Chapter IV: Blood Bonds and Tough Love
Faint footsteps woke Fira from her fitful slumber. In this silent underground domain she'd become accustomed to, noise always carried significance, especially in the dead of the night. Though there was nothing to tell her the cycle of day or night, she knew only a little time had passed since she'd been locked in here because her ribs were still tender from her latest session in the maiden.
Fira clambered out of her primitive cot and crept over to the cell door, her bare feet inaudible against the stone floor. The footsteps outside were getting louder, so she peeked through the keyhole to see who they belonged to.
Strolling down the corridor with her captor, looking for all the world like she wanted to be there, was her sister. Sara was unfettered and walking freely beside their malevolent kidnapper. Fira recoiled from the door in shock. She'd known her older sister was losing resolve, but now she was on friendly terms with the enemy?
The troubled redhead couldn't sleep after this revelation. She tossed and turned for hours until William's gruff voice sounded through the door.
"Rise and shine, pet."
He entered the cell as she hastily stripped and stood to attention. She no longer bothered to hide her modesty—her hands were always prised away anyway.
"What's happening today, master?" she asked, trying to muster some enthusiasm for the sake of appearance.
William smiled and gave no answer, instead turning to lead her out of the cell. She followed him into a small cell where a gigantic tank of water had been positioned in the centre. A soft clinking sound drew Fira's attention downwards. He had just attached a long chain to each ankle. Her eyes travelled upwards along the chains, noticing the fixtures on the ceiling they passed through and the crank on the wall they wrapped around.
Fira let out an involuntary whimper as her impending predicament hit home, but made no plea for mercy—she knew it would fall on deaf ears. William stroked her hair fondly as she trembled with apprehension. Crossing over to the crank, he began turning it slowly, pulling the chains upward. Fira hastily lowered herself to the floor just in time as her feet were yanked into the air. Halfway up the side of the tank her ascent halted and she felt William binding her arms together behind her. Then she was off again, hauled high into the air and over the side of the massive cistern.
It was several hours later that she finally emerged from that evil room, dripping from head to toe in ice-cold water. Her chest was constricted from the numerous times she'd almost drowned, yet her captor was grinning ear-to-ear. In that moment Fira resolved to take her revenge on this monster, whatever the cost.
He shoved her along into one of the larger dungeons next, where Sara was already gagged and bound to a large X-shaped post. Angry red markings coloured her pale skin, making her traitorous behaviour all the more baffling in light of such harsh ongoing treatment. Sara beamed at Fira as she entered, apparently glad to see her.
This was all too suspicious for Fira, who was exhausted and already seething with rage at their merciless host. "You traitor," she snapped, glaring at her sister. "I saw you two together last night, fraternising," she spat, all the contempt she'd been suppressing now bubbling to the surface.
"Careful, pet," warned William, holding her arms.
"My name is Fira," she hissed, twisting out of his grip. She charged at Sara, stumbling forward with a curled fist aimed at her exposed stomach. But before she got within reach of her traitorous sister, William's cold hand slipped around her throat, pulling her back. Though she continued to strain against him, his grip may well have been another iron collar for all the give she mustered. He slipped a wide belt around her upper arms as she stood there, pulling them firmly together behind her back with the noisy creak of leather. Now she couldn't reach more than a few inches in front of her, much less throw a punch. That was a liberty she probably wouldn't regain for days.
William then attached a chain to her collar and fed it through a loop on the floor. Their eyes locked briefly as he tugged on the chain—her vivid emerald eyes filling with apprehension as his dark brown ones filled with smugness—before her head was yanked downwards. He smiled as she was forced to her knees and then all fours in a begrudging show of submission. When would he stop finding new ways to humiliate her?
"Are you certain?" he enquired satirically, looking down at her on all fours. "You look more like a pet than a Fira to me," he said, forcing her head the rest of the way to the stone floor where she was practically kissing his feet. Her hands scrambled to preserve some dignity as she fell head-first towards the ground, but her impaired arm movement gave her all the grace of a three-legged dog. Once William had finished chuckling at her awkward collapse, he continued.
"Do not condemn your sister for her actions. It is likely that, given the chance, she would like nothing more than to flee my humble estate with you at her side." He chained Fira's wrists tightly to opposite walls, dropping her bare chest against the cold stone as her hands were pulled out from under her. "But I deprived her of that chance when she tasted my blood those many nights ago. Her will is now indelibly bound to my own for the rest of the days in her generously extended lifespan."
He strapped Fira's ankles to her thighs and spread her frogtied legs wide apart, her knees resting up near her crushed breasts with her ass thrust into the air. He continued tightening black leather belts around her folded limbs until her haunches looked more like a zebra's than a woman's. Her elbows were drawn ever closer together and her shoulders pulled even further back. It only took one belt to secure a man's trousers—it didn't take many more to secure a flexible girl like Fira, but that didn't stop William from buckling her up with more belts than she'd ever seen in her life. By their smell, they appeared to be recently tanned—she couldn't imagine who would cut belts for the express purpose of restraining captive girls, but it unfortunately meant they were more likely to chafe and less likely to fray from wear. Belts were not like ropes or chains, either, which at least seemed to give some degree of elasticity. Like rope, they conformed to the contours of the body and were thus suited to long-term wear, but unlike rope, once they found their notch, belts held their victim in a vice-like grip that no amount of wriggling could loosen. Fira knew all this—belts were a common household item, after all—but she'd never imagined them being used to restrain someone against their will. She was shocked and humiliated at just how effective they were.
