd felt in years, a shot of panic working through her. The man's eyes were intense. Driven.