Author's Notes: This idea was inspired a long time ago by Master Of The Boot's fanfic "All the Pretty Things: Strangled At Birth." A little crass for my taste, but I kind of liked the idea of a brothel in the dungeon for vampires to enjoy, and Seras making her way down there to seek a reprieve from her horrifying unlife.

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or financial gain to Hellsing. I also give full credit to Master of the Boot and his fanfic "All the Pretty Things" for inspiring this story in the first place.

As the world was taken over by vampires, Seras was attacked and nearly raped and turned into a ghoul by a rogue vampire. She was saved at the last minute by the Vampire King, who came to conquer the "town punk" that attacked a whole human village in the open; but she was mortally wounded in the process. For reasons she could never guess, he took pity on her, drank her blood before she bled out and "saved her" by making her into a vampire. She remained by his side from then on out, but hated and feared every minute because it was not a fun place to be.

If this were a fairy tale, his rescue would be the perfect ending. She was a damsel in distress saved by a handsome prince or king riding by, he took her on his valient black steed, and they rode away into the sunset (er, moonset) to his kingdom, where they would live in his castle forever more.

Too bad Seras wasn't a princess, this wasn't a fairy tale, he was not a gallant prince or king, and the castle in question was a wretched hive of supernatural depravity. He was a sadistic, blood-thirsty, supernatural abomination and tyrant. His castle was filled with other wanton, corrupt, blood-thirsty creatures just like him.

Apparently Seras was supposed to feel grateful to the Vampire King himself for deeming her worthy to work as a secretary in his study. For the life of her, she just couldn't see it. She sat before the beautiful hand-carved mahogony desk on a large leather armchair, before piles of thick yellow parchment, typewriters, antique telephones, and other such things, and thought she could think of no worse punishment. She was a police officer, not a receptionist. She was an action girl that worked out on the field, not an office girl that sat behind a desk. Papers, numbers, letters, and office technology had been the bain of her existence when she was alive. Now she had to do this for eternity as an immortal, soulless, blood-sucking monstrosity?

"And now you and I may be inseparable," her master said as he settled down to his own larger, grander desk at the center of the study.

"Ugh..." Seras groaned, but then sighed and let it pass.

He was rarely in his study and was so focused on his own work he barely paid her any mind when he was there, so that was a blessing in disguise.

Little did she know, the job itself was a blessing in disguise too. Having a job actually gave her something to do, which was more than she could say for the other vampires he turned who had nothing better to do than lay around all day and night. Working also gave her an excuse not to interact with them.

Around the castle, countless vampire aristocrats lounged. If her master was the Vampire King, and his home the official royal castle, then the vampires that lounged were his royal courtiers.

Countless wealthy, aristocratic lords and ladies all lounging around plush beds and couches. Dozens of men in dandy suits and dusters, bow ties and knotted cravats that recreated the elegance of Victorian England. Countless women in deep silk evening dresses, with long slits up the legs, arm-length opera gloves, long wavy hair, glittering jewels and fine titles.

Seras felt very out of place. She was the one turtleneck in a sea of plunging necklines. The one coarse cotten t-shirt and jeans in a sea of silk evening dresses with glittering jewels. The one shrinking violet in a garden of blooming roses, reaching sunflowers, and grasping vines. She was the timid lamb in a den of ravenous wolves... The one blushing virgin in a pleasure den of lascivious sirens.

While Seras found her office work tedious, it was a welcome change from the wanton women lounging around that tried to invite her to join them every time they saw her.

As Seras worked toward her grief of no longer being human, ripped away from the only life she ever knew, joining this horrible secret society of soulless bloodsucking monsters, battled her identity crisis of being a Police Girl versus a Dracula, questioned her place in the universe and her right to exist, and all those other things we know she feels but don't have time to go into detail over the story... her "sisters" made it that much harder by trying to welcome her into the fold, then pressure her into entering while she still wasn't ready.

They moaned and arched and sighed whenever she saw them. Every human, every male they came across made them giggle like tinkering bells, dance around like gossamer gowns flowing in the wind, and beckon like mirages.

Every parlour and chamber in the Vampire King's castle was filled with pleasured women, moaning and sighing as they were feeling up human pleasure slaves, or were felt up by male vampires that turned them for that very purpose.

Seras heard moaning in her own ear, and gasped and shot back.

It was one of the Brides, the three eldest and dearest to the Vampire King, with her moonlit skin and silken evening dress.

"Seras..." she moaned, "It has been too long... You must join us in play..."

Seras shot back, and stood apprehensively, ready to run. "I... no. I don't need to."

"But it's been so long!" one of the other brides joined in. She was just as esquisitely beautiful, but with long dark chocolate brown hair to contrast her moonlit skin. "You were turned so long ago and yet you refuse to join us."

"I... no, I'm fine," Seras said again, and backed away slowly.

Her "sisters" slowly approached her, looking needy and desperate for... something.

Without turning her back, Seras fumbled for the doorknob behind her. "I... I just have too much work to do. The master keeps me so busy, you see."

"Oooh... he keeps you 'busy' all right, but not the way you need to be..."

"If only he took you as he took us when he turned us," she placed a hand on her breast and took a sharp breath, "you would be just as you should be..."

She saw these moaning, sighing, nymphomaniac... things and wondered what happened to them? Were they like this when they were alive? Who were they when they were alive? What happened to them to make them these... empty, soulless, identity-less beings?

"Who were you before you became this?" Seras asked.

They didn't seem fazed by the question. Only mildly curious that she would ask such an odd question. Nothing more.

Having clasped the doorknob, she threw it open and darted out the door.

Nymphomaniacs, every one of them. Regardless of what they were like before they were turned, most vampires seemed to lose themselves in the wanton pleasures of lust, flesh, and blood. Any time Seras had to walk through the main lobbies or antechambers, she felt her insides run cold by the dozens of well-dressed vampires lounging around with human servants in their laps, or draped in a fellow vampire's lap.

They mocked her for her chastity though. At first she ignored them, but this was her life and these were her new people, no matter how miserable it made her to slowly acknowledge it over the coming months, and their mockery slowly got to her.

Even her master soon grew impatient with her chastity.

"Seras, come here," he said.

She approached him. One of the reasons she didn't like him being in his study was the attention he could pay her. Like every night, he held out his hand, and she placed her own in his.

In the earlier nights, he just have her kiss his hand in reverence. On nights when he felt more amorous, he would hold out his palm facing up so she could clasp it, then he would kiss her. Over time he would nip at her flesh, and gently nip or suck on her veins.

Over time, he grew more... desirous. Tonight, like many nights before, after she clasped his hand he led her around the desk and over to his lap. Like the obedient servant, she sat in his lap and allowed him to run his hands over her arms and waist.

He was extremely tall and handsome, with long wavy black hair, moon pale skin, and an impeccable black Victorian suit and white coat draped across his shoulders. She felt so small and frail in his arms, like a little kitten sitting atop his lap. She felt him run the back of his gloved fingers over her bare arms, and breathe soothingly into her ear.

She'd be lying if she said it didn't feel good physically, but emotionally it was very distressing because she wasn't fully sure what he intended, how far it would go, whether she would have any say; and truthfully whether she even wanted it now.

"Seras..." he whispered seductively in her ear, "Why haven't you drank any blood?"

She shuddered. She couldn't answer.

"Master, you know..."

"Why. Not. Drink?" he demanded, as he squeezed her arms.

Seras winced, and her insides squirmed with discomfort. She knew he knew the reason why, and admitting was so painful because she felt so foolish, knew he saw her as foolish.

"I... I don't know," she confessed. "It just feels like..."

He squeezed more tightly, commanding her to go on.

"It'll just feel like..." she closed her eyes, "something important will have ended inside of me forever..."

"You are an idiot," he snapped, and flung her away.

Seras clutched her waist with her arms as she steadied herself, and he swung away from her in his great chair.

They'd had this conversation many times before. Once, he had admitted this could work. That maybe in a castle filled with wonton creatures of the night, there might be room for a timid little "evening walker" like her. Once, he admitted he kept her around because she was a breath of fresh air in this heady, stuffy, perfumed castle of indulgence. However, he grew more and more agitated with her over time. The traits he had found refreshing at first became annoying later. Then it started showing in how he treated her. Then it showed in what he chose to talk to her about. Now it was all he talked about.

"You refuse to drink blood. You refuse to lie with anyone. You refuse to socialize with your own kind like a proper vampire," he snapped.

"And you refuse to accept that I do things at my own pace, and suddenly that's my fault?" Seras snapped.

Weak, timid, and cowardly as she was, even she had her limits. Even she felt too angry and defensive to remember she was yelling at the Vampire King.

"I thought you a breath of fresh air from the wanton sirens that fill my castle," he said, with a careless sweep of his surroundings. "But even I thought you would get with the program eventually."

"So you picked the chastest girl you could find and expected her to change, and somehow that's my fault?" Seras snapped again.

What was that old proverb Seras heard when she was alive? "Women marry men expecting them to change but they don't, while men marry women hoping they won't change but they do"? Talk about gender-reversal here! If Seras had a penny for every time someone expected her to change the way they wanted (usually to become a slut so they could sleep with her, as early as when she turned twelve), she could retire before joining the police force!

"I thought it amusing at the time. Now this innocent 'good girl' act is getting old," her master said with decision.

Seras felt ready to sob. A few months ago, it was a breath of fresh air. Now it was old?

"It's not an act!" she cried.

He looked at her sharply.

Everyone seemed to assume her lack of drinking was an act. Did it not occur to any of them that she was trying to preserve who she was? To not lose her humanity? To not get lost in the wanton desires that had consumed them? She felt that becoming a vampire was no different, no better than becoming a ghoul. Every one of them ceased being who they were before they died, and became something else; something wanton, corrupt, glutinous and mean.

He seemed to comprehend all of this with his piercing glare.

"It's not..." she faltered.

At last, he said, "Just drink the blood, you idiot," and swung away from her.

Well, her master ordered it. She had to drink blood some time. She could feel her insides now crave the blood like an alcoholic craves a drink, just at her master's command. But, her master didn't say when to drink, so Seras could put it off as long as she could.

Yet, it was harder to ignore now. Before, it was her own vampiric hunger that she could ignore if she put her mind on other things; like work. Now the part of her that longed for her master's love and approval craved blood so much, she almost swore she felt her intestines writhe like snakes, slithering and seeking what her master ordered.

She felt it craving; aching. Her thirst was almost impossible to ignore. Day and night, she thought of little else. Even if she thought of other things like the papers she was to go over, she still thought of blood in the back of her mind.

Yet, she still couldn't bring herself to do it. She walked around the castle and saw the handsome dandy men that towered over her and she felt too intimidated. She knew they liked to dominate the females she saw them feeding from as she went around. Just the thought of one of them leaning over her to kiss her, to dominate her made her instinctively scoot away, no matter how bad her hunger got.

The Brides were an absolute no, because even if they were smaller and slighter, they often... lost themselves in their lust. Became voracious beings like fabled she-wolves, and the idea of them crawling over her, lulling her with their hypnosis, feeding off her one by two by four while she was powerless to ask them to stop... scared Seras too.

Most of the cleaning staff were drained and abused by the other vampires enough that Seras didn't want to add to their trauma. Besides, vampires were extremely territorial, and most of them had reserved cleaning staff as their own personal pleasure slaves in that department.

Because he was such a respected and feared Vampire King, the courtiers that often frequented his castle didn't live there. He was arrogant and feared enough that high ranking vampires came in and out, staying for a holiday here and extended visit there. Most vampires visited each other's castles quite like the way we visit friends and acquaintances all the time.

So, imagine Seras' surprise to learn there was a brothel in the dungeon, filled with prostitutes of both genders for vampires upstairs to enjoy.

"Don't you have plenty of... er... companions of your own?" Seras grimaced.

"Of course not!" one vampiress with a valley-girl accent exclaimed, "These humans are just for drinking, the slaves downstairs are for fucking!"

Seras winced at the crude choice of words.

"Um... what's the difference?"

"Of course you wouldn't know the difference, virgin!"

A few of the women giggled.

Seras frowned.

With how much they indulged with each other, their own personal human pleasure slaves, and the cleaning staff around the castle, Seras wondered what on earth - what point and purpose - was the brothel for? Humans as blood and pleasure slaves up here and literal pleasure slaves for drinking blood from down there?

"Now you're catching on," said the Bride that Seras expressed her concern toward.

Melinda was one of the less lascivious Brides in the castle, at least after she was fed, and therefor the easiest one for Seras to talk to. They were in the dressing room, where several women decked themselves with silks, pearls and jewels. Seras stood off to the side in her faded t-shirt and jeans, not touching any of the pretty things before her.

"But there's no difference!" Seras cried.

"There's a world of difference," Melinda said calmly, and adjusted her necklace. "We vampires can only enjoy each other so much because we're all dead; our blood is cold and lifeless. There's not much of a meal."

"But don't you drink from each other all the time?" Seras asked.

The other women laughed, a tittering, tinkling, mocking laugh.

"Aw, she's so cute!"

"It's obvious you've never tried it, Seras!"

"Of course not!" Seras blushed.

She was embarrassed to admit she was a virgin in life, and now she was embarrassed to admit she was a "blood virgin" in death, despite how much she hated the whole concept.

"Of course we drink of each other," Melinda laughed, "It's so erotic! And vampire blood tastes good too. Has its own spice and flavor, even humans don't have. You'll understand with time. But it still not enough to sustain us. As good as it tastes, it does nothing for us; doesn't give us strength, rejuvinate us... it's like drinking water when what you need is a solid meal."

Like the enchanted Turkish delight from The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, Seras though, remembering the scene in that book.

"Humans have such warm bodies and hot, rich, scrumptious blood," Melinda continued. "Oh, it makes my throat ache just thinking about it. It's so hot and filling, and feels pleasurable to reap in bed and bite..."

Her fangs grew noticeably longer as she talked, and her voice grew raspier.

Seras winced. 'You just ate!' she thought.

Melinda took a deep breath and forced herself to relax though. "But they're still our slaves," she sighed regretfully. "They can only take so much fucking and biting. It's a hassle having to be gentle, but it's more of a hassle to replace them."

Seras frowned. Melinda meant it was a hassle to find a replacement after they killed them.

"We have to be gentle with our servants," Melinda concluded, and smeared some glittery eye shadow over her eyes.

"Yeah!" the valley girl chimed in. "Up here, we have to be gentle. Down there, we can be as rough as we want!"

Seras felt physically sick. How was it they could talk of people like this?

"But doesn't that hurt them too?" she asked.

"Of course not," the valley girl said, "only the best of the best are down there."

"The what?"

"Oh, you know," she said as she applied mascara, "The best in taste, looks, stamina..."

"The prostitutes have been specially selected and... uhm... trained," Melinda moaned, "To satisfy our pleasure. And there's many different kinds down there, to satisfy different needs. You want someone tall and thick, yet smooth as silk? You've got the Captain. You want someone stout and burly, and hairy to boot? Anderson's for you. Someone tall, thin, and birdlike? Rip Van Winkle will make you sing. And that's not even getting to different species. There are quite a few exotic choices down there. His Majesty certainly likes to reward his subjects."

"I... there are exotic choices?" Seras asked, her head spinning.

"M-hm," Melinda said absently, tying her hair up with pearls.

"Maybe you should think about going down there to lose your blood innocence," the valley girl said to Seras as she applied finishing touches. "Or blood virginity, whichever comes first."

"Or goes first," Melinda grinned.

The valley girl gasped.

So for the next several night Seras got teased harder than ever for being a blood virgin. She'd never bitten anyone, never drank any blood, and never went to bed with anyone. For a vampire, this was as good as being a complete loser.

'Not that different from humans, come to think of it,' Seras thought. Those had been dark times in her life.

Now it was even worse because her peers mocked her for not drinking blood as well as not having sex. Not that she fully cared what they thought - she thought of them as vain, lazy, selfish, wanton, almost repulsive nymphomaniacs that indulged in their every desire like spoiled children without impulse control.

Yet, Seras had to live with them, as well as her master, and, well... the comments eventually got to her.

At first she tried to ignore it, but her master's demand that she drink and the ridicule she received from her peers finally started to get to her. Seras still could not bring herself to do it any more than she could bring herself to eat a dead possum, but their words slowly sunk in.

Many a day Sera lay awake in her coffin, lost deep in thought, feeling tortured and conflicted.

She held up her hand and looked at her own chalky, dehydrated, emaciated skin, and wondered if she was carrying this out too long. She didn't want to drink, didn't want to lose the last shred of her humanity. She didn't want to lose that small part of herself and become just like them, yet...

She also felt curious as to what lay down there. What sorts of people became prostitutes (just thinking the word made her wince) for the undead? What services did they offer that regular ones couldn't?

If she couldn't bring herself to drink from her peers (there was just an instinctual aversion she had no desire to try to overcome), nor harrass the already harried and drained human servants, maybe she could just go down there...? See if there was... well, just see?

One night, social shame and curiosity finally won over and Seras decided to just check it out. Just see what there was to see, if there was anything to see, and make her decision when it was time.

She learned where to find the madam - a beautiful red-haired woman with the ruthless sales pitch of a used jewelry store saleswoman. Seras wasn't sure what kind of vampire she expected to run the dungeons of an ancient, Gothic, medieval castle, but a tall, perky, red-haired vampire woman in a loose but elegant bun and dress was not what she would have guessed first.

"Oh, you're Seras Victoria! The blood virgin!" she exclaimed on first seeing her.

Just the term virgin hit like an insult.

"My reputation proceeds me, it seems," Seras said.

"Of course it does! I could smell your innocence a mile away!" she said cheerfully.

"That's not what I meant..."

"Now, let's go down to the basement and see if there's something we can find!"

And the madam - Narissa - opened a large, creaking wooden door to a dark, dank passage. One would think they were going into a brightly lit and perfumed room, the way she smiled and ushered Seras down.

Seras felt extremely nervous descending the stone spiral steps into the dungeon - er, brothel. She saw a long, dark, stone hallway, filled with dozens upon dozens of doors on each side.

"Now, over there you'll find the female of the species..." Narissa said, pointing down the right, "And over here you'll find the males of every species!"

"All right," Seras said.

Taking this as preference, the woman led her down to the left.

Some of the doors were ajar, so she could smell the perfumes inside. In one room, she could hear one male shaving in here (she could hear the faucet water running, and hear the scrape of the razor blade against his skin), and in another she could hear one brushing his teeth. One door was wide open and she could see one man servicing a patient...

"Oh my!" Seras quickly darted her eyes away.

She would never remove the mental brand of a blonde vampire woman with her top off, riding a little brunette male human.

Narissa was extremely put out.

"Close the door when you're taking a whore!" she snapped.

The vampire woman pouted cutely as Narissa slammed the door.

Seras' cheeks burned.

"So, what kind of 'Prosti-dude' are you looking for?" she grinned.

"Please don't call them that," Seras said.

It just sounded so... trashy.

"Well, what's your type? Tall? Blonde? Strong? Human? Werewolf?"

"Well, I... there's werewolves?" Seras blinked.

"Oh yes! Quite a few!" Narissa grinned, rubbing her hands. "Three, in fact. One's a female, so you won't have any use for her." She led her down the hall as she spoke. "One's a tall auburn brute, very stout and hairy. Not your type? Well, then I might just have the right one for you..."

As she talked, Seras noticed one door slightly ajar. It was near the end of the hall, where the dim light was lowest. She could see just fine since she was a vampire, but she doubted whoever lived there could. She could hear the faint beating of a heart, and breathing of lungs.

Even before she saw, she sensed whoever it was weak, and in poor shape. The heart beat was soft even by human standards, and slightly muffled from the fat surrounding arteries. Most likely a poor diet and lifestyle had slightly clogged it, and either a much polluted upbringing or smoking made the lungs vaguely raspy.

As they drew near the werewolf's door, with the proprietor still talking, Seras leaned forward to see who lived in that little room.

He was sitting on the ground, with his back leaned against the wall, with his legs bend and his feet flat against the floor. He was naked except his trousers. This allowed her to see just how emaciated he was. She could see every bone in his body. Almost the entire surface of his skin was covered in large scars, cuts, gashes, and lacerations. Some were scars, some looked like they were in the long process of healing, and many looked like they were infected while on the verge of healing, and many looked very fresh.

A small trickle of blood ran down his arm, exciting her involuntary vampire hunger.

He had long, limp, red-brown hair tied in a loose braid down his back. It was dull, coarse, tangled in places, and clung to his skin from dried sweat. His skin was a pale sickly greyish-yellow, like he had seen neither nutrition nor sunlight in years. His long limbs were draped along his sides like he was too exhausted to lift them. In fact, his entire continence looked deeply lethargic and exhausted.

When she saw him, she felt so sorry for him, but at the same time she felt drawn - interested.

He took a weak breath from his cigarette, then glanced at her as though to say, "What's it to ya?"

She felt ashamed and immediately averted her eyes, yet his countenance did not leave her mind.

She was vaguely aware the madam was still talking. Still bragging about the merits of the werewolf she'd heard nothing about so far.

"... Hair as smooth as silk, as all wolves' underfur is, and his dick can lift..."

"Excuse me," she said, then shook her head to try to hurry the mental image out of her mind. "But... um... Whose room is that?"

"No one's!" she laughed. "None of these prosti-dudes own this place."

"Well then - okay - who lives there?"

Narissa took one scrutinizing look at the door.

"Just some human's," she shrugged. "None worth mentioning."

"Really? But there were humans further up the hall."

"Yes, but those were sexy humans. Handsome, desirable, strong, virile humans! Those humans down there," she pointed toward the darker corridor, "Are weak, ugly, worthless things. The lowest of the low. The cheapest of the cheap. Honestly, we only keep them around so we can squeeze every last drop we can out of them before we throw them to the ghouls."

Seras gasped. "That's awful!"

"It's business," the madam shrugged. "Would you expect any better for war criminals?"

"A-a what?" Seras gulped. "Wa-war criminals?"

"War criminals," she nodded, "Those filthy mongrels that tried to fight against their vampire overlords - his Lordship in particular - but were defeated, captured, and taken here as punishment. If they didn't like serving us before, they certainly don't like it now."

"O-oh dear," Seras said, looking down, "I had no idea..."

"A worse fate could have been impalement, fire or torture," Narissa said, "A kinder one would have been a swift death, or just get thrown to the ghouls. This way? They can pay their debt to us on their way out. And we, in turn, can extract revenge from them as we ravish their bodies and enjoy their succulent blood," she licked her lips lecherously.

Seras thought of all the deep gashes and bite marks on the human's body, which left him so weak, anemic, and emaciated.

"How awful!" Seras cried again, and covered her mouth.

"It's all part of the circle of life and death!" Narissa said cheerfully.

Seras looked back at the door, and could hardly believe it. "So you're saying he's...?"

"Paying his debt we speak," she said cheerfully. "I doubt he'll last the week. Few of them do."

Only a week? But he looked like he'd been in there for ages, poor thing. How on earth...?

"... He looks like he's in bad shape," Seras said with pity.

"Well, he's supposed to be like that," the madam said, "It's part of his punishment, isn't it? If he isn't dead yet, he'll wish he was."

Seras shuddered.

Seras was to learn that prostitutes of the dungeon had many different "gimmicks" to offer. Different kinds of pleasures for different kinds of fancies. In the male section alone, there were men of all shapes and sizes. Tall and muscular, tall and thin, stout and bulky; some even short! There were vampires for patrons who wanted a more refined touch, werewolves for patrons that wanted to unleash their inner beast, humans for patrons that liked something so weak and helpless to dominate in bed, and so on.

Just as there are different tiers of quality in real life - gold, silver, bronze, and copper, refined leather versus coarse leather versus some synthetic garbage that humans made long ago - there were different tiers of prostitutes.

Most had different levels of attractiveness, physical fitness, aptitude, stamina, and so on. Some customers liked to be dominated in bed; others liked to dominate, and all liked different levels of domination and submission. Some liked dominating those that put up a fight, others liked taking advantage of those too weak to fight back.

Seras learned with horror that there were some weak, malnourished, mal-treated humans who were meant to fill the fetish of vampires who liked to take complete advantage of physically weak, exhausted, poorly fed humans who were completely unable to fight back. Of pushing them under their legs, then riding them like two-bit ponies, then discarding them like broken toys. Using, abusing. Objects they pay just to abuse. Completely helpless creatures to exercise their power over before leaving them a bleeding mess after they were done.

Vampires already had vastly superior speed and reflexes from humans. The difference was already between a normal human and a sloth. So the ones that liked taking even weaker, sicklier humans for their own pleasure... well...

"So, would you like to rent an hour with the Captain?" Narissa asked cheerfully.

"... The what?" Seras asked, just having entered the conversation.

"The Captain!" she repeated indignantly.

Head spinning from all the new information, Seras vaguely allowed herself to get talked into seeing the Captain. His room was very nice, and very expensive. Not just to pay to get in (it took a whole week's pay just to walk through the door), but to furnish. It was large, mostly empty, but with beautifully carved wooden furniture, a large soft bed that smelled like it was stuffed with various animal feathers, draped with animal furs, real leather lounge chairs around the room, and fake trees set up on every wall.

The Captain himself was gorgeous. Seras felt many parts of herself come alive just seeing him.

He was indeed very tall, huge, and muscular. He wore only a pair of baggy trousers and boots, with the large silver belt buckle undone. His hair was short and indeed silky white, his chiseled jaw as clean shaven, and his high cheek bones rested under the most piercing red eyes. His skin looked very smooth and white, wrapped tightly over thick, hard, bulging muscles. She realized he must have been an albino, with his white hair, red eyes, and pale skin.

Yet... while he was handsome, there was something about him that didn't quite draw her. She couldn't explain it. She found him very handsome, but she felt no desire to touch him, speak to him, hear from him, or cross boundaries with him.

She felt the feeling was mutual. While he looked at her with the same intense gaze as anything else, she felt she was no more to him than the furniture leaning against the wall.

She tried to make it work, since she had paid so much to see him (almost unconsciously), but there was just something missing.

She stood there awkwardly for many minutes, and sat for several more. He sat on his bed and regarded her evenly, waiting for her to make the first move. He tried to get up to approach her at one point, but she freaked out so much he sat back down. She had the feeling he would do whatever she wanted if she asked him, but she didn't get the impression he would do it because he wanted to.

She tried to start a conversation a few times, but the few times they didn't die in her throat, they were killed by his pointed glare.

She realized several of the fake trees in his room were real, after she caught scent of them.

"Trees? You must really miss the outdoors!" she said.

He just looked at her.

She settled back down and felt embarrassed for her stupidity.

He really was handsome. Taller than the door, smooth as marble; rippling muscles, glossy white hair, and a very deep, musky scent. He looked calm, even, and self-controlled, yet his eyes almost radiated with suppressed energy. And obedience, of course; she got the distinct impression that he would do whatever she wanted, no matter how foolishly vanilla, blush-inducingly raunchy, or even painfully humiliating, without so much as a flinch. Without giving any impression that he liked or disliked it.

She tried to imagine what it would be like to run her fingers over his skin, feel his hard muscles under her hands, kiss his lips with hers, lay down with him descending over her and... and...

It just seemed to empty and meaningless.

She couldn't describe it. Whatever they did in here, it would be as perfunctorily done as a she-dog standing still for a mutt to have a quick shag. No intimacy, no contact, no passion.

She... Seras couldn't explain it.

She wound up leaving twenty minutes early. She thanked him for his time, then apologized for wasting it, then corrected herself that at least she bought him forty minutes of not having to work... then she hastily said goodbye and rushed out.

The madam was not there, which she was thankful for on her way out. She ignored the smell of pheromones, scented showers, and perfumes on her way through the hall. She ignored the sound of moaning in one room and the sound of one skilled workman (she was just going to mentally call them that) bringing a client into screaming oblivion in another.

Yet, even as she resolved to block this place from her mind, she couldn't help thinking of that human with the red hair and scars.