REMINDER- I write long stories; some parts don't have naughty bits, but the parts that do will make more sense if you read the non-naughty bits, too. Also, please be aware this part is Dub-Con and involves some bondage. If you frown on fantasies about that stuff, stop now. Otherwise, happy reading!!
-o--O--o-
After he realized there were no slippers or soft shoes for Troi to wear inside- only the muddy, stiff ones in which she's arrived- Argus carried her to the far side of the castle. He stopped near the entrance, outside the door to what used to be a barracks for the castle guard.
"Listen, there's a funny-looking bench in here. I don't want you to be frightened, but I'll be strapping you in- simply because it will be safer for you. Nivid's not always in control, and if you move when he doesn't expect it, you might get hurt."
Trinity snorted and rolled her eyes, impatient. Of course she would be hurt. If he thought warning her would make it hurt less, he was an idiot. She stared at him until he opened the door. She didn't realize how tightly she was holding onto his shoulders when he stepped inside.
The room wasn't as elaborately furnished as her own, but it was warm and comfortable. Rugs covered the floors and tapestries covered the walls. Two couches faced each other across the bearskin rugs fronting the hearth, and a brass candelabra gleamed on the rough wooden mantel, though the candles weren't lit. The only light in the room came from a fire on the hearth and the two ubiquitous torches on the wall flanking the door.
Trinity wanted to bury her face in Argus' broad chest and not look around, but she relaxed her grip and shifted, wordlessly asking to be put down. She kept her eyes on the fire as Argus led her to the "bench" he'd mentioned, because in the one fleeting glimpse she'd taken, she could see that almost everything about it was scary.
He could see how frightened she was, but she neither cried nor fought him as he readied her. After telling her what to do about her robe, he didn't speak for a while. With gentle touches, he guided her to kneel on the ends of two padded logs, placed misleadingly side-by-side in front of something that might have been a church rail, but wasn't. It was about a meter long, and its only purpose was to support a wide, padded leather saddle. When he nudged Trinity forward, she leaned over and he buckled a strap around her waist, holding her hips in place. Similar straps attached her knees to the logs, while strong, thin chains fastened to the base of the logs held her cuffed ankles apart.
"These are just so you don't accidentally kick him, Troitsa," Argus told her softly.
She rolled her eyes again. She'd untied the overlapping sides of the robe before she draped herself across the saddle, and she'd just noticed that she was still covered. She was grateful- for a second- until he moved the logs apart. She gasped as her weight shifted abruptly forward, leaving her shoulders lower than her bottom, and her legs spread wide. She bit her lip and tried not to cry, something that wasn't usually a problem. Tears were an expensive luxury, and in a life like hers, luxuries were unaffordable.
Argus finished with her feet and came around to her head, where he shackled her wrists and secured her arms overhead, his stomach turning. He was getting a headache, too, which was odd. He didn't usually have this much trouble; he didn't relish his duties, but it wasn't something he could change. Although the women they normally took didn't speak unless they were begging or screaming invective.
After he was done with Troitsa's wrists, he slipped a short, padded bench under her, giving her a place to rest her forehead and her arms, so as not to hurt her wrists or her neck.
Trinity frowned. He had to be the most oddly courteous kidnapper/rapist in the world. But the bench was effective, she admitted- she wasn't uncomfortable, even though the saddle only supported her hips and there was nothing at all under her torso.
Argus stood next to her shoulder. He ran his hand over the back of her head. "Do you want me to stay?"
Why oh why can't I keep my mouth shut?
he wondered.
"Would you?"
He nodded, then realized she couldn't see him. "Da, of course."
He moved a chair to her side and hesitated. If he faced her feet, he'd be able to see Nivid doing what he was doing. He usually left the room to avoid that but, on the other hand, he didn't want his back to Nivid. He'd been telling the truth, Nivid wouldn't try to hurt her, but he was a wild animal and, when the mating urge was on him, nothing else mattered. It shouldn't be too bad tonight, he hadn't been without a woman for very long. Still... Argus set the chair down facing Troitsa, so his knees wound up directly beneath her shoulder. From here he could stroke her back or her hair to soothe her if she wanted him to, and if he was able.
"What's he like?"
Trinity tried turning her head, but had to crane her neck uncomfortably far to see over her arm or under the flowing sleeve of the borrowed robe, so she went back to resting her forehead on the bench.
"Nivid? Well, he's a couple of inches taller than I, his skin is mostly brown, his hair is black, he has fur down his back and on his thighs and lower legs, which are very horse-like. He has talons on his... hands... and hooves instead of feet. His head and shoulders are massive, his face is half-man and half-bull," Argus answered, adding, "And he has horns."
Trinity's shoulders shook as she exhaled, her eyes burning. This was really happening. There really was a monster on his way here to rape her. It was almost funny.
She huffed, as close as she'd get to humor. "I actually meant who he is, not how he looks."
Argus froze, his eyes wide. No one had ever asked him that, and he didn't know how to reply. He felt like a heel for having scared her unnecessarily.
"Argus?"
He realized he'd been quiet for a long time.
"Uhh, sorry. Nivid is... hard to describe. He operates on instinct, but he's not without reason. He feels, but his drives overcome emotion. He's solitary."
"Does he speak?"
"Not often, sometimes-"
With an echoing boom, the door flew open, crashing against the stone arch which framed it. Trinity jumped and held her breath.
Nivid loomed in the doorway, his shoulders almost filling it. His black eyes glittered in the light of the torches on the wall to either side of the door as he glanced toward Argus. He grunted and his eyes turned to the woman. His head came up, his eyelids fell, and his nostrils flared.
Trinity shuddered at the loud huffs behind her, so plainly made by the lungs of some large animal. His chest must be huge. She held her breath again as the beast stepped forward.
"Argus?" she said weakly, her voice high and shaky.
"Mm?" Keeping an eye on Nivid, he leaned down and put his head close to hers.
"Can you, I don't know, could you sit on the floor so I can see you?"
Without thought, he kicked the chair away and lowered himself to the rug between the rail and her padded bench, lying diagonally with his head directly under hers and his feet toward the corner of the room.
His teeth clenched. He'd forgotten her robe was open, and even with the indirect torchlight, he could see her breasts above him. His jaw relaxed as a foggy film obscured the sharp edges of his vision, and Argus began to fade.
" 's okay. Yull be okay," he slurred, determined to retain what consciousness he could.
Nivid walked slowly, his unshod hooves making dull thuds on the stone floor as he stalked his prey.
Trinity tried to concentrate on Argus and not think about the creature behind her, but it was dim, and though Argus was looking at her, something wasn't right. The muscles of his face... his nostrils were flaring, she realized, his neck extending.
"Argus?"
He could hear her, but her voice was very far away. Her scent was driving him crazy. He huffed again. The lavender oil did nothing to obscure the heady scent of her body- her sweat, the natural oil protecting all that beautiful brown hair, a tinge of fear, and her cunt. Her sweet, delectable cunt.
His strange hands clumsy on the slippery garment, Nivid lifted her robe.
Argus blinked.
