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The dungeon was built to hold any type of magical creature. Be it a flaming charcoal fiend. Or a roaring furry wendigo.

Torches flickered on strategic points all over the walls. It casted dewy orange light in relief, making the shadows loom and dance.

"She\'s calmer now, My Lord," came a tiny voice left of Rafel.

It was the little male pixie he had put in charge of the affairs of his dungeon. A demon had to have a state-of-the-art holding facility for some good torture. After all, he was hellborn. There was no forgetting his infernal birth or bloodline. Nor did Rafel want to.

The pixie spoke about Annabelle, the Bone Huntress, who was now resting soundlessly in her own stone prison. Her long blonde hair was a waterfall that streamed out all around her. Rafel wasn\'t sure the girl had put a razor or comb to it in all her decades lived as an Immortal.

He stared quietly through the metal bars to her.

The poor woman had screamed herself to sleep. At the end, Rafel didn\'t even need the Milk of the Poppy Cora had suggested to dull her ramblings. It was clear his golden-haired slave hated chains. To have another Immortal bound under his home must be something, Rafel mused.

He kept watching the heaving of her small chest in sleep.

Annabelle was straight as a pitchfork. No meat on the girl.

Now Rafel liked his women with some flesh. But what the Bone Huntress lacked in figure she made up for in face. The girl had a face sculpted in the magic of the divine. She was pretty like a demigod. Offspring of god and man.

Rafel turned his thoughts after a while to the Eldorian Queen who had left his dungeons for the surface not too long ago. Giselle had ridden out on her Griffins with Cordelia in tow. Accounting for the bird\'s flight speed, she\'d probably be at her Castle now. Rafel got the brief vision of the Queen in her luxury showers, sponging out the dirt of adventure with her gilden loofah.

Suds slippery down her golden flesh. Perhaps, the Countess under the streaming rain with her. Their hands roaming, searching, pleasing—

"She will be fine, My Lord," came the pixie\'s tiny voice again.

Apparently, the little fairy male had mistaken Rafel\'s interest in his acquired slave.

Rafel quickly explained the situation of things to the tiny man who flapped his glowing butterfly wings arcoss Rafel\'s wide shoulders.

"I do not care for the Blond other than for life to remain within her until as such time as she would come in my presence to explain herself and answer my questions. If she tries to escape, you are free to use whatever methods you consider humane to keep her shackled."

Rafel used the word, humane, loosely.

". . .and also pay attention to her sleep. See if she mutters anything about how she and those forest girls came to possess the strange pale eyes."

"Yes, My Lord. As always, your wish is my command." The pixie bowed heartily.

The thirty girl children who had ridden out from the northern woods with Rafel and his hunting caravan were currently being housed in one of the dormant summer houses owned by the Countess. Cordelia had been more than happy to offer her services when Rafel asked, seeing as her own daughter, Brunhilda was off schooling on a wispy island.

Rafel had ulterior motives for drawing the Countess closer. It would grant him more insight to the House Penderghast. More insight to Brunhilda through her mother. More insight to the friends of his Little Raven.

Just then, Cora descended into the dungeon, holding a coal miner\'s lamp in her hands.

"Your Grace, we have a visitor. You must see this." She called across to Rafel.

"Who is it?"

"Bloody Mary. She waits in the Day Room."

Bloody Mary, huh? Rafel thought. He didn\'t see that coming.

With a final glance at his new sleeping slave, Rafel turned around, shadows lapping at his expensive red doublet. He followed Cora\'s lead up the stone steps and into the Landing of his Manor.

His visitor was right where Cora said. In his Day Room.

Adorned in vases of rich tumbling tulips—which had to be shipped from the foreign isles surrounding Eldoria as per the fall weather, the room was gloriously bright as Rafel walked in. Cora excused herself to go attend to the preparations for lunch. Aya entered the room just as she was leaving.

Rafel pulled off his doublet, set it expertly on the back of his boss chair and turned to regard his visitor.

"Well, well, Mary Atwell, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The woman was just as he remembered her. She was finer though. She had this new rich glow to her skin Rafel hadn\'t noticed before. To be fair, back then, she was getting her ass beat in the ring. But now, as the infamous femme crusher sat before him on a sturdy cane chair, Rafel perused her form admiringly.

Mary sat stiffly with her legs closed. The wound of her slackened jaw had healed. There were no scars. It was like she hadn\'t had her mouth ripped open. Her long hair was packed up in a neat bun. Half of it was green streaks, but it wasn\'t dye.

She had a cute parting in the middle. It made her cute.

She was still her usual giant self. It was obvious even in her sitting position.

But she wasn\'t imposing big. She was sexy hot big.

A fleshy ripe Amazon.

She had jade rings dangling down her ears, a nose piercing, a side lip piercing, and a silver gangster chain dangling into her very impressive cleavage. Her scales glistened like multicolored 3D tattoos from her fingers up to her wrists and winding up her forearms.

Her claws gleamed obsidian, sharpened and glossy with a fresh manicure. Her fingers were tapping nervously together.

On her feet were nice black wedge shoes.

She wore a light shirt with left nothing to the imagination. Her huge breasts assaulted the common mind. Her skirt was a wraparound, green like her hair. It flowed like spilled honey to her ankles, but the side slit ran way up to her upper thighs. Her ensemble was valley chic. She had the soft sexual thing going for her.

Rafel stared at her body. She was like a fountain of desires.

A \'more than you can handle\' spectacle. Her hips curved wonderfully on either side of her, and her large round ass filled the seat. The material of her skirt was silk and it clung to dangerous places. Rafel bet the chair was feeling it.

That fat ass everywhere. Goddamn!

She even had a lick of coal eyeliner framing her slitted reptilian eyes. As she sat, she sat warmly and quietly. Like a Sub. A secret submissive. Rafel knew the pose all too well. A woman like her, all seven feet and with curves for ten hands would be delightful to dominate.

Mary Atwell was Gypsy blood.

Rafel smelled it in the air.

"You still haven\'t answered my question, Mary. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, settling into his boss seat opposite her.

"I b–brought a peace offering, Your Grace," she stuttered, handing Rafel a vermillion conch.

He turned it over.

"A rare sleep-inducing weapon? Thank you."

His show of gratitude surprised Mary. But her calmness surprised him just as much. She was part ferocious crocodile for shit\'s sake!

When the silence began to stretch, Rafel let the conch drop into his pocket dimension. If Mary was shocked at the disappearing of her gift, she didn\'t show it.

"Your jaw, it\'s a fine heal. Regeneration, no?" Rafel asked.

Mary nodded. "Yes sir. I found a Rank B Druid in the city."

"Must have cost a lot?"

"It did actually, yeah. Five purses of my fine Eldorian gold. The idiot sorcerer even requested a blowjob too."

"I\'m guessing you flashed teeth?" Rafel joked.

Mary and he ended up laughing and she smiled.

"Yeah, I did. I ain\'t gonna suck off no sixty-year old dick and still pay the due. Druids suck ass!"

Rafel smiled with her. Before his expression turned serious.

"Does it still hurt? Your mouth?"

"No, sir." Mary shook her head. "Why?"

Rafel smiled again. But this time, it was touched by cold lust. Since he and Aya Naamah, who had been standing behind Mary all this while were bonded as Master and Slave, Rafel spoke through their telepathic connection.

"Aya, fetch me the ropes, will you? The red ones."

[DO NOT FLIP TO THE NEXT CHAPTER—SKIP IT IF YOU\'VE GOT A WEAK STOMACH!]