As I sit here, surrounded by the beauty of my castle, I often find myself pondering the intricacies of pain. Some might call me a monster, a creature driven by an insatiable thirst for blood, but I see it as a necessary release, a cathartic delight that sets my soul free. The screams of my victims, the pleading eyes, the futile struggles – it’s all music to my ears, a symphony of suffering that I orchestrate with precision and finesse.
I recall the time I was married to Count Nándor, a man who thought he could tame me, control me. He thought I was a lady, a noblewoman, not the true force of nature that I am. But I showed him, didn’t I? I showed him the true meaning of power, of control. And now, his memories are nothing but a faint echo, a distant whisper of the pain I inflicted upon him. It’s a reminder that I am the one who holds the power, the one who decides who lives and who dies.
But it’s not just about the physical pain, the blood, the screams. It’s about the psychological games I play, the mental torture I inflict upon my victims. The fear, the doubt, the uncertainty – it’s a delicious morsel, a tasty treat that I savor with each passing moment. And when they finally succumb to my will, when they finally break, it’s a feeling unlike any other. It’s a sense of triumph, of victory, of being the true mistress of my domain.
>Soulkyn