The further she went down the stairs, the wetter the rough stone walls became and began to give off a musty smell.

At the bottom, the king took the lead and she accelerated to keep up. Dull light bulbs at least gave her an inkling of where she was stepping. On either side she could make out heavy iron doors. She was relieved to hear no sounds beyond them. It was unlikely that they would all be empty, but at least this way she could tell herself they were.

Not only because her screams would soon echo through the corridors and as few people as possible should witness her punishment. Especially because dungeon sentences usually involved physical punishment, and she didn't want to imagine how often that happened.

After two turns, another long flight of stairs led down into the darkness. A cold breeze made her shiver. Thomas still led the way and Caroline counted the steps to distract herself and out of interest. The stairs led steeply and unusually far down. After exactly fifty-six steps, she realised why. They entered a natural cave in the volcanic rock that had been developed and made usable. To her right, a corridor led off in which she could see more heavy dungeon doors.

Caroline felt a chill run down her spine as she looked around the cave. There was a multitude of equipment. What looked immediately familiar to her was an iron maiden, a rack and a chair with silver spikes on it. A few others she thought she had seen in old history books.

Her breathing got heavier.

Why does he bring me all the way down here to carry out the punishment? Is being beaten bloody not enough?

Fortunately, the instruments of torture looked dusty and unused. Of all things, the imposing iron maiden aroused her suspicion that the instruments were meant to create fear rather than actually being used. On a museum tour in her former life, she had learned that there had never been any evidence of the existence of this particular instrument of torture in the Middle Ages. It had been probably invented in the nineteenth century to make the popular torture exhibitions more interesting. She was comfortable with the idea that this was an exhibition rather than an actual torture chamber.

At the other end of the cave, a heavy door blocked another way. Someone had also placed two thick wooden boards in front of it and hammered them into the rock with huge nails. She took a few steps towards it.

"That's where we used to go to the third dungeon level and on to the cave system under the island." Joël had stepped up beside her and crossed his arms.

"So, it gets even more unpleasant than this?" She gave him a quick sideways glance and stopped.

"There is always a way to make it more uncomfortable" he grinned, but his eyes looked serious. "Imagine you're dumped behind a door like this, with a little water and food, a few matches and nothing else but his clothes on. Imagine you are faced with the task of finding a way out of the caves to be allowed to live."

"Indeed, that sounds more unpleasant." Caroline suppressed the images and feelings rising within her. "What was the success rate?"

"No one ever got out of the caves." Thomas' voice sounded behind her back and she turned. Her owner was standing against the left wall and had pulled aside a cloth curtain. Behind it was an extensive selection of striking tools such as whips, floggers, paddles and similar things.

Here Caroline knew her way around better than with the other instruments of torture. Not only theoretically, but also from her own experience. They were definitely meant to be used and it usually didn't take anything beyond that to get everything you wanted to know out of people.

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"That means it's a death sentence that no one had to get their hands dirty with?" She raised her voice at the end of the sentence, but it was actually a statement, not a question.

"Was! That sentence was abolished decades ago.” Damien sounded almost angrier than before. “Do you want to end the history lesson with that?" Being down here didn't seem to suit him.

"But burning people is okay? Exciting to see where you draw moral lines!" The disrespectful accusation had escaped Caroline before she could think.

Damien looked as if he wanted to hit her, but didn't move an inch. Only his fingers clenched and stretched nervously.

"We adjust legislation regularly and some changes just take longer than others." Thomas's gaze met hers. To Caroline's relief, he didn't seem to resent her exclamation.

He had chosen a medium length leather whip. There were no hard weighting stones or splinters incorporated, but the strand would rip the skin open even without other implements. Depending on how much force he put into the strokes.

"Damien." Thomas pointed to a torture cross on the wall opposite him.

Here we go!

She didn't make Damien get her, but walked with him towards the cross. As she went, she pulled the coat off her shoulders and Joël gave an appreciative whistle.

It was necessary to expose her back before the punishment, so she had prepared herself. She wore a floor-length silver dress of a silk-like fabric. It was held in place by a narrow band around her neck, fell in a waterfall neckline over her breasts and left her entire back bare. It merged so just above the curves of her hips that the little dimples on either side of her spine were clearly visible.

"Well, I thought I'd dress up for the occasion," she said dryly, tossing the coat over a seat she fervently hoped she'd never have to sit on. "And since I only have a limited choice at the moment ..." She pointed down at herself.

"I'll have to thank Claudia for that when I get a chance!" sighed Joël, letting his eyes slide down her unashamed.

Caroline didn't know exactly why, but with the handsome vampire, it didn't bother her in the least. Not because of his appearance, but because he radiated harmony and respect with every pore. If he wasn't a master of deception, he had just paid her a sincere compliment with words that would have been a crude pick-up line from any other person. Despite what was coming, she gave him a tiny smile.

Thomas raised an eyebrow and seemed to want to say something, but he remained silent. She imagined his expression softened. Hopefully he would take the backless outfit as a sign to believe her that she never intended to avoid punishment.

She had just finished tying her hair into a quick knot when Damien grabbed her wrists and made a move to secure her to the cross with some leather straps.

Her stomach tightened and she jerked her hand away from him. If he had wanted, he could have forced her into position with ease, but he allowed her to withdraw and take a step back.

"Thank you, but I can hold on just fine on my own." Her voice was sharper than she had intended.

"That's what you think now," he retorted, reaching out to her again. "I don't feel like picking you up off the floor bleeding and crying and fasten you in this condition. Believe me, it won't be pretty for either of us." Even though his words sounded harsh, almost sadistic, she thought she detected a trace of pity.

"That won't be necessary!" she asserted, even though she absolutely couldn't be sure if that was true. She just didn't want to give up the last tiny bit of control she had left.

"Not the first time you've overestimated yourself today, little human." He said the last word almost tenderly. He looked at Thomas questioningly and even though Caroline couldn't see how, he had apparently been given the okay to back off.

"Should you give us extra effort," Thomas said, "we will simply add another stroke."

"Meaning if I collapse it will be eight instead of seven?

He nodded.

"Agreed." She turned and sighted the cross to find a place to hold on safely when, without warning, she was thrown forward by a brutal force.

Crying out in surprise and pain, she barely managed to catch herself and took a moment to compose herself. Her back burned as if someone had struck it with a red-hot poker. At the same time it hurt dully, down to the lower layers of muscle. She felt that the skin had burst open.

Slowly, breathing heavily, she turned around. The wound screeched and throbbed.

"An aid to self-assessment," Thomas said, pulling the whip towards him again. "You now have one more chance to get tied up by Damien."

That damned fucking as...

"Thank you very much, Your Majesty. There is no need for that." Her voice trembled slightly.

Not the smartest move, but now she was pissed.