The Grenier Ascension-6a (Criss,Niella,Vicky,Lexi)

Criss was alone now; Denise and Wendy had both woken up, slipping out of her sight between blinks.  But with her own real body drugged, she was trapped here until someone could help her; Wendy had said she had friends coming, but it was a hard memory to hold on to in the castle's oppressive air.  Around her, the stone walls of the entrance hall seemed poised to reach in toward her and bury her.  Criss turned toward the forewall, where the outside door should have been; in its place were a pair of faded tapestries, one depicting a hunting scene, the other a battle Criss couldn't identify.  She could tell there was only the wall behind them, but she couldn't help looking anyway, in case a way out was hidden behind them; the huge expanses of cloth were heavy, almost more than she could move, and of course there was nothing.

"You admire my decorations."
Criss had to swallow a small scream as the Count's voice sounded directly behind her.  "No," she said, letting the tapestry fall back into place.
The Count placed his hand on her shoulder, inexorably turning her to face him.  "Then were you looking for a way out?" he said.  "You know there is none, except as my Bride."
"Never."
"No?" he asked.  "You were awaiting it eagerly mere hours ago."
"That's before I found out-"

"Found out what?" he interrupted.  "That I make use of what is mine?"
"You're torturing those other girls.  You're... feeding on Denise.  You were in my head, twisting my mind.  None of us are yours."
"All of you are mine," he answered.  "Denise gave herself to be when she read the book of my life, as you did.  Those others, in the cellars below, they have their purpose but that need not concern you.  And I am still in your mind."  His grip on her shoulder tightened, holding her in place as his other hand rose to brush her cheek.
Criss twisted her head away from his touch.  "You can't have me," she said.
"How will you prevent it?" he asked.  "We are alone here, in a place built from the stuff of my soul and my power.  I am your world now."

Alone... Had the Count been waiting for Wendy and Denise to leave, so Criss would be alone;?  And if he had, did that mean he had heard what Wendy had said?  Did he know her friends were coming to the Greens' estate?
"Why do you even want me?" she asked, trying to stall him long enough to think.  "What am I to you?"
"You mean why are you different from the others I have fed upon down the years?"
"That's not what I-"
"Because you are pure.  Unspoiled.  A fitting reward for my efforts."
Criss grimaced at his words.  "I said you can't have me."

Instead of replying immediately, the Count shifted suddenly, sweeping Criss's body up into his arms; only as he turned, carrying her toward the stairway, did he speak again.  "Do not be too quick to refuse me, precious one.  "When I live again as one of the Princes, the life you have known will be as nothing beside what I can offer you."
Criss twisted, trying to free herself, but his hold on her was too strong... and if he was feeling talkative, maybe she could convince him she was starting to acquiesce.  Forcing her body to relax, she resigned herself to being taken wherever he was taking her.  "What do you offer me?" she asked.  "What is a Prince?"
"The Princes are the secret gods of this world," he answered.  "My power shall extend over life and death, the souls and fortunes of those who serve me.  To be the consort of such a one is to live as a queen, forever.  My progeny, who are now your captors, will be your servants."

The Count had reached the ballroom; though this time it was empty of both guests and decoration, and the echo of his footfalls gave it the air of a cavern.  He set Criss on her feet in the centre of the room and stepped back from her; he kept a light hold of her hand as he did so, drawing her arm out from her body.  "Now," he said, "let us dance, as we did on our first night togther,"  Before Criss could speak he gave her hand a sharp tug; as she was pulled toward him, she instinctively set her body into a whirl.  And then they were retracing the steps of their dance from that night.

As they did so, she could feel the stength of his will crushing against her, trying to renew the control he'd had over her.  She wanted to scream and tear herself away from him... but he was right; there was no way out of the castle on her own.  And that meant the only way she had to fight him was to make him think he was enthralling her once more.  But what if he was?  Around her Criss began to catch glimpses of the ballroom restoring itself to the grandeur of that night, and the indistinct figures of the other guests watching them.  With every step and whirl and lift she could feel the Count's hold tightening on her soul, just as his hands held and led her body... but this wasn't her body, it was just dreamstuff; her real body was in the real world, and Criss just had to hold on long enough for Wendy's friends to reach it.

   ****

Niella was first conscious of pain shooting back and forth between her wrists and shoulders.  Her arms were twisted and crossed above her, shackles holding them in place... the metal biting into her wrists and the wrenching of her shoulder joints was almost too much to register at once; it was as if they were taking turns to hurt her.  Gradually she became aware that the chains were holding her suspended above the floor; her dangling legs were tied together at the knees and ankles.
Was this what Lexi and Vicky suffered every time they slept?
The thought of her two patients brought them into view.  Vicky was in front of her, bent forward over a wooden beam, her wrists bound to her ankles; Lexi was on her feet, though slumped in exhaustion, chained between two pillars.  And behind each of them, running his hands over them... was that...
But then he was in front of Niella too, his black clothing exuding power against her nakedness, his eyes stripping away any sense of humanity from either of them.  "Ah..." he said softly.  "Has my errant descendant finally sent me another offering?"
"I don't understand," Niella said in a whimpering tone; not that it took a lot of acting to seem afraid.  "Who are you?  What's happening?"

The sharp corners of the wooden beam cut into Vicky's skin; her bonds allowed her no movement to seek any kind of relief.  She sensed the Count behind her a moment before his hands were running over her hips and the small of her back.  She tried to quell the instinctive sparking of her nerves and flush of her skin at his touch, but she knew he could sense her involuntary arousal.
But to her surprise he made no mocking comment; instead he wrapped one hand tightly in her hair.  His other hand left her; she heard a rustle of cloth and creak of leather... then he was sliding himself into her.  He began immediately, pounding thrusts that jerked her body against her bonds; Vicky felt the slick wetness of blood on her stomach and hips as they were scraped over the rough wood of the beam, and the growing raw ache in her wrists and ankles.
But what hurt more was the ache and wetness inside her, that even now... now she knew what the Count was, and that this abuse at his hands was about draining out her life... even now she couldn't prevent her body from responding to him.  Her scalp burned from the grip as he used her long red hair to anchor himself, but that just added to her torturous arousal.  She wanted to believe the Count was making her react this way, but she knew better; this was her own body's teachery.

Lexi had no strength left in her limbs; only the chains kept her upright, suspended between two wooden posts.  She heard the swishing of leather behind her and tried to brace herself, but the burn of the whip across her naked back still made her scream.  Another lash followed almost immediately; but she'd used her energy on the fist scream, and this time she only whimpered.  The Count paused a few moments before the third blow, but then it was a rain of them, seemingly endless, up and down her helpless body from neck to calves, until she was nothing but pain and mewls and tears.
Even when it finally abated, the respite lasted only second before it was interrupted by the Count's hands on her hips, holding her still.  Lexi gritted her teeth as his cock pushed into her, but she couldn't prevent herself from letting out new sounds of pain as his thrusts jerked her wrists and ankles against her chains.

The Count... it had to be the Count... reached behind Niella's head, gripping her by the hair; holding her head immobile, he leaned in and forced a rough, bruising kiss onto her mouth, his tongue forcing its way easily between her lips.  His other hand closed on her ass, pulling her body forward against his; she tried to concentrate on the hard angles of his flesh pressing into her but she couldn't keep from registering the erection against her crotch.
Finally he released her.  "I am the Count Grenier," he said.  "And you are here... But you knew that."
"What?"  Niella asked.  "I-"
"I see it in your eyes.  You recognised my name.  Where did you hear it?"  As he spoke, his hand tightened in her hair.
Niella let out a gasp of pain as the pressure on her scalp grew into fire.  "I didn't... I don't..."  The Count's hand left her ass; a second later it slammed into the side of Niella's face.  His grip on her hair meant there was no give from the blow, and she screamed in pain, sure her cheek must have been broken, or a chunk of her hair torn off in his hand.
"Where?" he repeated.

The Count reached his climax, spilling his cum into Vicky's helpless body; he pulled on her hair as he did so, wrenching her head back and straining the muscles in her neck.  Tears of humilation pricked in her eyes as the pain, bondage, and abuse all crashed into each other, and into her arousal, mixing into an orgasm of her own.  She tried to remind herself that this time she'd chosen this fate, to keep the Count occupied; and that pleasure wasn't really pleasure here, just more torture... that it was a dream and not her real body... that Sonny was going after the Count's book... that this could be over soon.
But right now, Vicky couldn't find it in herself to believe that something as simple as destroying a book would end him.  Or that Sonny could even succeed in getting hold of it.  Or that this dungeon wouldn't be the last sight of her life.
She tried to blot out her fears by keeping her eyes on Lexi and Dr Collins; both were being tormented by their own versions of the Count, which Vicky could only make out dimly.  The one behind Lexi seemed to throw something aside; at the same moment there was a brief flare of brightness as the low torchlight was joined by a glow from the red markings on the floor.  She'd been right; it was where he was putting what he'd taken from them.  She wondered what would happen if-
She cried out at a sharp pain in her ankle and hip; the Count was ratchetting something along the bottom of the frame she was bound to, forcing her right leg further out from her body.  One by one he did the same with each of her limbs, stretching the joints until they felt like they would crack, and pressing her waist even more tightly against the wooden beam.  Then she felt his hands back on her hips and he was inside her again, every thrust on the verge of tearing her apart.

Lexi's cries had quietened to soft moans; she was limp in her chains, head hanging, her only movements the twitching of her body in time with the Count's thrusts.  It barely even hurt any more, she was so tired.
"Will you beg me one last time?" came the Count's mocking voice from behind her.
No, she thought, though wasn't sure if the word reached the air.
"Well then," he said.  He began to ram into her faster and faster, jerking her back and forth like broken puppet, until he shuddered and came inside her.
Please let this have worked, she thought as she heard his satisfied hiss; Please let them save Vicky and Niella.  Then her mind went black.

"Where did you hear of me?" the Count asked again, landing another slap on Niella's face.
But the sight behind him drove every thought of his questions out of her mind...
Behind him, Lexi was hanging in her chains, unmoving and unbreathing.
"No," she whispered.  "Please no."
The Count glanced over his shouler.  "A glimpse of your fate to come," he said.
"Lexi," Niella said, cursing the word an instant later.
"You know her too," he said.  "It is not my descendant who sent you; you came here of your own will, to save her, somehow.  You are part of some effort against me.  But you cannot be alone; what else, who else are you in league with, what else are you about?  My descendants, my anchors; your fellows move against them even now."
"No," Niella said, without any real hope he would believe her.
"Yes.  And now you know you have failed.  Thus all that is left to you is to be used the way all who come here are used."  Releasing Niella's hair, he untied her legs.
Realising what was coming she tried to hold them closed, twist them out of his grip, kick him, anything.  But his grip was like steel; inexorably he spread her open, chaining each ankle in place.  He pressed his body against hers once more; without any visible movement to free it, his cock was pressing against her, and then inside her.