Mephista cringed as she heard Prince Domitian ascending the stairs to her tower. The princess had been his prisoner there for about 3 months now, long enough to know that when she heard his steps she would once again pray for death to consume her before he actually reached her chamber.
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Mephista clearly remembered the day she became a prisoner in this evil kingdom. There had been a great battle between her kingdom and his as Domitian fought to take over the land her family had held for hundreds of years. She had seen the prince slaughter most of her kingdom's best warriors single-handedly. He was not a power to take lightly. She remembered the fear that gripped her as Domitian's troops had entered her castle, killing all that stood in their way, finally to establish the kingdom as their own. Then, in the heat of their boisterous celebrating, and surely just to add to her humiliation, Domitian had pulled the innocent Mephista from behind a set of heavy satin drapes and beaten her in front of the remaining members of her kingdom's forces.
Now, 3 months later, Mephista had endured way more than a simple beating. The prince had taken her as a sort of living trophy; only he didn't treat her as such. She was instead to be used as an object for the release of all of the prince's anger. She was forced to listen to his evil plans whenever he needed someone to listen. She was forced to take it as he beat and abused her already weakening body. That's how things had been; only now, the prince had began exploring other ways in which Mephista could satisfy him. He would grab her tightly, and whisper threatening words into her ears. He told her that he planned to marry her, and make her a symbol of his hatred. As his hair brushed lightly and almost innocently against her cheek, she heard him whisper the dark words that would define her future with him. She was to be his slave in any way he wanted.
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Finally, his footsteps reached her chamber, and he entered. It was almost dark out, so the only light defining him was that from the glowing torches on the walls, and a miniscule amount of moonlight. He almost looked strangely handsome that way, with the torchlight playing off his hair, and in his eyes. "My darling," he whispered as he took her waist in his hands, drawing her close to him. It was slightly sickening how he would play the part of a loving prince, when they both knew what was about to happen. One of his fingers traced down the back of her neck as he whispered enchanting words into her ears; words that soon turned dark with hatred.
"My darling little angel, let me show you how to love… let me show you how good I can make you feel…" He began to slowly cut the back of her thin white gown with a small knife as his lips caressed her neck. "I'll show you what it means to submit to your prince, to be totally helpless like you were always meant to be…" His words sent a chill down her spine; yet she knew she could not try to move away from his touch. Doing so would only result in a severe beating, followed by a night in the most dangerous dungeon, the one where the demons ruled, and from which normal townsfolk never emerged in once piece.
Letting her dress fall to the floor, Mephista resigned herself to Domitian's strong arms as he lifted her, terrified, and now only clad in her lace panties and almost transparent bra, and carried her as if she were a doll, down to his own chamber. She felt a barely controllable urge to fight him, as he had never taken her out of that tower, in all the three months she had been in his domain. "Wh… what are you going to do?" she whimpered into his hair, as her arms latched around his neck so as not to fall from his embrace and onto the dark, cold floor that lay over the railing.
"Now that you are my official queen, I decided that it would be appropriate to have you in my bed every night," he told her. Fear gripped Mephista's mind as a string of images from the previous night flashed through her mind-least her small tower chamber afforded some sort of familiarity while he beat her. In there, she could draw her mind away from her agony, and focus on the comforting images of her own familiar chamber. In Domitian's own bed, none of those things would be there for her. She only had her evil captor to stare at, and now, he would likely hurt her in ways other than a simple beating. The princess still had her innocence about her, but she feared that would change this very night.