Ding Yangchun's Dungeon
After enduring the same wooden horse whipping as Sophia (a daily routine for the dungeon's women), Anna was drugged with a Zhendan sedative, losing consciousness.
Upon waking, she found herself blindfolded again.
She realized her predicament.
Her two excretory passages were plugged, but her reproductive one wasn't. Her calves were tightly bound to her thighs, and her thighs were pulled apart by ropes, forming an M-shaped leg tie.
Her hands were bound behind her in a standard Japanese style, minimizing bodily harm.
"Mmph… mmphhh!" Was Ding Yangchun staring at her spread legs right now?
Though captured by Count Masoch and Fidel Estruchi, they hadn't stripped her. Only Isaac had seen her sacred place.
"No need to panic. I saw every inch of you last night," Ding Yangchun's voice came, easing her anxiety slightly. "Let's show you your situation."
"Mmph?" A rough hand removed her blindfold. Anna saw a rack before her.
Atop the rack, her two crossbows, their bolts replaced with open clamps, aimed at her breasts' peaks.
Below, her repeating crossbow, Meteor's End, had its magazine removed, replaced by a manually strung bowstring holding a "bolt"—a massive phallus.
The phallus's end held a vial of white liquid, likely Ding Yangchun's… emissions.
Anna's eyes widened in terror. The crossbows were manageable, but the repeating crossbow's force, even with a soft projectile, could shatter her lower body.
"Don't worry. I used a magic scroll from Master Clement to cast a mana shield in front of you. I can't cast spells, but I can read scrolls," Ding Yangchun, bandaged like a mummy, said, patting her head like a dog. "Curious how I'll treat you after you did this to me?"
"Mmph!" Anna's eyes bulged in fear, unsure what this bandaged dwarf would do.
"You did this to me, yet I protect you with Clement's shield. Bebe, isn't your master good to you?"
"Mmph!" Defiant Anna, in despair, refused to praise him.
"Look behind the rack—a sandglass."
Anna saw it wasn't sand but a mix of her love juices and urine, collected after this morning's shocks.
Behind it, Countess Chanel, upside-down, hands bound in Japanese style, legs tied together, suspended by her ankles. She too had three plugs, with a hose from her reproductive plug draining her drug-induced fluids into a tray below the sandglass.
Anna understood. The sandglass's dripping fluids filled the tray, while Chanel's fluids added weight. If the tray tipped, it would trigger the rack's three crossbows.
The tray looked near collapse.
"Mmph! Mmphhh!" Anna, desperate, stared at Ding Yangchun. Her waist was fixed to a pole, ensuring the "arrows" would hit their marks.
"Regret it now, Bebe? Too late. Enjoy the sandglass's love."
"Mmph? Mmphhh?" Ding Yangchun left the chamber. Anna realized she'd been pleading with him—her only hope against her own weapons' "attack."
Now alone, she faced the relentless drip of her "sandglass's love," each drop heightening her fear, worsened by Chanel's fluids.
Anna dared not blink. Despite Ding Yangchun's shield, pain was inevitable. Tears streamed in this terrifying environment.
Finally, the tray overflowed, triggering the mechanism.
Whoosh!
Three bolts shot at her. The clamps snapped onto her nipples, releasing a small electric shock. The crossbow bolts pressed her breasts against her ribs, fat blooming outward like flowers. Lactation drugs made milk spray, hitting Chanel's upside-down face.
"Mmphhhhh!" Anna sobbed, her cries muffled by the gag.
Worse was the reproductive passage. The phallus, modeled after Ding Yangchun's, was barbed, scraping her canal before hitting its end.
"Mmphhh! Mmph-ohhhhh!" Under such stimulation, Anna climaxed, eyes rolling back. The aphrodisiac, combined with unfulfilled desire from the wooden horse, made her almost enjoy the pain and pleasure—so good, so thrilling…
She forgot the worst part: the vial's white liquid injected into her canal, the phallus-plug sealing it inside as the vial detached.
"Mmphhhhh…" Regaining her senses, Anna realized Ding Yangchun had violated her with her own weapon and his fluids—a humiliating disgrace. Yet she felt joy, pleasure. Why?
The mummy-like Ding Yangchun returned, standing by Anna, still lost in climax, tears streaming.
"Happy, Bebe?"
"Mmph—mmph—mmphhh!" Anna remained in ecstasy.
"You love the sandglass's love, huh? My seed's sealed in you. You broke four of my teeth. Bear me four children, and I'll forgive you, Bebe."
"Mmph… mmphhh…" Anna's eyes were vacant, her mind adrift. Was she… submitting to him?
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City Square
"The last hundred lashes, bought by one person!"
The last… hundred? Sophia, unaware of the count, relied on voices to gauge.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
No hesitation—this person whipped rapidly, mostly hitting her plugs.
"Mmph… mmphhh!"
Wait—
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"Mmph! Mmphhh!" Pain seared.
It's—
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"Mmph… mmphhh!"
Little Zack's whipping!
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"Mmph… mmphhh!"
Isaac couldn't bear others whipping Sophia. Better he control the force and rhythm.
But he forgot his self-taught whipping, honed in camp on Sophia, always hit the most sensitive spots.
These hundred lashes doubled the pain of the prior two hundred, with his 90% sensitive-spot accuracy.
"Mmphhh! Mmph! Mmphhh!"
Yet, knowing it was Isaac, Sophia felt a strange safety and comfort.
But then, her perfect buttocks were bare before him!
"Mmphhh! Mmph!" Her face flushed red. Locked in the pillory, no one saw her pained, shy, yet happy expression.
The parade's shame flooded back.
I'm… happy it's Little Zack… I'm so lewd… Don't look at my wanton body, my shameful brand…
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Wait… there's a rhythm… Morse code!
Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! — Crack! - Crack! —
"NOT BURN."
Sophia, enduring pain, feared Isaac's recklessness. She replied in Morse, masked as pained cries:
"Mmph-mmph-mmphhh-mmphhh-mmphhhhh—"
"BURN NOT DIE."
Isaac relaxed, delivering the final twenty lashes with a new message:
"WILL SAVE YOU."
The whipping stopped.
Sophia, ignoring her burning buttocks, wished Isaac would whip more, sharing more information, no matter how harsh. Whip me, Little Zack, tell me more…
But no more came. She felt disappointed.
Bernard freed her from the pillory. Olivier removed the spreader bar, merging her ankle cuffs. Clerics tied her back-to-back to a long pole, lifting it like a pig to parade her back to Notre-Dame.
Her breast bells jingled, itching her chest.
"Mmph!" The position was uncomfortable, and the crowd jeered:
"This sow survived!"
"What a wanton slut, waiting to be screwed to death!"
Sophia closed her eyes, enduring the renewed shame, carried back to Notre-Dame's square.
A pyre and stake awaited.
Clerics tied the pole vertically to the stake, chaining her tightly.
Five clerics prayed before the pyre.
Holy flames roared from the kindling.
Isaac tensed. These weren't ordinary flames but holy fire, deadly to dark creatures.
Saint Jeanne d'Arc, burned by the Eililand army in Goulens' Hundred Years' War, perished thus. Was Sophia lying to reassure him? If a saint died, what of a vampire?
Flames touched Sophia's skin.
"Mmph… mmphhh!" Her body charred but quickly reformed.
Her Daywalker title wasn't just her human lineage allowing daylight walking. Drinking ancient dragon king Akyuun's blood gave her high flame resistance, absorbing some fire energy like elder dragons.
The flames hurt but didn't outmatch her absorbed energy, allowing rapid healing.
Still, she wasn't immune to pain or fire—just regenerative absorption.
"Mmph… mmphhh!"
"Mmphhh… mmphhh!"
Holy fire, designed against dark creatures, made her scream in agony.
"Mmphhh! Mmphhh!"
Her cries were muffled by the gag.
She'd forgotten her regeneration was suppressed by holy ropes, collar, and cuffs.
She'd overestimated herself, reassuring Isaac without knowing if she'd survive.
Holy fire wasn't ordinary, designed to destroy dark creatures. Even fire dragons perished to powerful blasts. She could absorb minimal fire energy, ineffective past 500-600°C.
Yet, she absorbed energy beyond her limit, her body healing. She didn't understand why the holy fire seemed to empower her. Eight centuries of magic and combat experience offered no explanation.
A white-clad woman with a cross appeared in the flames.
Jeanne d'Arc?
"Sophia Dominatrix, you are innocent. I protect you in this fire."
Your soul resides in Goulens' execution flames?
Holy fire energy poured into Sophia, restoring her charred body.
Clerics were stunned. Most dark creatures, unless fire-born dragons, burned to ash. Sophia's suppressed regeneration, lower than a lesser vampire's, shouldn't allow this. Only the holy fire protecting her explained it.
Archbishop Mopp, from Provence in Goulens' south, emerged. Visiting Paris for a religious conference with Champagne's Alan Castet and Paris' Pierre, he'd planned to leave after burning the vampire. Now, the fire empowered her?
Isaac, seeing Sophia's agony despite her survival, grew frantic. She was suffering—he had to save her!As he moved, a hand stopped him. D'Artagnan.
"She can help us tomorrow," D'Artagnan said.
"Tomorrow?"
D'Artagnan glanced at the suffering Sophia. "She seems fine."
"Yes."
"Keep training. Half that potion left?"
"Yes."
Isaac reluctantly eyed Sophia. "What if they lock her up tomorrow?"
"If fire fails, they'll try another method. We'll have a chance."
"Okay, let's go." Isaac, hesitant, left with D'Artagnan.
On the pyre, Sophia endured. Her hair, burned and filth-covered, was restored by Jeanne d'Arc, cleaner than before.
"The Lord has plans for you, Impaler of Silandria," Jeanne said, embracing her. Sophia, in pain, gave a grateful look.
The crowd saw no saint in the flames.
On a distant rooftop, a gray-cloaked, hooded knight watched, pulling a badge from his cloak, glancing at it—a relic of his past. He looked toward the palace, his patrol of the city's dark threats done, returning to his charge.
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Ding Yangchun's Dungeon
"Bebe and Little Jia, so obedient, silent as told."
Ding Yangchun rode Jane's waist. Jane was happy—being ridden freed her knees and elbows. Her forearms and calves, now unbound, supported his weight on the floor.
Jane carried him over a glass skylight above a Zhendan-style sauna.
Below, scalding water vapor filled the wooden room.
Two naked women, Anna and Chanel, lay bound, arms in Japanese style, three plugs each. Ding Yangchun's fluid, shot into Anna's canal, remained sealed.
Their torsos were turtle-tied, breasts bound tightly, forming a hexagonal turtle pattern between them. Crotch ropes with large knots ensured pleasure even without plugs. Anna's electrified nipple clamps, from her crossbows, caused pain and milk sprays with movement.
Their thighs and folded calves were bound, forcing them to kneel or lie prone. Lying was less humiliating and more comfortable, so they chose it.
Never bound naked by a man (Anna ignored Isaac), this shameful pose overwhelmed them. Vibrating plugs blurred their minds, making them enjoy it.
Their mouths weren't gagged, but they dared not speak.
Why? Ding Yangchun's plugs, remotely electrified, shocked all six plugs if either spoke, punishing both.He watched through the skylight, shocking them if they tried talking. After a dozen shocks, they gave up.
No gag, yet silenced—Ding Yangchun's cruelty.
The sauna's heat made them sweat, water-absorbing ropes tightening, increasing pain, especially at the knotted plugs, blurring their vision.
Heat, pain, and pleasure were unbearable. Bound, they writhed like worms, ropes amplifying stimulation.Ding Yangchun, satisfied, calculated it was Bebe's drinking time.
Anna, dehydrated, rolled toward a wall's small hole. Bound legs forced rolling, each move tightening ropes, her eyes growing lustful. Thirst overwhelmed her—she didn't want to die dehydrated, clinging to hope of Isaac's rescue.
Reaching the hole, Chanel rolled to another, biting a 25 cm phallus modeled on Ding Yangchun, soaked in his urine for days. Its taste filled her mouth.
Her bite activated Anna's hole, revealing another urine-soaked phallus, softer.
Anna bit it, desperate for water, but none came.
Ding Yangchun had explained: the phallus mimicked a human's, requiring tongue and lip service to release water.
Desperate, Anna pistoned her head, licking the phallus's foul taste. Water, mixed with Ding Yangchun's fluids, trickled out. She worked harder, drinking deeply.
After Anna drank, Chanel, parched, took her place. Anna bit the trigger phallus, keeping the water phallus extended. Chanel serviced it, drinking the tainted water, rehydrating.
"Only fifty minutes in, seventy more to go," Ding Yangchun said, amused, using minimal-harm ties for longevity.
"Enjoy the next seventy minutes, Bebe and Little Jia."
He dismounted Jane, patting her head.
Below, two despairing worms writhed.