The bindings were pulled tight against my wrists. Meanwhile, the ones on my ankles were loose enough for me to wriggle. I didn’t know why but it felt like she had done that on purpose. To what end, I couldn’t possibly know. 

I won’t say it didn’t intrigue me. 

She was young for a witch, in the early seasons of her third decade and her hair was black as the night. Her eyes were the same, save for the streaks of emerald green in them. She was pretty in a crow on your shoulder kind of way. The air around her was warm, then cold, then warm again with annoying rapidity. 

Oh, she was a witch, of course, so this was not shocking, only bothersome. 

And I’d let her do this to me. I must’ve been going mad or already was mad.

Or…maybe just hungry.

Probably both. 

Witchblood had always had a certain effect on me. Like some kind of sweet nectar, regular human blood just couldn’t match. It was rare, too. 

I’m a vampire, you see. And yes, I could get out of these bindings if I wanted to. Probably. Now that I think about it, she might have bewitched them. 

“There we go,” the woman said smiling, her voice darkly entrancing. “Now you can’t go anywhere.” 

The folds of her long robes were loose and for a moment, as she leaned over me, I could see the soft, supple outlines of her body. The pale white skin from years under ground in this decrepit dungeon. 

I saw her plump breasts and the dark nipples that topped them. Then, tracing her stomach down to the light furry trail that led to her sex. The glistening folds made me suck in a breath. 

“I want–”

She slapped me lightly on the cheek. “No demands from you, mister. You’ll get what you want. But first, I need what you promised.” 

Then her lukewarm fingers found the edges of my already torn pants and began to draw them down, revealing my—

Wait, wait. This isn’t the right place to start. I can’t just skip to the fun part. This isn’t how you tell a story. Let me tell you first how I came to be in this position. 

It's not a pretty story, so far, at least. 

But it’ll make you understand better where I’m coming from. And how exactly I got myself into this situation. It's for my health, you see. 

Just trust me. 

We’ll start with the simple stuff. My name is Carlisle von Raith (yes, those von Raiths) and like I said, I’m a vampire. 

I wasn’t always, but long enough to almost forget my more…mundane origins. 

Anyway, the beginning. Yes, the beginning of this sordid tale. I am from a rather large city by the name of Virulean. A city you’ve probably never heard of deep in the forests of Transylvania, home to many of the nightmare creatures you’ve come to know and fear. 

 I do not overestimate when I tell you I am one of the worst. A vampire of the highest order. A true demon of the night. The kind that haunts your people’s myths and legends. I’m the reason you’re scared of the dark. 

That being said, I also happen to be the prince of my family, the first-born son, or first bitten, and destined to sit on the throne. 

This story begins on the night of my Ascension. 

It was a dark and dreary night, truth be told. Perfect in all respects. The stars were out and the moon was but a sliver, smiling down on me. My family had gathered on effervescent Blackburn Estate to celebrate my father passing the torch. 

Don’t let me bore you. It was a brilliant time. The familiars had found many a virgin to feast on. Many a pretty woman to dance and drink from. My father had spared no expense. Their supple bodies kept us long into the night. 

So, then how did I end up in the bowls of some distant dungeon? 

That part is still mostly a mystery. But I can tell you this much, I had left the party to consult the stars, as is tradition on the night of Ascension in my family. To read my Fate in the constellations of time. Alone, in the backyard, a mere hundred feet from the festivities, I paused to rest near the old well, having just taken part in a very delicious, very voracious little virgin (who awaited my return), when I heard a loud squawk. 

My familiar, Mordecai, a jet-black raven, had sounded off in the air above me but it had been an instant too late for just as he tried to warn me, something hard had struck me in the back. My balance, not what it should have been and my mind distant, did me no favors. I was falling, falling and falling. 

I fell for what seemed like hours. 

The well consumed me. 

I expected water. Or ground to greet me. The bottom of the well couldn’t be that deep. But no, I fell through the very earth, towards its foul center. 

Of course, I attempted to shadow walk and then to shift into my animal form but nothing of the sort happened. My magic was stymied. 

I simply fell. A peculiar kind of magic had been enacted on me. No doubt some enemy of my family come to halt my Ascension. I would gut them all whence I returned, have no doubt. 

Alas, I would have to return first. 

Not such an easy thing, as I am learning. 

I landed quite abruptly, as you might imagine, in a swamp, no less. Wooden spikes had pierced my left leg and missed my heart by inches, protruding through my chest. The pain was excruciating. For it seemed the water in which I’d fallen into was also tainted with holiness. 

Had I not been full to the brim with virgin blood, then I would not have survived. My mind would have collapsed into madness and my body eaten by the holy water. 

Extricating myself quite carefully and with a fair amount of hissing, I managed to crawl out of the dirty swamp, which, upon reflection from its edge, was no swamp at all but instead a vast pond. To my horror, I saw other decrepit forms, stuck dead on jutting sticks. They had not been so lucky. Many, many vampires of whom I’d almost shared the same fate. 

Just as I’d almost extricated myself, I met another hurdle in the form of a very nasty, very well-placed trap. My right hand landed itself in a metal contraption, the kind of which are often used to capture wolves or other manner of beast. 

It bit through to the bone. 

I managed not to cry out and saved my dignity. Couldn’t very well let anyone know that I was injured. There are always snakes in the brush waiting to take advantage. 

So, hissing out my pain once more, I was suddenly said upon by one of said snakes. In the form of a young woman, smelling of black roses and honey, whose pale face was nothing short of intoxicating. She wore a nun’s clothes, which hugged her figure in a way I wasn’t sure the church would be proud of. 

“Be quiet, my dear sir,” she said quietly, her hands working at the metal contraption. “They will be coming. They heard you fall.” 

“Who is coming? Where am I?” I asked, quite confused. 

She shook her head. “Not now.” 

Then something swooped from the dark shadows of the air and attacked her. My trustee fellow Mordecai, the raven, or crow depending on his mood, had followed me. His claws were sharp and his heart true. 

“No,” the girl cried. “I am here to help.” 

Seeing as I couldn’t undo the holy symbol-etched trap, I waved Mordecai off. “Leave her be, you devil. Unless you’ve grown thumbs, we need her help.” 

Voices could be heard in the distance, growing ever closer. 

“I must hurry,” she called, tone worried. “There is little time. They are coming.” 

I didn’t know who they were, but seeing as there was a large church not far from us, looming in the darkness, I imagined them to be some kind of religious type. And quite possibly, the type to carry spikes and crosses. Which this peculiar nun trying to save me, did not.

When finally, she pulled the small bolt from the trap and released it, we could just see the bobbing of a lantern light on the other side of the swamp. 

The girl dragged me up and together, with Mordecai hovering overhead, we made good our escape into the forest. 

It smelled like no forest I’d ever been in. Like mildew and rust. The shadows moved even beyond my sight, which had never yet failed me. Branches grew at odd angles and in even stranger places. 

“What is this place…” I murmured only to be shushed by the girl. 

Even in the dark she knew where she was going. My wounds were taking their time closing and I could barely do more than limp along. 

Eventually, coming to the edge of the wood, I saw a small house built into the side of a vast tree stump. The enormous tree must’ve fallen some years before, leaving the bottom of its trunk to become someone's a quaint respite. Smoke billowed from a chimney in short puffs. 

Beyond the trees and a long field was a small village of two dozen or more houses. Light, dull and yellow, poured through their windows. I could smell the mortal food they cooked. Along with something else…other odors of which I wasn’t familiar. Or at least, not used to. Foreign magic and beast alike. 

“Come,” the girl whispered, pulling me along up a few stairs and into the house. 

I was buttressed at the entrance by an invisible force field. “You must give me permission to enter.” 

She nodded, flustered. “You may enter.” 

It was a small, quaint place that smelled of every spice imaginable. Pelts of various animals were upon her walls, and a large pot lay by the fire in the far corner, bubbling slowly. 

She quickly shut the door after I’d entered, leaning against it, her rather large chest heaving. I noticed, even in my dilapidated state, how her bosom was held in the fabric. Hunger blossomed, egged on by the wounds I’d endured. 

“My name is Fiona. I am sorry for the manner in which we had to leave. If they’d found you…” she shook her head, looking up. “I’m glad I did.” 

I bowed my head. “Thank you for your assistance. Now, if I may inquire as to where I am?” 

She pulled off her cap revealing a mane of long, lush black hair. “My friend, you are in the Dungeon of the Warlock King. The Endless Torture. Purgatory.” 

My shock must’ve shown in my face. 

“Don’t worry, it's not as bad as those names make it out to be,” she said, showing me her stark white teeth. “Though you are trapped for the time being. His magic is powerful.” 

Then my senses caught up to me, and I smelled something else on her. Magic. 

“You are a witch,” I said hoarsely. 

Fiona bowed, smiling. “Indeed. And you a vampire. We mustn't fight, my lord. We can help each other.” 

I blinked at her flattery and use of my title. “Wait, how is it I came to be here? I was just…just…” 

“Someone bargained your life away to the Warlock King.” She shook her head. “It is an evil thing to do. Truly evil.” 

“No…that can’t be. I was about to Ascend…I was…” 

My legs gave out, and I fell against a table, catching myself. Fiona brought me a chair, which I fell into. Something wasn’t right…perhaps the spikes had been poisoned. 

“Well, how do I get out?” I asked, befuddled. 

“You must enter the dungeon and rise through the levels till you find the exit.” She said this as if it were obvious.

“How long will that take?” 

“Months. Years.” She shrugged. “None has ever done it that I know of. Most simply reside in the dungeon until they die. Or remain here, in the Village.” 

“No one has ever…by God…” I’d never been one to take the lord’s name in vain. He is, in his essence, an enemy of the highest order. But this was a special circumstance. “And you?” 

“Sold by my stepmother, I’m afraid. Been here for three years.” This didn’t seem to disturb her too much. 

“Have you tried–” 

Fiona shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t survive. I just want to live here in peace.” 

“Well, what is this place? Why does this dungeon exist?” 

“Listen to me very carefully, my lord…” She narrowed her eyes. 

“Carlisle,” I supplied. 

“Carlisle, I am willing to explain everything to you. But first, let me get something to drink so that you may heal. Those who sought you at the swamp may in fact continue their search for you.” 

I nodded, grateful. “Thank you, Fiona. But I can only drink–”

“Blood,” she finished. “I know. I’ve some three-day old blood of mine.” 

That gave me pause but I was too thirsty to care. “It will do.” 

She drank tea while I drank blood and we sat in her little hut, warmed, though I didn’t need it, by the fire below the pot. 

“Tell me more about this place,” I said. “Please. I must know what I am in for.” 

Fiona took her time, eyes distant. “It is a wicked place. Every manner of creature resides in the dungeon. Werewolf. Vampire. Witch. Warlock. Fae. Dragon. It is a place where the strong survive and rule and the weak are subservient to them.” 

“Yet the Warlock King rules all?” 

She nodded. 

“Who is he?” 

She shrugged. “I don’t know his real name. I’ve only ever seen him once, a few weeks after I arrived. He came down to personally smite a man called Abraham.” 

“Why?” 

“Who knows.” 

“Why are you alone here? Why not live in the village?” 

“Ah, they shun me, afraid of my magic. And those we ran from tonight have spread wicked rumors about me.”

I rubbed my face. “Are there no portals out of this place?” 

“There is rumored to be one on the sixth floor, controlled by a witch called Betty.” 

“Betty the witch?” I asked in disbelief. 

Fiona nodded. “But it is a risky thing. I’ve heard of folks dying or leaving limbs behind. She’s a drunk, you see. And I think The Warlock King allows it because he thinks it's funny.”

I cursed the place, sipping my blood. It was sweet and I found myself wondering how it tasted fresh. 

Fiona seemed to read my mind and said, “I think we can help each other, you and I.”

“Oh, yes?” 

“Yes. I know the location of a map. A map that has the location of a secret tunnel out of this place.” 

“You said there aren’t–”

She swiped her long hair out of her face. “Did I? I said there aren’t any portals. But there are other ways. Quicker ways. I just need you to…assist in a matter of mine.” 

I raised an eyebrow. Not even five minutes into this wicked place and already I was waylaid by petulant selfishness. 

“What is that?” I asked, my tone growing sour. I got moody when I got hungry. Or injured. Or thrown into a vast dungeon with no way out. 

“I need your power,” she said simply. “I am a witch, and I have a spell that demands more power than I have. I need to borrow yours.” 

My other eyebrow went up. “What is the purpose of this spell?” 

“Revenge. I am going to take revenge on the one who took my love from me.” 

“Ah,” I said, seeing no deceit in her manner or words. “And in return you?” 

“I will prepare you for the world you’ve entered. You will seek to leave the dungeon. I can help. The map can help. I will tell you everything you need to know about this place but first…” 

“You will take my power.” 

She nodded, smiling. “You catch on fast.” 

“What kind of spell is this?” 

Her lips curled. “A sex spell.” 

I almost choked. “You intend to use me for a sex spell?” 

“Oh, most certainly, my lord. Then, of course, I will grant you all the knowledge I know of this place. And much more, if you seek it.” 

She had come close to me, wafting her delicious scent into me. Fiona bent down, sticking out her hand. “What do you say?” 

You need to understand that I am what is called a Bloodlust vampire. I feed off both blood and lust in equal parts. I can be satiated by either. My power comes from this. It basically means I’m often aroused easily and drawn towards things that promise either blood or sex. 

The witch easily could have been playing me, I knew that. But I was desperate. And so it seemed, was she. 

“I have little choice.” 

She just kept smiling, her dark eyes big and bright. 

We shook on it. 

“Bad idea,” croaked a new voice from the window. Both Fiona and I jumped. “Never trust a witch. Or have you learned nothing?” 

It was Mordecai but he was…talking? 

“What is this?” I asked, thinking my mind was tainted by foreign magic. 

“The Dungeon can have odd effects on certain creatures. Crows are–” 

“Ravens,” he snapped. 

“Ravens are known to gain speech because of their intellect,” Fiona finished. “Same with some cats, dogs, and even a rat, in one instance.” 

“Never mind,” Mordecai declared. “I like her. Intellect, you say?” 

He was easy that way. 

Anyways, within mere hours of arriving in the horrid place, I’d promised my power to a witch and found myself in her clutches. 

Now, back to the fun part since you know how it starts. 

Fiona the witch tied me to her bed, my tattered clothes still on. She lit candles in every inch of her one small house. Incense that smelled of honey and cinnamon burned on the table. She took her time wafting it around. 

I had mostly healed because of the blood she’d given me. This was for her own good as well as mine, seeing as how she wanted me for my power. 

You see, this ritual was going to work in my favor as well as hers. I was going to get more lust power and blood, as she’d promised. It wasn’t just because I was horny. 

Stop distracting me with logic and ruinous concerns. 

The attractive witch started with my shirt, once I’d been tied down, removing it with a small knife. Cutting away the torn fabric, revealing my bare upper body. Well, blood covered upper body. With a wet rag, she wiped the blood off me. Her hands were so soft and her movements gentle. 

“You are so perfect,” she said, her hands tracing the muscle of my chest down to my abdomen. “Rarely have I seen a bloodlust vampire with such a body.” 

“I am well fed,” I told her. 

She smiled at this, leaning over me to kiss my ribs. Fiona had loosened her robes, letting her breasts, the beautiful things that they were, tease me. Her nipples, dark and perky, dance under the white folds. 

Her skin was pale, but her body supple. When she had finished cleaning my chest, she pranced her fingertips around the waistband of my trousers. 

My blood was up and my lust was building. My hardness pressed into the tight fabric. She kissed my navel, leaving little stinging sensations. 

Then, she drew down my pants, revealing only the base of my cock. She rubbed it with her hand, making it flex. 

“Oh my,” she said, breathless already. “I see…” 

Her lips pressed to the base, where thick veins disappeared upward. 

Slowly, torturing me with each inch she revealed, her tongue wettened my manhood. 

When finally, she’d pulled them down, my cock sprang free, slapping against my leg. Fiona just stared at it. I had been well endowed, it was one of the few things I thanked God for. 

Tentatively, as if it might bite her, one of her small hands reached out to stroke me. Dragging from the base, she drew up the skin slowly. 

My body reacted by arching, much against my will. 

Then she dropped it, cut free the rest of my pants and cleaned the wound on my leg. 

Only then was my body free from blood. 

Only then did my delicious little witch drop her robes. Standing just to the right of me, she pushed the black robe off one shoulder, showing me the smooth skin and a single one of her ample breasts. Then the other…the robe falling to bundle at her feet. 

Fiona’s body was thin, with wide hips and large breasts. Her black hair fell to her waist where equally as black hair resided above her love. A small scar ran just below her right breast. 

“Does this please you, my lord?” she asked, turning slightly. 

I licked my lips. “It does, my dear.” 

She smiled, every bit as hungry as I was. “Then taste me, my lord.”

Fiona slipped two fingers between her legs, rubbed them, and withdrew them, showing them shining in the faint candlelight. 

Then she put them in my mouth. 

I sucked hard on her fingers, tasting her juices. They were delicious. 

“You approve?” 

“More,” I breathed, becoming feral. “I need more.” 

Fiona climbed atop me, placing her ass towards my face and her mouth towards my cock. I got a perfect view of her sex. Glistening wet with her beautiful juices, the folds of her pussy perfectly inviting. And her asshole just above it…the sight of all this driving me mad. 

I leaned forward, my tongue flicking her pussy. 

“Oh, my lord…” she moaned, pushing back until I was suffocated by her. 

It didn’t stop me. I needed little air. I needed her more than anything. 

Her hands began to stroke my cock, slowly at first, her lips kissing the base as she enjoyed my tongue. But soon she was overtaken by lust and her lips closed on it. Just the tip, making me moan, strained against my bonds as she worked me. 

I fought against the pleasure to eat her, her juices like a kind of satiating blood to me. 

Soon we were sucking each other violently and I could feel my orgasm rising…rising…

Fiona stopped, sliding off me. “Not yet,” she breathed, her voice throaty from pleasure. 

She went between my legs, my rising orgasm receding. My cock was as long as her face, which she held it up to. It ran from her chin to the top of her forehead. 

“My God,” she whispered, looking at me. “You’re so perfect.” 

Fiona licked my balls, stroking my cock lightly as she did so. It was all a tease to her. It was how lust magic worked. A slow build towards release. 

Her tongue flicked across my balls and then up the shaft until she was almost sucking me again. 

“Aren’t you glad I saved your life?” she asked, pausing to stroke me. “Those fools would have killed you. But not me.” 

“You want to use me,” I said, breathless as she licked the tip. 

“You aren’t complaining, are you? Fate brought us together.” The tip of my cock disappeared into her mouth, consumed by her lips. “We are so fortunate.” 

Her words meant nothing to me. Only her mouth. 

She could barely take half my cock in her mouth, gagging as she did so. “Ugh. So big…”

Rising, she climbed atop me, rubbing her wet pussy along the shaft of cock. “I think it's time, don’t you?” 

Nodding vigorously while she directed my cock into her, I strained against my bonds, loving how they forced me to be restrained. Loving how this little witch was in control. Her breasts were pressed outward as she arched her back. 

My lust ran wild. 

First the tip slipped into her cunt…then the rest and we both let out monstrous moans. She cried out actually, as I stretched her, though she controlled her descent. 

“By Merlin…” she moaned. 

My hips thrust upward, violent and hungry, spearing her with each pump. Fiona took me like no one had ever before. My size didn’t scare her. It only drove her madder with lust. It was an ancient thing, sex rituals. 

We’d reduced ourselves to our truest nature. Our base levels. 

“Oh fuck,” she was saying. “Oh fuck, my lord.” 

The little witch might have been loving it as much as me. 

“Take it all,” I was saying, quite beside myself. “Take all of me.” 

It didn’t take long now for my orgasm to rise again, the sight and sensation of her riding her was too much. I felt it in my balls at first, expanding like an almost painful pressure. Then rising…rising toward the tip. 

“I’m going to cum,” I told her. 

“Together,” she moaned, grinding her hips hard into mine. 

Her pussy was gripping my cock so hard I thought it might simply break off inside her. 

Our moans rose together, and she began to shake and my head flew back into the pillow as I exploded into her. 

Her orgasm squeezed my cock and my cock burst, pressing against her. It was almost too much pleasure to speak of. 

I caught a glimpse of her then, tits jiggling, an evil, shadowed look on her face. A torturous look. A victorious look…

I knew then that something was wrong. That this witch had deceived me, used my nature against me. 

As the last vestiges of my orgasm left me panting, I felt something heavy as a rock settle in my chest, as if shackling my heart. 

Confused, I tried to rise but found that I couldn’t move. I was unable to lift a finger. 

Fiona laid her warm body across mine, my cock still inside her. “Now,” she began, one of her fingers twirling strands of my long, blonde hair. “You’re all mine. We can finally begin.”