I have served Queen Bactria well, perhaps too well. In the dungeons of Winter castle I took delight in her cause, the cause of Evil. Giving pain to people seemed to please her and for this she employed me. For that was a trade that was not unknown to me. I can still hear the screams from the pain I caused, caused by her request. My Queen was a beauty in every way imaginable. However, she possessed a heart as cold as ice. Her family ancestry may have contributed to this. As it was made up of Brutes, Conjurers, and Lust mongers. In all honesty the only lust my queen indulged in was that of bloodlust. Any enemy that made her weary, be it a landowner or nobleman, it did not matter. Their pain was her pleasure and my laborious endeavor.
Many a time had she called upon me for evil bidding and each time was the same. I would make my way to her royal chambers and there, amidst the darkened tapestries, was my queen. In a state of mania she would conduct a ritual to reveal what she sought. Cutting through the flesh of the hands of her servant girls, she would spill their blood in the middle of a large encircled pentagram drawn on the floor.
From the reflection of the dark red liquid came the face of the supposed threat. Each time the face was different. The omen, of course, was always the same. The face posed a supposed threat, even if the person involved was not known to my queen. My duty was to purge the threat immediately. From the shadows of dusk I would seek them and death would seek with me. Finding my victims, I would forcibly retrieve them from their homes. But, mind you, I would not kill them. That was a pleasure reserved for the entertainment of my queen. As quickly as ability would allow I had them in the dungeons of Winter castle. From there agony was an eternity for whoever was considered a foe. With my queen and her servant girls looking on, I conducted every horrible act conceivable. It was not confession that interested me, but the sheer malice of pain in their shrieking voices that I fancied most. Red hot pins under their fingernails, severing their limbs and tongue, and the rack of death were my personal favorites. And for some that truly caught my evil eye, I would let the pestilence-breeding rodents slowly devour them. All this for the love of my queen.
During these barbaric sessions he would observe with eyes as malevolent as hell itself. For the more pain I caused the victims, the more intoxicated with ecstasy became my queen. I vividly remember one session, a session that involved several supposed ‘threats’. A nobleman from a neighboring community had chosen to criticize the manner and temperament of my beloved queen. Not only was I sent for his retrieval, but for his many young children as well. It was of winter season and the torment I had in mind suited winter well. In frostbitten cold the nobleman dangled upside down and naked from a tree while his children, all eight of them, were converged into freezing water. To make sure the cold did not make him unconscious, I continually flogged him. A few meters from the pool of icy death was the throne of my queen. She was sipping wine and would occasionally don a malicious smile, proof of her sadistic nature. She would not move an inch until all of the victims’ lives were completely expired and then she would spat on their corpses in disgust. To me this was normal, even natural. What other kinds of acts would give to a man such a passion for life? To my queen it was pure contentment.
Pleasure in it’s most seductive form.
Besides giving pain, my queen fanatically valued her beauty. She was comparable to any mythological Goddess and believed herself to be the fairest in all the world. It wasn’t uncommon for my queen to have fits of jealousy especially with her own servant girls. They would receive beatings on a daily basis. Once, when she was in a particularly foul mood, she beat one of her servant girls bloody. This beguiled even myself because even after the servant was unconscious my queen continued the abuse. Eventually the servants’ blood was all over my queens’ face and hands. She marveled at the way it felt on her skin, so soft and delicate. Believing that it enhanced her beauty, it was this strange fluid, blood, that she needed more of.
