This story contains bondage, kidnapping/damsel-in-distress, and other sexual themes. I recommend you turn away if that does not interest you.

*****

The grand opening of a new tavern in Mondstadt was bound to draw the attention of the unorthodoxly devout Rosaria. Despite being a nun, she indulged in the pastime of drinking out on the night, which did happen to concern the other members of the church. However, the problems they had with her chronic, “disgraceful” behavior only made going out to this new place all the more appealing. They wouldn’t dare enter a place so filled with sin to try and scold her, now would they?

At least, that was Rosaria’s justification as she chugged down another beer. The lady side-eyed the rowdy man sitting next to her as she put the glass down in satisfaction, a little concerned by just how riled up he was getting. He was shouting and trying to pick a fight with another person despite it not even being past midnight yet. Were most people really that bad at holding their liquor? Even when she indulged with no inhibitions, the nun couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually gotten drunk.

She turned her attention back ahead of her, signaling the bartender to pour her another one. The ale here was fine, which earned it a little respect from Rosaria, even if its name of The Trussed Dame was something of an… odd choice. That being said, having just fine beer in a city that already had two other established, popular taverns hardly seemed enough. Their prices were lower to compensate, Rosaria frequented the other two often enough to know that well, but just how long would that be sustainable? By Bartobas’s name, who in their right mind would even think to try and compete with two businesses as well established as them anyways? If your goal really was to be successful in Mondstadt, then surely you’d choose another industry.

...Well, it wasn’t Rosaria’s place to object to another person’s career choices. If the owner wanted to risk his money on a tavern that was all but guaranteed to fail, then who was she to object? She’d take the discounted drinks for as long as they were served to her.

The bartender--doubling as both that and the owner of the establishment, pushed another glass towards the nun. She accepted the drink eagerly, washing away any concerns that were unneeded with the liquor. He lingered near Rosaria for a moment, leaning in towards her even as other customers shouted for another drink.

“I’m surprised someone as pretty as you is spending your time here. And… as devout?” He remarked, eyeing the sister’s odd outfit. It was only for a moment, but Rosaria caught his gaze lingering along her curves. She had better things to do than call him out for it, but it irked her nonetheless.

Rosaria took her time finishing her sip before responding. “I believe I’m free to do what I want in my personal time.”

“Sure, but-”

“I think other customers want your attention.” She turned her head to the side once more, waving a hand to the ever-growing crowd of rude drunks who were clamoring for yet another beer. The man stared at her, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing second.

“Fine. If you need another glass, I’ll be sure to attend to you.”

The man finally let her be, and certainly wouldn’t be bothering her for at least a few more minutes as he turned to the group of intoxicated men. Rosaria turned her attention the other way instead, to the door which had just opened and the figure who entered.

Eula Lawrence had something of an infamous reputation in Mondstadt entirely thanks to her surname. Her ancestors had once been brutal oppressors of the city, more than happy to enslave and abuse any beneath them as no one was powerful enough to stop them. That had changed, with due time, but despite the many generations which had passed and both the people and culture of Mondstadt adapting since, the public opinion of the Lawrences had not changed a bit.

The aristocratic lady was unfazed by how voices were silenced as she passed by, probably more used to the negative attention than she should be. Stares fixed themselves on her as the citizens of Mondstadt silently judged her--probably cursing her name and heritage in their minds. It didn’t matter to them that she was a Knight of Favonious who fought in their defense from hilichurls, the Fatui, or whatever other threat posed itself to their city. She was a Lawrence, and that was enough reason to hate her.

By the time the lady had taken her seat on the other side of the bar, the loud, overbearing chatter among bargoers had stilled to little more than murmurs among men in small groups, and for the next few minutes, the conversation discussed the presence of the Lawrence descendent, acting rude enough to the point that they barely cared whether or not she heard their remarks. Regardless, she didn’t seem to pay them any heed, and it was a mystery to the rest of them as to whether or not she simply ignored their words or she didn’t hear for whatever reason. Rosaria figured that perhaps she was simply trying to distract herself from something else. That was as good of a reason as any to go to a tavern.

The nun finished off another drink, eyes turning back towards the bartender. Though he glared at her for a moment, his eyes seemed to light up when it shifted down towards the glass in her hand, empty and needing a refill. All Rosaria did was nod, and the man was already brewing up her next cup. She turned her attention back towards Eula while she waited, having little else to concern herself with in the meantime. The aqua-haired woman focused solely on her drink, despite the fact that as the others took more swigs of their drinks, their disparaging remarks about her grew more… direct. Many people lost their senses after enough beers, and it was getting clear that a confrontation might occur if this went on any longer.

That being said, it wasn’t particularly Rosaria’s concern. It wasn’t that she had any hatred for the Lawrence descendant herself--she didn’t feel strongly about her one way or the other and certainly didn’t care about her heritage. The fact that they both frequented Mondstadt’s taverns even made the nun feel cordial towards her. But Eula could certainly look after herself. She was on the same level as the Acting Grandmaster in terms of combat ability, after all, and the couple of drunkards who dared to get close to her would certainly get what was coming to them if they pushed any further.

The sound of a cleared throat returned Rosaria’s attention to what was in front of her, another drink finally ready. She could’ve sworn that this one had taken quite a bit longer to prepare, however. Was this the bartender’s petty way of treating her after she coldly and quickly rejected his advances? Childish…

She took a swig of her drink, though the unusual aftertaste which accompanied the otherwise consistent taste of her previous drinks caused her to take another long guzzle right after. It was… strangely bitter, and it lingered in her mouth. Her eyes turned back towards the bartender, who stared intently at her, his long gaze piercing through her eyes. She suddenly felt uneasy, but more than that, she felt... nauseous. Not the type that one would feel after many, many beers, but just... dizzy... a-and...

“D-Did you… p-put-” The nun took a breath, finding it hard to both find the right word and get it out. “S-Something in t-this?” Rosaria’s hand dropped the glass to the table, a distance that was thankfully small enough so that it didn’t shatter into pieces. Her hand rose up to her forehead right after, a headache setting in as she gently rubbed her skin in response. When her eyes shot up to the bartender’s face, she saw two or three of him that blurred together into an unrecognizable blob.

T-This… wasn’t right. She never got drunk--or even a little buzzed at that, and definitely not this early into the night. Rosaria knew for a certain fact that she could handle twice as much as she had so far, and yet something was clearly happening to her body. Her other hand began to push against the bar, holding the rest of her up for support.

“Oh, have you had too much to drink? I’ve got a backroom you can come to… you probably want to rest privately, right?

Rosaria murmured an unintelligible phrase in response, having probably not even made out half of what he said before she slumped against the wooden bar.

-----

Eula really was just here for a drink, despite what the others around her suggested. Of course, she caught their whispers--remarking to one another how she was probably scouting out another fine business that the Lawrences would either take over or destroy. Did they even realize just how weak her clan was? Or that she wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything of such nature for them?

...No, they certainly didn’t. They’d just have to go onto the bottom of a very long list of individuals she’d need to eventually enact her vengeance upon. She took another sip of her second drink of the night: strong stuff, but pleasant enough. At least coming out to this place wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Still, she had better things to do than drink the entire night away. She’d probably just finish this one off and head back to the Knights headquarters. The drunkards would probably try to taunt her with how she was running away from them… something that didn’t exactly make sense. Drunk people rarely made sense.

Her head turned to the side, past the group next to her whose gazes shifted away as she turned to them. The sudden thump that had entered her ears caught her attention, and the fact that the source of it was that nun surprised her. She’d only ever seen the nun at taverns, but never in a state like this. The woman seemed more than capable of holding her liquor, given the fact that she was one of the few who hadn’t ever gone on a drunken rant about Eula, and yet she was already to the state of passing out from pure intoxication tonight? That seemed… strange.

Her eyes rested on the woman for the passing moments, watching as the bartender directed his attention towards the slumped nun. He gave her a few nudges, to which Rosaria let out little more than a groan in response. She was still conscious at the very least.

The bartender began to speak after yet another prod at the nun. “If you’re really not feeling alright, then I can let you into a room I’ve got back to rest. Like I said, we--you’ll have plenty of privacy back there. Sounds good, pretty lady?”

“Mmmm… I--m-mmf…” Rosaria let out in response, and that seemed to be enough of a confirmation for the bartender. He left his side of the bar, walking over quite quickly to the seat that held the weakened nun up, and worked one of her arms around his shoulder before pulling her up. Rosaria was barely in a conscious enough state to walk alongside him mindlessly, seemingly only taking the steps because they were required of her to keep up. Her eyelids were heavy, and even when they opened slightly, the little that Eula could see in her pupils was nothing more than a blank stare.

A gloved hand, adorned with white and blue coloring stuck out to stop the two from passing any further when they neared Eula’s seat. It was obvious to her what was going on here. She stood up from her stool promptly, pushing it back with a clatter as the wooden legs grated against the floor beneath them. The sound drew quite a bit of attention towards the three of them as Eula stood in the bartender’s way.

“I believe you should cease this at once and unhand the woman.” Eula firmly demanded, with a single step towards the man seemingly enough to cause him to stumble backward in surprise. If it were only them, then the bartender would’ve surely complied.

Or if it was anyone other than a Lawrence interfering. The commotion had garnered the attention of most of the patrons in the bar, and they closely watched the staredown between them, unsure of what to think. The bartender’s eyes shifted from side to side, and he could just barely pick up on the fact that their judgment had yet to fall on him.

“Just what are you talking about? I’m simply taking a drunk, defenseless woman to a safer place to ensure no harm befalls her. What right do you have to prevent that?”

Murmurs formed around the crowding individuals, tidbits of agreement entering the man’s ears. A brief smile formed on his lips--one which Eula caught--before he pushed it further.

“Were you hoping to do something to her?” The suggestion garnered another reaction, and before the woman could reject his outlandish claims, he thought up one more remark. “Perhaps do what you Lawrences always do… take her and use her for your own, twisted purposes.”

The anger towards Eula which had simmered in their minds finally had an excuse to come out. Voices shouted over one another, all pointed at the lady who just realized what the bartender was playing at.

“Y-Yeah! I knew that filthy Lawrence was up to no good!”

“I t-think I saw her sneaking around this place earlier…”

“Don’t come any closer to us, you evil wench!”

Eula stammered, in pure disbelief as to what was happening. “H-Hey! Just what are you… n-no! That’s not--”

The flurry of inaccurate comments which came her way made it impossible to respond to any single one of them before the crowd was already onto the next. For one, they were the ones surrounding her, so how could she move anywhere without moving towards someone? The other ones were just flat-out lies, but there was no time to prove them wrong regardless. It was becoming more and more apparent that clearer heads wouldn’t prevail…

Eula cursed herself for not having a weapon. Not that she’d ever use it on defenseless citizens, but the presence of her claymore would’ve been more than enough to settle everyone down, even for a moment. But right now, she was entirely surrounded by a group of incompetent, unpredictable, drunk--

“S-She’s clearly a threat! We need to… to arrest her!”

That was her cue that the situation had deteriorated far enough. And not without good reason, because Eula still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about that bartender, and the fact that he was the one to suggest detaining her was enough to confirm her suspicions. Eula looked towards the exit and abruptly tried to push through two people to force her way out.

“T-The Lawrence is resisting! G-Get her!”

Despite how drunk they may be, there were a lot of them. And the numerous hands which grabbed at her body: arms, waist, shoulders… and unfortunately, chest, were impossible to simply shake off due to pure quantity. She tried to pull away, forcing herself towards an exit with sheer strength alone, but every second that passed only resulted in their grip tightening and more holds finding their way onto her body. In the first few seconds, she’d been able to pull her arm free before another couple of hands would grab it again, but now she was beginning to find it difficult to break away in the first place.

“Let go of me, y-you drunk idiots! I-I’m not--mMMPHF! FPHTT MMF!”

One of their hands saw it fit to force itself over her mouth, serving as a decent enough way to silence her attempts at correcting the uncontrollable crowd. The fact that it pulled her head back, just as the rest of her body was, also caused the helplessness to settle in further.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, looking behind the surrounding faces to see that the bartender was still leading the defenseless nun towards the backroom. Obviously, he was taking advantage of this! If these morons could show any sense of awareness and see that, then maybe they’d start to piece the truth together! Given how much alcohol was likely flowing through them by now, that seemed exceedingly unlikely. Eula threw her body against their grips, trying to somehow break free, even as they pushed her against the bar in an uncomfortable manner.

“S-She’s still… struggling..!” The exhaustion in their voices gave Eula hope that maybe, she’d have the stamina from her constant training and battling to outlast these riled-up people.

“We… s-should restrain her!”

“Y...Yeah!” The agreeable murmur that resonated from the crowd dashed away such hopes. She didn’t know what they’d even have on hand for such a task, and for a moment, the crowd didn’t either.

Then someone loosened their belt, and for a second Eula thought they’d moved on from such an idea and onto something far worse. But the man--who’s belt was now entirely in his hands, grabbed Eula’s wrist and began pulling it towards the other, a task that was made easier as her stomach was eventually pushed right against the bar and forced her to arc her body over it. The position, at the very least, made it too difficult to cover her mouth any longer, which gave her yet another chance to shout at them.

That… did little to stop them. At this point, Eula could describe them as little more than insane, and with good reason. Some of their hands didn’t even serve a purpose in holding her down--she knew for a fact that squeezing her bottom did nothing but anger her further!

She tried to resist their spontaneous efforts, but there were only so many people she could kick at--and as drunk as they were, Eula couldn’t even tell if they were noticing her heels against their legs! Despite the strain, however, her wrists were eventually forced against one another, and she could do little but feel the belt tighten around them as one of them clumsily tied it. For a moment after they stayed silent, watching the Lawrence fumble her arms around, strain to pull them apart, and bring them to any position besides tied behind her back.

A cheer practically erupted when her arms grew still for the briefest of moments, and Eula could swear that they were clinking glasses together and drinking more in celebration. Her fingers began to fumble around again in response, but they weren’t nearly long enough to reach the belt that found its way around her wrists, let alone loosen it herself!

“Untie a-and unhand me, you drunkards! I-I’ll have swift vengeance against all of you if you don’t-”

One of them was clearly done with her speaking, and that was something that Eula noticed before she finished her threat. The man behind the bar was not the bartender, but rather one of the customers, who instead of taking any of the free beer which he could easily snatch away, chose to grab a cloth from--thankfully--the clean pile and shove it straight into her mouth.

“W-Wait, don’t--mmphf!” She regretted opening her mouth in the first place to try and convince him not to. Eula cursed herself for not knowing better, given that these people were obviously beyond reason. The cloth was forced in deep, and before the lady had a chance to try and spit it out, another way was pressed against lips firmly. In an astonishing display of drunken teamwork, a set of hands from behind her grabbed that cloth, tying it around the back of her head to ensure that it would stay in place.

“Mmm! MmPHF MM!” Eula cried out into her gag, and it was probably just as intelligible as they wanted it to be. And any sounds, pleas, or screams she made now would surely be muffled enough by both the gag and the expected rowdiness of a tavern to be missed by anyone from outside. Humiliation sunk into her mind, her crimson cheeks hidden only by the very thing that caused such an emotion. She was a proud knight, who now couldn't even speak on her own accord!

The sound of a door opening was just loud enough for Eula to hear it over the chatter of the crowd, and the woman prayed that it was someone reasonable and sober enough to put an end to all of this foolishness. Unfortunately, it was not a new customer. It was the bartender returning from the backroom, seemingly finished with the nun in one way or another.

Shock and surprise were quite apparent on his face. Whatever he’d expected to accomplish with pitting the crowd against Eula definitely did not end with her restrained, gagged, and at the mercy of them all. He blinked rapidly a couple of times to ensure that this wasn’t a hallucination.

Then, the devious smile which formed thereafter made it clear that expected or not, he was hardly opposed to this development. Not in the slightest. He interjected himself at just the right time amidst the “conversation” the drunkards were having among themselves.

“What now..? Do we… hand her over to the knights?” One of the many intoxicated citizens brainstormed.

“No-no,” the bartender answered, “She’s already infiltrated them… compromised them.”

It pained Eula to hear the consensus of “oohs” that resonated among the crowd.

The bartender continued. “I’ll take care of her. This woman will need to be properly punished for her crimes. By an unbiased jury, of course. If I may--”

He pushed through the crowd, and most of them made way. A few others had seemingly found the idea of using their belts to restrain her entertaining, and were just finishing wrapping them around her ankles and just below the knees before they moved aside as well. Seemingly content to accept his decisions, they watched as the bartender pulled her up, finally letting her stand up straight.

“I’ll bring her to a more secure location--ensure that she can’t escape.” If any of them had any objections to the idea, they were quickly distracted by what the bartender said next. “You’ve done a great service as citizens of Mondstadt tonight. Feel free to help yourselves to any drinks in the meantime.”

That got a roar of approval, with Eula seemingly being the only person who found it absolutely idiotic of the bartender to give free rein to these already inebriated morons. Then again, she was probably the only person conscious in the bar who saw that as a negative. Attention quickly shifted to the drinks as the bartender began to pull Eula away through the crowd. The man grabbed her tie to tug it forward harshly and though she dug her heels into the floor initially, it became clear that after another, rougher pull, that Eula was left with the option of either hopping along--thanks to the restraints around her legs--or falling face flat into the floor of the tavern.

The latter option was surprisingly tempting, but Eula swallowed her pride and jumped forward, stumbling as she landed on her heels and almost lost balance entirely. She tried to inch forward with tiny steps, but the pace at which the bartender moved forward was impossible to keep up with, even though he wasn’t relatively fast himself. The knight only got relief from the humiliating hops when they arrived in the backroom.

Once Eula was led into the storeroom, he turned around and shut the door, locking it behind himself with a key. It gave Eula a moment to look around--most notably at the nun who was sitting on a chair in front of her. Coils of rope caressed her body all over, binding her slender legs together as they dug into her fishnet stockings, and Eula could only assume that the bindings were also responsible for her arms being unusually forced behind her back like the knight’s own. The ropework was intricate beyond that, however, with a harness in the shape of a pentagram fit snugly around her chest, over the holy outfit and serving to accentuate her noticeable curves beneath its cloth.

Rosaria still seemed well out of it, gazing down towards the ground with her face looking almost… drained. Regardless, the man seemed to still think it necessary to gag her, but the item of choice was the final red flag for the knight upon a long… long list of them.

Who in Barbatos’s name carried a red, rubber ball gag around with them, just in case they needed it? And why would that person be a bartender? If she could ask this question to him, she would, but the impromptu gag inside her mouth easily prevented such action. Her gaze returned to him as he turned to her, obviously not interested in the crates or goods that filled this room normally.

“Well… I’ll be perfectly honest in saying I didn’t plan for you to get involved in this. But I know not to pass up on a good opportunity when I see one.”

Despite her interest as to who the man was, Eula also knew potential opportunities as well. And the fact that she was finally dragged away from the crowd of invalids and into a room with only one person to worry about made the knight think that perhaps her best chance at escape would be here. The fact that her arms were still bound by a belt made taking this chance all the more difficult, but she swore she could feel it loosening as she shifted her arms up and down…

Her efforts, however, were not as subtle as she wanted them to be. Perhaps it was the unusual calmness of a captive, Eula realized a moment too late, that set him off. He opened up one of the crates in the room, revealing a freshly stocked supply of bindings, among which the supply of rope had nearly been exhausted by the nun. What remained, however, was far stricter.

She didn’t recognize the leather device, but when the sleeve that had an assortment of laces and straps dangling from it was held up in front of her, Eula knew it couldn’t be anything good. Her struggles grew a little more desperate--degrading from careful tugging and pulling to a hastened effort to free herself as soon as possible. She was making progress… just not quick enough.

Since she was still bound, there was little Eula could do to prevent the man from stepping behind her and preparing the additional restraint. Stepping--or hopping, more accurately, away from him would be useless as well in such a small room, and she could only throw her arms around in an effort to make it all the more difficult to get the device on her. It worked for about thirty seconds before the bartender was finally able to pin Eula's arms down and start pulling the leather sleeve up her arms. If her arms weren’t already restricted, then it would've been far more difficult for him to do so, but the belt had served its purpose for long enough.

It felt all the more inhibiting to Eula to have not just her wrists forced together, but the entire length of her arms from hands to beyond her elbows. The sensation only became stronger--more restrictive, as he began to secure the device by looping its straps over her shoulders and under her arms before pulling them secured. Then he began lacing up the device, and if there was ever a moment for the knight to make a miraculous escape, pull free and save herself from these restraints then now really was the last chance..!

Though she struggled and pulled, throwing her arms against their leather prison, there was nothing Eula could do but wait for him to finish. It was already all too snug--to secure, and that fact only became more prominent with each inch he laced up the sleeve. Her arms were forced against one another, and if she wasn’t so flexible from practicing dance, then the way it forced her elbows to touch one another would certainly be a painful endeavor. She was instead left with the “solace” that was a dull ache from the armbinder instead.

When the device was finally fully secured, every lace and strap tied tightly or pulled tautly, his hands left Eula’s body for a moment to give her a chance to struggle. He let her pull against the encumbering sleeve, try with all the strength that the “Spindrift Knight” had within her…

It was utterly hopeless. The item was clearly designed to ruthlessly restrain even the strongest of wearers. Like it was sturdy enough that even a sharp item would have trouble cutting through it while also being designed in a manner that made it nearly impossible for Eula to loosen it herself. Just how were her hands going to reach any of the straps or laces while bound in such a state, unable to bend or move an inch apart from one another to escape the leather confines?

She still struggled, but there were very few options left for her. There were two doors to this place, one of them obviously leading back into the bar… which wasn’t a particularly appealing option given that she could still hear the patrons banter among each other. The other one probably led outside which was a good thing, but even if it wasn’t locked, how would she even twist the knob to open the door? Maybe if the man left her in here alone, she could work something out, but under his watchful eye and tied so tight in these restraints, there was no chance she’d be able to get started on any escape without him noticing.

And just what were his plans for her after? It was confirmed right before her very eyes that he was intending to do something with the now bound nun, and Eula had been unfortunate enough to get roped into it. That appeared to be the consequence of a Lawrence trying to do the right thing in life. Regardless, perhaps he could get away with a nun going missing after being last seen at his bar, but two ladies, one of whom was a knight? If he was still in Mondstadt the following morning, then there was little chance he’d avoid suspicion.

She could only assume that his next steps were what he was considering as well. Eula’s eyes followed the man as he approached the door, creaking it open to reveal that it led to the outside. He peeked outside of it, looking from side to side for something. The breeze of fresh air that flowed in, as a result, had never been so welcomed by the lady…

He shut it a second later. “Damn it. My contact isn’t quite here yet, so you two will have to wait a little longer. I’m sure it’s not a bother, right? Not like you have anywhere else to go…”

Eula didn’t even dignify the taunt with a response. Unfortunately, he seemed determined to draw some kind of reaction out of her, and he approached her with his hands stretched out, the intent clear as they approached her chest.

“Mmphf! Mhrhrrtt!” She tried to recoil away, but only succeeding in falling back against the wall, pinning herself between it and the bartender. There was little resistance she could put up afterwards, practically only capable of shaking her body back and forth helplessly. Jiggling her breasts some more as he indulged in them, groping and squeezing with little restraint, did nothing but the reverse of dissuading him from pressing in further.

“Mmm… gods, I know I’d pay a lot for this. Thankfully I don’t have t-”

He stopped suddenly, eyes turning back towards the bar door for some reason. She’d only seen it a few times, but she knew that devious smile on his face well, and absolutely dreaded what it could mean. His eyes returned to the knight a moment later, leaning in a little closer than before.

“You know, I am losing a lot of Mora on drinks tonight, because of your interference. I think you’ll have to repay your debts... one way or another.”

-----

It was difficult for Rosaria to discern the exact moment when she finally came to. The past hour or so had been a complete blur, and only fragments of memories from that time came to her as she tried to recall them. The drink… being led somewhere… a sensation of tightness around her body was oddly present in her mind.

Her eyes flickered open, fighting through the throbbing headache that threatened her as she slowly regained full consciousness. The shapes and colors were still a blur as her eyes opened, but she could tell she was still in the bar. That much was clear, given the lights, the brownish hue, and the loud, rambunctious chatter that filled her ears.

The sensation of feeling was enough to jolt her up when she recognized it. There was an arm wrapped around her waist, and beyond that, she was sitting on someone’s lap. She tried to move her legs, pull her body away--

And then the bite of the ropes hit her. They held tight as the nun tried to wiggle free, digging into her legs as she tried to move them. Her eyes shot downwards, revealing just how the brown material was wrapped around her body, knotted and secured in a manner unlike anything Rosaria had ever seen. All along her long legs, and further up… she realized a second later that her arms were wrenched behind her as well, and an attempt to pull them back to their normal position only caused those ropes to tense as well.

“Whoa there!” A deep voice from behind said as the grip around her waist tightened, pulling her in closer. “You’re finally awake, eh?”

“Mm? Mmphf mmm!” Her efforts at a response revealed the gag lodged between her teeth, and she realized a second later that it’d already caused a long strand of drool to dribble down onto her by now. Her mind was still a completely confused mess, however, and right now all she wanted were some answers. She strained against the man’s grip some more, her gaze shooting itself all around the bar for any kind of indication as to what was going on.

Rosaria finally found something of a clue when she looked to the side. A sign that she could just barely read from this angle…

Exclusive deal: Do whatever you want with either a sexy nun or a Lawrence heir! Indulge in your sins or get revenge on the one responsible for them! 5000 Mora per minute with the nun, 10000 per minute with the Lawrence!

What..?

Her eyes looked up from there, to see Eula in a situation quite similar to her own. She was seated atop a man as well, bound in restraints to firmly hold her down as she struggled in his grip. The displeasure was apparent on her face, eyes closed as if to try and block out just what was happening. Unfortunately, it would be impossible to ignore the hands along her body, planted firmly against her chest to make every single Mora he spent for the time worth it. He squeezed the value out of her, forcing moans out of Eula’s lips while greedy, deep, lecherous sounds escaped his.

“Mmm… how does it feel, Miss Lawrence? This is just penance for your crimes.”

He spat the words out, and they clearly bothered the knight. These intoxicated idiots put the blame for something so long ago where it clearly didn’t belong and seemed more than content to take it out on Eula. Something that hadn't even affected them! Rosaria’s gaze turned only a few feet away, where there was a line-up of regular citizens of Mondstadt, waiting for their turn with her. She wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or just as displeased that there was a smaller one for her as well lined up on the other side. Just how drunk were they to think this was okay? Did they somehow assume that Eula agreed to this? Or, far more likely, did they just not care?

Was it by the mere process of association, that they saw nothing wrong with herself being tied up and available to use as well? Had they drunk so much that they forgot how the nun had been so "helpless" not that long ago, and now was one of the ladies being taken advantage of before their very eyes? Rosaria tried to squirm away once more, but everything about her situation was just far too overwhelming to do a thing about. These ropes were insanely tight--she couldn’t even pull her wrists apart in any direction aside from where they held them. Because of that, the man was free to use his hands on her wherever he pleased, one rising to her chest while the other slipped down to her crotch. He began massaging one of her breasts, its size and allure accentuated by the grip of the harness which encircled them. His other hand began to use a rope that the nun had all but missed until now: a tight, knotted rope that dug against her crotch, sending vivid sensations straight up her spine.

“Mmm!” She let out, as he gave it a good tug up near her waist, causing it to pull in even tighter against her crotch, teasing her most sensitive spot. If the man cared at all about her response, he took it as an excited moan, continuing his rhythm of squeezing and toying with her. The nun began to take heavy breaths beneath her nose, trying to endure it. If Eula, despite all the targeted attention, could keep a strong face on, then she had to try as well.

Eula let out a few heavy breaths through her nose as she was finally relieved from the man using her. He’d finally run out of time in this scheme of involuntary service, but the last words which the knight heard from him were mumbles about scraping together a little more spare change. Despite that, she only had a little over a dozen seconds to recoup herself before the next customer was upon her.

This one was far more aggressive with her. While the preceding men had sat the woman’s bottom on their lap, this one, for some reason, bent the woman’s body over his lap. Her shoulders hung off of one side while her bottom and everything below it the other, and the knight had gotten so conditioned to her chest being toyed with and squeezed that it took her a second to realize what the purpose of this was.

SPANK!

“MMPHF!” Eula spat out of her gag in agony as the man’s bare palm came crashing down against her bottom, with little held back in the punishing act. A few cheers erupted from those waiting for their own turn, or the few who were simply entertained by watching. The fact that her torment was such a bountiful source of amusement stung just as hard as the smack across her ass.

She stared back at them no longer, retreating her line of sight to the floor beneath her body as she endured yet another spank. The knight bit down hard onto her gag, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of yet another cry of pain. Of course, it was impossible to hide it entirely, and they seemed amused by the way her body instinctively shook and struggled in the following seconds, shaking her bottom appetizingly in the process for yet another punishment.

In the back of her head, Eula swore vengeance upon each and every one of them, especially the damned bartender who enabled all of this. He’d be going straight to the top of her list, and when she was free…

Her mind stopped at that point, lingering there for whatever reason. S-She would get free, Eula was certain, just… she wasn’t sure how. The bindings upon her body were inexplicably tight, and the only thing she had to show for her efforts against that hellish armbinder was her own sweat and tears. Even if she still defiantly struggled against it, she had to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t coming off anytime soon. She hated to admit it, but she needed assistance… Even if it would be from someone like the acting grandmaster, Eula would accept it in a heartbeat.

The night dragged on--longer than any other that the two had the displeasure of suffering through before, and no such help seemed any closer to arriving. All that came for them were more hands upon their bodies--more gropes, spanks, teases, and anything else the drunken men could entertain themselves with. Though they barely knew one another from anything besides passing glances, there was a strange bond between the two that formed from their shared torment. The nun would glance towards the knight, the anguish present in both of their eyes before something would distract one of them--a particularly rough squeeze or some vile words, and drag them back towards their reality. Minutes meshed into hours, and exhaustion had set in to the point that neither of them could muster up the energy to struggle in their bonds.

Their only saving grace was that exhaustion set in on the men as well. For some of them, it was through their funds: they’d finally spent all their Mora on either more drinks or the ladies themselves and stumbled their way out of the bar. Others simply grew tired as the activities dragged on into the morning hours. But for one reason or another, they all left eventually, leaving the two women behind like it was the most normal thing in the world as their only company became the barkeeper.

He stepped in front of the two drained ladies, taunting them with the many bulging brown sacks of Mora he held in his hands that were the fruits of their labor. With the amount of time that both of the women had been used for, it had to be an absurd amount in there…

Of course, he had one last thing to take care of before flaunting his newly acquired wealth. After everything that happened, there was no chance he could simply let the two ladies go, and he probably couldn’t stick around himself. Even if he just locked them in the backroom in the strictest bondage imaginable, word would eventually get around as to what had transpired in the bar tonight. Drunken people weren’t known for keeping secrets, after all. Unfortunately, The Trussed Dame’s opening night would also be its closing night.

He disappeared into the back room for a moment, clearly preparing something for the two women. Eula glanced towards him, and then towards the front door of the bar. It wasn’t… that far away, and he certainly wasn’t paying close attention to them right now. He’d gotten complacent. The knight dug up whatever energy she could muster, pulling herself up from the seat and getting her body on her two legs. She’d have to hop for it, and hope that the bartender didn’t hear--

Before she could even try, her legs collapsed beneath her, and she tumbled towards the ground. The knight was just too exhausted to even try to escape, and the clatter which her fall had caused caught the attention of the bartender as well.

“Whoa! Don’t want to hurt yourself, do we? That’ll also hurt your value when I put you up on the block.”

Value..? It took Eula a moment to realize what he meant. Her worth as a human being. Or perhaps more accurately… as a slave. A fate that most people of Mondstadt would find fitting for her. Rosaria was hardly entertained by the notion as well, throwing herself futilely against her bonds, yet not daring to try what the knight had. The bartender kneeled down towards the fallen Eula, holding something in his hands and bringing it towards her neck…

The cold, metal collar clicked shut around her, its tight presence impossible to ignore from the second it was put on. A leash dangled from the front of it as the barkeeper moved towards the nun after, holding an identical set in his hands for her to wear as well. With each one, the reality of their fates truly began to sink in.

Though there was a leash available, it was quite clear that the knight was far too exhausted to move on her own. The man’s hands slipped underneath her body before she was lifted up and carried towards the backroom, where the method of transportation was clear. A large, opened crate awaited Eula in the storeroom, and she was unceremoniously dropped into it, forced to bend her knees to even fit in the thing. It was barely twice her height when she was laying down and had little extra room for her to struggle about. She tried to squirm around in the box as best she could but failed to even pull herself up before the bartender returned… with Rosaria in hand.

She was dropped in as well, and if the crate was an uncomfortable fit before, then the knight had absolutely no room to move around when forced to share it with the nun. Their bodies inevitably pressed up against one another--Eula’s head forced to rest against Rosaria’s chest as they shook and pushed against one another.

“Mmmhmm mmphf!”

“Mmmm!”

Of course, any communication between the two was useless thanks to the gags. They had little time to stew about in their final predicament until the lid was closed shut atop them, locked and secured to ensure that they could move no more than an inch apart. The two could squish and rub against each other as much as they wanted to… but that was about all they could do.

From inside the crate, they could only try and make out what was happening next. Eula recalled the man had mentioned a contact, and when a pair of voices were barely audible from within the confines of the box, she could only assume that the bartender was talking to him.

“What...you… two? Really?” She could barely make out the fragments of an entire sentence but could clearly hear the laughter that followed a few seconds later, the reason for which she could only assume.

“Just… load… up.” A few seconds after hearing that, the two within the crate could feel it being lifted. There was no telling where to from their perspective, but it had to be somewhere outside. Though they struggled and shook and moaned, either the crate was thick enough that it absorbed all of their efforts, or there was simply no one around to hear their final pleas.

Eventually, they were dropped down with a thud. The crate was pushed around for a few moments, and then there was nothing. For agonizing minutes, the two had no idea what would happen next. There were a few sounds that might’ve meant something… more crates being shoved around? A thud above the two of them indicated that something might’ve been placed above them, further cementing their helplessness. If they were loading more stuff in, then where exactly were they?

The answer only hit them when they felt themselves beginning to move. A carriage. Their crate was just one among many that a supply carriage for a bar would routinely have, to bring back more ale and other supplies for the newly started establishment. Of course, everyone in the carriage knew that it wouldn’t be returning. Once it was on the open roads and outside the city...

The last chance the two damsels had was at the exit to Mondstadt--the hope that a guard might decide to check the carriage for anything suspicious and stumble upon them. They felt the wagon stop suddenly, presumably at the checkpoint finally.

“Oh, you’re the owner of that new bar which opened up, aren’t you? I think I remember you arriving. I’ll have to check it out eventually.” The guard stated, standing before the two who drove the carriage.

“Bartender as well,” he replied, “And… you should’ve come for the opening night. It was unforgettable.”

With that small-talk, the guard stepped aside as he let the carriage pass through without concern. After all, what small business would be getting into illegal activities on their first day in Mondstadt?

As the carriage shook and rumbled against the uneven ground, growing further away from the city by the second, the two kidnapped women could hardly find the strength to struggle any further. The odds of Eula ever enacting her vengeance was as slim as she could imagine. And though the crate was stuffy and the winds would never get a chance to carry her prayer, the nun issued a silent one to Barbatos anyways.

They’d been taken away from the City of Freedom, with a life of slavery now certainly ahead of them.