A Vampire Hunter's Corruption

Chapter 5: Servitude

The next three months were torture. Apparently I was "too pretty" to be relegated to the drudgery of the thralls' labor, so I fetched and carried for them--always under Carmilla's compulsions, and always within the villa or its subterranean vampire nest. The only way to count the passing of the days was the vampires' retiring to a room containing four coffins, each inside a larger box of graveyard dirt. This room was kept locked when not in use.

At night, the vampires would reward their thralls--four women and two muscular men--by allowing them to rape me. Occasionally, they would use my body themselves, as if I were a living sex doll. I was only freed of the compulsion long enough to eat or bathe. Even sleep was specifically ordered.

It mattered little, as the door to the stairway was kept locked whenever its use was not absolutely necessary. Once or twice a month, another innocent would be brought down, either by one of the vampires or by a thrall, lured with sweet words or the promise of a party. Once, they brought down a young man with long, frizzy hair and a shirt that said "Slayer." It was a bitter reminder that I was supposed to be slaying these monsters, but it was impossible to resist the spell they had put on me.

The "visitors" were locked in a special room, only brought out so that the vampires could feed. After several feedings, they would be killed, and the thralls dumped their bodies somewhere on the island, or perhaps into the sea. Their screams haunted my nightmares.

I would say silent prayers for deliverance, but it seemed no one knew where I was. I hated my tormentors for what they forced me and their thralls to do. I never knew I could hate anyone so much. Her "daughters," as she called them, would engage in unnatural acts with her and each other, forcing me to watch as if they knew it revolted me. And yet, I found myself aroused against my will.

Finally, Carmilla brought me to the large bed where no one ever slept. On a small table by the headboard was a goblet of red wine. This was new.

She forced me to mount her, pulling sounds of pleasure from my mouth, and when I was finished, she intoned a sickening parody of the Mass. "This is my body, which has been given to you." I suddenly knew what this was. Every vampire hunter knew how vampires made thralls: through blood-drinking.

She pricked her finger with one of her fangs and dripped blood into the chalice. No. "And this is my blood, the blood of our dark covenant. Drink, and become mine." No!

Drinking the blood-tainted wine was the last thing on earth I wanted to do. But I was completely unable to avoid lifting the glass to my lips.


Chapter 6