INo idea if other people have posted stories like this one. This just
came out of my brain when I found the DK category!/I
It is a very important job, torturing captives for information, and sometimes converting them. I barely remember my time before Mistress school. I only attended because I thought the life of a Mistress seemed fun and exciting. I was wrong, of course. It is messy, back-breaking work. But I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Just before graduation, I was given my standard-issue uniform. Oh, how I'd anticipated this day; the shiny black boots, the revealing black outfit, elbow-length black leather gloves, and the black headpiece that held my blood-red hair out of the way of the implements of the job. The graduation ceremony itself was surprisingly low-key. The graduates all gathered in the school assembly hall, dressed in our new uniforms. We were given our Mistress licenses, and then had quite a party. It was a bittersweet occasion, since most of us would go our separate ways, but we made the most of it by eating, drinking, and dancing with the boys from the nearby Rogue Academy (a great bunch of guys, by the way. Just keep an eye on your wallet).
After graduation, I floated between several dungeons, working for keepers who were not particularly adept at minion management. I once worked for a keeper who had me lair next to a bile demon! There is no smell on or under the earth as foul as a bile demon, trust me on this. This keeper had no other lair space, so I left soon afterwards. Mistresses are in demand, and we don't need to put up with poor work conditions! All we need is a nice lair, plenty of chickens, and some violence, and we're happy.
I came to be under the employ of my current Keeper about a year ago. I was between jobs when I noticed an intriguing notice posted on the Mistress Job Board: "Established dungeon seeks experienced Mistresses for newly-constructed torture chamber. Will pay room and board plus a generous pay package. We are a equal opportunity employer where management truly cares about minion happiness. We cannot defeat the forces of Good without you!" I took the address, packed my uniform, and took the nearest portal. And so far, this has been my longest, and happiest, job.
I've tormented many a goodly hero in my time. The most memorable was a plump white-winged fairy who was locked in place in the electric chair. I wielded my whip without mercy, striking her precisely on the top of her pure blond head, watching the blood drip down her head and torso. Pathetic heroes, so high and mighty, so proper, and yet they are so quick to confess their secrets to me, eventually. Many choose to fight on the side of darkness rather that waste away in the prison. We keep a close eye on these new "recruits" of course. Common sense dictates they will be more likely to turn traitor again, and run to their heroic comrades at the first opportunity. But, fearing my Keepers wrath, they rarely do.
It may be on the dysfunctional side, but I do have a measure of love for my Keeper. Perhaps not love so much as respect. His mentality is so often similar to my own, though his mind is greater than I, a mere minion, could ever comprehend. My Keeper is, simply, wonderfully, beautifully, impressively cruel. He enjoys taking prisoners to the combat pit, where they serve as cannon fodder for whichever dungeon denizens need some fighting practice. The Keeper, of course, uses his dark magical powers to ensure that the prisoner loses miserably. His unconscious body is taken back to the prison, and once the prisoner has recovered enough to walk, my Keeper immediately sends him to the combat pit again. Or, if my Keeper is in a particularly cruel mood, he sends the prisoner to enjoy my services.
The other Mistresses and I get along well, though none of them love the Keeper the way I do. But we all went through the same training, and we've all been trained the same way, so we often practice our art on each other, particularly during periods when the Keeper has few captives.
In fact, the best day of my life started out with me beating another Mistress. She moaned in pain, but it was a good pain. Suddenly, my body was stuck by an unseen hand. Pain burned through my face as blood spattered on the cold stone walls. I flew several feet through the air and then fell to the ground, bleeding and laughing, my head swimming from the blow. Such an honor: the Dungeon Keeper noticed me!
It is a very important job, torturing captives for information, and sometimes converting them. I barely remember my time before Mistress school. I only attended because I thought the life of a Mistress seemed fun and exciting. I was wrong, of course. It is messy, back-breaking work. But I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Just before graduation, I was given my standard-issue uniform. Oh, how I'd anticipated this day; the shiny black boots, the revealing black outfit, elbow-length black leather gloves, and the black headpiece that held my blood-red hair out of the way of the implements of the job. The graduation ceremony itself was surprisingly low-key. The graduates all gathered in the school assembly hall, dressed in our new uniforms. We were given our Mistress licenses, and then had quite a party. It was a bittersweet occasion, since most of us would go our separate ways, but we made the most of it by eating, drinking, and dancing with the boys from the nearby Rogue Academy (a great bunch of guys, by the way. Just keep an eye on your wallet).
After graduation, I floated between several dungeons, working for keepers who were not particularly adept at minion management. I once worked for a keeper who had me lair next to a bile demon! There is no smell on or under the earth as foul as a bile demon, trust me on this. This keeper had no other lair space, so I left soon afterwards. Mistresses are in demand, and we don't need to put up with poor work conditions! All we need is a nice lair, plenty of chickens, and some violence, and we're happy.
I came to be under the employ of my current Keeper about a year ago. I was between jobs when I noticed an intriguing notice posted on the Mistress Job Board: "Established dungeon seeks experienced Mistresses for newly-constructed torture chamber. Will pay room and board plus a generous pay package. We are a equal opportunity employer where management truly cares about minion happiness. We cannot defeat the forces of Good without you!" I took the address, packed my uniform, and took the nearest portal. And so far, this has been my longest, and happiest, job.
I've tormented many a goodly hero in my time. The most memorable was a plump white-winged fairy who was locked in place in the electric chair. I wielded my whip without mercy, striking her precisely on the top of her pure blond head, watching the blood drip down her head and torso. Pathetic heroes, so high and mighty, so proper, and yet they are so quick to confess their secrets to me, eventually. Many choose to fight on the side of darkness rather that waste away in the prison. We keep a close eye on these new "recruits" of course. Common sense dictates they will be more likely to turn traitor again, and run to their heroic comrades at the first opportunity. But, fearing my Keepers wrath, they rarely do.
It may be on the dysfunctional side, but I do have a measure of love for my Keeper. Perhaps not love so much as respect. His mentality is so often similar to my own, though his mind is greater than I, a mere minion, could ever comprehend. My Keeper is, simply, wonderfully, beautifully, impressively cruel. He enjoys taking prisoners to the combat pit, where they serve as cannon fodder for whichever dungeon denizens need some fighting practice. The Keeper, of course, uses his dark magical powers to ensure that the prisoner loses miserably. His unconscious body is taken back to the prison, and once the prisoner has recovered enough to walk, my Keeper immediately sends him to the combat pit again. Or, if my Keeper is in a particularly cruel mood, he sends the prisoner to enjoy my services.
The other Mistresses and I get along well, though none of them love the Keeper the way I do. But we all went through the same training, and we've all been trained the same way, so we often practice our art on each other, particularly during periods when the Keeper has few captives.
In fact, the best day of my life started out with me beating another Mistress. She moaned in pain, but it was a good pain. Suddenly, my body was stuck by an unseen hand. Pain burned through my face as blood spattered on the cold stone walls. I flew several feet through the air and then fell to the ground, bleeding and laughing, my head swimming from the blow. Such an honor: the Dungeon Keeper noticed me!