The Deviant of the Dark Ages Ch. 04

Fira decided to change tact. "Remember all those times you lectured me about keeping myself chaste, denying the privilege of intimacy to all the pathetic low-lifes who don't deserve it?"

Her sister nodded. Fira looked pointedly at her exposed tongue, paused between licks. "Has it occurred to you that you might be holding a double-standard there?"

Sara grimaced. "I can't help it, sis, you don't know what it's like..."

"You're not the one strapped up tighter than a bridled horse, sis."

Suddenly Sara sat up straight, eyes wide. A plan was beginning to form in her mind. It was so crazy it just might work. Fira would despise her for it, but with any luck it would give her a solid shot at freedom. There wasn't any hope left for Sara herself—already the plan was beginning to give her a headache just as any other thought of resistance did. She needed to act fast.

"Sara? What is it?" whispered Fira. There was no reply. Sara got to her feet and picked up the gag she'd worn earlier. She approached her sister and roughly forced it into place. Fira fought against her, but she'd had many years experience in winning scuffles with her feisty sister. It helped that Fira was unable to move a muscle, too. But it was crucial that Fira remained gagged and subdued until her work was done, otherwise William would hear and put an end to her scheme immediately.

With Fira angrily gagged, she got to work. William had told she was on punishment duty, and so that's would she would do. She would punish her beloved sister until her very life was threatened and William had no choice but to turn her into a true vampire or watch his favourite plaything die before his eyes. And if she failed... If she went too far... Well, she was saving Fira from a fate far worse than death—a fate Sara was all too familiar with.

With the cat o' nine tails in hand, she began to revisit the red stripes she'd left before. It pained her to see her sister bucking so ferociously in her restraints, her hair nearly torn out from the hook holding fast in her rear, but Sara's discomfort was outweighed by the unnatural pleasure induced from doing her master's bidding. She may have become a tad overenthusiastic, for soon her whip wasn't just leaving stripes—it was drawing blood.

Sara was well past stopping now. She'd entered a sort of frenzied trance, the vampire blood within her calling out for more to be spilt. She left no part of Fira's body unscathed. Her helpless sister had long since grown too exhausted to struggle, and now merely twitched as wounds were struck open across her flesh. Her whimpers were growing weak, but she was still conscious and very much aware of every strike Sara brought down upon her.

The dungeon door slammed open. William stood for a amount on the threshold, his nostrils flaring as he took in the sight of his blood-soaked slave twitching beneath her sister's unrelenting whip. He crossed over to them in the blink of an eye, knocking Sara back and barking at her to stay put. His dark brown eyes turned towards the mangled heap of flesh Fira now resembled.

As he crouched beside the lacerated girl, Sara noticed his own body now sported some fresh wounds on his shoulder and forearm. His clothes were torn in several places, as though he'd been engaged in a fight of his own. But who would he be fighting in his own mansion?

William raked his eyes across Fira's body, evaluating the extent of the damage. Then he began licking her wounds, cleaning the spilt blood from her flesh. But even when red was no longer the predominant colour of her flesh, it was clear she'd lost too much blood and her wounds were too extensive to patch up in time to prevent further blood loss. So far Sara's plan had progressed flawlessly—now everything hinged on William. Did he care enough to save her life, or was she just another slave to him?

In either case, Fira's time was running out. She was teetering on the edge of consciousness, and once she fell into darkness there would likely be no coming back.