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  As he began to walk, Victoria murmured, "Dad? Daddy, where are you taking me?"

  He watched her and continued to walk. A tear streaming down her face made him stop short.

  "Daddy…so sorry…" Victoria groaned.

  He didn't know why she cried, but he didn't like it.

  Chapter Five

  Sir William hovered hidden in the hallway of the inn as a familiar voice could be heard downstairs. It was Cecile's. With his heart beating in excitement, he inched down the hallway and then leaned against the wall, staring down. The plump innkeeper, Michael, spoke to Cecile with a frown on his face. Next to Cecile stood a man he had never seen before. Sir William knew exactly who he was. He was Cecile's new fiancé.

  "You wish for a room?" Michael asked, eyebrow raised.

  Cecile nodded and passed him a coin. She ran a hand through her blonde hair and then sighed and passed a worried look at her fiancé.

  "One moment." Michael frowned, scratching his red beard. "I will get you the key. The second room on the left will be yours."

  After turning, Michael disappeared from beyond the desk and went into a back room. Cecile and her new fiancé turned toward one another. Cecile's fiancé frowned at her.

  "You don't have to stay at a hotel, Cecile." He crossed his arms.

  "Dawson, we spoke on this," Cecile said. "I wish to keep my virtue until our night of wedded bliss, and if we sleep under the same roof, unholy carnal passions will arise. One more week and then we can be together."

  "When we went to tell my parents of our betrothal, we slept under the same roof." Dawson frowned. "We did not touch each other then."

  "We had escorts when we were together at all times," she said. "Please, Dawson, allow me this. I beg of you. I can't trust myself around you. I know I would give in to the Devil and be in your bed within seconds."

  After Dawson gave a begrudging nod, Cecile wrapped her arms around his waist and then put her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and patted her head. Too easy. This is all going to be too easy. Sir William's face broke into a grin at the thought of having Cecile right next door to him.

  "This would all be so much easier if I could just stay at my old home until our wedding night," Cecile sighed. "That blasted man, Sir William. Because of him, my daughter can't even see our wedding."

  Blasted man. He ground his teeth. I'll show her blasted man. Maybe I'll beat her a little before I threaten her into telling me where Victoria is. He had never liked Cecile. Too weak. Too breakable. She had melted without her husband. Victoria would be harder to break and thus, more fun to conquer. A slow grin crossed his face as he held back an excited groan.

  Michael came back with a large metal key in his hand.

  "I lock all doors if nobody is staying in them," Michael said. "I also lock the doors of the residence after seven o'clock and unlock them again at sunrise."

  "I appreciate that, Michael," Dawson said. "It will keep my betrothed safe."

  Eyeballing Dawson, Michael said, "I am a good, Catholic man, and I believe in holy matrimony. I do not like any funny business under my roof. Now I shall bring your fiancé up to her room. You may escort her too, if you wish. But I do not allow unmarried patrons to stay under the same roof unless they are of the same sex."

  Once again, Dawson nodded. Sir William cursed, spun around, and entered his room again. He heard the sound of groaning on the stairs and heard muffled talking as Dawson and Michael spoke. He wished Michael wasn't so thorough about his innkeeper job. Why was it his business if a couple of unmarried townspeople had a fling under his roof? Still, something good had happened that he did not expect. Cecile would be under the same roof as he for the next week, which meant she was an easy target. All he had to do was wait and listen.

  ***

  That night, Leon lay in his bed on his side, fighting down the urges which erupted in his belly. He could picture Victoria in bed next to him in nothing but a sheer white nightgown, her perky nipples straining the lace fabric and her hair draped around her like a veil. This was exactly why it was a bad idea to have a woman in his estate with him. Yes, he oftentimes felt the hand of devilish arousal at night and he relieved himself to thoughts of fat breasts and soaked cunts, but he didn't ever add a real woman's face to the images. Normally, they were just empty dreams.

  As Leon gripped the bed, he continued to imagine Victoria next to him, shutting her eyes and arching her back and massaging her own pink, hard nipples. His imaginary Victoria let out a low, throaty groan as she tweaked the pink coins of her breasts and then squirmed in ecstasy. The fantasy became so intense that he could swear he could smell wet pussy in the room and his cock bulged in his night pants.

  Swearing and knowing he had to relieve himself or spend the night walking around the castle in a nervous state, Leon reached down and put his hands in his pants. He then pulled them down so they were just over his ass and his large, fat, swollen cock over his two fist-sized balls were out in the open air. He reached down and grasped his veiny cock in his hand and tightened his grip, groaning. As he moved his hand hard over his shaft, he continued to imagine Victoria.

  His imaginary Victoria continued to tweak her right nipple with one hand as she reached down between her wet legs with the other. As she put her hand between her thighs and rubbed the surface of her dark brown, furry cunt, he could hear every movement she made because of her sticky juices. He groaned and pumped harder at his cock and imagined Victoria arching her back and then smiling at him with her large, vibrant green eyes. She then stopped tweaking her nipple and reached down between her legs with her other hand too.

  Victoria spread her legs further, showing him every last bit of her cunt. Dark auburn curls flowed over two fat, bulging lips that were damp from her excitement. She reached down between her lips and toyed with them with her right hand, revealing that what was inside of her cunt's lips was an even darker shade of pink, and he longed to bury his face in them and kiss them.

  With her index finger, imaginary Victoria entered her hole and began to pump into herself, once again making that same beautiful "Schlick, schlick" sound. She cried out at her own thrusting and once again arched her back, making her gorgeous breasts strain the fabric of her gown. As Victoria pumped into herself with her right hand, she played with the risen cleft at the opening of her pussy with her left hand. She then let out a shaky moan and he did too, feeling his balls pulse at the imagery in his own mind.

  Victoria began to grip her cunt's hair, and she groaned and gasped as if it was he who touched her and not her who touched herself. Her legs trembled and caused the bed to vibrate. Then, with a slow, sly grin, she withdrew her right hand from her hole, drew her hand up to her lips and inserted her sticky fingers into her mouth. She shut her eyes and smiled in ecstasy as she tasted herself.

  That was all Leon could take and his balls pulsed as he blew his load all over the sheets. He stared at the empty space on the bed where he had imagined Victoria touching herself, and he let out a shaky sigh. God, that was fast. It was probably because it had been so long since he had touched himself at all. There wasn't much erotic about cold brick and old, hairy servants.

  But there was something erotic about the goddess in his house, Victoria.

  ***

  Sir William didn't sleep all night. He kept himself awake having visions of Victoria and wherever she was. She's a whore. If she was willing to abandon you, then she probably is willing to bed other men, too. I'll break her of that habit soon enough. The thought made him grit his teeth and let out an angry sigh. Victoria, Victoria, Victoria. She was his own curse and savior, rolled into one.

  As Sir William imagined her curled up in the arms of another man, he heard the sound of the door opening in the room across from his. Cecile was finally out. Sir William leapt to his feet and then walked toward the door. He opened it and snuck up behind Cecile, who stood at the foot of the stairs prepared to go down them. With a growl, he pressed his hand over her mouth and then hauled
her backward, into the hallway. He felt Cecile's hot breath on his palm and the pressure of her scream.

  While Sir William hauled her backward, Cecile kicked and drew back her arm, elbowing him in his stomach and knocking the air from him. He gulped and gasped, running into the wall with a loud "thud." He still managed, however, to keep a firm grip on Cecile's face with his hand. Cecile opened her mouth and sunk her teeth into his pointer finger, making him give a roar of pain and rage as her bite burned his hand.

  "Let me go," Cecile said. "Unhand me this instant, you monster. Michael. Michael, please come quick. Michael."

  Sir William seized her by her waist and pulled her into his room as she screamed and thrashed. There was the sound of thudding downstairs and then loud grunting. That blasted, overprotective hotel keeper. Swearing, Sir William pushed Cecile onto the bed, straddled her, and stared down at her pale face which appeared a lot like Victoria's except more wrinkled. After he captured Cecile, he had intended to question her before hurting her, but with Michael charging up the stairs like an angered ram, he had to act fast.

  Drawing back his fist, he hit Cecile across the face with a "crack" and his knuckle pulsed with pain from the blow. Cecile's head tilted to the left and her mouth opened, revealing bloodied teeth. She was unconscious and showed no signs of moving.

  "Good," Sir William said darkly as the sound of footsteps carried up the stairs.

  "What is going on?" Michael roared. Sir William heard Michael open Cecile's door across the hall and frowned, panting, as he grabbed the heavy metal lamp at his bedside and then lunged over to his own door to wait behind it.

  As Sir William waited, he thought, I won't let anyone stand between me and Victoria. Not this hotelkeeper, not her mother, no one. Victoria belongs to me. She is mine. My property. There was the sound of heavy breathing as Michael ran out of Cecile's room and rushed over to Sir William's room. Michael opened the door and then leapt inside, his eyes wild and his fists balled at his sides.

  "You Devil's fiend, what have–"

  Sneaking up behind him, Sir William raised the heavy metal lamp and then brought it down onto the back of Michael's head with a loud "thud." Michael groaned, fell to his knees, and clutched his skull where blood trickled down the back of his neck. I didn't hit him hard enough. Gritting his teeth, Sir William drove the heavy lamp against the back of Michael's head again as hard as he could with a dull thud. Blood splattered on Sir William's face as Michael's skull caved inward.

  Something came over Sir William. The blood, the feeling of driving the lamp against someone's skull, and hearing the "crunch," made a rush of pleasure fill him. Sir William began to drive the lamp against Michael's skull again and again, causing blood to splatter his face and the walls with every hit. His breathing grew ragged with excitement as the taste of iron filled his mouth.

  During that moment, as Sir William turned Michael's skull into stew and his head became unrecognizable as a human's skull, new thoughts began to form. He knew how he could possess Victoria so much more fully now.

  "Thud." He brought the lamp down against Michael's head.

  He imagined holding onto Victoria's neck, watching her face go pale and her eyes bulge from her sockets. He would stop before he killed her, but this time, that violence would not be enough.

  "Thud." Once again, he used the lamp and sent it on its deadly path.

  He would run a knife along Victoria's perfect flesh and watch the glorious blood spill.

  "Thud." He clubbed Michael's shoulder and heard the bones crunch.

  After that, he would force Victoria to have sex with him. When he was done with her, he would take her down to his basement and chain her to his wall.

  "Thud." Now he hit Michael's back with the lamp and his body jumped.

  After he had chained her to the wall, he would torture her. He would impale her with knives and watch blood pour.

  "Thud." He broke Michael's leg with the lamp.

  Just as Sir William was on the verge of being immersed in another twisted Victoria fantasy, Cecile groaned and opened her eyes. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her mouth as she drew back her hand and touched her forehead. She winced and then turned and gazed at him.

  All the remaining color drained from her face as she saw him, and for the first time he turned to stare at the blood splattered mirror upon the wall. He was sweaty and his hair was in disarray, and he was covered head to toe in blood and held a bloody lamp in his hand. He stood over Michael's destroyed corpse.

  In that moment, he felt powerful. The picture of himself frozen and bloody was so glorious he wanted to capture it forever, maybe have a portrait painted so he would never forget. A twisted grin crossed his face, but the moment was ruined when Cecile threw back her head and began to let out loud, terrified screams again. Swearing, he dropped the lamp on the ground and then leapt at Cecile and straddled her, putting his hand over her hot lips. His palm muffled the sound, but once again Cecile attempted to bite him. Luckily, he removed his hand just in time.

  In his anger, he wrapped his hands around Cecile's frail neck and pressed down, gazing at her pale face. Panicked, Cecile gasped in a choked attempt to breathe, and grasped the bedspread between her thin, long fingers.

  "You will be quiet now," he said. "You will be quiet so I can tie you up, do you understand me?"

  Cecile's face became blue and pleasure once again filled him. Every bit of his brain screamed, "More! More! More!" but he knew he would never find Victoria if he continued this. He would have this pleasure all in good time, after he had discovered Victoria's location.

  He released Cecile's neck and gazed into her face. A hurried, panicked gasp left her throat as she stared up at him in horror. The expression on her face was so beautiful it made him smile. God, I can drink in that fear. It's beautiful. He felt like he could get her to tell him whatever he wanted to know. And he would do just that, but first he had to get rid of this body and then get Cecile to someplace quiet, someplace where they wouldn't be interrupted.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, Victoria groaned and felt her leg throb as she opened her eyes. It took her a long time to figure out where she was. The room appeared dark, cold, and dirty. She lay on top of a silk purple bed which appeared as if somebody had attempted to give it a fast cleaning but failed. There was a glass pitcher at her bedside that was filled with clean water, which led her to believe it was recent and had been left there by Leon in case she grew thirsty in the middle of the night. There was a glass next to it.

  The unspoken concern made her heart feel warm, but she did not concentrate on that long. All she could think about was the throbbing pain in her leg. She pulled up her dress and stared down at the wound, frowning at what she saw. The outside of the wound was covered in a dark red ring, and when she touched the middle of it, she noted the wound was sticky to the touch and was also hot. What is this? Her eyes widened. She had never seen a wound get like this before, and she had been a wild child who had gotten injured all the time playing in the bramble and falling out of trees.

  Victoria got off of the bed and put her arms to her sides to balance. She was able to balance all right, but instead of her leg feeling better when she attempted to walk on it, it only got worse. Every step she took, hot pain traveled through her lower leg all the way up to her thigh. Shuddering, she gazed down at the red wound and grasped the bedside table.

  I have to be tough about this. A wound has never affected me like this before. But the more she walked, the more worried she got. Leon had promised her one night here, and unless she managed to convince him to let her be his servant, she was going to have to make it down the mountain. She would have to choose between three miles of walking or riding Stormy, which meant an hour of her leg rubbing against brittle, dirty horse fur. Even the idea made her shudder.

  No, I need this job. I am going to convince Leon to let me be his servant and then there will be no wild ride down the mountain. She squared her back in determination and
limped toward the door. She was not the type of woman who gave up easily, and she most certainly wasn't the type of woman who let a bite get to her.

  After she had made it to the hallway and shut the door behind her, her leg throbbed again and she winced, gasped, and tried to ignore it.

  "Leon," she said. "Leon, are you in any of these rooms?"

  Her voice echoed in the cold hallway. As she looked around, waiting for an answer, she realized how cold and lonely Leon's estate was. She wouldn't want to live here by herself, even if it was clean. Now that she had a night's rest and her head was less jumbled with wolf filled thoughts, she recognized that the house stank not only of a physical stench – it stank of loneliness and depression. It was too easy to imagine Leon pacing these halls by himself, his face sour and his mood dark.

  But that only gave her more cause to want to be his servant. She could paint herself in the picture, grabbing Leon's arm and keeping him company. But alas, that was only her imagination. They had known each other very little and yet she was already putting herself in his world. No wonder he didn't want her as a servant. She was getting too personal. Shaking her head, she walked forward, toward where Leon had led her yesterday.

  When she was in the next hallway and neared the kitchen, she heard the sound of banging and clanking. She hastened her step, limping in pain every time her foot hit the ground, and then opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. She did a double-take in surprise at the transformation the kitchen had gone through.

  The soiled dishes were gone, as was the rank scent. The table was clean and all of the spoiled foodstuffs were put away. On the table, there were two plates across from one another with forks and knives. A loaf of crusty bread next to a hunk of butter and a jar of strawberry preserves sat on the table. Leon stood by the counter, cleaning a last dish with a brown cloth. When he turned around, he stiffened and his eyes dropped to her leg. He sniffed the air like some sort of primal animal and headed toward her. The serious, intense expression he wore caused her to back up against the wall.