Countess Chanel's Estate
"I'm going to save Anna!" Isaac Chanel, the temporary master of the estate, argued with the dirt- and sweat-covered, despondent Baron Charles D'Artagnan.
"Listen, what help can you offer? Another hostage?" D'Artagnan blocked Isaac's path.
"Get out of my way!" Isaac roared, shoving D'Artagnan, who swiftly grabbed Isaac's right arm from behind.
"Argh!" Isaac's joints screamed as D'Artagnan twisted his arm, pain surging.
"Calm down!" D'Artagnan flung Isaac back, sending him crashing to the ground.
"I'm useless," Isaac muttered, dejected.
"Isaac, you're not the only one panicking!" D'Artagnan snapped, exasperated. To him, Isaac was nothing but impulsive and self-blaming. Why did Anna associate with such a man?
Isaac didn't rise, lost in thought.
Baroness Burg had told him he could protect Sophia.
But he'd done nothing. Even getting the Church to seize Sophia was through Anna's connections.
He was a burden. Following Anna would only hinder her further.
Everything on this journey—Anna and Sophia had done it all. His only contribution was caring for them.
It wasn't fair. He was born weak, unlike Sophia's strength.
"The world isn't just tough for losers like you," Anna's words about Countess Chanel echoed.
Both Chanel and Anna bore family burdens early. Before fourteen, Anna was a noble girl learning the lute and violin, dancing with her mother, living carefree despite her father's harsh training. Back then, she wasn't the brave woman she was now.
No one's born brave or strong. Even Sophia, so powerful, cried facing unknown dangers. He wasn't lesser than them—he just hadn't faced his fears.
"Charles! Train me in swordsmanship!" Isaac leapt up, confronting D'Artagnan.
"What? It's midnight!" D'Artagnan exclaimed.
"I'll be honest—I have no real skill. It's all this sword," Isaac admitted, done pretending. He had to face his weaknesses and grow stronger.
"That explains your lack of footwork. But it's too late now. Even if we had time, we're exhausted," D'Artagnan sighed, blaming Isaac for Anna and Chanel's capture.
"Night? Wait!" Isaac rushed to his room, returning with a bottle of green liquid. "Charles, take a sip!"
D'Artagnan, unsure, drank. It was Sophia's revitalizing potion, erasing a night's fatigue, mimicking full sleep. She'd given Isaac plenty for staying awake; now it served a purpose.
D'Artagnan's exhaustion vanished. "You really want to train now?"
"It's never too late!" Isaac insisted. Training now was better than sleeping.
"Fine. Got another sword? Not the auto-attacking one."
Isaac produced the Inka steel cross sword from Baron Burg, named Slayer's Blade.
"Let's begin." D'Artagnan drew his sword. Isaac charged, but D'Artagnan raised his blade like a lance, nearly letting Isaac impale himself.
Isaac halted at the last second, sweat dripping, fear of death gripping him.
"You see your folly. Maybe you're teachable. If you died, so be it," D'Artagnan said coldly, respect gone.
"Lesson one: when charging, lead with your sword, then step. It attacks and shields you."
"If you die, I won't mourn. That's what you get for deceiving Anna," D'Artagnan added.
"Begin."
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Next Morning, Before Notre-Dame
Crowds thronged for the vampire's public parading and whipping.
Whipping was punishment for tormenting others, but parading was Mopp's insistence. He claimed the "lewd" vampire seduced bandits, leading to her capture and attempted rape, so she must parade like a harlot to feel shame and reform. (Though there'd be no next time.)
Her "cheating" with magic in yesterday's trial by combat meant her fate would be announced post-parade and whipping.
Church knights marched out, followed by Bernard, holding a chain linked to Sophia's collar.
Unlike Anna, an honorable witch hunter targeting evil creatures, Bernard, not from a hunter family, was a former Church knight. Blinded by a dark creature in the Alamenti Holy Empire, he joined the witch hunters, vowing to kill thousands rather than spare one.
He led Sophia out, naked, her body marked with red welts. Despite her vampire healing, Bernard had tortured her before the parade.
Her red ball gag, doubled in size, stretched her jaw to its limit. Though vampires' unique facial bones allowed wide jaw movement, Sophia's human-like body required bone adjustment, making the gag excruciating. A human's jaw would dislocate in an hour.
Her naked body was bound with the dungeon's silver-glowing holy ropes, now dulled to hemp color—perhaps Bernard deemed her unworthy of holy bindings.
Her torso was tied in a diamond-pattern turtle tie, with intricate quadrilateral shapes along her midline, unlike decorative diamond ties. Each diamond's corner connected to ropes binding her upper arms behind her, a true restraint.
Her upper arms were pulled back unnaturally, forearms bound in a reverse prayer style, not palm-to-palm but forearms pressed upward together. Her hands, backs touching at her neck, were roped tightly from wrists to elbows, forming a rigid "↓" shape.
Unlike the common W-shaped high-arm tie, where forearms cross in an X, Sophia's forearms aligned in a thick "II," elbows touching. This reverse prayer tie strained her shoulders and upper arms beyond typical straight-arm ties. Only her vampire resilience allowed such a pose; most women couldn't endure it.
A rope loop from her collar ran behind her neck, securing her wrists. Though her "↓" arms were already bound tightly to her back by diamond-tie ropes, this loop further restricted movement, pulling her arms upward and choking her if she struggled.
From her bent elbows, ropes formed a Y-shape, extending down her bare buttocks' crease, embedding three plugs to prevent public accidents, as Bernard intended.
Her ankle cuffs, set at 20 cm, limited her to small steps, matching the parade's pace.
The silver-dusted brand on her buttocks—"Bitch Domi, Ding Yangchun's Pet"—remained.
Emerging from the dungeon, Sophia appeared calm—not unafraid of parading, but relieved. In Ding Yangchun's dungeon, shame was irrelevant. Olivier and Isaac's encouragement helped her reclaim her dignity, rekindling her sense of shame.
She endured the plugs' pressure, comforted by returning to herself. Olivier, sword on his back, ensured her safety during the parade, earning her gratitude.
But shame overwhelmed her as the crowd's gaze hit.
"She's gorgeous! I want her babies!"
"More beautiful than the queen!"
"Idiot, the queen's old! She's prettier than Princess Isabella!"
"Look, bells on her breasts!"
Sophia realized Bernard's overnight torture had repierced her nipples with rings, now adorned with bells that jingled with each step, heating her chest from their centrifugal motion.
Bastards! Stop looking! She glared at those commenting on her bells, intimidating them. But the plugs' friction and bells' jingle turned her regal glare lustful, drawing more mockery.
You filth! I'm Silandria's princess, and you dare leer and compare me to livestock?
Post-Ding Yangchun, she resisted Bernard's physical torture—a mere witch hunter, not a trainer. She endured a night of his cruelty.
This harlot's humiliation restored her mind from Ding Yangchun's torment. In his dungeon, she and Jane were forced to perform intimate acts before mages and soldiers.
"She's so lewd, naked and bound, clamping her thighs!" a crowd voice interrupted her thoughts.
Realizing each step tugged the crotch rope and jingled the bells, she'd instinctively clamped her thighs—humiliating!
Ignoring dungeon memories, she was Silandria's princess, never so shamed!
"Mmph! Mmph!" She protested, partly knowing these weren't Ding Yangchun's men, partly self-deceiving that her cries proved her noble dignity, superior despite being ogled.
"She can't hold back! Her skin's pink, sweating after just twenty meters!" someone shouted, sparking laughter.
Twenty meters? I've got thousands more to go? This feels like a decade…
Stop staring!
"Mmph! Mmphhh!" She shook her head, struggling.
Crack! A cleric whipped her buttocks.
"Mmph!"
"Behave. This is a parade, not playtime," Bernard said coldly.
Used to Ding Yangchun's torment, Sophia wasn't fazed by pain but knew struggling made her seem more wanton. She needed to glare coldly.
Taking a deep breath, she endured the pleasure. Her bound arms aided her in standing tall, exuding dignity despite her state.
Seeing Isaac in the crowd, concerned, she blushed and lowered her head.
Don't look, Little Zack. I'm too shameful, too lewd…
Her collar's rope loop choked her as she moved, cutting her breath.
"Argh! Mmph!"
"She's choking herself!"
"A lustful beast, needing a man!"
"Worse than a whore, shameless!"
"Her plugged honeypot's probably dripping!"
You animals, daring to mock this countess! Stop looking!
Why is Little Zack seeing my disgrace?
"Mmph! Mmphhh!" Her struggles excited the crowd more.
You filthy humans! You strip and bind me, rig my collar, plug me, parade me, and call me lewd?
"Shameful!"
"Harlot!"
"Bitch!"
In the residential area, women joined the shaming, covering children's eyes to shield them from the "lewd" vampire.
I'm not!
Sophia glared, then saw Isaac among the leering crowd, worried. She blushed, lowering her head, silencing her protests.
I can't let them mock me more…
The crotch rope pressed the plug, laced with chili and electric sensations, making her thighs tremble.
I'm a lewd woman. I won't be lewd again… Don't let Little Zack see me like this…
Since admitting to cursing bandits who tried to rape her, the crowd believed she seduced them, then cursed them in rage. Parading was her due.
Struggling confirmed their view of a shameless vampire needing harsher shame. Yielding reduced the jeers.
"Mmph…" Sophia lowered her head in shame.
I'm so lewd, seen by the whole city… I'm a princess… How am I so wanton?
Don't look… I was wrong… I shouldn't have seduced them… I'm a filthy whore…
Little Zack, don't see me like this…
Bernard dragged her forward, bells and plugs fueling her pleasure.
I'm excited… loving this feeling…
This proves my lewdness, all seen by Little Zack…
Someone, remove this maddening plug…
No, I'm too lewd…
Like all paraded noblewomen, Sophia bowed her proud head, led slowly, only a tenth through her route.
Each step jingled, announcing the vampire's arrival, drawing entire districts to gawk.
Her rekindled shame and dignity made her mortified. The more she valued her princess status, the more she felt her wantonness.
"Mmph…" She let out a mournful cry.
"Learned seducing humans is shameful?" Bernard yanked her collar forward.
"Mmph!" Her clamped legs stumbled, ankle chains limiting balance. She nearly fell.
Olivier caught her waist, steadying her.
Seeing his concern, Sophia lowered her head in shame. A lewd vampire, saved by this handsome knight?
"Mmph…" She turned her flushed face away, unwilling to face Olivier or let him see her shameful state.
"Sir Olivier, let's continue," Bernard said.
"Sorry." Olivier released her, easing Sophia's mix of shame, embarrassment, and gratitude.
"She's seducing Sir Olivier!"
"Stripped and bound, still shamelessly tempting men!"
"Without that plug, she'd be soaked seeing him!"
In her homeland, Sophia was above all but a few, disrespect met with impalement. Now, the city's laughingstock, chained, she couldn't dodge leering gazes.
She endured the choking collar, lowering her proud head to avoid lustful stares and comments calling her a shameless beast.
Not pain or torture, but this shame made her dread Olivier and Isaac seeing her.
Time froze, the "jingle" marking her steps.
She grew to love the sensation at her chest and groin… so comfortable, especially the plugged honeypot…
I'm a shameful woman, enjoying plugs and rings…
Little Zack, are you gone? I'm a lewd woman… Don't see me…
Vegetables, rotten eggs, and mud pelted her in a low-class district, their comments viler.
Closing her eyes, Sophia accepted this as her shameless punishment.
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Some Time Later
Covered in vegetables, eggs, and mud, Sophia was dragged to the city square.
Head bowed, face flushed, she thought herself a shameless, lewd woman.
The parade's purpose—to shame wanton women into reform—worked. It further mended her mind from Ding Yangchun's torment, heightening her shame and body consciousness.
But it made her fear Ding Yangchun more, her heightened sensitivity recalling her exposed past.
A wooden pillory, fixed to the ground, awaited, designed to lock her neck parallel to the ground, forcing her torso to bend, obscuring her body from her view.
Bernard grabbed her filthy hair, opened the pillory, and forced her torso down, neck and torso parallel to the ground, legs straight. He locked her neck, limiting her view to the pillory's front, blind to her body.
Her waist control was gone, trapped in the pillory.
The pillory had holes for arms, but her "↓" bound arms remained tied, sparing the need to unbind them.
Unable to see her "lewd" body, Sophia felt more helpless.
Behind her, at her buttocks, Bernard stood, with crowds gathered—not for him, but for her plugged, perfect rear.
"This vampire, long attacking our people, is captured!" Bernard shouted.
"From today, she's no threat!"
Cheers erupted.
"She tortured six human bandits! Even bandits are our kin, not for vampires to torment!"
"Right!"
"Our bandits may kill, but they're ours!"
"Humans are always right!"
"Shameful vampire!"
"Human conflicts don't justify vampire attacks!"
"Only humans can attack humans, not outsiders!"
Bernard smiled. Humans united against threats, like this vampire.
"Per yesterday's verdict!" he shouted.
"She faces three hundred lashes for tormenting six humans!"
"Then, for seducing humans and cheating in trial by combat, she'll face burning!"
Burning? Isaac, in the crowd, panicked. He'd trained all night with D'Artagnan, who rated his talent above average, achieving a week's training in one night. With Moonshine's auto-attacks, D'Artagnan focused on Isaac's waist control and footwork. Now a half-decent swordsman, Isaac had come early, pitying Sophia's shame, especially seeing Ding Yangchun's brand. He longed to kill him.
Burning Sophia? He couldn't stay calm.
Sophia, unfazed by burning, had no time to think. Her head locked, her rear faced the crowd.
At Bernard's order, Olivier did something, and her feet were spread. The ankle chain became a 50 cm spreader bar, fixing her legs apart, forming an isosceles triangle below her buttocks.
Bernard grabbed a thorny whip and struck her perfect rear.
Crack!
"Mmph—mmphhh!"
"Anyone can pay twenty silver coins for five of the three hundred lashes!" Bernard announced. "Rid us of evil! Uphold human pride!"
"I'm in!"
"Two hundred coins for fifty lashes!"
"Me too!"
Pain was one thing, but being whipped by filthy humans was a greater insult to her dignity.
"Mmph! Mmph!" Sophia's furious cries were drowned by the crowd.
Her mercury-dampened hearing caught someone approaching… Fear gripped her, like a child awaiting a doctor's needle, anxious for the unknown.
Ten seconds passed—no whip?
Unable to see, she imagined the worst, heightening her anxiety.
Did they soften?
As she relaxed, a whip lashed her buttocks.
Crack!
"Mmph—mmphhh!" Such force…
Crack!
"Mmph!"
Crack!
"Mmphhh!"
Crack!
"Mmph, mmphhh!" The last hit struck her anal plug, pain shooting through her intestines.
The fifth didn't come.
Where's the fifth? Hurry… I'm getting whipped anyway…
After ten seconds, she almost craved it. Blind to her rear, three hundred lashes awaited—better to get it over with.
The whipper seemed to know, deliberately delaying.
"Mmph! Mmphhh!" Sophia grew frantic. Continuous lashes were bearable, but this teasing was maddening.
Her mood mirrored a man awaiting a woman's reply to a confession, the wait worse than rejection.
"Haha! She's craving it!" a sleazy voice laughed.
Crack!
The final lash, full force, snaked between her spread legs, hitting the largest plug in her reproductive canal.
"Mmph? Mmphhhhh!" The blow triggered a flood of fluids, tears streaming.
"Phew, five done. Can't do more, or my wife'll scold me," the voice said.
In pain, Sophia felt relief.
"I'll take fifty!" another voice called.
Despair returned.
She waited anxiously, blind to her fate.
Crack!
Finally… Her suspended heart eased with the awaited lash.
"Mmph, mmphhh!"
Only the sixth of three hundred…