Trigger warnings: Non-consent, abduction, public humiliation, death, blood and blood drinking (I mean...they're vampires), degradation, and sexual harassment (including not between MCs)

Note: This story, including all names and people, is entirely fictional and not based on any real life experiences or events.

If you like this story and want to read more, you can find a list of all my stories here!💜 You can also find a list of the parts of this story whenever they are published.🥰

---

Hours later, when I finally make it back to Sebastian’s room, a servant is waiting with a gown draped across the bed.

“There you are,” she greets, approaching me with a warm smile.

“I was just outside,” I explain, frowning. There’s not exactly anywhere to hide in here since I’m only restricted to one floor.

She nods. “I know. His Majesty ordered us to leave you be until you came back – or until it was time to get you ready. Whichever came first.”

Oh…kay?

I don’t say anything to that, and an awkward silence descends between us as I look at the servant. She’s dressed in a practical set of brown pants and a white blouse, looking far more comfortable than I expected most servants to be in here. She’s a little shorter than I am, but her chestnut hair extends to her waist, currently tied back in a half-up, half-down style with a pretty hairclip. Her eyes are red – so she’s a vampire – but they look strangely softer than most other eyes in the castle.

Actually, everything about her looks soft and approachable. Even her accent puts me at ease, but honestly, I’m confused why she’s treating me like I’m a person.

“I’m Elana,” she says, finally breaking the silence, and I take her hand. I’m about to introduce myself, but she interrupts. “I know who you are, Anastasia, don’t worry. And I know all this” – she tosses up a hand as though to say, this castle and its king – “is a lot for you to handle, but I hope I can make you a bit more comfortable here.”

“Thank you,” I whisper honestly, a little startled by her frank kindness.

She makes a hand motion that tells me she thinks it’s no big deal. “Shall we get started, then?”

---

It takes a good hour, but Elana eventually manages to get me ready.

The dress is black as night, the bodice tight and hugging my curves in a scandalous way. It’s shimmery and flowy, the long skirt pooling around my feet in a way I wish I could say wasn’t flattering, especially the long slit showing off my leg all the way up to my hip. My breasts swell in the bodice, and the shoulder straps leave my arms exposed, showing Sebastian’s brand, but strangely enough, it compliments the outfit, even if it makes me want to cry.

My makeup is impeccably done, and my hair is tied up into an elegant knot at the back of my head, a few strands of it framing my face. Finally, Elana slips a pair of silver heels onto my feet, matching my hair so well I briefly wonder if these shoes were custom made, especially when they fit so well on my feet.

As Elana and I examine me in the mirror, there’s a soft knock on the door. We both turn to look as Sebastian enters, and my breath catches at the sight of him.

His outfit is entirely black, but it’s as formal as mine, and honestly, it kind of…matches mine? It’s not shimmery or as over the top as mine, but it compliments my gown in such an odd way. His hair is swept to the side, and he looks striking as he waits in the doorway. “Is she ready?” he asks Elana.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she replies, curtsying.

Sebastian nods. “Thank you, Elana. You may go.”

She nods, leaving through one of the side entrances that I assume eventually leads to a servant’s entrance. And now it’s just me and him in the room.

“You look beautiful, princess,” he says, eyes roaming up and down the length of my body. I awkwardly shuffle on my feet, not really wanting to thank him for anything. The conversation with Derrick earlier today also makes me pause, because, well, I don’t know how to deal with the man who’s apparently single handedly responsible for keeping me alive.

He begins walking up to me, and my pulse quickens with fear. I plant my feet, though, not wanting to back away from him. But when he comes within inches of me, he grips the back of my neck with his hand, squeezing and making me gasp. “It’s impolite to not say, ‘Thank you’, Anastasia.”

“Thank you,” I hurriedly push out, and he finally lets go.

He smiles softly, hands on my waist and eyes continuously darting down to my lips like he wants nothing more than to kiss me right now.

Instead, he pulls away, placing a hand on my lower back and pushing me out the door. “Derrick told me he had a talk with you,” he says suddenly as we walk down the hall and to a set of stairs.

I nod. “He did.” I don’t know how much I can reveal about our conversation. For some reason, I feel guilty about revealing what we talked about, like I’m betraying Derrick.

I lift my skirt as we begin walking up the stairs. “Everything he said was true,” Sebastian continues. “Keep close to me tonight, okay?”

I swallow, nodding. Being told that everything was true, presumably including how he originally wanted to kill me, is enough to make me lose my footing. He catches me, gripping my arm as he leads me to the landing of the upper floor.

This floor looks much smaller, and I hurriedly take in every detail, knowing I won’t be let up here without permission. There are only two rooms in the short hall, and a small balcony at the end of it. The sky is dark, but even though the door is wide open, it’s still warm in here.

Sebastian leads me to one of the doors, stopping outside. I hear laughter inside, and I hate the feeling of intruding on what must be such an intimate circle of friends. They respect their king of course, but that respect clearly does not automatically extend to me.

Which is why when he opens the door and leads me inside, it doesn’t surprise me when the laughter dies down instantly.

There are maybe ten people in here, all surrounding an oval dining table. There’s food in the middle of it, and each person has already had a few sips of wine (gods, I hope that’s wine). Everyone is looking directly at me, and I really, really wish I could sink into the floor.

I spot Derrick and Morgan, each sitting on either side of the chair at the head of the table. Seeing her again just makes me think of Simon, but I try my hardest to push those thoughts away. Both she and Derrick are dressed as impeccably as their king, as are the rest of the people in the room.

It's a small room, much like the private living room of my mother back home. It’s sparsely decorated, though it has open windows, torches, and lanterns strewn about the walls, lighting the space in a soft orange glow. It makes the room feel warm and welcoming, but I don’t feel that way at all inside.

Like I said, this feels like a group of close friends. And I’m here, not even a vampire, intruding and expecting them to welcome me with open arms.

Sebastian finally begins leading me towards the head of the table, but it’s only now that I notice there’s only one available chair. I only realise why when he sits down and pulls me into his lap, because of course he would do that.

Derrick and Morgan barely frown at Sebastian’s display, but I notice several other members of the group show visible disdain on their faces. “Good evening, Your Majesty,” one of them says, nodding and tipping his glass.

“Good evening, Owen,” Sebastian replies.

So this is the man Derrick warned me about, and I completely understand why.

First of all, I recognise his voice from the kidnapping. He was there when they took me. But more importantly, he just looks sinister.

He’s dressed in a deep red tunic and waistcoat, matching his terrifying eyes. He looks middle aged, though I know vampires age differently, and his short brown hair is neatly styled, swept back from his hairline.

When he catches me staring, he curls his lip with disgust, but he quickly masks it before Sebastian can catch the motion.

“We have many reasons to celebrate, my friends,” Sebastian says, picking up his glass. “Not least of all the successful capture of the princess–“

A young woman cuts him off. “What of Lord Solomon, Sebastian?” Her curt tone doesn’t go unnoticed among the others. Derrick narrows his eyes.

“What of him, Caroline?” Sebastian asks, sounding frustrated.

“His death has left a vacuum in the southern provinces. You know his son is not ready to rule over his former lands. We need to find a solution before someone seizes his land or before the humans decide to take this opportunity to invade.” She throws a pointed look to me, as though to say, and she’s one of them!

“Calm yourself, Caroline,” Derrick pleads. “Solomon wasn’t fit to rule either. His time was coming sooner or later.”

Morgan chuckles, looking into her wineglass with an amused smile. “And he was just a cocksucker all around.”

Caroline narrows her eyes in frustration. “Be that as it may, it changes nothing about the vacuum he’s left behind. Who do we plan to fill it, hm?”

“Are you trying to suggest yourself?” Sebastian suddenly juts in, shrugging. “His son is perfectly capable of ruling. I’ve met with him several times. He knows what he’s doing.”

As he’s speaking, his hand trails down to the slit of my skirt, grabbing my naked skin with his hand. I smother a gasp.

“Certainly not, Your Majesty. But with all due respect, his son is barely old enough to fly, let alone rule. The humans would invade before he can even make it there.”

To my ears, her points make sense. I mean, I wouldn’t want to put a young man with barely any experience in charge of a province, but Sebastian is clearly of another mind.

“Then we better send him as soon as possible,” he says, concluding the matter. “Let’s eat.”

Servants bring in plates, but they’re quickly dismissed. As everyone starts to dig in, I think back on what Derrick said and the conversation that just passed.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that this was much deeper than simply who would take up the dead lord’s place. I doubt anyone would’ve interrupted Sebastian to talk about such matters if it wasn’t for how Solomon died.

He died because Sebastian was defending me, and they don’t like that. The question under discussion wasn’t, “Who’s going to replace Solomon?” The real question was, “How are you going to fix this mess you caused for the sake of your human pet?”

I suspect a lot of their conversations go like that, where the real matter being discussed is obfuscated with polite conversation about ordinary matters.

My thoughts are interrupted when suddenly, Sebastian places a piece of meat against my lips. I eye him, and he gently nods, indicating for me to open my mouth. A little horrified, I comply, letting him feed me.

I feel eyes on me, but I don’t dare look back. This is humiliating and degrading, and I don’t need their judgemental looks to remind me of that fact. If they’re upset that this is happening, they should be upset with their king. Not me.

Other than that, though, conversation flows. I obviously can’t take part, but just listening to them is like a look into another world I’ve never seen before. The way the king so casually jokes with his subordinates in a way my mother never would, or the way he doesn’t correct them when they speak to him without using his title or the way his fingers creep closer to beneath my skirt.

I stir, sending him a pleading look to not touch me there in front of these people, but he just smirks at me. Everyone is finished eating, including me, but now, they’re too busy drinking and telling tales to pay attention to what Sebastian is doing to me.

His fingers trail closer, rubbing me above my underwear as he leans closer to my ear, whispering, “Did you know your scent smells of me?”

I shake my head. He’d said something like that earlier, but I was too delirious to pay attention.

“They can all smell it. That you’re mine.”

His hot breath against my ear makes me shiver, and I lean closer to him on pure instinct before I can stop myself.

“Your Majesty,” someone suddenly says, and I barely manage to recognise the voice as Owen.

“Yes?” Sebastian says, fingers trailing underneath my flimsy underwear. I gasp, unable to stop myself from clinging closer to him. I try to cross my legs to hide what’s happening, but he merely pushes my leg off. I have to smother a groan.

I look over at the group, and most everyone is looking like nothing is happening. Not even that they’re trying to ignore what Sebastian is doing, but that it literally doesn’t even faze them, that I’m that insignificant to them it’s just as if he was idly fiddling with his mug.

But not Owen. His eyes are alight with frustration as he looks at where Sebastian’s hand is.

“We have discussed this many times already, I’m aware, but when is she going to die?”

I startle. When am I going to die? Who discusses the death of someone while they’re in the room?

Then again, I’m worthless to him. Of course it doesn’t matter that I’m present for this conversation.

There’s an awkward tension in the air until Sebastian replies. “I thought I made it clear last night that I’m keeping her.”

“She’s one of them, Your Majesty. You think they won’t come after her? Start a war for her? Better to kill her now and send them her head as a warning. If she’s still alive then we risk them coming for her. If she’s dead then she’s not our problem anymore.”

“Owen, for fuck sakes,” Morgan groans. “You really think the queen will come for her after she sent her away to marry the crown prince without a second thought? She clearly doesn’t give a shit about her daughter.”

Okay, then.

Owen turns to face her, just as Sebastian sticks two fingers inside me. “Yes, she will. You know how vain and vapid humans are? Her little girl was kidnapped, Morgan. Appearances are everything to the humans, of course she’d send thousands of men to die to get her back.”

I’d like to think she’d get me back for my sake, but I can barely think at all with the way Sebastian’s thumb presses against my clit. I feel him harden beneath me, and for a moment, I’m scared he’ll just take me right here.

“Even so, you know we can defeat them. What are you so concerned about?” Derrick points out.

Owen’s quiet for a while, clearly having something he wants to say but thinking better of voicing it. Again, there seems to be a deeper conversation happening, but this time, I can’t tell what they’re really talking about beneath the surface.

“She was supposed to die,” he insists instead, but Sebastian snaps.

“She is not yours to decide the fate of. She belongs to me and so I will decide what happens to her.” Even I grow fearful of him in this moment as he speaks. “If you have a problem with that, Owen, then I suggest you leave.”

After a tense silence, Owen decides to do as he’s told. He wipes his mouth, excuses himself, and leaves, leaving behind a tense atmosphere.

Sebastian’s fingers withdraw, and I take a deep breath at the loss of contact. Most people find an excuse to finish their drinks and be elsewhere, leaving just me, Sebastian, Morgan, and Derrick.

“He’s not the only one of that opinion,” Derrick says grimly.

“I know. But it doesn’t matter. Their opinions are suggestions, but like I told Owen, she’s not theirs.”

Shivers run up my spine at the way they’re still talking about me like I’m not here, like I’m some precious pet or possession of Sebastian’s.

His arm is still wrapped around my waist, and he holds me closer as he says, “We’re going back to my room for the night. If you catch Owen, see if you can pick his brain. I don’t like this path he’s walking down.”

With that, he stands, dragging me outside with a lot more questions on my mind.

---

He’s on me as soon as we make it through the door.

“No,” I whimper as he slams me against the wall, kissing me and tearing off his jacket. “Please.”

He groans, licking my lips. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good, Anastasia.” The comment makes me pale, like a stark reminder of what else he licked last night.

Tossing off his jacket, he kisses me again, placing his hands on my waist to keep me still. I try to fight him, but it’s pointless and a waste of energy, yet I can’t seem to stop myself.

After a minute, he pauses, leaning his forehead against mine and breathing heavily, engulfing me in his scent. “You’re going to be a good girl and get on your knees for your king,” he orders, and my stomach drops.

I shake my head. “No, please. I can’t.” I know what he wants from me when I’m on my knees. I’ve never done it before, but I’ve heard enough about it that the thought of it makes dread crash over me in waves.

He nods, unrelenting. “You will, princess. You know I have no qualms about forcing you.”

His warning makes my legs shake, but I still manage one last whispered, “Please.”

“Shh.” He grips my shoulders, pushing me until I can do nothing but bend my legs and drop to the floor. “There you go, Anastasia. Good girl.”

He gently pets me as a tear rolls down my cheek. He’s so gentle, even while he pulls his length out in front of my face. The fear is immense, and I feel so degraded, dressed in such a gorgeous dress yet on my knees and being forced to take him into my mouth.

And I have to. I wish more than anything that I could simply purse my lips and shake my head and he’d leave me alone, but of course he won’t.

Instead, he slowly guides his tip, beaded with moisture, towards my lips, and I’m forced to open for him.

He groans as he pushes inside. He’s thick, so my jaw immediately aches. His smooth skin feels strange against my tongue, tasting a little salty and like him in a way that’s difficult to describe. He doesn’t stop pushing until I feel him in my throat, making me gag and sputter around him. I expect him to be kind and pull back so I can breathe properly, but he doesn’t. He just stays inside, forcing me to take him.

When he finally pulls back – just an inch – I take a heaving breath, eyes watering from my struggle. With great effort, I manage to look up at him, hoping he’ll show some mercy on me, but he just gives me an impish grin.

I get no warning before he repeats the process, placing his hands on the back of my head to hold me down while I desperately try to breathe without gagging. He moans at my struggle, clearly getting off on my pain, and I’d narrow my eyes on him if I could.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans. “You look so fucking beautiful suffering on your knees for me.”

The comment would’ve made me cry if I wasn’t already crying.

He slowly pulls out a few inches again, then goes back in, slowly thrusting in and out of my mouth. My jaw aches, and tears streak my cheeks as he forces me to take him. His pace increases, his grip on the back of my head tightens, his breathing quickens.

He moans a curse as he plunges all the way into my mouth, releasing bitter liquid into my throat. I sputter and choke, desperately wanting him to pull out so I can spit it out, but he stays.

“You’re going to fucking swallow that, girl,” he commands, and I realise I have no choice.

The taste makes me cringe, especially as it runs down my throat, but I do as I’m told. Only then does he pull out, dragging me up by my arm.

I stand on shaky legs, looking away in shame, but Sebastian forces me to look at him with a hand at my chin. “Come to bed with me, Anastasia.”

The way he says it like he’s speaking to a lover instead of his slave gives me pause, but I obey, letting him strip me and place me in bed without a fight.

It’s scary how quickly I’ve given in, honestly, but what else can I do? It’s not like he’s kind enough to give me any other choice. I need to get out of here, otherwise I’ll probably end up dead, but I haven’t gotten the chance to yet.

I hate this so much, the way his arms feel wrapped around me and the way I can do nothing but accept his comforting touches as we go to sleep.

But I can do nothing but bide my time until an opportunity presents itself. I just have to make sure I stay alive until then.

---

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