The Little Theif ~ Closed ~

It was just a wrong turn after all. She'd been good for years, her childhood compulsions left behind, now this wrong turn had undone her.

They had sent Synthrina to the lower levels, to find the baker and give him the little sack of nutmegs, and she had, and when she had, she collected the sovereign and was on her way back, she turned left too early, and in the unfamiliar stone passages, she stumbled into the cell, well, it looked like a cell, with a curious low bed and some bits and bobs to make it homely.

On a stool next to the bed was the thing, a black ring, set with a green stone that glowed even in the dim light down here. Curiosity got the better of her, she picked it up. Synthrina just couldn't help herself, it was calling to her. It was too big to be a bracelet, it was hinged and open. She placed it tentatively around her throat and almost by itself, it snapped shut and seemed to shrink to fit her slender neck.

It felt warm where it touched her skin and she tugged at it to open it, but as she fought with it, she could discern no clasp or catch with which to even pry it open. Synthrina panicked and soon took off running, stumbling up the stairs, knocking folk aside, until she was out of the castle and amongst the crowded peasants in the market square. One of them looked at her new accessory, and she ran again, through the gloomy narrow streets, past the animal pens, past the battlements and out into the open country, in the shadow of the wall.

She sat on a fallen log and bent her head forward, trying to get the bloody thing off, tears of frustration and fear welling in her eyes. "Damn damn damn" she shrieked, and then did cry. Tried again to pry off the necklace, it would be to obvious that it didn't belong to her, she was already marked as a thief, this would just prove she fell back into her old ways again. Synthrina needed to get this thing off.

She slid forward a little and off of the log. Her bum bumped onto the ground and she could immediately feel the dampness of the soil. She had a thought that her dress may be getting muddied, but she cared little, the enormity of her predicament overwhelming her.

She was well aware that the castle, more than any other place in the Parish, was imbued with all sorts of wizardry and magic, both amongst the folk and amongst the very buildings and objects surrounding them. It was said that the castle itself rose from the ashes of the site of the final battle, where the folk had, for once and for all, defeated the beasts. Not only had she stolen something valuable, but she had stolen something magical, and she had sworn never to dabble there again.

"He'll be wanting that back I should think" She whirled at the sound of the gruff male voice but could see no one, save a mangy brown dog sniffing at the end of the log. She wondered at her own sanity as she replayed the words in her head

"You heard me, he won't be happy, little thief" and this time when she whirled, the dog was looking at her, his jaws moving. Her mouth gaped, her eyes widened, the dog laughed.

"It's what gives him the power to be both human and wolf, and it seems you have taken it...........you should run, though it's pointless, he is faster than you, and he has your scent by now, so you are actually doomed. I may stay to watch the fun"

It seemed he wouldn't have long to wait, in the distance she could hear some commotion and she turned her head towards it. She took in the scene, although it was to far for her to make out any detail, it seemed an woman had fallen to the ground, and folk were rushing to help her, while others yelled at the cause of the incident, a large dog.....no, a wolf running away from the woman, but worse, unmistakably running towards Synthrina. She tried to rise, but her legs felt like lead, as if in a dream, or nightmare. She grasped the log, feeling the rough bark graze her bare arms, to pull herself up, but it was no use, she was anchored to the spot. She couldn't even look away, it seemed like the collar was turning her head towards the oncoming beast. All she could do was await her fate.

"he's almost here" said the dog, a little too gleefully it seemed, as he took a few steps away "this is gonna be messy"

She would have thrown a rock at him, could she have reached one, or even raised her hand enough to lift one, but she couldn't. She felt her insides turn to water and she prayed that she maintained enough control to at least save her dignity. And then he was there, right there, standing over her, panting, his moist hot breath enveloping her face. She bravely looked into his grey eyes, daring him to finish her. He snarled, not the snarl of a cornered dog, not even the snarl of the circus bears she had seen, but something much more primal, seeming to come from the very earth at his feet. His yellow teeth bared as his lip curled, and the low rumbling sound made her own bones vibrate. "Thief" he growled, his voice low, "tell me why I shouldn't just kill you now and take back what is mine. The folk won't miss a gutter rat like you, and the birds and forest animals will enjoy picking over your bones"

Scynthrina was terrified for many reasons in this moment, oddly enough, in this moment, the wolf himself wasn't one of them. Yes, he was very intimidating that did increase the fear, yet she feared death from her master far more than death from a wolf. Death from the wolf would be quick, from her master though, he'd make it slow and painful. Her deep brown eyes were locked onto his grey ones as his words sank in, raven hair got caught in log as she fell back down to the ground. This stopped her for a moment till her shaky fingers got it free, and she started to slink away slowly, pulling at the collar again with one hand, quite roughly this time.

"Please, no.... Don't kill me. I didn't mean to take it, I was just looking at it. I didn't want to take it.. I can't get it off.. Here, just get off me, you can have it back... Please.."

Scynthrina was a rambling mess, pulling hard on the collar, hard enough that bruises would mostly start to form. Meanwhile she felt the presence of her master heading their way, unable to see him with the log blocking her, but the whole town knew who she was and who she belonged to. It wouldn't be very difficult to believe the people here would rat her out. Luckily she wasn't 'that' kind of slave to him, just a house slave, doing chores, cooking food, running errands, it was her price from when she stole from him as a kid. When he she got him upset in any form is when the fear really sank in.

"Please just take it off..."

Tears were streaming down her red cheeks, there it was, her master and the wolf looming over her, quickly as she could she got into a kneeling position, showing her complete submission to the man. He reached down grabbing the collar rather harshly, lifting her high on her knees, examining it closely, laughed when realizing it won't come off. Werwolves were nothing new to him, he's been around for a long time, has seen it all, even the most unbelievable things possible in the world, being a wizard had its benefits.

"What did you do this time girl? Answer me, now?"

When he let go of the collar, Scynthrina shrank down in the kneeling position at his deep tone, told him everything up to this point of what happened, how the collar just latched itself on her, told him there were no intentions on stealing it. Her Master laughed at her nervous ramblings, looking at the collar once more, then back towards the very upset wolf, which was even more upset at the interruption, but respected the fact that this man owned the girl. The man backed away from the scene, laughing at the whole idea of it all, knowing the kind of spell that held the collar to her throat, knowing the one way it comes off. He left that information out, not letting the girl know, wanting her to find out the hard way.

"Looks like this thief belongs to you now..... Wolf... Do with her as you wish, I'm done with her anyway."

Scynthrina stayed kneeling with her head lowered, wondering what was going to happen now, her hands once more tried to pry the collar off, it began to rub her neck raw from the harshness of her struggles. The dress she wore was all wet and muddy, even ripped at the bottom from getting caught between her feet and the ground. Her raven hair was just as messy, from getting caught in the log, dragging on the ground.

"Please, don't kill me.... Master..."

It was a weak, very meek voice that escaped from her, not liking the fact that she belongs to him now, fearing that he will still kill her, he was right, no one here would miss her. In fact looking at the crowd that formed in the distance, they were most likely hoping he would kill her, get rid of a burden in their lives. Despite her submissive position, her heart still raced in fear, kept prying at the collar with silent tears.

They were alone now, her former master had disappeared almost as quickly as he had appeared, and even the brown dog had slunk off, no doubt disappointed at not witnessing a quick and bloody kill and somewhat apprehensive at the growing mob down the road. He turned and surveyed that very mob, their numbers were growing, and they stood in the road, still some distance away, and seemingly hesitant about taking on such an imposing beast. If he killed the girl however, it might just be enough to tip them into some foolhardy act of bravery, and whilst he was sure he could defeat them, he didn't want to take the chance.

He looked back at the girl. Her demeanor bemused him, she was obviously terrified, but she held his gaze, and there was something defiant in her eyes. Despite the fact that she had placed him in this predicament, and despite the growing peril, he began to warm to her, and his willingness to tear out her throat began to wane. He lowered his head a little and half closed his eyes and she felt the sensation return to her limbs, a lightness of her being. She just knew, in that moment, that if she chose to run, chose to fight, then her body would co-operate, she was free from whatever spell he had placed upon her. She didn't rise, she didn't raise a fist, she just waited.

"We need to be away from this place, and our route to the castle is blocked" She was still surprised at his ability to speak, although, she was becoming increasingly aware that it was more likely that she had developed the ability to hear, or at least the collar had given her that ability. She simply nodded.

He lowered himself to the ground "Climb upon my back girl, get a good grip on my fur, and don't be scared of hurting me, you won't........we're going to the woods"

She stared at him aghast. Ride on the back of a beast, a beast who only seconds ago controlled her limbs and threatened to kill her. Ride on him into the woods, away from the safety of the castle, away from the people who could protect her. There were so many ways that his suggestion was madness, but, curiously, at least curiously to herself, she complied. She lifted her leg over his back. His fur was thick, but the individual strands were coarse, and it rasped against her tender skin. She blushed momentarily when those parts of her that were more private came into contact with him, like most peasants, she could not afford the luxury of underwear. She lay flat along his spine, so that she could keep her legs from hanging down, and grasped two handfuls of the thick ruff around his neck. He rose from the ground in a fluid movement, and begun to lope towards the woods, his spine rippling beneath her, stimulating her in ways that she would rather not think about just now. Behind them, the mob roared and started to run, but they had no chance of matching his speed.

The tree line of the woods engulfed them, and he slowed to pick his way amongst the undergrowth. At one point he jumped a fallen log, and the movement bought a sudden gasp to her lips, and a half smile to her tear stained and grimy face. Finally they stopped, in a small clearing dimly lit by dappled light tumbling through the branches above. She slid off his back and knelt on the ground, slowly getting her breath back. He turned to her.

"Listen carefully girl, you are mine, by right, because of the crime you committed, and by gift, as your master decreed. You have but two choices. You can die here, now, and I will take what is mine, or you can be my property forever, stay by my side, do my bidding"

She looked at him, she certainly didn't want to die, and there was no need to answer, he knew that. He continued

"Then I will reveal to you my human form, which will set your cast forever, for if you should ever tell another soul, it will be the death of you" He pushed up from the ground, his massive front paws pressed upon her shoulders. He shifted his weight a little and both paws rested against the collar. She felt it throb, felt it's heat, so hot she thought it might burn her, but the beast in front of her started to transform. Fur became skin, limbs lengthened. And then, he was there, tall, thick muscled, and completely, unashamedly, naked. Her eyes were initially fixed on his chest, and when she looked down she gasped, and quickly looked up. Then she gasped again. He was handsome, of that there was no question, chiseled features, those piercing grey eyes, the thick dark hair, a man of about 40, a strong, powerfully built man. Powerful in other ways too, for she knew this man, who in the Parish didn't. She bowed her head "my Lord.....".she began, but she couldn't continue. Just what does one say to a naked King.

She started to beat herself up on the inside, cussing herself out for stealing from a King of all people. Scynthrina kept her head bowed, even went as far as closing her eyes, trying to not look at her Masters nakedness. It was bad enough it gave her strange feelings just by looking at it, the same feeling she felt when riding on his back. The thought of that moment sent an uncontrolled shiver up her spine. Sex wasn't new to her, she knew what it was, but she never really experienced it. Her old Master kept a tight leash on her, flaunted her around in front of the men, yet, never allowing them to touch her. Every where else around her there was sex, she saw it every day.

"I won't tell anyone, I promise M'Lord...."

It was more of a squeak at first till she got a hold of her nerves, keeping her eyes shut, she was raised to not look, let alone stare at anyone who had ruling over her.

"If I may ask, M'Lord..... Why can't you just take this off? I will just give it back to you, I'm not worthy enough to serve you. I will rather serve you than die..... I.... I just don't know what I can offer to someone like you."

It was so clear she was trying to get out of this somehow. He of all people wouldn't want a street rat by his side. Every so often she'll find herself pawing at the collar, wanting it off more and more, it was too much for her to take in all at once. This day was slowly creeping up on her, overwhelming her thoughts all sudden.

"Just take it off and you get it back. I know you don't want me, I'm just a street rat...."

She spoke without ever looking up at him, her tone was pleading and also a hint of demand in it.

He laughs, a deep throaty laugh and she can hear the remnants of his growl in the low tones. He walks away from her, a few steps, and turns. She had briefly raised her eyes, but lowered them immediately again. At that level, his.........well, his manhood seemed to fill her vision, and she really did struggle with her emotions, mostly fear, if he saw her staring, would he think she was being disrespectful?

"You, you're one of them, one of The Folk" and he says the last two words with some disdain. She mentally flinches, confused, surely he is King of the Folk in this Parish, one of us. "and The folk" he continues "have always set themselves above the Beasts, always claimed magic for themselves" He turns suddenly, leaning down, his face only inches from hers, again she feels the warmth of his breath and she has a brief recollection of the scene at the log.

"The truth is, little thief, that magic has always belonged in the realm of the beasts, and The Folk have only borrowed a snippet here and there. The collar you wear was made by beasts to enslave Folk, and the only escape from slavery is death. A beast may use the collar to take the form of a slave.....yes, that's right, didn't you realise when I told you that I would show you my human form.......I am more beast than human"

He turns again and her mind whirls. The Folk are ruled by a beast, it seems incredible, but she has seen it with her own eyes. Her own King, a man who has never married, never sired an heir, as much a mystery as a King. The revelation explains a lot. Oh how she wished to run to the markets and shout it from the rooftops, but that, of course, would be the end of her.

Her reverie is interrupted by him speaking, and without thinking she looks up, and this time her stare is unavoidable, as he stands right in front of her. Her darting eyes and blushing cheeks do not go unnoticed, and within him there is a little stirring. She is not unattractive for a gutter rat. A little skinny perhaps, and he knows she is naked under the simple dress. He could take her right now, she would be powerless, and it would be some small consolation for the trouble she has caused him. His thoughts start to show in his physical reaction, and she blushes more as she sees it. Involuntarily, she raises a hand as if to touch it, but suddenly comes to her senses and turns away, grasping both hands in her lap. Later, he thinks, when the time is right.

"We have to get back to the castle. There is a passage, known only to me, but it is on the far side, and to circle around without running into that mob will take time. It will surely be dark by the time we get there, so I suggest you ride again little Thief" He raises his hands and grips the collar, and the wolf is back, ready for the journey.

She soaked in everything he had said, despite the moment of temptation to touch him, she was still listening very carefully. Having to remember her place is beneath him, her old Master would have scolded her a few times already within the few moments. A lashing for speaking out, one for looking and staring, who knows how many for the attempt to touch. She knew it was going to take sometime to get used to this, of course, he had his own distractions which were caused by her naturally.

"I..... I take no part in what The Folk do.... I may have been born like them, but I do not believe in the same things as they do... M'Lord."

Scynthrina put more thought into it and actually kind of laughed inside her own thoughts. Man is always trying to rule, to be on top, he was right in everything, it was ironic to her that man had a beast as their ruler. Guess man isn't so powerful after all.., mused to herself. Her heart has always belonged to the animals, no matter what form they took, she would find this situation no different. Perhaps she was meant to be his, on some twisted level of fate that caused all this to happen.

"M'Lord...."

She got up and slowly climbed onto his back once more, trying to make it to where she wouldn't feel what was felt before, sadly there wasn't much she could do about the position.

"If... if people see me with you... Won't they figure out that you are the beast that took me? How will you explain me all the sudden at your side, when everyone saw me last with a wolf?"

Laying down across his back once more, holding onto his fur tightly, feeling his movement underneath her and mostly between her legs. The thick fur tickled the inside of her thighs, forcing her to tense her legs around him more. She could feel herself getting aroused as he ran into the woods again. It wasn't just the stimulation between her legs, there were other sensations stirring. The way she laid on his back, her chest was pressed against him, moving along with his muscles. Scynthrina couldn't help how this was making her feel, her grip got tighter within his fur, he could feel how tense she suddenly became as she tried to fight off the feeling. It also seemed as if her breathing picked up, heart raced for different reasons, a slight whimper escaped from her direction, trying hard to not sink into these feelings.

This whole day has already been too much for her, getting aroused wasn't helping her situation at all, and no matter hard she tried to fight it, the worse it got. It was all she could think about right now, it also didn't help that every time she closed her eyes, his naked form would be standing in front of her, his scent taking control of the air around her.

Scynthrina knew it was wrong to have these kind of thoughts towards her new Master... The King. He wouldn't want her anyway, she wasn't worthy to be that kind of slave, her old master made that very clear. If she wasn't worthy of him, she was truly not worthy enough for a King.

"I am sorry for causing you problems M'Lord. I will do anything you ask without question, it is all I have to offer. I will try not be a burden on you, no more than I already am. M'Lord."

There was a hint of lust hidden in her voice, one that was clearly being denied for many reasons, yet silent tears still found their way to freedom as all the events came crashing down. Only one part of everything he had said kept ringing in her ears and the only escape from slavery is death. It was that one phrase that really cracked her, knowing she will never be free.

"I'm sorry for everything...."

This was more of a whisper, hoping and praying he hadn't heard it after realizing she spoke instead of just thinking it.

He was well aware of her building arousal, how could he not be. He could sense her warmth and dampness on his spine, he could feel it in the way she gripped his fur, the way her knees clamped against his ribs. He could hear it in her voice and in the pace of her breathing, and the little sounds she made when she exhaled. Of course, none of those signs mattered all that much, because overwhelmingly, he could smell it. It is said that dogs have a sense of smell one thousand times more sensitive than man, and if that were true, then a royal wolf like himself must have an even greater sense. It was, after all, her scent that led him to her through the town and across the fields, and that was just the scent from her momentary presence in the cell. Now her body was racing to keep pace with the storm gathering within her, and it was producing the olfactory equivalent of a cacophony.

It amused him, he wondered what nature of wench this was that he had stumbled across that could experience such arousal amongst the drama and threats and tears she had endured this day. He was beginning to think that she was perhaps a little special, and it might be interesting to have her around. He also had a growing sense that she was not of The Folk. Her features were too fine, she was tall for a girl, and the colour of hair was almost unique. Her lineage might bear some exploration, he was certain that he would find at least some influence in her genes from beyond the Parish.

He wasn't quite sure yet how he was going to manage her presence in the Royal Court. One thing was sure, today's events would have tongues wagging everywhere, so she would have to be kept hidden until the furore died down. The little cell would be perfect for that, and it would only be for a few weeks, and then he could concoct some story of her being held captive by wolves until he rescued her while riding in the forest. It would be at least partly true. In the meantime, her time spent in the cell would not be wasted. He could use it to condition her for her new life, to get her used to his particular needs.

They stayed in the woods and skirted the wall until they were at the back of the castle, and exited the woods on the narrow strip of land between the wall and the swamp. He knew that the twists and turns he had taken through the woods had only exacerbated her rising discomfort and that once they were on the flatter land, his steady trot would be less likely to do so, but, he was a being with a sense of humour, and was not without his own desires and it suited him to test the girls appetite for the lustier things in life. So, rather than trot, he broke into a gallop. His spine rose and fell with each extension and contraction of his body, first falling away from her and then driving up into her as she tried grimly to hang on.

He saw the marker for the hidden passage approach, and he turned his head "soon little thief, we shall both arrive soon" and he chuckled,or at least a rolling growl that passed for a chuckle, at the innuendo, as he slowed and started to pick his way through the tumble of rocks at the base of the wall. He stopped at an iron grate and told her to dismount, and she slid from his back. He gripped the collar and was immediately the King again, no less naked than before, though now less threatening, and in her current state, even more attractive. He turned his body to shield her eyes from whatever it was he used to open the grate, probably some hidden device she thought, and then swung the grate open and dragged her through. It clunked solidly shut behind her, and it seemed that that sound signified the start of her new life.

To her it was assumed that he was done talking to her, which made the journey filled with awkward silence, one that made what she felt unbearable. In the end though, he didn't need to talk to her, she was just a peasant to him and nothing more. In the beginning of the journey she tried so very hard to think of the former master she had, thinking of all things he had drilled into her.

Always kneel, no matter where you are. Never look in the eyes of anyone. Comply to any request and get it done as quickly as possible. Scynthrina tried so hard to focus on the negative things of her former master, struggling to not let these sensations rule over her. It didn't help at all when she started to think of a certain aspect of the former master. As a way of letting her know just how worthless she was to him, he would have her watch as he took pleasure on the sexual slaves, forcing her to see what he would always deny her. Forcing her to realize and drilling into her of just how unworthy she was.

It didn't take long before her former master turned into images of her King, visualizing him taking his pleasure out onto a slave, his naked form still fresh as ever as the images teased her. She was slipping into the sensations of her body, the way he moved beneath her, it was unavoidable that certain areas would be stimulated. Forced herself to lay as tight and flat as possible against his back, wanting to keep her breast from bouncing everywhere, which caused the material to tease her hard nipples. Laying flat against him didn't help though, the muscles of his back just rubbed against them, feeling the fur through the thin material. No matter what position she tried, there was unavoidable stimulation somewhere.

To make matters worse, the way he moved as he ran, it lifted the skirt part of her dress up more, forcing the cold night air to play and tease the wetness. When he took off running at full speed, she gripped onto him tighter holding on as much as possible, having no choice but to wrap her legs around him as best as she could. She tried, she really did try to fight it with every nerve she had, she wanted to fight it, there was no holding back anymore. Scynthrina couldn't handle the stimulation anymore, it was silent except for the gasping of her breath, the quivering of her body were the final signs of an orgasm.

She shook her head silently, not believing what had just happened, praying that he doesn't punish her later. Scynthrina barely heard his words through the daze of lust, when she finally got to dismount, she was still shivering from earlier. Keeping her head lowered, she barely noticed where they were, jumped a little at the sound of the gate closing behind them. Already being afraid of getting punished for earlier, she just kept her head bowed and waited, wondering what he was going to do with her.

He takes her hand and leads her into the labyrinth of passageways beneath the castle. The dim light from the setting sun still fades as he pulls her deeper into the earth. She expects him to stop and light a torch, there are several in brackets along the wall, but he doesn't, and she realises that he can see in the dark, another beastly attribute.

She's scared of stumbling, of stubbing her toes on the uneven floor. Her thin leather moccasins will hardly protect her tender feet, so she proceeds hesitantly, unconsciously providing some resistance to his urgent pulling of his hand. Several times he tugs her impatiently, and then finally she does fall, scuffing her knee on the stone floor and crying out with the pain of it. He stops and squats down. All she can see is his almost luminous eyes but she imagines what else is in front of her in the darkness.

"this will take all night" he says impatiently "I will have to carry you...again" There is a note of frustration in his voice and she is extremely conscious that his life might be easier if she were dead, He stands, pulling her to her feet, and she is surprised when his hands pass around her and grasp her bum. "Put your hands around my neck" he says, and he lifts her so that her legs straddle his hips, the way a father might carry a weary toddler. She wraps her arms around his neck and entwines her fingers. She rests her head on his shoulder and squeezes her thighs together, gripping his hips. Unexpectedly, she has a sudden sense of security and safety, as if, in that moment, she awakened to the realisation that he truly owned her, and would care for her.

He started walking and he adjusted his hands a little to get comfortable, but as he did, they slipped beneath the dress, so he found himself holding her bare ass. His body started to react to the touch of her flesh, and he smiled ruefully. The tables were turned, he thought, now the journey was arousing him.

She couldn't help but feel like a disappointment to him, already he's shown her the frustrations she causes him. From the moment he laid eyes on her, she was a disappointment. She tried to keep up with him, in the end, it was impossible without being able to see where she was going. When he lifted her into his arms, expressing yet another disappointed tone, she just about protested, wanting to argue the fact that she couldn't see, that she's never been down here before. However, he wasn't speaking to her for a response, more out of frustration and she knew it. It really made her wonder why he didn't just kill her, he made it very clear in the beginning that he wanted to just for taking the collar. Down here, no one would ever know any better.

Scynthrina did tense up at the feel of his hands on her bare ass, having no doubts that he would feel the wetness from earlier, making her afraid of some kind punishment when this was all over with. For a moment, she wanted down, wanted to protest about being carried like this, to show him she isn't completely helpless, that she would do better in keeping up with him. Once more, it wasn't her place to protest, it was clear that he was in a hurry and she was just slowing him down. She tried to not squirm or whimper to much in his hands, once more trying to fight off the sensations they provided her.

Soon she began to focus on her breathing, trying to gain control over herself, not wanting to think of her King in this fashion anymore. Forcing herself to think of other things, perhaps focus on the pain tonight has brought. She could feel the bruising around her neck from her struggle to take the collar off, the scraps and most likely other bruises from her running away earlier, the fresh scrapping on her knee and trickle of what she assumed is blood from her knee. It was all pain that she caused herself, and oddly enough, it only increased her aroused state, she was feeling hopeless in her own mind, no matter what she thought of, it came back to the sensation her body felt.

She silently cursed at herself and her body for betraying her like it has done. Last thing she needed or wanted tonight was a punishment for something she couldn't control. This day has already been a struggle in itself, she didn't want to end it by being punished. Till then, there wasn't much she could do in her current situation, holding onto him tighter while she fought with herself again, buried her face in his shoulder, and just waited to see where he was taking her.

Twice they had to stop, for there was movement in the passages around them. Each time, he sensed her concern as she no doubt wondered why, They could detect no light and could hear no voices, but he stopped and pressed them both into small niches cut into the wall. A few minutes later, there was indeed the passage up ahead of some dungeon attendant carrying out an errand. Again she marveled at his incredible senses, and wondered afresh just how expansive his powers were.

After many twists and turns, and what seemed like an endless descent, they began to climb again. The surroundings slowly changed, the passageway wider, more evenly paved, the walls of block work rather than hewn rock, and the dim glow of lights off to the sides. They were in the castle proper, rather than the catacombs beneath. The light grew brighter and then, he turned, and he slammed shut a solid wooden behind them. It was pitch black again. He set her down, and as she slid down his body to her feet he felt the unmistakable hardness of him scrape against her belly, catching her dress and lifting it above her most private of places. She was thankful for the dark, then remembered his abilities. He turned away and mercifully the dress fell back into place, and moments later a lamp flared into life. He held it up to her face and she saw she was back in the little cell where this had all begun. She also saw that, in his state of arousal, he was truly a King.

He hung the lamp on a hook, and then rummaged in the corner, coming up with a pair of breeches and an undershirt and leather jerkin. He tossed them on the bed but seemed in no hurry to put them on. He saw her looking at the clothes and he laughed.

"It would look silly for a wolf to run around in man's clothing, so before I take the form of the beast, I must disrobe. It would also look silly for a king to wear that collar, so I take it off when in human form. I use this room to transition. I had returned from the outside in beast form, and was about to change back when there was a disturbance in the dungeon and my curiosity got the better of me. I left the room for a moment, and that must have been when you stumbled in here"

He grasps her shoulders and pushes her down to the bed, so she is sitting, her face level with that ominous appendage. He speaks again, his voice softer, gentler.

"Your crime was simple curiosity, and you don't deserve to die for that, but you do deserve to be punished. Until I can find a solution to our little predicament, you will stay in this cell, and serve my will"

He reaches down and grasps her dress, pulling upwards, she barely resists and the threadbare material is torn from her body, naked now except for her moccasins and the collar. He stands and admires his captive, liking what he sees, and his body reacts accordingly. He shuffles a little closer, his hand seeks and finds a dusky pink nipple. He rolls it between finger and thumb, feeling it react. He grips it tighter, pinching it as he twists and then tugs it.

"Do you know what it is to serve a King's will?" he asks softly

After that long journey, from start to finish, she couldn't believe she was right back where she started. She listened to him carefully, understanding why he wasn't planning on killing her. She did give a slight giggle at the thought of a wolf wearing mans clothes, the image of it was just to funny. Then suddenly things took a different turn, the small moment of amusement turned into fear all over again, his tone was soft and gentle, but it was the actions that caused fear.

There was no resistance to him tearing at her dress, but she did try to make herself seem smaller. In fact she would have backed away if it wasn't for him pulling and teasing her nipple. She began to shake her head no, fighting the feelings he was now forcing on her with purpose.

"I'm not worthy enough to be that kind of slave, M'Lord. The former master made that very clear, I'm just a street rat, not worthy of such things. M'Lord."

Her words were shaky and hesitant, she kept trying to look away from his naked form, forcing herself to not stare at him. Not knowing what else to do, she gripped the bed tightly and forced herself to keep her eyes shut and head lowered like she's been trained to do.

"There are more worthy girls out there, I'm just a nobody M'Lord.."

It was confusing her as to why he would want her, finding it hard to believe that anyone would want her in that way.

He knew that time pressed weightily upon him. He knew that his absence will soon be noticed, if not already, but something kept him in this room, with this girl. Something drew him to her. He couldn't explain it. Sure, he had had his way with Folk females, there were more than several within these walls right now. A couple of comely wenches whose purpose was solely to warm his bed, another two who bathed him, and several unlucky souls who languished in the dungeons and earned his "special" attention. Each of them had tasted him, had experienced his urgency, had received his seed. But it had always been something of a mechanical act for him, just a means of attending to a need, a bodily function. He had never felt anything for them, had discarded them as easily as one would throw away an eggshell after eating the contents.

But this one, this little thief, in the few short hours he had known her, had stirred emotions in him that he struggled to explain. The flash of defiance in her eyes had caused him to spare her life. The warmth of her flesh against his body had aroused him like never before. When she had snuggled into his shoulder, her breath against his throat had summoned a protectiveness within him that he didn't think was possible where a folk was concerned.

And now, while he gripped her flesh, while he tormented her body, she didn't cry out, she didn't flinch. Instead, she bowed before him, she showed him respect, and ironically, the very act of doing so hinted at an arrogance, suggested that she was more than she seemed.

"I don't know what you are little thief, but you are certainly no street rat"

Still gripping her nipple, still twisting and tugging, he slides his other hand into her hair, entwining his fingers in it, Making a fist and twisting his hand until the roots threatened to pop. He pulled her head towards him.

"Let me decide how worthy you are little thief"

She was trying with everything in her to resist these feelings, the urges of his wants, not knowing how to break free of this. She did know that he is now her Master, her King, and he had more right than anyone to find her worthy or not. Still, being raised with the belief that was drilled so deep, it wasn't easy for her to comply to this.

Her body was once more betraying her as he tormented her nipple, biting back each whimper and moan it tried to force from her, fresh wetness was building between her legs as she tried to close them tighter. Tears of her struggle broke free once his hand gripped her hair, moving her face closer to him. It was then she realized there was no breaking free from this, her own urges were surfacing and little whimpers did eventually break from her.

Having no real choice but to comply, she slowly opened her eyes to look at him, seeing everything up close and personal, her grip was still tightly holding onto the bed, refraining from touching him. Ever so slowly, her mouth opened for him, tasting and licking him at first, her heart raced, thinking this was a trick of some kind, not knowing if this is what he truly wanted her to do or not, afraid of disappointing him again.

It didn't take long before her own urges began to take more control, taking him a bit more into her mouth, moaning deeply at what his fingers were relentlessly doing to her nipple, causing her body to jerk in ways she's never felt before. Though, her hands never left their grip on the bed, if nothing else, the grip got tighter. Deep down she was still struggling with her old ways, finding this hard to believe, and still waiting for the punishment of these actions. It was a constant battle between the fear, pain of his twisting fingers in her hair and nipple, all mixed with the pleasure of having him in her mouth.

He prided himself on giving the peasant girls that warmed his bed some degree of pleasure, at least while they amused him. Besides, inevitably, the girls would talk, and it didn't look good for a King to have a reputation for spending his seed too quickly. Over time, the whores had tried to garner some small measure of fame by regaling drinkers at the pub of his somewhat exaggerated exploits, exploits, so they claimed, that their special skills had bought out of him. And so it was that he had a mostly deserved reputation for being a great lover, and many a lady of the court had been seen staring longingly at his loins.

But right now, he was fighting to maintain any semblance of control. Whether it was the run through the forest, with her vagina massaging his spine, or the scent of her orgasm, or the feel of her flesh in his hands, but he was already on the verge of filling her throat, and she had barely touched him. He slipped his hand behind her head, under her hair, feeling the finer hairs at the nape of her neck. He gripped her there, the grasp of his fingers stretching her hair at the roots, as the tips dug into her flesh, causing yet more pain. He pulled her further towards him and his cock entered her further, the tip rasping against the soft flesh beyond her palate. He looked down, there was no way that his whole cock could fit in her mouth, not unless she was given some training, and he smiled as he recalled the whore Lavissa who could do just that.

"Reputation be damned" he said quietly, and her eyes flicked up at him as if he had spoken to her. He smiled, "oh little thief, you are surely worthy" and then he pushed hard, gripping her neck even tighter. He threw his head back and opened his mouth and the room was filled with a low growling howl as, at the last moment, he eased back a little and his cock erupted in her mouth. She had no experience of such things, save from watching her master ejaculate on the faces of his slaves, but the volume surprised her, overwhelmed her and she struggled to swallow it, knowing instinctively that to not do so would not be to the King's liking.

She could he was getting close, there was a sudden change in him that she has seen in her former master, a change in pace, the way he gripped into her hair. Even the taste of precum overwhelmed her mouth, then suddenly he spoke and it startled her, thinking she had done something wrong. Tears were flowing freely at this point as she tried to keep up with him, trying to get passed the gagging when he went full force down her throat, she closed her eyes tightly, wanting to please him.

Scynthrina didn't even hear his praise, so lost in her thoughts, even before he went deeper into her mouth. The sudden flow of his cum was too overwhelming for her, forced herself to get passed the choking and gagging of it all, and swallowed as much as she could. Some of it did overflow from her lips, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get it all down.

Too afraid to open her eyes at this point, afraid he would be disappointed at her for not swallowing it all. Despite the suddenness of it all, she never did struggle to get away from it, she stayed seated in the same position she started in, the only struggle she had was from him going in so deep and trying to swallow everything he had offered. Her mouth kept suckling on him, making sure he was clean and milking what was left of his seed.

He thought that the act of ejaculating would satisfy the growing desire he had for her, but it didn't, it merely whet his appetite. If anything, he was in greater turmoil now than he had been before he had penetrated her mouth. He felt some guilt at having used her so callously, and at how, in the throes of lust, he had caused her pain. He knew that her efforts to stimulate him had increased as he increased her torment, but he was unsure if that was from fear, or arousal. He so wanted to stay and explore more, but he really was out of time. The court would be gathering in the dining hall, the wines would be being poured, the roast carved, and most certainly his absence at dinner would be noticed.

He stepped back a little and his softening cock slipped from her mouth. He couldn't bring himself to engage her in conversation, but he did look at her, at her nakedness, so beautiful he was already starting to ache at the impending separation from her. He quickly slipped into the garments on the bed, then sat beside her while he pulled on some leather boots. He stood, and, as an afterthought, he grabbed her torn dress from the floor and bunched it in his hand. He smiled at her "You won't run if you're naked"

He strode to the door and turned back to her "I see little choice but to keep you captive here for the time being. Someone will be down shortly to bring you food and bedding" and chain her to the bed he thought, though he didn't say it. He left and the door slammed behind him and she heard it lock.

As he rushed through the passages to the dining hall, he mused over all the problems keeping her would create. There were only two other people in the castle who knew his secret, well, three now. One was his secretary and tax collector, who was from his pack, but chose to remain constantly in human form. The other was the Eunuch, a man of dubious talents in the dark arts, but one who could be trusted, and, and he smiled at this thought, was unlikely to be swayed by her beauty. He would instruct him to tend to her needs, and he would ask him to examine the girl, and see if he could find the secret to her power over him.

She didn't want to stay here, caged up like some animal, wanted what little freedom she had back. Too afraid to speak to him though, the way he rushed out of here, more fear crept up believing she did something wrong. Once he left, she searched for a way out, naturally tried the door, pulling hard on it and banged at it screaming in frustration. She didn't care if she was naked, she was a thief, stealing clothes was easy to do.

Hated being in here, not knowing what he'll do with her, sure as hell didn't want to be punished for her recent action, something that wasn't her fault. He was the king though, her King, and he could easily put her at fault in a heart beat.

Scynthrina was terrified when he left, trying her hardest to find a way out of this place, feeling more like a caged animal the longer she was here. In the process she was hurting herself, banging at the door so hard that it hurt her hands, made one of them bleed, screamed so much it felt like her throat was fire, on top of what happened earlier. Tears were flooding down her cheeks non stop, to where she couldn't see straight, eyes were red and puffy from crying so hard. Being alone like this finally gave her a chance to seriously break down, and she did, letting every emotion out.

Eventually exhaustion took over, she was already weak to begin with and hungry, this only exerted her that much more. She took her shoes off, finding them pointless now, and threw them hard at the door. Found an unused corner and curled up the cold floor, mostly out of habit, once more it came down to her not being worthy enough for the comforts of a bed. Scynthrina only meant to close her eyes for a moment, to catch her breath, instead, she fell asleep curled up in the safety of her corner, holding onto the collar as if she was still trying to get it off.

The Eunuch strode through the passages. He was annoyed, very annoyed. Not only had his dinner been interrupted by the King, but the instructions he had been given beggared belief, So he strode, his tall gaunt frame setting quite a pace for a man of his advanced years, such that his little entourage had trouble keeping pace. Next to him was a page, a boy of 16, carrying a torch, behind him came two hand maidens carrying bedding and all the needs for a ladies toilet. Behind them was a dungeon guard, weighted down with items of much less comfort.

He had a name, of course, but it had been so long since anyone used it that he could barely remember it himself. He was only 11 when castrated, in the service of the former king, and now he was beyond 70. He could still remember when the former King had returned from a long distant battle, cradling the baby boy that was their king today, having been given "the name" at age 6, and the throne, on his adopted father's death, at 13.

They reached the cell and he unlocked the door and swung it open. The page's jaw dropped and he gasped at the sight of the naked girl. The Eunuch looked at her, and he could see at once why the King was besotted. She was grimy, her face tear stained, dried cum on her chin, Her hand and knees were grazed, her hair matted, but beyond that he could see that she was remarkable. The two handmaidens entered the cell and started to tend to her, bathing her, tending to her wounds. They helped her stand and when they washed her arms she stood totally exposed to all three males, none of which could turn away.

Her skin, a pale caramel, was the same shade all over her body, as if the sun couldn't mark her. She was tall, a full head over the two handmaidens, and it struck him that her height and bearing looked almost regal. He guessed her age to be early twenties, though it was hard to tell. Her features were fine and clearly defined, small pointed ears and a perfectly proportioned nose, above rose coloured lips. Her breasts were the size of apples, and tipped with small dusky pink nipples which even now showed signs of arousal. His gaze dropped to her sex, as had the gaze of the page and the dungeon guard, and here too was a point of difference. Her pubic hair was a light covering of fine light coloured straight hairs, not the thick wiry thatch of the local whores. Her labia were clearly visible as was the clitoral hood peeking from her slit.

He was sure she was not of the Folk, and certainly not of the Worf, the thick fingered clods who were their immediate Northern neighbours. He had heard of a race of fine featured peoples in a Parish some distance away on the coast, to the south. It was said that their dependence on the sea for their sustenance gave them a different look to the land based peasants. Perhaps she was from there. Suddenly, he felt energized at the challenge of finding the truth, and it was with new enthusiasm that he shooed the hand maidens away, so that he could commence the examination.

Scynthrina woke up to the sounds outside her door, then the unlocking made her sit up right wondering what was going on. Without warning, there were a group of people staring at her, the men seemed to be drooling over her. At first she struggled against the hand maids, unsure of what they were doing with her, after registering their intentions, she allowed them to tend to her, though still a bit reluctant at people touching her.

This one man that kept staring at her, she didn't like the way he looked at her and when he told the maids to leave, Scynthrina went back to the corner. She wanted as much distance from him as possible. Being naked wasn't new to her, after all, the former master would flaunt her around at times, drilling more nonsense into her, picking out all of her flaws. The difference being is, her master never left her alone with anyone, yet here she was alone with this strange man. And it didn't appear that he was going to leave anytime soon.

He could see the fear in her eyes, it wasn't difficult to see that she wasn't going to simply comply with him either, he had no real ruling over her, at least that she knew of. He wasn't her Master and she didn't have to obey this one, she didn't know who he was either, right now he's just some stranger gawking at her. She wanted to say something, to yell him, scream for him to go away, sadly the words never really came out. The awkward silence was killing her, his staring was making her uneasy, not knowing why he is here was driving her insane.

She curled back up on the floor, sitting upright while trying to hide herself from him, though her deep brown eyes never left his. Scynthrina was ready to fight him if she had to, it was difficult for her to believe her new Master would leave her alone with someone, she struggled to find any reasoning behind the intentions. Only thing she could come up with is he was here to give her punishment, but then, he didn't look like that type. Thoughts and emotions were swimming through her head, trying to process it all.

He had been told to examine her, and examine her he would, but he had little patience with her, and he certainly wasn't about to explain to her why she should co-operate. If she wanted to resist him then she would learn the hard way that such resistance would only bring about swift and brutal measures to ensure her compliance, and her lessons might as well start now. He turned and looked at the guard and then down at the sack of things he had bought with him. The two handmaidens cowered back against the passage wall, the page still gawped.

"Did you bring the leathers" he asked, the guard nodded. "Good, I think we will start with them"

The guard rummaged in the sack and pulled out two lengths of braided leather thong, each with a loop in one end. As be bought them into the cell, the Eunuch pushed the door shut, much to the appointment of the page, although he could still peek through the bars of the inspection hatch. The Eunuch took the leathers from the guard, who then grasped Scryntia under her arms and lifted her bodily upright. He pulled her arm and slipped the loop of leather over her wrist, then pulled it tight, and she felt it lock onto her flesh. He tied the free end to the bars in the cell door. He then repeated his action with the other arm, but there was nothing on the far wall to tie it to, so the guard was given the task of pulling it tight. Thus Scrynthia, naked, save for her collar, was held, standing, arms outstretched, at the mercy of this horrible old man.

He raised his hands to her face, and she noticed a curious thing. His right hand had enormously long fingernails, easily longer than an inch, and each filed to a point and painted black. His left hand, however, looked quite normal. It was the fingers of his left hand, mercifully, that he pushed into her mouth, prising it open so he could count her teeth, that spread her eyelids so that he could look deep into her pupils, and probed her ears. If that wasn't humiliating enough, far worse was to come.

He moves to the door and talks to the page outside, and a moment later, a short wooden pole is passed through the bars. It has two leather thongs trailing from each end. He kneels down and ties an end to each ankle, pushing them apart to accommodate the pole. It's Scrynthia's introduction to a spreader bar, something with which she may become quite accustomed. He stands and smiles at her, then he raises his right hand, so that she can see the wickedly pointed nails. He ducks under the outstretched leather, and she feels him scrape the nails down her back. The touch makes her muscles contract and she flinches and pulls against the restraints, The guard grunts and pulls tighter, so that she feels her arms may be torn from her.

He continues, his nails finding every sensitive part of her back and more. He traces them under her armpits, along her flanks where her breasts start to swell over her ass and down her thighs and calves. Just when she thinks he is done, he returns to her bum, and traces along the crack. She flinches anew, but it doesn't deter him and one nail gets closer and closer to her puckered anal bud, scratching around the edges. To her horror, he replaces it with a finger from his left hand, wet with his saliva, he presses against the tight sphincter relentlessly and she feels the invading digit penetrate deep into her. He wiggles it around a little, twisting it, feeling all around inside her, before finally withdrawing it.

He steps back under the leathers, and places his nails against her throat, pressing lightly against her flesh he starts to drag them down.

Scynthrina was screaming at the top of her lungs for a portion of the time. The pain from the stretch made her scream even louder. She did kick and struggle as much as possible. Cussing every word she thought possible, screaming at him to let her go, to leave her alone. The hatred and resentment she felt towards the king in this moment was building up inside, she didn't like this at all and he was allowing this to happen.

Eventually her screaming stopped and fell into silent crying, her tears falling freely and uncontrolled as her body once again, betrayed her. It moved and twisted towards his fingers, following their trail, reaching for more of his claws. Her body quivered just right at the sensation of it all, until he went into her ass. She Held her breath and closed her eyes so tightly, it made her light headed, she gripped onto her restraints as her body tensed to it. Refusing with every nerve she had to not vocalize her moans, refusing to give him that much satisfaction. It was bad enough her own body was showing how good it felt, as it bucked itself towards the invasive finger. At this point, she didn't care about the pain in her arms, at least her body showed no sign of caring, it was shaking hard from the stress it was being put through. But her body was so needy right now that pain didn't phase her.

No matter what he did right now, Scynthrina refused to make a sound for him, most she would do is gasp out to breath, holding her breath all over again. Her body betrayed full on at this point, it got wet and very needy as he caressed her with his claws, it would show in her eyes, though she refused to open them, she was crying silently, but harder than she was moments ago.

This man found that she wasn't ticklish anywhere, but her body spoke to him, telling him that she was highly sensitive to his touch. Her legs were straining to close, so they can rub together, she felt wetness streaming down her legs. At one point her body reacted as if it came to his touches, especially when clawed down her spine. Her own body literally melted in his hands, she was no longer struggling against her binds.

The sudden touch to the neck forced her to lean her back all the way, exposing her throat to him in complete submission. Still refusing to moan, to let him steal everything from her, however, if she did moan it would have been deep. Her spine and throat seemed to be her weakest spots, weak points that practically forced her into orgasm when touched. Sensitive points on her body that just simply made her melt into the touch.

Subconsciously she was raging storm of pure anger and hatred towards the King, when this was all over with, he will know how much this hurt her, how much, what felt like, betrayal cut into her. Subconsciously she was putting herself into a daze, knowing she couldn't fight this anymore, letting her body take over and her mind drift off into another place. All the emotions she felt right then and there was turning into hatred towards her King, this humiliation, and this strange man touching her was bringing out more anger and the feeling of being betrayed. He was suppose to protect her and yet he was allowing this to happen.

He could feel her fighting her body's reactions. They always did. Whether it was an insurgent being tortured to find the truth, or a whore being tormented for the amusement of men, they always tried to outwardly show something different to what their flesh was feeling. But she was different. She wasn't gritting her teeth to fight the pain, though little of that there was. She wasn't steely eyed and pursed lips as she weathered the humiliation. No there was something going on within her that was somewhat unexpected, somewhat difficult for him to decipher. He could almost feel a wave of hatred oozing from her pores, but hatred often was the bedfellow of determination, and she showed no signs of determined resistance. Certainly she had strained against the leathers, had yelled and screamed defiance, but then she had quieted, and it was almost as if her mind had gone elsewhere, was watching the events taking place in her body from some distance...........and, worryingly, plotting revenge.

There was still some measure of the examination to conclude, including that most important aspect and one which the King had specifically requested he determine. He began again, raking the nails down her throat, across her breastbone. He was surprised when her head tipped back, and whilst he had never bedded a woman, he knew how a woman's body welcomed a man in the throes of passion. He gasped a little, was she, or more correctly, her body, submitting to his touch as if it were some sort of mating ritual? With one pointed fingernail, he circled her pert breast, then the other, then he rasped it across a dusky pink nipple. He smiled when the nipple reacted, stiffening and growing to twice it's length. It amused him so much, he did the same to the other one, and was unsurprised when it reacted just the same. The nail continued it's journey, down her ribs and across her lower belly, skating over the muscular ridges that formed the vee pointing towards her centre. Her body reacted so violently when he did that he feared she might dislocate her arms.

He reached her vagina, the nail traced down the labia on one side, and up the other. With her legs spread, her clitoral hood and the opening beneath were revealed, and the stimulation had caused her labia to swell and the inner pink flesh to glisten with the fruits of her betrayal. He scratched the nail across the protruding hood several times, and she flinched with each. He looked up and briefly saw the lust in the dungeon guard's eyes, along with the bulge in his breeches, and he wondered briefly how the page and hand maidens were faring.

His fingers left her for a brief moment and he leaned in to her face "nearly done my sweet" he said, and whilst she didn't open her eyes, she knew he was grinning "Just need to check if you are.......intact"

"I am" she blurted out, but already the thumb of his left hand, gnarled and blunt, pushed inside her, ball down. He needed venture in only a little to satisfy himself that she was indeed that most valuable commodity, particularly in this city of whores and sluts. He smiled "The King will be pleased, you have a gift for him" and he laughed, while bending his thumb, pushing the knuckle up into her clitoris. He rubbed it back and forth a little and immediately felt the increase in wetness inside her and heard the change in her breathing. He smile again, he might have no balls, and he could never get an erection, but he always got a deal of satisfaction in making his female "subjects" orgasm, and the satisfaction was greater if the degree of torment was also greater.

He continued to rub her clit as she writhed in the leathers and her body twisted against the binds, though curiously, or not, she didn't try to twist away from his probing thumb. He thought he knew how to drive her over the edge, how to break her resistance, and he reached around her and dragged his nails slowly down her spine and through her asscrack. He raised his hand again, starting again from the nape of her neck, his thumb working rhythmically, but had only reached halfway along he spine when she gushed over his hand, her mouth agape with a silent scream.

It is honestly very difficult to say her age, let alone how long the former had her in his tight leash. There are stories of a long forgotten race of Nymphs in the deep northern forests, a breed thought to be extinct. They were extremely sexual creatures, most got caught when man came crashing through the forests and took em for their personal gain. None has been seen in over 300 years, at the very least. If The Eunuch really focused on her features, he would recall hearing stories of the Lʼeyneidí Nymphs and realize she fits their description far more than what he originally assumed.

Scynthrina was one of them. When they are highly aroused, the sexual energy just pours off of them, similar to what a succubus would do, only in her case, people feed off her energy, finding it difficult to resist her. Sexual acts with these creatures could last a very long time. The sexual scent behind their ears increases, overwhelming the air of anyone who is close enough to smell it. Their bodies are highly sensitive, allowing them to become aroused very easily, making the urges a man has increase. The best benefit with her generation, is the Nymphs at the time found a way to prevent them from ever getting pregnant, not wanting to bring anymore into the world. It was a dying race because of what man had done to them, however, a few do still remain. Just very rarely seen.

Scynthrina however, has been with the former Master for as long as she could remember, losing track of the years as they passed through her life. Days became weeks, months, years, eventually time to her just vanished altogether. He knew what he had with her, which is why he flaunted her around as he did, forcing the men to envy him. Drilling into her that SHE wasn't worthy enough to pleasure them. The former Master had such a twisted mind, though he never allowed himself to fall for her sexual trap, tormenting her rather than himself. Somehow, he seemed to immune to her energy, never once showed signs of lusting after her. They have only been here at the castle for a few years now, he was always moving from to place, with her on a very tight leash at all times. After a while, he began to give her a bit more freedom, after spending years of drilling negativity into her, making sure she wouldn't go 'straying' off.

In this moment, with this man that was clawing at her, is the first to have ever stimulate her in such a way. It was natural for her body to completely submit to his touch, to his needs and desires. Despite the fact that she didn't want it, her natural instinct had woken up by this man, to someone who will haunt her nightmares for a very long time, someone who wasn't even her Master. He forced her to wake up the nymph that the former Master had buried and locked up.

Scynthrina couldn't fight against him even if she wanted to, and right now her sexual energy is pouring off her, the guard was proof of that. There was no doubt that both of them could smell her scent from behind her ears at this point, The Eunuch more so than the guard. She was powerless to the clawing of her back with his hand working between her legs, stealing an orgasm from her. No matter how much her body submitted to him, she never did make a sound other than her ragged breathing. The orgasm caused more strain on her arms, feeling as the guard pulled them tighter, soon her hands felt tingling from numbness, they were also bleeding from her nails digging into the palms of her hands. The blood showed on the leather as she gripped very tightly onto it.

Subconsciously, she was still storming with rage, though it never showed once in her body language, or any other sign of the rage that hid within. Part of that subconscious was wishing she was still with the former master, he would have never allowed this to happen.