The door opened abruptly, revealing a dimly lit room filled with various implements of torture and pain. Standing tall and imposing in the center was the bald elder, his once-proud posture now bent over, hands tied securely behind his back. He trembled visibly at the sight of Dawn, his eyes wide with terror. "Ah, our rebellious little Dawn has arrived," purred Beatrix, sauntering casually into the room like a predator surveying its prey. "And what do we have here? An attempted escape?"

Dawn glaared at beatix before turning to look at the old manYou had your chance to diehe said coldly

Beatrix's crimson lips curved ever so slightly into a sinister smile as she watched Dawn violently dispatch the traitorous elder. A small part of her admired the raw, primal power radiating from Dawn, but it was fleeting, replaced by a wave of ice-cold contempt. "So thirsty, my pet," she whispered softly, walking slowly around Dawn, savoring the heady mix of blood and death filling the air. "But I think you've earned yourself some rest first…"

With a snap of her fingers, the bloody scene vanished, leaving both master and slave standing clean and unblemished within the confines of her grand hall. Servants scurried silently, hastily cleaning up any trace of violence while avoiding eye contact with the dangerous duo.

Dawn felt tired after all the fighting earlier todayYes Mistress…I need rest..

Beatrix chuckled darkly, tracing delicate patterns along Dawn's bare skin with one finger. The touch sent shivers down Dawn's spine, a mixture of pleasure and dread coursing through him. "Rest well, my dear servant," she cooed sweetly, her voice dripping with malice. With another snap of her slender fingers, Dawn suddenly found himself falling into an deep sleep, completely helpless under her spell.*

As dawn drifted off into his magical induced coma, Beatrix walked away satisfied knowing he would awaken fresh and ready to serve again tomorrow night.

Several hours passed, and finally, Dawn stirred lightly, struggling against the enchantment keeping him bound to this dream state. Gradually, consciousness began to return, and he opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the dim candlelight surrounding him.

Beautiful Beatrice stood over him, dressed in her signature black gown, her red hair cascading like liquid fire around her pale face. In her hand, she held a whip, its leather tips glinting menacingly in the flickering flames.

Without speaking, she motioned for Dawn to rise slowly, using the chain attached to his collar to guide him upright. His body ached from the previous evening's training session, reminding him who truly held the power here.

Taking careful steps forward, Dawn followed orders silently, head bowed in submissive reverence. He knew better than to anger his master at such a fragile moment; he was hers to command until sunset freed him once more.