It was bad enough when I looked at Maria's face without glamour hiding her inhuman features from my gaze; it became worse when she put me to sleep with a glance and I woke up her prisoner.
Not in a dungeon, mind you. My cell was a posh room, but a cell is still a cell even when it's gilded. Maria could've bent me to her will with magic a hundred times, and told me just so—but instead, she found it amusing to use other ways to convince me to join her harem of young and handsome men.
As a jailer, she was a gentle one. Never put a hand on me, never was cruel for the sake of cruelty—if you forget the entire arrangement. It could've been much worse, but this was the farthest thing from my mind back then. Instead, I could only pray to God to save me from this den of a monster, unholy abomination that daily feasted on blood—mine included.
