Brienne trembled and moaned. The beast had bound her, just as he had Kyla -- arms gripped by a sleeve behind her, with her mouth gagged and the upper half of her face hooded. Her long, delicate ears jutted out from beneath the leather, with her copper tresses spilling down in a tail pulled through a hole. Even if she was not blinded by the hood, it was far too dark for her to see -- but this did not stop her from imagining how she looked. Pale and shapely, bound like some animal.
She suppressed another moan. Then she felt a rough slap against her buttocks and stumbled forward.
Brienne had no way of knowing how Kyla had faired under this treatment, but she could not imagine the defiant rogue doing worse than her. Since being drugged and violated, Brienne had felt some part of her melt -- as if the portion of her mind responsible for self-determination had been muzzled. Once bound, she had realized that she was unconsciously adopting the gait that Kyla had demonstrated when they found her outside the cottage -- as if her body instinctively hoped this would please her captor.
What was worse was his reaction: his immense hands had immediately dropped down to the soft padding of her buttocks, sinking into either cheek. He had then guided her steps with gropes and swats -- silently correcting her little slut-strut.
She shuddered. Another slap, another moan. Was she truly this weak...?
She wanted to blame it on the drug, but she knew that wasn't the whole truth. Some hidden part of her responded to this -- squirmed at the very thought of it. To be treated not only as an animal, but a precious one. To be reduced to someone's thing -- a thing that was desired and adored. Someone's precious bauble. Someone's treasure.
Then there was her relentless curiosity -- the part of her mind that thirsted for knowledge. He was clearly far more intelligent than they'd given him credit for -- he could speak! Where did he come from? How long had he been in these woods? How many of his kind remained? How did the strange drug he used on them work -- had he brewed it himself?
The stones she walked upon subtly changed. She felt a soft breeze stir across her naked breasts along with the warm glow of the sun. They were emerging from the cavern. Her foot brushed across an oddly shaped stone -- she immediately recalled the ruins they had seen near the cottage. Were these the same?
A tiny flutter of indignation rose up inside her chest. She'd be able to do so much more for him learning about those ruins than just being tied and led around like this...!
That thought alone made her flush with humiliation. Why did she even think about that? About helping him...?!
They stepped inside. Another cottage? The floor was stone, here; she smelled oil and charcoal. It occurred to her that he likely had many stashes here in the woods. Places like the cave, where he had stored supplies.
He squeezed her haunches and guided her up to a stone table. She felt the edge make light contact with her hips. Spreading his fingers across her shoulders, he leaned her forward until her bare breasts flattened to the cool stone.
Brienne whimpered. Was he going to take her again...? The memory of that first time was still spinning in her mind. It made her body ache with a dull heat just thinking about it. She turned her cheek to press against the stone.
"Shhh..." Soft shushing noises. The sort of sounds you'd make to comfort a skittish animal. Brienne bristled, her face heating up again. She wasn't some sort of pet to be comforted, she told herself. So why did the sound make some part of her melt into a squirming mess?
She felt his finger trace down the side of her waist, down to her thigh; it moved back up to her left buttock, squeezing. He dribbled a phial of something over her skin -- it was different from the oil he had used before. It made her skin tingle and had a sharp, pleasant odor.
"Shhh..." he repeated, stroking her side with his other hand.
"Mmnmph..." Brienne nervously wriggled. He was trying to calm her down. Why? The hand on her buttocks moved away; the other hand gripped her side, holding her down. She heard metal scraping against stone.
Then it came: a sharp, sizzling hiss. The magic brand kissed the skin of her buttock with a tender lick, scorching it with his mark. When he pulled away, her whole body was wracked with pain. Tears spilled out from beneath her hood. She squealed.
Immediately, he applied more of the lotion to the mark. It helped dull the sharpness of the burn, but still left her with the sting. She sobbed, twisting on the table.
All at once, his massive arms scooped her up. His breath washed over the side of her cheek, with his mouth enveloping one sensitive ear-tip. As he suckled, his powerful hands grasped her bare tits -- squeezed them, groped them. He was careful not to let her freshly branded buttocks touch his hip.
Brienne kept sobbing. He had marked her. Branded her. The full weight of what was happening to her, what would happen, fell upon her all at once. He really was going to make her into his pretty pet, his precious thing. And she couldn't stop him.
And the only source of comfort she could find was in the firm grip of his hands, his jaws... in the soothing warmth of her captor's grasp.
