She led me off the stage, behind the red curtain, and I knew my life would never be the same. From that moment on, she had complete control of me. She told me to obey, and I did. She told me to walk, and my feet moved on their own. She told me when to stop, where to stand, and what to feel. The compulsion she had over me was absolute.
At some point she told me to forget, and I forgot what little I had seen since the auction. So I had no idea how I got from that naked cage to her castle. A veil was thrown over my memory and so I cannot tell you how I came to be sat in a tub with two beautiful women.
One of the women was short, with long straight brown hair. She had a simple, wholesome smile on her face as she dunked a sponge in the water. Then she lifted it out and began scrubbing my chest in circles. The other woman was a full-bodied brunette, with mocha skin, already maneuvering a sponge in-hand, lifting my arms one at a time to soap my pits.
When I woke up in the giant marble bath house, I reflexively tried to pull away, to shout, to make a run for it, but I found I still had no possession over my body. Whatever happened, I would be at their mercy.
Fortunately, they didn't seem to mean me any harm. Their eyes were far away and vacant as they slowly sponged each of my limbs, careful to leave no trace of filth. First my chest and arms. Then they moved onto my legs, sliding their way up my calf, to my thigh, and then my groin. Thankfully, they were careful in that area.
The experience was an odd one. On the one hand, deeply pleasurable. Under normal circumstances, I'd think I was in a fantastic dream. I had never been in a tub with two women so beautiful, and part of me felt lucky. But on the other hand, my position was deeply disturbing. I did not know how I'd gotten here, and I could not leave. I was powerless.
These two women could do as they like, and they positioned my limbs this way and that like I was little more than a living doll until a man entered the bathhouse.
"Anima." He said, and I saw a spark of life enter the women's eyes. It was then that I realized that they were like me, under a compulsion. When the man spoke, he returned some semblance of freedom to his living slaves. The women themselves didn't have much of a reaction. They appeared to be used to this, to being activated and deactivated on command.
The man was clearly in charge here, and I found it disgusting that one person should have so much power. He exuded a power as deep as his dark eyes were constant. His features were slight and delicate. He wore a dark bun in his long hair that flowed down around his face to his shoulders. He looked to be of persian descent with old-world eastern attire to match. He was absolutely gorgeous. Even as a straight man, I couldn't deny that.
But despite his attractiveness, there was something about him that was completely repulsive. Maybe I just felt threatened by him, or maybe it was something else…
The man took a seat at the edge of the bathtub and reached down to cup a handful of soapy water. He drizzled the water along the shoulders of the mocha skinned woman.
"How are we today, ladies?" He asked.
Neither of them said a word.
"You may speak." He said, and the mocha-skinned woman opened her mouth to say something, but she was silenced, "Not you!" He shouted abruptly. "Just you…" He looked at the brunette. "Tara, what do you make of our newest acquisition?"
She shrugged.
"Tell me truthfully," The man said, and I could see something change in Tara's eyes when he asked again, "what do you make of him?"
"He's handsome." Tara replied.
"No, I mean, why do you think he's worth so much to Lady Sarafia?"
"Because he's so handsome."
"It can't be that."
"Why not?"
"I'm handsome, and she didn't pay that much for me."
"Maybe she doesn't think you're as handsome as he is."
The man's hand shot out. Gripping Tara by the jaw. She tried to look away but he forced her to meet his dark, cold stare, which clearly terrified her.
"It's not that. The lady can have any man she wants. So what is it about him?"
"I don't know, Ahmad," Tara cowered, "- she must want him for something special."
"Like what?"
"Maybe she wants him to be her new vicar?"
He, who was named Ahmad, released her, laughing at the absurdity of her suggestion. "Don't be ridiculous. Everybody knows that I'm going to be the lady's next vicar! You know that too, don't you?"
Ahmad looked at the mocha-skinned woman and repeated his question as a command,
"Don't you…" The mocha skinned woman nodded obediently, which satisfied him.
I could tell this man was used to getting what he wanted. Ahmad enjoyed the power of his position. And even though he could make these woman do and say what he wanted, he could not help but torture himself with their truth, asking more questions staring straight at me while they answered.
"Do you both want to sleep with him?"
"Yes." The women answered in unison.
"Do you both think he's more attractive than me?"
"Yes." They both answered without hesitation.
Ahmad's face showed no reaction to their answers. But as I stared into his eyes, and he into mine, I knew his vanity could not accept their answers. I knew I had made an enemy..
"I see." He said. His tone was calm and his voice was even. He had a calculated, cold anger. What was terrifying is that he seemed to be in possession of it. I sensed that now I was in danger as he continued his questions, but this time directed toward me.
"What do you think of all this?"
I wasn't sure how to reply. I had no idea what to say. I wasn't sure I could say anything. I had already become so accustomed to my passive state, unable to act on any volition of my own, that it was hard to recognize that any of this was actually happening to me.
"I am talking to you." He said, "Speak."
I struggled to form words for the first time in a long time. But after a few tongue fumbling false starts, I managed to reply.
"I'm Ambrosius," I said, startled at the name because I did not recognize it. They must have given me a new one at some point while under compulsion.
"I didn't ask your name. I asked what do you think of all this? Do you think you're more handsome than me?"
"No," I said.
"Tell the truth." He ordered.
"No, I don't think I'm more attractive than you." I replied again, truthfully.
"Do you think you're more fit to be the next vicar than me?"
"I don't know what that means."
"Of course you don't." He smiled, without showing his teeth. "Let me explain something to you," he began, "the vampire's vicar is a human familiar. An indispensable member of the house. Unlike other familiars, which are completely disposable..."
Ahmad then pulled out a knife, pushed Tara's head to the side, exposing her neck, and cut her throat. Her blood drained into the tub as her body fell limp. The pool turned red. I looked back at Ahmad in horror. His face didn't change at all while he continued speaking.
"The Vicar has a special bond with his master. While she may permit many of her familiars to drink her blood, there is only one that the master will deem worthy to drink from- The Vicar."
Ahmad drew his knife again, this time to my throat.
"That's me. I'm going to be Lady Sarafia's Vicar. Not you- understand?"
His blade was sharp, and it's pointed edge dug into my Adam's apple. I nodded in agreement. Not out of compulsion, but pure fear.
My compliance pleased Ahmad, "Good, keep that in mind." He put his knife away. Then he stood to take his leave, walking out of the room, leaving me in the tub with one petrified woman, and one dead body, floating facedown in a red pool.
He stopped at a set of large double doors before exiting to deliver my final instructions.
"Finish your bath. The master wants to meet you."