Chapter 2: No one expects the Inquisition
Isabella is in rough underwear and a rough burlap sack of a dress, iron shackles are on her wrists and an Iron collar is around her neck. She is chained to a wall of rough stone. A creaking door is heard, and the smell of pine torches arethick in the close air.
Sarah, Igor, Ivan , and the Dungeon Master are escorting a male prisoner back to an adjoining cell.
The Dungeon Master's eyes, black as pitch, gleam with an insatiable hunger as he approaches Isabella. With a menacing glare, he runs his fingers down the valley between her breasts. The heat from his touch sears her skin, setting her heart hammering inside her chest.
"Well, well, if it isn't our witch," he snarls, before clamping an iron manacle around one of her pierced nipples.