Arabelle awoke to a cool breeze and a strange aching in her jaw. A second later she realized with a start that she was naked. Her eyes shot open but she did not bolt upright. She couldn’t. The sudden pain in her arms, both wrenched above her head, and the rattling of chains told her she was bound at the wrists, and an instant later she realized she was bound around the ankles too. More chains.

She was on some kind of rack, a flat, hard surface inclined at an angle. There was no blindfold obstructing her vision, and Arabelle saw quickly that she was in a dungeon. An actual dungeon. Stone walls, chains and instruments of torment littering the room. The while nine yards.

“Arrr ooo ifgggng iiiiin eee?” The tight cloth cleaving her jaw nearly in two kept her worlds from making anything more than the barest of sense. What the hell was going on?

Her eyes narrowing, Arabelle reached for her Power. A witch had options. She couldn’t do anything to snap her restraints, but she could reach out with her mind and learn something...

Except she couldn’t. Her witch powers were gone. Cold terror gripped Arabelle. What was going on? Was this some kind of inquisition? Did some crazed zealot get their hands on her? She struggles against her chains. It was futile, but it was something she could do, no matter how little it worked.

After awhile, she had to stop. Her limbs had grown tired, and nothing had changed. She was still bound, still gagged, and still had no idea what was going on.

Another stretched of time passed before someone entered the room. High heels clicked on the stone floor, and Arabelle cranes her neck to the side just in time for their wearer to step into her field of vision.

The woman was gorgeous, supernaturally so. No normal human woman could look that perfect. Her olive skin was beyond flawless, her pitch-dark hair falling in perfectly styled waves down her back, her bosom unnaturally pert for its size and how little was holding it up. She wore an impossibly fine strapless dress, which glittered gold and silver brilliantly.

And her blood red eyes were slitted like a cat’s. Arabelle knew she was looking at a demoness. And that demoness was smiling a hungry, predatory smile at her.

“So you are the witch my old friend empowered, are you? Arabelle Maria Brown, is that right?”

Arabelle didn’t have to answer. The full body shiver she endured at the sound of her full Name was all the answer her captor required.

The demoness gave a laugh, long and low.

“I’m afraid your former patron no longer holds your contract, little witch. He has been deposed, his assets sold.” Her smile grew into something truly terrifying.

What? No. No, that couldn’t be. The contract that granted her powers, the thing that made her a witch. She hadn’t done anything to break it! Right? She hadn’t, right? She should have decades of life left! Centuries even!

Her attention was soon taken up by the demon leaning in. Arabelle tried and failed to shrink away as her captor’s lips came to brush against her ear.

“You belong to me now.”