The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The granite bones of the old castle, as much a part of the mountainside as it was its own structure, groaned as Lucinda Stormforte heaved with all of strength to open the stone door concealed at the base of the castle’s ancient foundations. Stone ground across stone as the door finally gave way, and Lucinda would have feared the noise would lead to her discovery if not for the howling wind that had dogged her for hours, so loud it drowned out everything. Once the door opened enough to allow passage, she slipped inside and closed it behind her, sighing with relief at the welcome shelter from the hostile weather of the Carpathian Mountains. She couldn’t rest yet though, she reminded herself, as she lit a torch to give her light in the barren, dark passageway. Not until her grim task was complete.

Lucinda’s quarry had led her for a long hunt this time, taking her far from the gaslit smog of London to the mountains of Transylvania. The journey had been difficult and tiring but that would not sap her resolve. No weariness could blunt her hatred for the unholy creatures she hunted. Countess Marilena Corbianu, better known to the local peasants as the Red Countess, was to be her fourteenth kill. That was an impressive tally for a vampire hunter—most hunters barely survived long enough to kill a single unholy abomination—but Lucinda refused to succumb to arrogance. The Countess was likely to be her most difficult hunt yet. She was, by all accounts, an ancient and cunning creature who had gorged herself on the blood of peasant girls for centuries, safe within her mountain lair. For a long time, Lucinda had been convinced that trying to gain entrance to the castle was suicide, but eventually her persistence had paid off. In an old, forgotten library in Bucharest she’d uncovered a letter from the castle’s original architects detailing a secret door leading deep into the bowels of the caste, intended only for use during the original construction. There was no record of it anywhere else. It seemed like Lucinda was the only living soul who knew of it. It was exactly what she’d needed: a weak point.

Lucinda’s quest to rid the Earth of vampires had begun years ago, when she’d sworn a holy vow of revenge on the creatures that had preyed on her family, robbing her of her parents and leaving her orphaned in a nunnery. She’d always been small and slender, and even then, she’d known she’d likely never be the strongest or fastest vampire hunter in the land. But perhaps, she’d wondered, she could be the smartest. She’d buried herself in books, seeking out any lore that might help her learn about vampires and their weaknesses. She’d honed her mind to razor sharpness, learning to take apart and analyze any situation, any problem, and find a swift solution. Her wit, cunning and intelligence hadn’t let her down yet. She’d been able to out-plan and out-wit every vampire she’d managed to find before planting a wooden stake in their heart. Countess Marilena Corbianu would be next.

She kept that resolution clear in her mind as she started to climb the long, staircase up from the secret door into the castle proper, torch in one hand and silver sword on the other. She knew the castle’s layout like the back of her hand, having studied it for so long. She also knew that she had approximately three hours before sunset, which gave her three hours to navigate the castle and evade or defeat whatever wretched servants the Countess had, find her coffin, and destroy her. Lucinda was under no illusions about her chances in a direct physical confrontation, which is why she was always keen to avoid them. She fought smart.

Lucinda climbed and climbed and climbed, the spiral stone staircase continuing for so long she feared she would run out of daylight. Her legs, already sore from days of trekking through the mountains, were aching fearsomely. She grimaced at the thought of the long journey home, descending back down the staircase, journeying back through the mountains to the remote, dour village of long-faced, suspicious, fearful peasants her hired carriage had first brought her to. Again, she reprimanded herself. Victory was not yet assured, and until the Countess was ashes and dust she could not allow herself to focus on anything more than the struggle ahead. She kept that idea clear in her mind as she climbed, the barren, primitive stone passageway eventually giving way to cleaner, more inhabited-looking surroundings with gothic gargoyles carved into the wall on both sides. They seemed to stare at Lucinda as she passed, and she tried her hardest to ignore them.

All of a sudden, movement in her peripheral vision caught her eye. Lucinda pivoted and raised her sword. For a moment, she couldn’t see anything. Then, a bat flew out from behind one of the gargoyles, flying straight towards Lucinda and screeching horribly. She ducked out the way and it passed by her harmless, disappearing up the staircase. But the surprise of it left Lucinda reeling, and as she dodged out of the way of the bat, she put a foot wrong and stumbled. She caught herself with her hands on the next stair up, but the moment she put weight on it, the stonework around her started to groan and tremble as some ancient machinery hidden in the walls stirred into life. Lucinda was instantly at full alertness, adrenaline surging through her body, but she didn’t know what to do or where to move. Then, to her absolute horror, the cold stone beneath simply disappeared, falling away and sending her tumbling into a black abyss hidden beneath—a trap! As she started to plunge into darkness, Lucinda outstretched her arms, desperately flailing in the hopes of catching some handhold she could use to haul herself up. But it was no use. The last thing she was aware of before she blacked out was the shrieking of a great swarm of bats, descending on her from the dark.

When Lucinda awoke, her first thought was of gratitude. After all that trekking and climbing, she was so grateful to be back home in her warm, comfy be, sitting-

Sitting? No, that wasn’t right. Lucinda opened her eyes and found that she was not in her bed at home. She was sitting on a chair, sat at the end of a long dining table in the gloomy hall of an old castle. The softness and richness of the upholstery had deceived her. Her happy comfort turned to fear, and then to outright horror as she realized she couldn’t move. Her wrists were bound to the chair with rope. Even more disconcertingly, somehow, she’d been stripped of her simple, pragmatic clothes and dressed in sheer, pink, luxurious nightgown. Instantly on the edge of panic, Lucinda started to pull and strain, trying to free herself. But it was no use.

“What’s the matter, my dear? Don’t you want to be my dinner guest?”

Lucinda froze at the accented voice, which seemed to come from everywhere at once, from all the shadowy corners of the vast, chilly room. Then, without making a noise, a woman stepped out of the shadows, as if she had just appeared there out of nowhere. She was tall and statuesque, dressed in a tightly-fitted bodice and a huge, ornate dress of red velvet. She looked like she’d stepped out of some courtly painting from the sixteenth century. But there were other details about her revealing that she was anything other than human. Her skin was ethereally pale and her eyes shone with an unholy crimson light, and long, razor-sharp fangs in her mouth that protruded over her plump, painted lips. She was a vision of beauty and horror, and Lucinda recognized her raised cheekbones and aristocratic features from paintings and scrawled, fearful descriptions in the diaries of long-dead madmen. She was looking at Countess Marilena Corbianu.

Despite the fear and adrenaline racing through her body, Lucinda made herself take a deep breath. Panicking would only seal her fate. What had happened? She’d clearly fallen into some kind of trap on the stairs, and the Countess had brought her here. Why? She could have easily killed her already. From the theatricality of the Countess’s entrance, she could only assume that she intended to use Lucinda for her own amusement somehow before disposing of her. That was a grim prospect, but it presented an opportunity. If she could keep herself alive long enough, if she could keep the Countess talking, maybe she could get loose and complete her task.

“Release me, you foul beast,” Lucinda snarled. The Countess laughed.

“Now, why would I want to do that?”

“So I can put you in the ground like you deserve, vampire.” Lucinda made a show of struggling against her restraints as she hurled her vitriolic words, but at the same time she was covertly trying to feel for any weaknesses or for any other ways she might be able to get free. Most of her bonds were tight, but the one around her left arm was just a fraction looser than the others. Loose enough, maybe, for her to be able to slip the knot given enough time. Even better, the Countess—or perhaps her minions—had missed one of the many, many concealed weapons she kept on her body. There was a small silver dagger lashed to the inside of her thigh by a simple leather cord. If she could reach it, maybe she had a chance. Maybe.

“I think not.” The Countess leisurely walked across the room, over to where Lucinda was tied up. “I think the banquet I have planned will be far more pleasurable.”

“Banquet?” Lucinda looked at the long, barren dinner table. “Where’s the food?”

“The Countess smiled, showing teeth and making Lucinda shiver. “You are, my dear.”

“Then why not just kill me?” Lucinda didn’t want to encourage her, but she had to know. “Why not drain me in my sleep and get it over with?”

“How dull,” the Countess commented. “If I merely wanted blood, there are a dozen villages within a few miles of here that would make for fine pickings. But peasant girls make for tiresome prey. You will be far more… entertaining.” The last word was filled with malicious intent.

“Torture?” Lucinda smirked with a confidence she didn’t really feel. “You won’t get the satisfaction of breaking me. I’ve been trained to resist any amount of pain you could possib—”

“Pain?” the Countess interrupted, rich humor in her voice. “Who said anything about pain?” Lucinda faltered uncertainly, and the Countess continued. “You know, I’m sure, that we vampires have certain hypnotic powers. And I’m certain you’ve heard that the kiss of a vampire’s bite is indescribably pleasurable.”

Lucinda nodded, her smile returning. “I assure you, I am equally well-trained to withstand pleasure, and your foul mind tricks.”

“We shall see.” It was hard for Lucinda not to be disheartened by the vampire’s seemingly infinite confidence. “I have walked this land for longer than most, and I have learned a trick or two in my time. I wonder, how will that fiery resolve of yours hold up once I start sapping your mind away?”

To rally herself, Lucinda mustered the strength she’d been saving and spent it all at once to surge against the ropes binding her to the chair, letting out a wordless battle cry as she did so. But the ropes did not give, and the Countess did not so much as flinch.

“Hold on to that resistance, dearest Lucinda Stormforte.” Lucinda didn’t know how the Countess knew her name, and found it distinctly unnerving. “You will need it.”

“What are you going to do?” Lucinda was carefully pulling her left hand against the rope, this way and that, loosening it imperceptibly each time. She just needed to keep the Countess talking. Besides, it might help if she could mentally prepare herself for whatever the vampire had planned.

“It’s very simple, my dear.” The Countess started slowly circling around Lucinda, making her turn her head frantically to keep the deadly vampire in her line of sight. “I’m going to drain you, nice and slowly, bit by bit. But I’m going to take much more than just your blood.”

“God damn you! What are you—”

“Look at me.” Lucinda looked at her. She couldn’t even give the request thought, she simply obeyed. The Countess had spoken in a demon’s voice, with a demon’s power of compulsion laced into her words. Lucinda could not disobey. She tried to look away from the Countess, but her muscles betrayed her. All she could do was stare into the vampire’s unholy crimson eyes as they started to burn with an ethereal, magical fire. Lucinda had the feeling of something passing between them, flowing from the Countess into her—a thought, an idea, an impulse. When the fire disappeared, breaking the connection and allowing Lucinda to blink and look away, she felt as though her mind had been somehow defiled.

“W-what did you do to me?” Lucinda felt dazed, like she’d been hit over the head.

The Countess didn’t answer. Instead, she took a firm grip on Lucinda’s hair and used it to wrench her head to one side, exposing her neck. Lucinda fought with all her might, but she couldn’t overpower the vampire’s demonic strength. And all the strength drained from her body once the Countess’s fangs pierced her neck.

Despite all the accounts Lucinda had read attesting to the feeling of a vampire’s bite, she couldn’t help expecting pain. There was some pain, at first: two sharp pinpricks, like the feeling of a needle going into your arm. But that pain was immediately drowned by an overwhelming surge of pleasure that ran through Lucinda’s entire body. It felt like a live current, paralyzing her muscles and driving all thoughts out of her head. She was utterly helpless in the vampire’s grasp, unable to do anything at all as the Countess drank her fill of the vampire hunter’s warm, crimson blood. The more she drank, the more Lucinda’s thoughts slipped away and a sense of light-headedness washed over her—and the better it felt.

When the Countess broke off, the pleasure receded but the light-headedness did not. Lucinda was left far more dazed than before, struggling to gather herself. Her thoughts about everything—vampires, her situation, her earlier resolve to slay the Countess—seemed hard to collect and bring into focus. It was like she’d been drugged. Even keeping her head erect was hard, and when she tried, the room spun and a wave of dizziness hit her.

“I-I… w-wuh…” Lucinda managed.

“Oh come on,” the Countess taunted. “Surely you can put up more of a fight than that?”

It took Lucinda great effort to fight through the thick mental fog that had descended on her. Even once her memories of where she was and what was happening came back into view, it was all unfocused and a little distant. Not unpleasantly, though. That moment of thoughtlessness as the vampire bit her felt like a kind of respite. It was the first time in a long time that Lucinda’s thoughts hadn’t been consumed by the heavy weight of her mission and her duty. Lucinda realised the corners of her mouth had turned up in a slight, absent smile. She wiped it from her face. No, she couldn’t give in! Whatever the Countess was doing to her, she had to resist it at all costs.

“Get out of my head, fiend,” she snapped. The Countess simply laughed again.

“Oh good, there’s a little sport to be had yet! I’m pleased.” The vampire loomed down over Lucinda again, and the vampire hunter thought she was going to continue biting her but instead she just whispered into her ear in a poisonously seductive voice. “Tell me, my dear, did it feel as good as you’d imagined? Did you feel tempted to just give in to that bliss, and become my thrall? Will you remember that feelings in your dreams… or as you touch yourself at night?”

Lucinda snarled viciously and shook the chair, straining all her sinews to escape her bonds and lunge at the unholy creature—but the ropes held. The Countess seemed amused by her display of impotent rage, or perhaps by the warm blush that Lucinda felt hit her face at the Countess’s shockingly lurid words. “Never! I will not be corrupted by the likes of you!”

“It’s so adorable how you think you can resist,” the Countess drawled. “But you know, your defeat is inevitable. The more blood I drain from your body, the weaker and more light-headed you will become. The pleasure will grow stronger, and your resistance will sap away, along with everything else I choose to take. Your willpower cannot overcome your body’s natural limits, my dear.”

The vampire’s words were enough to make Lucinda quiver with fear, but she was heartened by the fact that she knew something the vampire didn’t: the knot around her left wrist was slowly growing looser. She still needed more time, but once it was free she could wait for the perfect moment to seize the dagger on her thigh and strike at the vampire’s heart.

The Countess Marilena, however, was not simply going to wait and oblige her need for more time. She bit Lucinda again, in exactly the same place. Lucinda felt the same twin pinpricks of pain, and then the flood of pleasure that was strong enough to make her back arch against the chair as she spasmed and went rigid, and a weak groan escaped her lips. This time, the sense of light-headedness and dizziness that hit here was twice as strong, and the pleasure twice as great. By the time the Countess relented, Lucinda was panting shamelessly and dripping with sweat, making her hair cling messily to her skin.

After a time, her thoughts began to trickle back into her mind, slow and heavy as syrup. Lucinda lazily looked up at the Countess, who was leering down at her. A broad smile spread across her face. She was so pretty! For several, long seconds, Lucinda was utterly enamored by the Countess’s ethereal beauty. She couldn’t look away from her eyes, her prominent cheekbones, her hair, her fine clothes. She was so nice to look at, and Lucinda’s head was so fuzzy and pleasant that she couldn’t help letting out a little half-giggle. Then she remembered. She was a captive! She was in danger! Was that right? Yes, she was sure of it. The Countess was a vampire, and she was a vampire hunter. She almost let out another giggle at that thought. A vampire hunter? It sounded so silly. But then her older memories came back, memories of horror and loss, and they bolstered her resolve. Just as the Countess had promised, though, a stern will wasn’t enough to completely shake off the soporific, trance-like feeling sapping at her mind.

“Didn’t that feel good?” the Countess asked, and Lucinda nodded before she realized she shouldn’t have. “Just imagine how much better it would feel to just give in to me, and let me take everything.”

In Lucinda’s ears, that tempting promise was as soft and sweet as a siren’s song, but she made herself fight and refuse. She remembered her parents, and all the other death and misery she’d seen vampires inflict over the years. The Countess needed to be stopped, at all costs. Her body was growing slow and uncoordinated, but she resumed trying to loosen the rope on her arm. “Fuck you, vile fiend! I will never let you win. Never.”

The Countess didn’t reply. She just swooped down for another bite. Lucinda did her best to brace herself, and she thought she was mentally prepared for the storm of pleasure, but it battered against and broke her mental barriers almost instantly. It was like there was no fighting it. No matter what she tried to do, no matter what she tried to focus on, she was left in paroxysms of ecstasy, squirming in the vampire’s evil embrace like a helpless maiden. The sense of powerlessness was all-consuming. Lucinda would have felt ashamed, if she could feel anything at all besides sheer, raw pleasure. When the Countess drew back this time, she had a little trickle of crimson running down the corner of her mouth.

“You were saying?” the Countess prompted, her accented voice dripping with sinister amusement.

“I… what… what was I?” Lucinda’s mind had been scattered to a hundred different places at once, and through the thick, pleasurable fog surrounding her thoughts it was almost impossible for her to think about anything clearly. “I… I don’t…”

“That’s OK, my dear. You don’t need to try.” Despite some sense that she shouldn’t, Lucinda found herself looking up at the Countess like a lost puppy looking for guidance. She didn’t need to try. She smiled and giggled with relief. Good. Trying was hard. “Just let yourself sink into pleasure. Let me take your worries away.”

Something about that struck Lucinda as deeply, profoundly wrong. Things were coming back to her now, but they were so slow and unclear and fragmented. She was in a castle. She was a vampire hunter. The Countess was a vampire. She had to kill her. Lucinda had to fight every step of the way to build up those fragments into a story that made sense, and even then it felt distant. She tried reaching for the memories that had bolstered her resolve before, but she found it was like trying to grab into fog with her hands. The depth of anger and hatred she’d felt mere moments ago just wasn’t there.

“I have… to fight,” Lucinda muttered, as much to remind herself as to reject the Countess.

“Fight?” The mock-puzzlement voice in the Countess’s voice was infuriating, but Lucinda couldn’t quite figure out why. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I’m a vampire hunter,” Lucinda answered, hoping desperately for some kind affirmation as she felt her own identity slipping away.

“Hmm…” The Countess frowned. “I’m not so sure about that. A vampire hunter would know all about vampires. But you… you don’t know anything.”

“No! That’s not—” The words died in Lucinda’s throat as she plunged into her own memories and found, with horror, that what the Countess was saying was practically undeniable. She could still remember all the countless hours she’d spent studying books and ancient scrolls, filling her head with vampire lore, but now she couldn’t remember what had been written in them. In her mind’s eyes, it was like the words were melting off the pages and turning to meaningless soup. Names, dates, events, facts—they were simply gone. Lucinda could feel them vanishing from her mind, leaving everything dull and foggy and dumb and simple. And yet somehow, she still had a dumb, silly smile on her face. She couldn’t help it anymore.

“You don’t know anything much about vampires anymore, do you dear?”

“No…” Lucinda whispered dully.

“Then surely, you can’t be a vampire hunter?”

“I… I…” Lucinda didn’t want to agree, but she didn’t know how to argue. She was so confused.

“Think about it. Why would such a dumb, silly, empty-headed girl like you become a vampire hunter? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Lucinda couldn’t help giggling when the Countess called her dumb, even though at the same time her words annoyed her. “No! I’m not… that stuff!”

“Oh, sure, of course you’re not, dear.” Lucinda fumed at the Countess’s patronizing tone. “But then let me ask another question. If you’re really a big strong vampire hunter, and not a dumb, silly, empty-headed girl, why are you so turned on right now?”

“I’m not!” Lucinda protested, blushing deeply. Especially now the Countess had drawn attention to it, the feeling was undeniable. She was trembling from the pleasure the vampire had inflicting on her, and she was panting and covered with sweat that wasn’t from fear or exertion. She looked like a whore in the throes of passion. Taking full advantage of her helpless state, the Countess slid one of her elegant hands down Lucinda’s body and spread her legs, massaging her over the light dress she’d made her wear. Lucinda moaned loudly. Her body was ten times more sensitive than she’d been expecting. She tried and failed to muster some self-control, and quickly found herself grinding against the Countess’s reaching fingers, greedy for more pleasure. When the Countess drew back, she whined in disappointment.

“See?” The Countess said, relishing her victory. “There’s no way a vampire hunter would react like that, is there?” Lucinda didn’t answer, but she was filled with the deepest sense of humiliation. “You’re just a simple, dumb, silly, empty-headed slut.” The words hit Lucinda with great force. They felt undeniable. The more the Countess hurled insults at her, all in the same affectionate yet poisonous tone of voice, the more she felt herself slipping away into foggy, indistinct pleasure. When the Countess called her a slut, she let slip a noise that was half a giggle, half a whimper. “In fact, I imagine you can’t even remember your own name.”

“I can!” Lucinda protested again. “I’m Luci—”

The Countess bit her again, and everything went white. For as long as the Countess’s fangs remained in her neck, greedily drinking her blood, Lucinda’s mind was simply gone. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t act. There was only pleasure. Even the sharp pain of the bite itself seemed only to push the incredible, overwhelming feeling to greater heights. Pleasure was the only thing she knew.

“You were saying?” the Countess prompted, once she released Lucinda from her bite.

“I… I’m… I’m…” What had she been trying to say? Her name! She opened her mouth confidently to answer, but she couldn’t remember it. She couldn’t remember her name.

“See? You can’t remember it, can you?”

The stupefied girl shook her head petulantly, and then giggled. She didn’t know why she was giggling, but it felt easy and right somehow. It was about all she could do when her head was that fuzzy.

“You want me to remind you?” She nodded. “Your name is… hm… your name is Lucy.”

Lucy. Lucy’s brow furrowed as she tried to remember if that was right or not. It sounded right, almost, but a little off at the same time. But without any certain knowledge to the contrary, she found herself accepting it. Her name was Lucy.

“Helpless little Lucy.” The Countess laughed. “I wonder if there’s enough of you left to remember who you really are, or why you came here.”

“I’m… um…” Lucy giggled again. Giggling felt so natural. She just wanted to sit there and giggle and laugh forever… and maybe touch herself. She was so aroused. She wished her hands were free so she could touch. That desire triggered something, the last vestiges of her memory of her true purpose. She wanted her hands free. She needed to get her hands free of the ropes. She had a weapon. The Countess was evil! That last thought sat uncomfortably with her. Was she really? She was making her feel good, and even being kind enough to help a ditzy girl like Lucy remember her own name. Lucy didn’t know what to think, but there was something deep inside her, a final core of resistance, reminding her of her instincts to tight. Heeding them, she started working at the ropes on her left hand again. It was getting loose now. She was almost free!

“Do you want to know a secret?” The Countess asked conspiratorially. “Do you want to know why you’re here?”

“Yeah,” Lucy breathed.

“You’re here for me,” the Countess explained. “You’re here for my amusement. You’re here to be my toy. My doll. You’re such a pretty little thing, and I can’t wait to play with you in so many different ways.”

Lucy squirmed as she tried to wrap her head around that prospect. She was a toy? A doll? That didn’t sound right but once again, she couldn’t supply anything to the contrary. She didn’t know who she was or why she was there. Maybe the Countess was right. Certainly the idea of being the toy, the pet, of such a beautiful, powerful woman made Lucy squirm and grow warm. She couldn’t help picturing all the things the Countess might to do her, and she found she wanted it. But she wanted to be free too. She needed to be free, she fought to remind herself. She had to hold on to that, at all costs. She had to fight. She was so close, she could feel ropes finally grow slack, and-

The Countess bit her again. This time the pleasure roared through Lucy more powerfully than ever before. It was orgasmic. There was no other word for it. Lucy arched her back and screamed, her scream of pleasure obliterating every last trace of who she had been. The Countess drank deep, taking enough blood to leave her light-headed and desperately weak, and taking so much of her mind that she was nothing more than a doll. She felt blank and empty and dizzy, and when the Countess finally pulled away, all Lucy could do was giggle manically and moan softly.

Slowly, she realized she wasn’t tied up any more. Her hand was free! The ropes had come loose. Instinctively, she reached over and managed to get her other hand free too, and she rose unsteadily to her feet only to teeter over as one last spasm of pleasure washed over her. The Countess caught her in her hands, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. Lucy gazed at her in wonder. The Countess was so tall, and so elegant and beautiful. She giggled. She was so lucky to be the Countess’s pet.

“Careful, Lucy,” the Countess chided. “After how much I drank, you’re bound to be unsteady.”

“OK.” Lucy giggled. Somehow, the idea of the Countess drinking her blood didn’t seem at all alarming. It seemed natural, in fact. She was a doll, a toy, a pet. She belonged to the Countess. Suddenly, Lucy realized she could feel something cold and firm against her thigh. She reached under her dress and, after a moment’s fumbling, held up a silver dagger.

“Oh my,” the Countess commented. “Why do you have a thing like that, hm?”

For a moment, as Lucy tried to find an answer, her head was filled with strangely familiar memories. Memories of a life of study and dedication, of being a hunter of righteousness, pursuing dark creatures and trying to keep people safe. But the memories were weak and shallow, like fading ghosts, and Lucy was able to shake them off with ease, leaving behind only an odd, inexplicable sense of loss and shame. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s just put that down. We don’t want you hurting yourself, do we?” The Countess took the dagger out of Lucy’s unresisting fingers and set it down on the dinner table. “Now, let’s go and find you a bedroom to sleep in. Well, sleep and… other things.”

The Countess smiled as the ruined vampire hunter dissolved into naughty, bashful, schoolgirlish giggling and started greedily touching herself under her dress. Corrupting foolish girls like her was her favorite pastime. Lucy would amuse her, for a time, and once she tired of her she’d send a minion to replace that old, fake letter back in that dusty old library, ready to lure in another foolish, prideful hunter—just as it had done many, many times before.