No Longer Her Blood Bag

No Longer Her Blood Bag

Kinship

5.0
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My name is Ethan, and for seven years, I was a vampire's blood thrall, a living blood bag for Victoria, my supposed mistress. Every day was pure agony, battling the "Pact Strain" – a searing pain that only her blood could ease, blood she rarely offered. I endured her extreme neglect, her casual cruelty, feeling my spirit erode away, piece by painful piece. Then, Liam arrived – a human she rescued, immediately wrapped in her obsessive affection. My suffering became unbearable, my very existence dismissed as she doted on him. The ultimate betrayal came when she literally offered my throat to a newly turned, rabid Liam, commanding him to feed on me to stabilize his transformation. I was just a disposable sacrifice. Through a haze of pain and fading vision, I saw the truth: I was nothing but a living convenience, a mere self-service blood bank. How could I have been so blind, so endlessly devoted to someone who saw me as less than an object? The agonizing bite paled in comparison to the sting of her absolute disregard. But in that moment of dying despair, a desperate, cunning spark ignited. I feigned unconsciousness, using my self-inflicted wounds as a cover. I would escape. I would find my chance to destroy the pact's binding artifact, and finally sever these chains of torment. What happens when your enslaver tries to reclaim you, threatening the one kind soul who ever helped you?

Introduction

My name is Ethan, and for seven years, I was a vampire's blood thrall, a living blood bag for Victoria, my supposed mistress.

Every day was pure agony, battling the "Pact Strain" – a searing pain that only her blood could ease, blood she rarely offered.

I endured her extreme neglect, her casual cruelty, feeling my spirit erode away, piece by painful piece.

Then, Liam arrived – a human she rescued, immediately wrapped in her obsessive affection.

My suffering became unbearable, my very existence dismissed as she doted on him.

The ultimate betrayal came when she literally offered my throat to a newly turned, rabid Liam, commanding him to feed on me to stabilize his transformation.

I was just a disposable sacrifice.

Through a haze of pain and fading vision, I saw the truth: I was nothing but a living convenience, a mere self-service blood bank.

How could I have been so blind, so endlessly devoted to someone who saw me as less than an object?

The agonizing bite paled in comparison to the sting of her absolute disregard.

But in that moment of dying despair, a desperate, cunning spark ignited.

I feigned unconsciousness, using my self-inflicted wounds as a cover.

I would escape.

I would find my chance to destroy the pact's binding artifact, and finally sever these chains of torment.

What happens when your enslaver tries to reclaim you, threatening the one kind soul who ever helped you?

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