The cold drip of water enters my dazed consciousness first as feeling slowly returns to my body. A wet trail snakes down my right cheek leaving the taste of brackish water on my lips, sluggishly my mind tells my hand to wipe away the slimy mess. Reality returns swiftly in a painful jolt as I find my hands tied behind my back. The ropes are tight around my wrists with ruff fibers scratching against delicate skin, making them feel hot and raw. A soft whimper escapes me as my eyes try to penetrate the darkness pressing against them, twisting, trying to look at my surroundings a shiver wracks my body as fear eats at my confused thoughts. The constant drip of water and the stale, stagnate air, tell me I am no longer on the forest road, the scrabbling of little clawed feet against stone makes my skin itch with revulsion. I find my ankles are also tied, my hands and feet seeming to be connected by a short length of rope between them. Lying on my left side the pain in my bent knees makes me pull against my bonds, trying to straiten them brings an equally fiery pain to my stiff shoulders. Moaning, the pain making me light headed, I try to puzzle out what happened.
The last thing I remember is the Temple and the excitement of being sent out on my first pilgrimage with Head Sister Ivy and three others to the main Temple in the great forest city of Rathone. The mules were loaded as Sister Jasmine gave me last minute instructions on my duties during the long trip. I was to care for the mules that would carry our meager possessions and the offerings of our Temple.
I remember lectures from the older Sisters on how to behave outside of the Temple, now that I have come of age for initiation into the order, about not letting a man see me bathing in the rivers we would pass on our way to Rathone. They warned again of not letting my curiosity get me into any more trouble and of not straying from the protection of the other sisters on the long road to the city. They seemed over protective, but being an orphan and given to the Temple as a baby twenty years ago I had never been around men. I always tried to hide my curiosity, our order being open only for women. What had happened? Where were my other Sisters?
Shuddering, a sick feeling settles in my stomach at the memory of the mules, my mind cowering away from the knowledge, knowing they had something to do with my current situation. Looking around, I find my eyes have gotten use to the darkness, I see a pale glow forming a square outline on one wall. The cold wet stone of the floor eats into the thin material of my novice robe as I try to shift closer to the light, wriggling my hips and shoulders I inch my way. I hear the soft gurgle of water as I near the center of the cell, the floor sunken in the center around a filth covered drainage grate. Sliding over the metal of the grate it snags my robe, the metal biting cruelly into my hip. Using my feet, I try to lift myself over the drain, but the tight ropes have long since rendered my feet numb making them clumsy. Slipping, my hip slams back to the floor gouging the metal deep as a scream bursts forth. Quickly I wriggle back off the grate, sobbing as my aching hip meets the cold wet stone floor. The sound of heavy footfalls and the clink of keys move closer, I try to stifle my sobs as the light around the door flickers. Metal screeches as the heavy door swings inwards revealing two dark forms, with the light stabbing into my eyes I squint as tears run down my cheeks as I try to see my captors.
"Have this one cleaned and collared, then bring her to the main chamber with the others." With a disdainful sniff, the smaller shadow moves away leaving me alone with the huge form of the other one lumbering toward me, the silver gleam of a knife in his right hand. Trembling in fear, frozen, my eyes locked on the knife as he kneels beside me, he leans over and cuts the rope connecting my hands to my feet. Roughly, he grabs the rope around my ankles dragging me toward him, squeezing my eyes shut in fear I feel him cut the bonds, the cold blade of the knife slides against my fevered skin. I whimper in pain as blood rushes back to my feet and my knees unlock. The ruff feel of his callused hands rubbing my feet gives me something to focus on besides the pain, the hot feel of his hands surrounding my small bare feet sets my heart to racing, as no part of my body had ever been touched by a man. In shock at the unexpected pleasure of his gently rubbing hands, my protest dies unvoiced. In the faint light, I can see the broad muscles of his bare chest flexing as he rubs my feet, the scent of his warm skin mingling with the leather of his pants. My eyes follow the chiseled lines of his chest up to his face. A small gasp leaves me at the sight, causing him to glance upwards. Cold gray eyes bore into mine from the face of an angel. Standing up he grabs my arm dragging me to my feet, growling softly. My knees buckle, my hip throbbing with pain, I fall against the hard plains of his chest. With an abrupt shove he sends me stumbling toward the door, my balance off because of my tied hands, his fist closes around my tangled hair before I can even think of running. In the bright light of the corridor, I can see other cell doors, the sounds of weeping adding a soft background to the screams. With the painful guide of his fist in my hair he pushes me into a room with a huge kettle of water simmering over a low fire, a wooden table holds brushes, rags, and pots of soap. I struggle against him as fear slams into me, trying to get loose from his hold. Tears stream down my face as I struggle in his arms, heart racing, realizing the awful purpose of this room.
"You can't do this!" I scream, "I'm a Temple novice, no man may touch me on pain of death."
With a practiced ease he cuts the bonds from my hands, dragging my arms above my head, the muscles of my shoulders burning in protest causes me to stop struggling. Ignoring me, he swiftly locks my wrists into the manacles hanging from the ceiling. Kneeling down he locks first one ankle then the other into manacles on the floor, my legs spread. Panting in fear I watch as a smirk curls his lips as he brings the knife in front of my eyes the sharp edge glinting. His hot breath feathers my cheek as the cold metal scrapes up a tear. His cold eyes bore into mine as he licks the blade, his message clear. Cutting the dirty robe from my body he throws it into the corner of the cell, the thin straps of my shift part under the sharp blade to slide down my body, bunching at my hips, my spread legs preventing it from falling to the floor. Flushing under his bold stare, his gaze travels over every inch of exposed flesh. I shudder as his eyes leave my chest to pause at my bruised and torn hip. I loose sight of him as he walks behind me, my every nerve ending tingling in fear and anticipation. I feel his hand skimming up my leg to bunch the material tight against my skin, as he cuts it from me I cry out and flinch away. His soft, cruel laugh echoes in the chamber as he grabs a fist full of my hair wrenching my head back, the warm skin of his chest brushes against my shoulder as warm water cascades down my hair. Water pours over me several times drenching my hair, out of the corner of my eye I see him leaning over to the table as he opens the soap jar dipping out a generous hand full, the feel of his strong hands lathering my hair makes me moan. My cheeks grow hot from embarrassment at the strange tingling in my body that causes my nipples to harden into tight little buds. Fighting the traitorous feelings of my body, I try to resist the pleasure of his hands washing the filth from my long hair.
Looking around to focus on something, anything to distance myself, my eyes focus on a crest hanging on the wall. Blinking away the tears I try to make sense of the jumbled image, the red image on a field of black reveals itself as the side view of a griffin in the ancient style of Tar'sin. The knowledge sets off warning bells in my mind as I try to dredge up the memory, water again pours over my hair, rinsing it. A cold knot of dread claws my stomach as I search the crest, hoping not to find it, and see hanging in the beasts fore claw the Scourge.
"No, please, oh sweet Goddess no!" I whimper, as I frantically try to pull my wrists from the manacles, screaming and sobbing uncontrollably as one word echoed in the madness of my mind.
Slavers!
Like a wild animal mindless of the pain, I fight to free myself, pulling on the chains as blood trails down my arms. The blinding shock of his open palm against my cheek brings me back with the taste of blood in my mouth, sobbing, I sag in my restraints exhausted and dazed. I feel him lift me taking my weight off my abused wrists. The hard muscle of his thigh wedges itself between my legs holding me up, my exposed sex resting on the slick leather of his pants. Gulping back little hiccup sobs, I can't help but feel the heat radiating from the hard planes of his body as my breasts rub against his bare chest with every ragged breath. The shock of finding out where I am shakes loose the memory of how I had gotten there. In a nightmare kaleidoscope of images, the memory leaps out of the void and forces me back...
