Savok wasn't sure what he expected when he removed the bit from her mouth, but it certainly wasn't this.
"--that mark, the brand you used on me, is it some sort of magical rune? Because I think I can sense the magic in it. Did you find it among the ruins, here? I'd love to see them, maybe if you take off the blindfold--"
Savok squeezed the bit back in. He had brought her here, to an ancient overgrown ruin on the other side of the cavern. Most of the town was rubble -- its stonework had collapsed beneath the slow relentless march of nature. The temple was one of the few structures that still stood. It sat upon a circular foundation, with black stone columns supporting its arched ceiling.
He sat at the back of the temple with the redhead in his arms. She made a muffled whimper and buried her face against his chest. Every time he removed the bit, she spoke. She didn't plea, shout, or beg. She just
talked
. About everything. Anything. She had told him her name: Brienne. She had told him the names of the others, too: Kyla and Sune.
Most captives took time to acclimate to their new life. This could mean days, weeks, or even months of training. But she sank into the role so rapidly that Savok initially thought it was a trick.
It wasn't, he realized. The urog had a word for this --
urai
. Roughly translated, it meant 'one who yearns to submit'.
Urog believed that with time and care, the flower of submission could bloom in any soil -- no matter how rough or how sour. For most, this required work, patience, and discipline. But for urai, it was only a matter of finding a firm hand and the opportunity to submit to it. Whether they realized it or not, urai sought out their masters.
This redheaded sorceress -- arms bound, nuzzling weakly against his massive chest -- was one such creature. Unknowing or not, she had been searching for a Master. He reached down and peeled her blindfold off.
Wide violet eyes gazed back up at him.
A thunderous rumble filled Savok. His throat and chest constricted; he was filled with a sensation that had eluded him since his self-imposed exile.
Urai were sacred to the urog. The gift of submission, given so freely, was something to be honored. It demanded a gift in return. He removed the bit from her mouth and brushed his thick thumb across her soft lips.
"Your companions," he told her. "They'll be here soon." He held his thumb in place, thwarting any attempt to speak.
Her eyes were like two lovely plums that sucked in all the light. She nodded, her lips still pinned beneath his thumb.
He considered his next words carefully: "Do you wish to help me against them?"
Conflict rippled across her face. Her brows pinched together; turbulent stormclouds gathered behind her eyes.
Savok lifted his thumb. "You can speak the truth, urai."
She blushed. Clearly, she didn't know what the word meant, but some part of her recognized its significance. "I... I don't know."
Savok nodded. "You feel loyalty to them."
"To Kyla," Brienne corrected him, then meekly looked away. "Sune... I hardly know her. She hired us, told us we were hunting a feral beast -- not..."
Savok gripped her chin and turned her face back to look up at him. "Do you wish for Kyla to be here with you?"
Something bright and hopeful flashed through her eyes. It was instantly darkened by fear and worry. "I... y-yes, but--"
"Only if she can be happy," he completed her thought. "Only if she can be as you are now."
The idea was clearly unimaginable to Brienne. Nevertheless, she nodded.
"She can be." Savok saw it. The other girl was resistant; she was not urai. But he had seen the seed of submission in her eyes, nevertheless; it merely needed the opportunity to grow. Had they not been interrupted, it would have been only days before she surrendered to it. "Do you trust me, urai?" He pressed his thumb to her mouth again.
Brienne's eyes grew even wider. Her lips squished against his thumb. She reflexively suckled its tip -- then nodded.
"Good. Then obey me, and this shall be my gift to you -- your friend will be your sister in submission." The thought of Kyla kneeling besides Brienne -- combined with the sound of Brienne's suckling -- stirred him to hardness. He pulled Brienne's head back from his chest, bidding her to kneel. She obeyed.
He rose to his feet, his cock jutting forth like a vein-mapped spear. He knew it was the first time she had laid eyes upon it. Its crown was pale green in contrast to the darker tones of the shaft. It had a presence, a
physicality
to it. As if it could effortlessly crush the girl beneath its weight alone.
Brienne's face burned, staring.
"Now," Savok spoke, sinking his fingers deep into the curls of her copper red hair. "Worship."