Bhria

Bhria knew the moment she met the new Mihrisa that she was different. She could tell purely by how humble and kind she was, she wasn't like the others - the heinous Mihrs she had catered to previously. Each female had their own agenda, and they thought just because the Dralan chose them, they were extra special and should be treated as such, meaning they believed all their animadversions were acceptable.

However, Leyla... she didn't want to be treated like royalty. She just desperately wanted to please the Dralan, get his approval. And Bhria could understand better than anyone why she would want that.

Leyla was so incredibly innocent. In a world that thrived on impurity, it was rare to meet someone like her. She hadn't seen the horrors of the world, only heard about them. She knew what was out there, but she didn't know the pain and disaster it truly caused.

Bhria shuttered as she squeezed the excess water out of one of the Mihrisa's dresses, one she was cleaning. As she wrung the water out, flashes of haunting memories from her past flooded her mind.

They came in the night. Vampires were the strongest at night and the Mihr hunters took exploited every advance they had. She remembered that her brother Byhron had been out hunting that night. For food, of course. He had promised her he wouldn't be gone more than an hour, but he was. He had been gone for so long.

She remembered how she heard the warning bells, heard all the females scream. Even the ones who were no longer innocent, they were scared of the Mihr hunters. Some because of bad memories, and some because the Mihr hunters not always exclusively hunted Mihrs. Sometimes, if the village was empty of what they were searching for, they'd settle for second bests.

Bhria had been a Mihr back then. She could still to this day remember the horror and cold fear that seared through her when she woke up that night, hearing the bells. Terrified and unsure of what to do, she had done the only thing she could think of; hide under the bed.

She had been but sixteen. She wasn't clever, didn't know to hide better than that. Her brother had always taken care of her, protected her ever since their parents passed on. But there was no brother with her that night, so paralyzed by fear, she chose the worst and most obvious hiding place in the world.

Tears filled Bhria's eyes as she continued scrubbing some more dresses. She had been so stupid. If only she hadn't been so foolish and hidden better, then maybe... just maybe... she could've been spared of the trauma that followed.

They barged in through her door. Broke it down. As if they knew exactly where to look, she remembered feeling a clammy hand lock around her ankle, and before she knew it, she was being dragged out from under the bed. She had screamed, clawed against the wood of the floor and gotten countless splinters under her fingernails, yet the pain and blood that came with those were the least amount of pain she would feel that night. As the Mihr hunters yanked the collar of her dress aside and sniffed the vein in her throat, she remembered them howling triumphantly; they had found a Mihr. As a matter of fact, they had found a Mihrisa.

What happened next made Bhria's hands shake and made a tear roll down her cheek as she remembered it. It landed in the soapy water of the barrel she was washing the Mihrisa's robes in. As she blinked the rest of her tears away, the memories became clearer.

She remembered being forced down on her bed. How the five males had taken a limb each and strapped her down, then taken each their vein; the two on her arms, the two on her thighs and lastly, the one in her neck. She had screamed and screamed, cried for mercy as she felt them greedily and mercilessly take her blood, empty her. At last, she got so weakened that her throat refused to scream no more, only the tears in her eyes kept rolling. The world was fading away when she suddenly felt one of the males stir, paw at her southern regions. She had let out a cry which was ignored as the male pushed her flimsy nightgown up and then without any warning what so ever, penetrated her.

Bhria let a whimper go from her lips and she was forced to let go of the dress to wipe away her tears now. She was shaking. She didn't know why she was thinking about all this, she shouldn't be. Reliving those memories only brought her pain, but no matter how hard she tried, she could never forget... never forget how the first male had taken her innocence, ripped it away and ignored her screams, her prayers for mercy. They had continued drinking from her until she was so weak, she literally had no strength to put up a fight. She thought once the first male had finished inside her and forever ruined her with his semen, it would be over.

But it wasn't.

The five males had each taken their turn. And they hadn't been in a rush. They had stripped her off her garbs and left her naked, stretched out on the bed while they took... every piece of innocence from her. They did things to her... horrible things. They touched her places. They forced her mouth open and made her swallow them. They turned her over and penetrated her a place she never thought was even possible.

But they made it all possible. And once they were done, they left her naked and scared there, in a world that now seemed impossible.

When her brother finally came home and found her like that... he had fallen onto his knees and broken apart. Cried. When he had tried touching her, tried to mend to her wounds, Bhria had screamed and cringed in fear. Even her own brother couldn't touch her after that. It nearly killed him, filled him with an undying hatred towards the males who had done this to his sister. That's why he decided that, upon the very next morning, they'd go to the city of Draylth and seek safety at the Dralan's castle. He was taken in as a Lathra the minute they saw his wrath and passion to kill the Mihr hunters. Bhria, as his sister, got offered to be a Kischmir. That brought them to today.

Bhria closed her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together. To this day, she still remembered every detail of that night as if it had happened but minutes ago. Six years had passed, but... the memories never faded. It was as if they had taken her innocence and replaced it with these traumas, something she would never get rid of. The scars they had left on her from when they fed... they defiled her neck, arms and thighs still. Since the hunters hadn't taken care of them and she hadn't allowed her brother to touch her, they had been left to scar on her, as a reminder that she was now garbage in this world. Nothing. Just another female, bound to fall on her knees before males and please their every need.

Bhria hadn't touched herself since that night. Not that she had done so before that night either, but... she knew that some females, they liked touching themselves down there... and of course, once they had lost their innocence, they became promiscuous. She knew many of the other Kischmirs she worked with, they liked pleasing the Kathmirs to more than their vampiric needs. They also willingly volunteered to please the Lathras whose hunger for carnal intercourse seemed to never be sated.

But not Bhria. The thought alone of doing that with another male always brought her right back to that night where the five males had prowled her, taken everything from her. She would never allow another male to take anything from her ever again.

"You, Kischmir," A harsh voice startled her and made her squeak and spin around. "The Dralan has requested you to go take care of his Mihrisa."

Bhria blinked in shock as Callath, the Dralan's personal Kathmir and childhood friend looked upon her, his brown eyes soft, but strong. His mien was authoritative and his stance was dominative. It instantly made Bhria crimp and she lowered her puffy, red eyes. "Y-yes, Kathmir."

She dried her hands off in her apron and was just about to walk past him when his hand suddenly caught her arm. She froze up and swallowed a gasp of shock as the Kathmir kept her from moving.

Anxiety exploded from Bhria as she silently stood there, breathing scared when the male did not move. She had only heard good things about Callath, but she had also heard he was a male who liked his females. If he decided that he wanted her...

Suddenly, he moved. It made Bhria let out a soft squeak as he leaned down sideways, down to her throat. Her vein.

And then he took an inhale. A deep one. Bhria didn't dare move.

After a moment of breathing in her scent, he slowly leaned up again, the grip on her arm loosening until it disappeared. He let go of her completely, but still she didn't move. Couldn't.

"Go on," He then lowly said. His voice had changed into something dark, almost husky. It made Bhria's cheeks flame up, and with a quick curtsy, she scurried away in haste.

She didn't want to think about what that had been about.

Dohmenic

Had he been too rough on her?

The moment after he stormed out, that was the thought that coursed through him. Had his Mihrisa been able to take it, and if not, would she ever look at him again the way he so relished?

Damned her, he thought and stood up, started pacing the floor of his study. If she had only told him she needed to feed. He thought he had more time to find her someone - someone whom he could trust and felt remotely comfortable with. But no. Instead, this happened.

He had of course considered Callath to be her donor. He was his best friend and most trusted Kathmir. He would never harm her and his blood was healthy. He would be perfect to feed his Mihrisa.

The only problem was... he couldn't stand the idea of his friend being the one who got to feed the female he wanted on his bed. It somewhat lessened him as a male to ask his friend to feed his female, an act he couldn't do himself. No, he simply couldn't ask Callath. The jealousy would kill him, or worse, it would make him kill Callath.

It had to be someone way further beneath him. Someone whom he didn't know and someone whom he would enslave only for the purpose of feeding his Mihrisa. Someone whom could prevent a repeat of what had happened last night.

Anger began boiling in his body again, purely by thinking back to it; the sight of his Mihrisa bent on her knees in front of that male... and the way he had held her head, pressed her to his vein, like he was greedy in a reverse way. Like he craved her to sink her teeth into him.

Growling, the Dralan snapped and kicked over his chair that was standing nearby. It tipped over and landed with a clatter on the floor. With all his rage these day, and his seeming fondness of letting his chairs eat the brunt of it, he would need dozens of new chairs if he didn't find another outlet soon.

Oh, but he had found some outlet, hadn't he? That male his Mihrisa had fed from sure knew. If he even still had his memory. It wouldn't be a surprise if he had slipped into a coma or simply turned into a vegetable from his injuries. He sure looked like a plum or beet.

Smiling grimly to himself, the Dralan now ran his fingers over his knuckles where he felt the scuffed, bloodied skin feel raw from how they had met the bones and skull of that male. Ahrron, as he had learned his name was. It was the same Kathmir his Mihrisa first drank from when she got here. What was the coincidence that he happened to run into her on the night of the Bhrakla Aurora? He had probably been waiting to get her alone... been waiting for the moment he could swoop in and take what didn't belong to him.

He should consider himself lucky to be alive. Had it not been because he had in fact saved his Mihrisa, he would be a burned corpse in his fireplace by now. Instead, the Dralan let him live to see the next day, but made sure that that day would be nearly impossible to get through. In fact, if the male survived by himself, it would be some miracle. He was bloodied, broken and weak from having fed his Mihrisa, and then of course, Callath had made sure to rip his veins open to make him bleed until he hardly had strength to stay awake. Now, he could rot in the jail cell he was scheduled to be in for the next three days, as punishment. No blood, no food, no water.

That was the punishment for going against the Dralan.

- And that was when he was being merciful.

The rest of the night, after beating up the puny Kathmir, he had waiting in his chamber with his Mihrisa, spent the time she was unconscious to come up with various different scenarios of how he could punish her. All of them were very imaginative, but in strict violation of the Mihrisa rules. If he still wanted to keep her pure, he couldn't touch her above her thigh.

He was a just King; The Dralan believed in second chances, and most importantly, warnings. His Mihrisa had made one mistake - her first since arriving - and for that, she should get it easy. This time. He wasn't so sure he would go easy on her if there came a next--when there came a next. That time, he would show no mercy.

The Bhrakla Aurora had missed his company, but as the Dralan, he was in his right to leave whenever he wanted. His guests had been more than well entertained by the musicians that had been hired to perform, and most importantly, they had gotten so much food and wine, none of them seemed to complain. Even to vampires of their status with all their wealth and riches, his dinner table was a feast. None of his guests had been fed so well in years, and for that, they had all thanked him upon their departure in the early morning. It was after greeting them their farewell, he had returned to his Mihrisa's chambers where she had finally begun to stir.

- And then the punishment had been doled out.

Now as the Dralan sat down and breathed out heavily, the blood was still coursing through his veins. He had smelled her arousal and it had ignited his own. The way his cock had felt when it smoothed up and down the crack of her fleshy globes had almost made him climax right there and then, on top of her. The rush of her scent and blood had only amplified it. If he hadn't bolted off like that in the end, not even taking care of her wounds, he sure as hell would've mauled her. He would've taken her status away as he had threatened to, and he would've done so with no regret.

But now... now he was sure he had done the right thing. His Mihrisa had to remain pure so he could keep feeding. At least until he found another Mihr.

Oh, and the moment he did... the moment he found someone else with pure blood, he would take his Mihrisa and make her his mistress. How he wanted to be buried so deep inside her, how he wanted her to feel her clench around him, hear her moan his name--

"Sweet fucking Miss," The Dralan cursed and shot out of his seat and began pacing the study again now. His mind was getting sidetracked again, why couldn't he stop thinking about her, why couldn't he...

Three knocks on the door brought him out of his misery. At least now he could get some distraction. "Come in."

His friend opened the door and came in, arms folded behind his back. "I've told the Kischmir to take care of your Mihrisa as you requested, Sire."

"Good," He said and met Callath's eyes. "We head to the barracks then. Grab your codpiece."

Callath raised his brow. He clearly read the vibes his King was sending out, then bowed his head. "As you wish, Sire, and with all due respect, I'm going to kick his highness' ass, so he should bring his codpiece as well."

The Dralan smirked to himself and then walked around his friend, bumping his shoulder intentionally in the process. "Bring it, my friend."