Captured! (Draccles)

[Anonymous]

(Continued from here!)


Beneath an abandoned house in one of the poorer districts of Ketra was a cellar. Within that cellar were two people, one free and one bound. It was a safe house, set up by Nage a few days ago. He had painstakingly established a complex network of warding spells to keep it hidden. Anyone that saw anyone entering the house would instantly question their own memory, never being quite sure of what they saw or where they saw it, making them useless for questioning. Charms kept their magical and mundane scent away from the noses of any trackers, while a series of enchanted crystals placed in the corners of the room soundproofed it.

Tarlaka had been stripped, her clothing burned. The light from a dozen lamps and a single ember filler brazier flickered upon her naked body, which was slumped fact down on the smooth stone floor. Nage had cleaned it before preparing the enchantments, so it was relatively free from dust. Two hot pokers stuck out ominously from the embers.

She was bound, of course, her hands cuffed by chainless shackles, meaning that her wrists were crossed and held together, while her ankles had a small length of chain between them. It was just enough for her to shuffle. Around her neck was a leather collar with a ring on the front and back, giving him option as to where to attach her leash.

Setting down the long knife he had been sharpening with a whetstone, Nage descended on her. Ignoring the wing that crumpled in a way it probably shouldn't have he rolled her onto her back, cupping her chin his one hand. He held her mouth open, a single beetle detaching from his finger, instantly replaced by another.

The insect dropped into her mouth, skittering to her throat with instinctively seized up. He closed her mouth and stroked her throat until it gave in, swallowing the now still beetle. Once it reached her stomach the little creature scrabbled, unharmed by the corrosive acids, and latched on to her stomach wall. It wouldn't harm her, hells, she wouldn't even feel it, but it would let him watch her. Every beetle was part of him, so he could always tell where each one was. If he wanted he could see through that beetles eyes, but he chose to block it off. Instead Nage would now always know where she was, even if she ran to the ends of the earth and beyond, as long as that beetle was inside her, Tarlaka Glockmoor would never escape him.

With a grin he stood, no longer in a stolen form but in his own, unique human body. It was bald, not bothering to waste beetles to form hair, with tribal tattoos scrawled over his body, the most visible being the divided arrow that ran up the back of his neck and over his head.

He wore a pair of sturdy boots, light, baggy pants and an open leather vest. Nage looked like a man who would be transporting his slave by foot, perhaps a tribesman who had travelled far to buy his exotic woman, and was now dragging her back to his homeland.

There was a lot of work to do, when she woke up. So he waited, going back to sharpening his tools and watching her, waiting for her to wake.

[Anonymous]

Blue eyes snapped open and she looked around, using every ounce of strength not to move or cry out at the pain of her shoulder and wings. She carefully looked at her surroundings, her breathing normal before she closed her eyes again and let her head droop. Tarlaka didn't think about being naked, or about the searing pain from her back which indicated that a wing was wounded, broken or dislocated, maybe only sprained. She kept her eyes closed for a few moments before she turned her head and glared towards the strange man.

"Let me go."  Tarlakas voice was held authority and rank, and it was strong despite her position and current condition. It rang through the room and she glared at the stranger. It was very obvious that he had the better position, she knew her hands were bound and that she was naked, her feet connected, she could feel the collar around her neck. She wasn't stupid, far from it, so the Commander didn't struggle, not wanting to cause further damage to her wings.

" Let me go," She repeated before curling her legs up slightly, using them to obscure the view of her lower half, "And tell me your name. I'm Tarlaka, I'm the Commander of the Adelan Military, it would be in your best interest to give me back my clothes and armour and let me go." A false sense of courage and while she was still laying as still as a stone, her eyes were cold and hard and her face was a mask to hide her fear.

Tarlaka knew how screwed she was. Naked, tied up, and no one knew where she was. What Tarlaka the Woman wanted to do was to tip her head back and scream as loud as she could for as long as she could, Tarlaka the Commander was keeping her cool, shoulders straight, knees tucked up, face a cold mask. It worked, and in this case, she hoped it worked for the best

(( Short D: ))

[Anonymous]

The scrape of stone on metal rang clear in the cellar as Nage honed a thin butcher's knife. Checking the edge he set it down, looking at his captive. She was awake, finally. It would be dark by now.

He grinned when she first told him, no commanded him to let her go, as if she was still in any position to demand anything. The second time she tried to threaten, or perhaps it was bribery. Either way, it made him laugh, the cackle echoing off the walls and the sound barrier.

"Oh, I know who you are Tarlaka Glockmoor. This is no accident," he said in an acid tone once his laugher had faded. "My name is Nagetheraka, but you may call me Nage, or Master if you want to try some flattery, but I expect you will simply call me whatever profanity first pops in to that pretty little head."

Stepping close he stood to one side, looming over her. "But you may know me better as..." He trailed off, face rippling in a mass of shifting beetles for a moment before settling back as the face of Felicks, which grinned before shifting back to his own. He stepped closer, a boot crushing the feathers of one great black wing beneath it as he peered down at her. "Do you understand now Tarlaka Glockmoor?"

He smirked, bending and laying a hand on her knee. "You will have no need for shame or modesty anymore good Commander." Nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. Nage had once, long ago, been a powerful god, his dominion, fear itself. He could smell her terror, hidden away beneath training and pure stubbornness, but it was there.

"Now, be a good girl and turn yourself over, on your belly now. Be good and you will be treated...less harshly." A malicious grin brought some doubt as to his sincerity on that point.

[Anonymous]

Nagetheraka.  She would remember that until she killed him, then forget it as soon as the deed was done. Nage. Master. Her eyes widened slightly and she stared ahead. Master. That single word held so much power, and it meant so many things. Master. Just what the hell was this psycho going to do to her? She watched as his face changed and she gave a small hiss, a trick. It was all a trick, and she fell into it so easily.

Tarlaka remained silent and she glared at him, her eyes never leaving his face as he spoke, as his face returned to that of the bald man with the tattoos. He was on her wings and she glared up at him, letting out a disgusted noise when he touched her knee. It would take too much effort to look down at his hand, so she simply glared at him, quiet and serious. Not going to give him the desired reaction she just stayed silent and still. Glaring.

This would be over soon, she'd listen, she's comply with his requests as long as they weren't rediculous and humiliating. She wasn't a glutton for punishment and she was by no means stupid, ignoring requests in favour of a worse beating was stupid. Beatings led to wounds and made movement hard and difficult. It took her a moment to comply, but she moved her wings, the feathers slipping out from under his boots, one left behind with a tiny bead of blood at the tip.  She was then on her stomach, legs together and stretched out, hand curled up slightly.

Her wings were curled up as close as she could get them without wounding them further and she kept her head to the side, her breathing normal. Tarlaka wanted to close her eyes, but she refrained and stayed still, waiting. Not really looking forward to what was going to happen.

[Anonymous]

In his swarm form Nage had many tiny hearts, but as a human he has but one, and it was thumping. The rush of adrenaline fixed a twisted grin on his face as he savoured what was to come.

"Good girl, such a good girl," he cooed as if talking to a dog. That was all she was now, or at least once he was finished here.

He stood upright, admiring her form. Such creature's humans were, so beautiful. Their men were strong and muscular while their women were soft, he enjoyed them both. Gender meant little to someone who could change theirs at will, all that mattered was pleasure, however it came to him.

Turning away from her, Nage went over to the rooms' only table, taking the long butcher's knife he had been sharpening before in one hand. That was all he would need, for now, the rest could be done with pure brute strength.

"Now Tarlaka," he said, walking back to her, "begins your transformation. You woke up this morning as Tarlaka Glockmoor, Commander of the Adelan Military, but you will leave this room as an insane slave girl, given to flights of fancy and rambling."

He knelt down, one knee on the floor and the other putting pressure on the centre of her back, right between where the wings joined. His calf was touching her hands, keeping them still, and letting him know if they tensed in agony.

His free hand began to roam, starting at the join of her left wing and running up along its length, then back down again against the lay of the feathers. "Gorgeous," he muttered, "Such a shame, but oh well."

With that his knife dug into her flesh, starting at the top of where wing met skin, his knee holding her down and his hand keeping the wing from moving. He worked slowly, cutting a neat outline in the muscle and skin around her wing, being careful not to cut anything that would hinder her arms from moving, taking only those that controlled her wings. Nage smiled, watching the blood trickle out from her back, the wing attached only by a few tendons.

The knife dug in between the join where her wing met a very interesting shoulder blade, slicing the last of the sinew connecting it to her. With a loud crack he wrenched the wing out of its socket, tossing the thing aside to look at the gaping would left. Excellent.

Standing, he left her in her pain, revelling in it. The knife was set back onto the table, the blood glistening in the firelight as he stepped over to the brazier. Pulling out a poker he rounded on her once more.

The red hot tip of the metal shaft glowed as he brought it down in front of her face, showing it to her while a boot rested on her back, pinning the woman down. He laughed, then kneeled once again, this time grabbing the flesh around her wound and roughly squeezing it together. The poker stabbed into the wound, starting at the bottom and slowly working up, sealing her flesh together as he drew it along, other hand working to make sure it burnt deep but also covered the wound.

When it was done he returned the poker to the fire, then turned to watch her. "That," he declared menacingly, "Is one."

[Anonymous]

Tarlaka had been expecting many things, this however, never even crossed her mind. Didn't think it was possible. Where was the search party? Why wasn't anyone looking for her? Why hadn't they found her yet? What the fuck were they doing? Sitting on their thumbs? Being spoken to like a pet was more than enough. She wanted to be let go, she wanted to go home, she wanted this to be a bad dream.

Turning her head to watch him, she stared at the knife. Eyes wide, and her mouth opened slightly, a knife. What was he going to use the knife on?  She glared at him when he spoke her name, and if looks could kill, every single beetle body he was made of, would have popped under the pressure of her gaze when he said she would be a slave girl. " No! I woke up this morning Tarlaka Glockmoor, I'll leave this room, leave you, as Tarlaka Glockmoor. You may be able to trick people into believing me to be a slave girl, but I will always be myself, and no man, made of disgusting bugs or not, will change me or how I act in the end."

By the end of her mini-speech she could feel a knee dig into her back, her hands pinned by his calf. Instantly she went stone still, he was going to cut out her wings. Dig them out. "Those are limbs! What the fuck are you doing!?" Tarlaka screamed at him when he caressed her wing, normally it would have felt good, like someone petting a sweet spot, in this case she felt nothing until the searing pain in her shoulder. All she let out was a kitten of a whimper before she squeezed her eyes shut and squeezed her hands as close as she could..

Tarlaka wanted to thrash and wail, scream, claw. She was doing a good job of being quiet until he began to finish up, her voice rang out loudly when the wing was finally removed, her body curving like a taunt string and blood dripping from the corner of her mouth from where she had clamped down her teeth on the inside of her cheek. Once he was finished she moved slightly, panting through her teeth, her eyes glazed over and tears trailing from the corners.

No way in hell would Tarlaka cry, even if she could see her wing perfectly. Not attached. Not part of her. It was like staring at an arm, a recently removed arm. She wouldn't fly anymore. Her hands clenched together and she stared at the hot poker blankly and closed her eyes. Her fake courage welled up and she managed to stay silent through the 'mending', thought by the end of it she was panting again and she opened her mouth and drooled blood.

It took her a moment to focus, she could feel and not feel her back. Like having your hand in a bowl of ice, it got too cold to feel the pain it caused. The pain, while it was a searing pain, was too much to take in and while she knew it hurt, her brain only let it throb in deep breath taking pulses.  Her ears were still keen though, and she heard him put the poker back into the fire.

The Commander licked her lips and lift her head somewhat to look at him, her eyes wide and the side of her mouth smeared with blood. When she spoke her voice was as powerful as it ever was, a little raspy because of her screaming, but it still filled the room. "Bring it on, you Corpse Fucker." Tarlaka wanted to spit at him, but she could only imagine what he would do to her in turn, so she layed there and glared, her finger nails digging into the palm of her hand.

[Anonymous]

"Ah! You mortals have such a wonderful grasp of vile language," he laughed, tossing his head back. "Corpse Fucker," he mimicked, smiling down at her. "See? I told you that's what you'd call me. Already you are following the pattern, just like everyone else. You see, you are not strong, you are nothing special. You are no more resilient than the snivelling wretches on the street begging for food."

Taking knife in hand again he returned to her, kneeling on the opposite side and starting on the other wing. He didn't take his time on this one. While the first had been about indulging his lust for inflicting pain, this was all business. She probably couldn't even feel it anyway, if she hadn't passed out already from the pain.

With a pop the other wing was removed and tossed on top of the first. Again he stood, placed the knife on the table and went for the poker. Her flesh once again was seared shut, filling the room with the pungent stench of burnt flesh as the smoke rose off her back.

Once he had returned it to the fire Nage appreciated his work, wiping off the knife with a cloth. Two thick burns formed lines on her back, starting at her shoulder blades and going down. The flesh still smouldered.

In one corner of the room was a tub full of water, ready for washing her off. Nage picked up a silver pitcher from the table and filled it, the cold liquid dripping on the floor as he walked over to her. The trickle of water he poured over her back hissed and steamed as it hit her flesh, pouring until it hissed no more.

Without speaking he replaced the pitcher, taking a short length of chain no longer than a hand and clipping it to a bolt fastened into a wall. The wall was empty, with nothing within reach of the bolt.

Hooking a finger beneath the back of her collar he hauled Tarlaka up without difficulty, cutting into her neck until she could manage to stand. He dragged her backwards to the wall, where the chain was secured to the back of the collar, allowing him to step away.

"Now I have to go deliver a message to the good King. Be a good girl and don't hurt yourself while I'm gone."

The man became the swarm, clothing falling in a pile as the insects took flight. They swarmed over the wings, plucking them up and integrating them into their mass, ready to use them. It was easier if they assisted the flight, rather than hindering it. As he left, Nage passed over the table, plucking up two metal spikes before disappearing up out of the cellar.

[Anonymous]

" I beg for nothing, and I am different, because no matter what you do to me, I'll be the same and I'll come back to kill you." She remained conciounce for a while longer before he began to amputate her other wing, and which point her brain shut off and her eyes closed and she let out her breath with a soft sigh, her hair covering her face and sweat that welled on her forehead from the heat of the poker and the effort it took to not express the pain.

Tarlaka's form was limp and she twitched when the water was poured onto her back. Twitched but didn't wake. She didn't wake until she was cut off from oxygen, then her eyes snapped open and moved her shoulders, hissing when she pulled the newly closed wounds. Her wings were gone. She could feel them as well as she could see them in a heap on the ground. Phantom limbs, she'd have to learn to live with those.

It took Tarlaka a momment to get her feet under her and once she stood up on woobly legs to be pulled backwards and chained to a wall. Like a dog. A pet. A freshly captured pet, unable to run away because she lost her one small advantage, one small equality. Flight. She could fly. Had been able to fly.

Her back was numb, and the way her arms were made it ache, it made her sides ache, and her arms ached. Other places ached, but she hadn't fed her daughter. Would someone find her daughter? Tarlaka let her head fall into a confortable position without it cutting off her breath. It would be so easy to give up, strangle herself on this thing. Too bad she was strong, and had plans to kill her captor one day. Even if it was years from now. She'd do something. He seemed to be made of bugs.

The cloud of them flying her wings away made that obvious. Tarlaka ached, and while she was alone she finally let her mind drift to her daughter, hungry and crying. Alone? Or would Yuri wake up and find her? What time was it? The length of her hair gave her some privacy as it covered her breasts the wet clumps sticking to her skin.

While she was in this mess, she'd act the pet, the slave. It would be stupid to be stubborn and lead to more wounds, more trouble. She had nicely layed on her stomach and he still dug out her wings. The once winged woman didn't want to think of what he would have done if she stared him down and not budged. Probably cut off a strip of skin to wave at her before he swallowed it.

The pain in her back grew and to make matters worse she knew that underneath her hair, her chest was protesting against Tarlaka being unable to feed her child. Lifting her head, she stood still and looking around the room with patient eyes, the blood stained her lips red and she could feel the inside of her cheeks throb.

In her own right, Tarlaka was an interesting mix of blood. Elf and demon. She was immortal in the sense that she healed quickly and didn't age, however, she had no superhuman powers, and her only oddity left was her bi-coloured hair, her wings were gone. For once in her life, Tarlaka was completely helpless. Naked and chained to a wall in a place that no one knew, and nobody even knew she was missing.

Tarlaka was being a good girl though, once The Bug Guy got back, he would find Tarlaka standing perfectly still, bright blue eyes wide and staring. Waiting. She'd be good and pretend and put on a good show. Then get the hell out of here.

[Anonymous]

It didn't take long for Nage to pin the wings of his new pet to the walls surrounding the castle. As dawn broke the public would see the wings of their champion on display, and it would spell out hopelessness. Hopelessness, and rage.

The trapdoor to the cellar closed and locked behind the buzzing swarm than filled Nage's pile of clothes and reformed into the man, fully dressed and regarding his captive with a blank expression.

"Good girl," he muttered, noting that she had not taken her own life. It would have been a pity, so much potential fun gone to waste, but she would still prove useful to their cause in death. Nakaris had denied him Chailyn, his attachment to her apparently overriding his personality, so Nage needed a new pet. His last one had gotten his hands on some broken glass and slit his wrists.

Such a pity. He hoped this one would not succumb so easily. She was a military type, so hopefully she could take it.

And he would make her take it.

"The guards, come morning," he declared, "Will be looking for a woman with black and blue hair and no wings. I intend to have you out of here before morning, but if a woman with such noticeable attributes was seen leaving she would surely be remembered."

Without further explaining his thoughts Nage moved over to her and undid the chain from her collar. A firm hand at the back of her neck guided her forward, towards a smaller tub next to the water filled washtub. The smaller tub was filled with liquid of an amber colour streaked with brown swirls.

In a firm voice he commanded, "Sit, facing away from the smaller tub."

Letting go of her neck he waited until she had complied before kneeling on the opposite site of the tub, watching her back. The wounds, while still fresh, had sealed nicely.

Once she was down he gently took either side of her head and guided her backwards, letting her hair fall into the liquid. Once she was down to her hairline he stopped, pulling the strands clinging to her body down into the tub until all her hair was covered. Scooping up liquid in his hands he let it run down the tiny bits of exposed hair, focusing on the more obvious blue.

"Now, just wait like this for a few minutes and don't move."

[Anonymous]

'Good girl'. He could shove it and chew on it. Tarlaka kept her expression blank, everything ached. Now her feet ached too. She missed shoes. She missed clothing. The last time she'd been naked in front of someone had been the midwife and she had been giving birth to another being. That had been months ago. She was a fighter, a strong woman. It would be silly of her to cower and hide because she was naked.

When he finally unhooked her from the wall and guided her forward, she walked awkwardly and almost stumbled, her brain fuzzy and numb from the missing weight on her back. While the wings weighed little for their size, they weighed enough to throw off her current balance. Tarlaka looked at the man and lift an eyebrow.

They were looking for a woman with blue and black hair and no wings. She spoke before she could stop herself, her words were slurred and tired and she winced when she spoke. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just leave my wings then?" She snapped at him before falling quiet again. Great, she'd been kidnapped and mutilated by a complete moron.

Just what she needed. Well, if he was a sadistic moron, she'd get out of his clutches sooner or later. Tarlaka had no problem running away from him butt naked if she had to. Drew attention, drew crowds, and with no wings and dark hair she'd be all the more harder to spot by him as well Adela was full of people with dark hair..

Harder to spot by everyone else as well. Her voice. Tarlaka gave an affermative grunt and moved to kneel facing away from the tub, resisting for a second before letting his hands guide her down to sink her head into the liquid. Her eyebrows drew together when he removed the hair stuck to and she breathed through her noise before closing her eyes and staying still.

He was doing something to her hair. Changing her more? Washing her hair? Was to too wavy? Was he going to cut it? With her eyes closed and her body arched painfully over the tub she waited silently, opening her eyes occasionally to look at the strange man. It was a fleeting entertainment that he was upside down.

[Anonymous]

His hands moved, one supporting her head and the other moving her hair around to make sure the dye touched it all. This part was important, if the dye looked fake then people might notice, and people noticing blue hair might get back to the authorities and stop them believing his lie.

The lie was important.

"I could have, very easily, smuggled you out while the guards were stupidly looking for wings," he said, leaning over her to hover above her face, making eye contact. "However the aim of this is not simply to extract you from Ketra, no, that would lead to civilised discussion. Serendipity would claim to have no knowledge of your kidnap and, with some convincing, it would be decided a rogue acted alone and an innocent man would be sent to prison while the hunt for you went on. Useless. A waste of my time."

His voice dropped to a quick whisper. "If, however, Akkiel is so mad, so blinded by rage that he is simply inconsolable, then he will rush to find you, ripping down anyone in his path. And if his path were to lead to Serendipity, and if their king and archmage just happened to also be missing...well, wars have been started over smaller things." He grinned, malice filling his eyes.

"You should be honoured. Yours will be the wings that sent a hundred thousand men to their deaths!"

Pulling away from her, Nage cackled. His plan was excellent, brilliant even. There was room for error certainly, but it was solid.

The dye had had time enough, so he lifted her back out of the tub, wringing her hair in his hands as he did. Standing up he took the pitcher again and filled it, rinsing her hair thoroughly, twice more, with the water draining away down the cracks in the floor. By the third wash the water ran clear and Tarlaka's black and blue hair was a dirty blonde.

"Superb," he muttered, wringing her hair out in another towel until he was satisfied it was as dry as he was going to get it. He held up a small, grimy mirror in front of her face.

"What do you think hmm? No one will recognise you now."

[Anonymous]

It irritated her that this strange bug man was playing with her hair. It made her more angry how he was pulling at it. Coating it in something, it felt gross and thick. It burned at her skin and she frowned and listened to him tell her his plans. When he dropped into a whisper, Tarlaka closed her eyes slightly, listening, keen elf ears catching everything before she laughed lightly and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

Tarlaka stayed silent as he worked over her hair. In a splash of water that left Tarlaka shivering, which thankfully washed away any breast milk from her chest and left her now lighter hair clinging to her, she ran over the details in her head. This man, this giant bunch of bugs, Nagetheraka, Nage, Bug-Man, whatever-the-fuck-his-name-was... Counting on so many emotions to come into play. Surely Akkiel was smarter than that.

There was no way he cared enough about her to destroy everything in his path just to find her. Of course her wings, wherever they were, she couldn't remember, would be a slap in the face if he saw them. They were such a part of her, she could mourn their loss later, will away the aches and pains until she could take them and not collasp under the weight. Balance was still a difficult task, and her feet were at an angle, shoulders back, hands loose, ready to try to grab something.

A natural, if tied up, stance for her. Balance, ease. Her wings would have been welcome, she could feel their phantom feathers against her legs, knew that they would be half open and fluffed up, trying to make herself seem bigger. Tarlaka knew that she should ache and be in pain, and she was thankful that everything was just a dull throb. The woman was also thankful for her bloodlines, she could feel herself healing from the wounds.

Out of her musings, Tarlaka stared at the grubby mirror at the odd looking elfin woman. Her blue eyes, but with the blonde hair, the messy dirty blonde hair, she looked like an elf. A wood elf, she didn't look like herself at all. She swallowed and turned her gaze to Nage, level and offered him a smile. "You did a wonderful job, Thank you."

He did do a wonderful job. Tarlaka's mind was racing and while her eyes were staring at his, she was looking at so many other things. Blonde, no wings, elf ears, she didn't even recognize herself at first, if anyone was looking for her they wouldn't even gaze her way. Blonde.

Blonde.

Fuck.

[Anonymous]

She thought him an idiot, and that made him happy. Her arrogance made her weak.

But oh what he would give to be able to hear her thoughts, to see clearly past the lying exterior and see the woman beneath. Instead he would have to settle for the slower path, stripping away her shell one lashing at a time until nothing but the true self remained. They had a long journey ahead, there was time.

He placed the mirror on the table, its purpose finished with. A new tool was needed.

Pushing her roughly forward, Nage directed his slave to the wall, clipping the chain to the front of her collar. It left only just enough room for her to look straight without her nose touching the stone.

The second poker heating in the brazier had a somewhat different tip to the first. Where the first was a roughly cut spike, this was a detailed design sticking out from the tip. It was a branding iron.

"Now, this will hurt. Try to be still or I'll make it worse." The threat was probably unnecessary; she seemed to understand the rules. Bracing his shoulder against her back and his knee against her legs, Nage pushed her up against the wall. His free hand took hers, pulling them upwards painfully to get them out of the way.

He lined up his aim, then struck. Hot metal burned into the soft flesh of her right butt cheek, making a delightful hissing sound. He held it there for a moment, ensuring a clean burn before pulling the iron away and stepping back. "You know, cattle branded in this way are called Butt Branded," he said in a conversational manner, as if he had not just burned the shape of a large beetle onto her bottom.

Once again the poker was returned to the fire and once again freezing water was poured over the wound, cooling it and easing her pain somewhat.

"And now," he declared proudly, "Your transformation is complete! Can you be a good girl now and let me dress you, or will you being leaving the city naked?"

((Sorry draco Dx))

[Anonymous]

This will hurt, he says. Tarlaka glared ahead at the wall, her eyebrow twitching. The shoulder in her back pressed her forward and she could only turn her head slightly so she didn't squish her nose against the wall. It pressed her naked chest into the wall and Tarlaka cried out, full breasts and hard stone walls didn't mix and she grimaced before taking a breath and closing her eyes. When he moved her arms again, it pulled at the wounds on her back and crushed her chest further into the wall, it took quite a bit of self control to keep herself from crying out again.

While Tarlaka knew how the slave trade went, she wasn't expecting this strange man to go the whole way. The brand made her eyes snap open and she quickly clamped them closed, breathing heavily through her nose and concentrating on the now less pain of her chest. Both hurt like a bitch, but the squished boobs were less and there was no burning pain that involved a horrible smell.

This would all sink in later, and she would cry. Tarlaka knew she would. Wings gone, her baby hungry and alone, Akkiel and Yuri wouldn't know where she was. They'd think she had black hair, they'd be looking for her, not a blonde slave. She wanted out of her shackles, she wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, she wanted to see her daughter, wanted to hug her and cuddle her.

It took quite a bit of effort to keep from screaming at the man, thought Tarlaka did hiss. The once winged woman's eyes were half closed and she was proud of herself for clinging to her consciousness. Her ass hurt, her back hurt, her breasts hurt, her head hurt. This was worse than pushing out a baby, hurt more and it had no upside.

She would have to think of a way to leave a trail, or something. Anything. Just a trail. Something. Tarlaka was silent and panting softly, pressed against the wall, the coolness of it comforting as it was hard. She heard him speak, talk about clothing. Tarlaka gave an affermative noise, not really caring at this point. Drained, numb.

It would have been a better idea to leave naked. It would draw attention, there would be a newly burned brand on her ass. Tarlaka coughed and cleared her throat, "I'd rather walk around naked than wear anything you put on me," She snapped at him, her voice hoarse and husky. Tarlaka didn't move or struggle, she was already burnt enough and didn't know if she could handle anymore wounds, her body was still in shock from having her wings ripped out.

[Anonymous]

"Raw as the day you were born it is then, my lady!" he laughed, voice filled with malice and mirth. He bowed deeply, mockingly, though she probably couldn't see. Stepping over to the table he reached down, two small articles of clothing being in a pile on the floor. He picked one up, what would have been used to cover her top half.

It was made of thin canvas, a single strip made into a large loop and attached to a cheap leather belt. The idea was to loop the material around the wearer's neck then tie the belt at the back, thus covering their chest but leaving their back exposed for easy whipping.

Tarlaka however had chosen to be naked, and he was happy to oblige. "You can be as naked as you want m'dear, but those nasty wing marks will have to be covered won't they?" he hissed into her ear. Nage looped the cloth around her neck, backwards so it was sitting on the front of her neck, above the chain. He pulled the rest of the top through her arms so it covered her back and reached around her waist to tightly buckle the belt.

"There we are," he said, stepping back, "Your back is covered so no one will suspect, and your tits are still on display as you requested. See? I can be kind." He grinned, fighting laughter. Undoubtedly this is not exactly what she wanted. She probably wanted to cause a fuss. He had planned for this.

"Now just a few final touches...."

Picking up two more things he again pressed himself behind her, just to make her uncomfortable. A strip of cloth was tied over her eyes, then a rubber ball was forced between her teeth and another strip bound around to make sure that stayed in.

He unhooked her from the wall, the little chain chinking as it dropped to dangle once more, and pulled her backwards. "Come!" he barked in her ear, pulling her towards the table. A knife, a three tailed whip and a few other bits and pieces he would need were put into his pockets, the larger two being attached to his belt. A thick leather leash was hooked onto the front ring of her collar, which he used to pull her up the stairs and into the house proper. It was a dingy thing, all dark, with the windows boarded up.

In a corner was a dark mass, something under a blanket. Nage ripped the blanket off to reveal eleven slaves, all chained as Tarlaka was. These slaves were trained though, so when he snapped his fingers they all stood up and formed a neat line.

Never letting go of his grip on the commander's leash, Nage set to attaching the chain that hung off the front of each collar to the slave in front. These chains were slightly longer than the one in the cellar, giving each enough room to walk. To the front slave he attached Tarlaka, leaving the leash on so she could lead the pack.

Perfect. They were a mix of men and women, some human and a few elves, all in various states of dress, all wearing the gag and blindfold. Some were just as naked as her, and all freshly branded too. No one would think twice.

"We move. Be good."

[Anonymous]

Tarlaka could think of one word that fit this situation. It started with an F and ended in a K and had a whole bunch of screaming. Her chest was exposed, she shook her head to cover her breasts with her newly dyed hair and then gasped when he pressed against her back, pushing her further into the wall. She bit back a hiss of pain at the pressure it caused on her chest and she made a surprised yelp when her eyes were covered, the yelp helped the ball being pushed into her mouth and she was about to spit it back out when the cloth hindrerd that movement.

The woman stayed quiet, her balance still off from the recently removed weight from her back so she took careful steps, stumbling occasionally because of it. Eyes closed, she tuned her senses to her hearing, keen all on it's own. She could hear hearts beating and breathing and movement. It took her a moment to realise that she was in some weird slave train, her eyebrows drew together, trying to think of other Adelan officials and knights who weren't there or she hadn't seen.

He couldn't have kidnapped more people. They must have been regular slaves.  Tarlaka would like to think no one would look at her twice, but her body hanging out she knew that was a false hope. It was almost dissapointing. Her face was obscured, her hair was blonde, her back was covered up.

Tired. She was so tired, drained, numb. Tarlaka let her head fall forward, wavy blonde hair covering her naked breasts. While she had he slightest of stretch marks from her daughter under her belly button, Tarlaka had a nice body. Lithe and lean muscle under pale skin. Hardly any scars, and the ones that she did get from sword play had turned into faded white lines, hardly visible anyway.

Shaking her head, she moved so she could her hair cover her chest, but she walked just as proudly as she would have in her armour with her sword. Shoulders straight, back straight, head held high. Tarlaka gained her balance quickly once walking was normal again and she strode just as she would have if she was covered. Tarlaka was a commander, and if even one person noticed how oddly she walked for a slave, she had achieved something.

[Anonymous]

A sharp tug on Tarlaka's leash had the line moving out the door and down the street. Darkness had descended, leaving the streets empty and the bars full. He took the back streets, heading for the city's western gate.

As they walked Nage shifted his form, in a dark alley with no one possibly watching, into a tall man with a long scar down one cheek. He fixed the permanent scowl that the man, Tor, always wore. He was a nice enough fellow, Tor, a goon for the Dread Army who was going to play an important role in the plan, one where he actually got to live.

He watched her through the back of his head as they walked, or more specifically through the eyes of a beetle clinging to the back of his head. She was trying to cover herself, naturally, and was doing a pretty good job of the top half, though her hair seemed to want to curl around her nipples instead of cover them. Her stance was a problem, too proud for a slave. Well, too proud for all but a new slave.

Plans could only account for so much before they had to be altered on the go.

As they approached the gate Nage didn't slow his pace, he only tugged on the leash to make Tarlaka stumble and walked, scowling, towards the guard. He spoke in Tor's gruff accent.

"'Ey dere mate."

The guard looked him up and down, taking stock. "Hello," came the tight reply, "And what business do you have leaving the city at this hour mr....?"

"Tor," came the grunted reply, "Tor Al'Sheef. An' I be takin' these 'ere slaves up Arca way fer me boss. 'E wants 'em dere quick like, so 'ere I yam, middle o the fuckin' night." He grunted for good measure, looking angry.

The guard seemed unimpressed.

"If you're taking them north then why not take the north gate hmm?"

"Bandits. Too many of 'em these days on de main road fer me alone te risk it."

The guard paused. "Yes very well. I trust you have papers?"

"Course course," he muttered, fumbling about in his pockets and producing a single scroll. He handed to the guardsman, who unfurled it and looked it over. The guard counted them, checking each of their rears for the brand and then returned to stand in front of Nage and hand him his paper back. "Very well, all looks in order," he paused, causing Nage to think they were done and start moving off until he continued, "This one at the front, what's her story?"

For a moment, Nage though he was in trouble. Then he saw where the guard was looking, his eyes scanning from her crotch to her chest. Nage let a grin touch his scowl.

"This un? She's new. Jus' caught. Wood elf ah thin'. Dunno. Gunna be a pleasure slave fer de boss." Tugging her leash roughly, Nage brushed her hair over her back to expose her breasts, cupping one in a hand. "I can see why eh? Nice big pair o titties." The guard laughed, satisfied with the answer and waved them on, turning away to hide the growth in his pants.

Nage turned to face away from the city, pulling the slave train along with him. They walked until they reached the river, along the road where it was still paved. Where the road bent to go northward Nage stopped, blocked from the view of the city by distance and a copse in the elbow of the road.

Out of the trees the real Tor emerged, pulling behind him a blonde haired elf girl dressed in the clothes Tarlaka would have been wearing had she not refused them. Nage shifted back to his own form, smiling at Tor. "Get her out of that," he ordered, "They have to be identical."

Tor merely grunted and began undressing his girl, who didn't resist. Once her skirt was gone and her top turned around, they could easily take her as the slave the guard might describe. "Don't forget to shave her muff off before you get going, this one keeps hers nice and bald. Maybe she knew she'd be showing it to the world eh?" Tor laughed, a grunting laugh. He wasn't the brightest fellow, which is why he was perfect.

Nage unhooked Tarlaka from the group, letting Tor hook on his girl before pulling out a knife and squatting. He ignored it, turning away and pulling Tarlaka towards the river, using the large blind spot from any sentry watching.

He led her down to the edge, over the sandy bank. The water was barely flowing, just a trickle really, running into a much larger river. It was only ten or so paces across, and never deep enough for her to go in any further than her neck. Still, he pushed her forward, into the cold water and said, "Swim, swim forward. I will be watching."

[Anonymous]

Who knew that a bubble of hope could burst as easily as it had formed. The story of the woman in the front was that she commanded you, you retard. Tarlaka listened to his voice, making sure she would remember it forever so that she could punch him in the nose when she got free of this freak. Tarlaka made a loud noise in the back of her throat and turned her head in the general direction of the guard. What a retard.

What Nage said – In a funny voice, but she could tell it was him, no one had taken his place in front of the little slave train – made her eyebrow twitch and she had the urge to punch the man in the face. A sex slave? The hand that pushed her hair away was a surprise and she sucked in breath from her nose and whimpered slightly when he cupped a breast. They hurt, it had been hours and hours since she'd fed her daughter, having skipped 'dinner' to talk with the 'diplomat'. A semi-part time wet nurse would be used.

Tarlaka was amazed that they hurt so badly. Boobs. Hopefully the bug-man wouldn't notice and leave them alone, she could imagine the things he would do to humiliate her. She frowned when they began walking again, her tongue pushing the plastic ball to the front of her mouth so she didn't choke on it. They came to a halt and she frowned, listening.

A decoy. They were going to use a decoy. Her heart sank, she could feel her chest hallow. Once they found her wings she would be so far away, the guards around Ketra would be questioned for sure, but the slaves would be somewhere and she would be somewhere else. Tarlaka was carrying false hopes on Nage being as stupid as he was large and sadistic, a different plan of action was in order, fool him. Do something.

The trek after she'd been separated confused her and it took a great deal of talent for her to keep her balance when she was pushed and pulled over the ground. Water, she could hear water. The feel of it on her feet had her freeze for a moment before she heard him speak. Through it. Go through it. She'd die of hypothermia! Though she had to listen.

Lifting her head high and keeping her shoulders straight she began to wade through the water, deeper and deeper until it was up past her chest to her collar bone. Tarlakas breath was short and almost panting as she go through the water to the other side, her hair clung to her once she began to reach the other side and rose out of the water. Visibly shivering she stayed put, waiting for the next lovely direction Nage would give her, in an off thought she hoped they would be moving.

She was cold, her ass hurt, her back hurt, her breasts ached and to top it all off her head was now pounding with a horrible headache.

[Anonymous]

His arms crossed as he watched her walk in, enjoying the wobble of her ass as she tried to find her footing. As soon as her lovelies were submerged he took flight, buzzing around her, keeping enough distance so as not to be heard. He was carrying more weight than usual, with the whip and knife and other tools he'd brought, so flight was difficult. The swarm stayed level, unable to rise without ditching weight, until it reached the other side and reformed into a man.

Nage waited until she was out before speaking. "Took your sweet time." He dropped to his knees, sitting on his heels and bending to get at her shackles. Each had a lock on them, a lock that no key would fit. The tip of his thumb became a beetle, and that beetle inserted its long pincers into the two holes and bit down, snapping the lock open, then repeated it on the other side. He slid them off, hooking them onto the back of his belt where they dangled.

Before he stood he looked up, realising his face was inches away from her crotch. He grinned, blowing a burst of air on her nethers, just to let her know where he was, and then stood smoothly.

The belt of her top was a little hard to undo due to its wetness, but once it was he slid the thin material off over her head and wrung it out. With the damp cloth he set about partially drying her off. Didn't want her dying or anything.

He wiped her down completely, letting his other hand run over every single part of her body before the cloth touched it, spending more time lingering on her naughties then on the rest. Grinning he wrung out the top again, tucking it into a pocket of his vest. The thing didn't take up much room.

"There, you won't be needing that any more. You wanted to be naked, then you can stay naked. Forever." His tone carried his amusement better than anything hey eyes could have detected. "Now, come. We walk."

A tug at her leash would tell her he was moving, travelling west into the Draconi Forest. He didn't slow as they hit the tree's, fully aware that she would likely trip. He never slowed, dragging her by the neck if need be, only stopping if she was actually choking and couldn't stand up, until they were far enough into the dark forest for seeing Ketra, or even guessing the way back impossible.

He stopped in a nondescript area to yank her blindfold off and put it with her lone article of clothing, smirking at her before continuing on. The gag could stay for now.

[Anonymous]

The puff of air made Tarlaka jerk backwards and shudder in disgust. Uncomfortable. What a creep. Tarlaka enjoyed the mental image of the little beetles he was made of popping into bursts of little bug guts and gore. She endured him drying her off silently, willing her temper down when he payed too much attention to certain areas she got ready to listen to her surroundings, noises, echos.

Unfortunately for Tarlaka, she didn't have echo location and had to listen carefully to how his foot steps sounded while they walked. For the most part she succeeded in going over the obsticles and knew that by the time the collar came off or if she was ever allowed to speak again her voice would be hoarse and quiet, her neck bruised. Ever movement hurt, the added shivering from the cold water wasn't helping her abused shoulders.

It felt like forever before they stopped and he yanked off her blind fold, Tarlaka quickly looked around could see scratches and nicks on her thighs and legs from falling occasionally bumping into things, bruises, her feet were sore and bloodied, too. With the blind fold gone it was obvious that the tips of her ears were red along with her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

Blushing? Ha, unlikely. Fever? Yes. Shaking with her eyes hooded, the rest of her body was pale except around the fresh burns and cuts on her back which was a bright angry red. Her body was good at fighting off infections and poisons and drugs. All the wounds had put her body into shock and now it was over working its self to fix everything.  The shock of losing limbs, of a burn, the freezing water.

She kept on though, she'd rather pass out and be dragged through the forest to regret it later than willingly ask for help. The more fight and the more stubborn she was now the easier it would be to believe she was broken later. She was Tarlaka Glockmoor, Commander of the Adelan army, she was never going to break, no matter how hard he tried or what he did to her.

Tarlaka would pretend and do a good job. She would just have to find the right time.