My Curiosity Hungers - 18+ Mature

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This thread is 18+ and rated for mature audiences due to nudity and aggressive sexual themes.

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Between the border city of Archen and the Great White Expanse ran a little known trail through a shallow valley. Before the curse of Denebriel turned the lands to barren deserts of ice and snow, the valley served many caravans to the northern settlements. Now all but ruins and frozen relics, the cities lay barren beneath layers of packed frost. Yet, through this valley, protected by the might winter gales, ran a trio of horse drawn wagons. The drivers hid beneath bundles of animal furs and dense wool shawls. Their faces remained hidden except for the dull, lifeless eyes that gazed onward to the white abyss.

“Move over,” called a voice from within the lead caravan. The canvas which protected the contents of the wagon parted to reveal another pair of eyes beneath fold of winter clothing.

“About time,” replied the driver as he gathered the reins and held them out. “The feeling in my fingers is gone.”

From folds of tarp, the second man clambered to the old wooden seat. He settled in and took the reins with a commanding crack. The horses brayed in the wind, clouds of heated breath billowing forth from their maws.

“Settle in with the supplies.” The replacement driver kept his eyes forward as the other made way to the back. “I moved the leather and some of the bags of rice apart. Should help you warm up.”

“Tch,” came a chuckled reply. “I wouldn’t mind being in the middle cart. I’m sure those whores would do plenty to keep me warm.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Those women are lucky to make the trip. Besides,” The driver turned back to the wagon with a playful nod. “You wouldn't be able to handle six women at once. When was the last time you bedded one?”

A chuckle echoed into the frigid canyon but was not reciprocated by his colleague.

“Oh shut it will ya? Neither of us have had a good lay in ages.” The man disappeared behind the canvas and the driver focused himself forward.

“If that’s not the truth…” mumbled the driver beneath the comfort of his furs.

Run, run, run. Keep moving.

Camille chanted to herself, stumbling on the frost covered ground. The wind whipped wickedly against her frail body, the breeze lapping bitterly at her cheeks. Her plush lips that once held a crimson glow now tainted with a purple hue. Fleeing from her Master’s castle was invigorating but that triumphant feeling had subsided and now all that was left was hunger and the daunting harsh cold.

Let me come out Camille, I am stronger and we will die if you continue in your weak state. Nikita's velvety voice clouding her mind causing her to trip and fall. Her body trembling, she knew the consequences that came with setting Nikta free but she had no choice.

Her bones started to crack, her joints groaning in protest. Crying out she gripped the ground, her spine elongated along with her mouth which was transforming into a muzzle. The tattered clothes that she had been wearing ripped away, left there standing was a white lycan. Rare as they are hard to find. Nikita stretched her limbs shaking out her fur.

Her tongue tracing her sharp teeth as she could feel her stomach twist with hunger. Bringing her nose towards the heavens she inhaled deeply, the sweet luscious smell of blood. The primal instinct to feed took over as she took off, darting between the trees allowing her instinct to drive her. Her paws slapping against the frozen ground. A feral snarl came from her, pushing herself faster towards her meal.

Please Nikita no.. Camille tried to push her thoughts forward but was easily forced back into the own seclusion of her mind.

The sound of rickety wagon wheels drew closer with each pushing off her paw. The smell of blood fueling her to move faster, swifter. The valley neared, three wagons pulled by horse slowly made their way down the trail. The smell of blood was coming from the middle cart, a growl rumbled in her chest. The instinct to kill was too great for even Camille to stop the lycan spirit.

In a mere instance the large wolf like creature dove down into the valley tearing through the driver of the wagon like butter. Her teeth sinking deep into his neck as she ripped off a chunk of flesh. His mangled screams subsided as he choked on his own blood, bleeding out quickly. The taste of the delectable crimson colored liquid filled her mouth.

The beast was starting to get greedy as she wanted more. The hollering of the guards from the caravans ripped her attention from her food as she snarling at them. Quickly darting to the wagon of woman she indulged herself in their tattered bodies. Her teeth ripping into one person after another, her snowy white coat now splattered with red.

Stop! Camille screamed the faces of the horrified woman etched into her mind forever, their screams echoing in the valley.

For a brief moment Camille gained control of the beast pulling it back as she howled out with pain and heartache. The beast’s eyes flashed from pure black to Camille’s midnight ocean blue orbs before returning back to the color of a cold heartless killing machine. Just as a guard was about to sink his spear into the beast back a voice called out restraining the man from delivering the fatal blow.

From silence, the choir of chaos erupted into a grand crescendo. Blood curdling screams filled the air, backed by the rolling percussion of gurgled death throes. Splintered bones between the maw of ravenous beast melodies with the clatter of steel falling to the rocky tundra. Men from the rear caravan drew blades from beneath their furs and charged. The horses spurred and turned the rear wagon to its side. Contents spilled to the snow: food, blades, gunpowder, and tools. As the symphony of death played, the mound of spilled goods heaved.

From it, emerged a tall, pale man with silver hair. His leather carapace and white arctic furs showed unfortunate damage from the weapons which buried him. A trail of red spilled from beneath his hairline and rolled across his scarred right eye, already hazed with blindness.

“What the hell is it?!” roared one of the caravan guards. The beast ripped and tore with fervor, becoming one with the carnage.

“A beast!” cried another before his words punctuated with a yowl, then silence.

“GET THIS UNDER CONTROL!” The white haired man howled over the cacophony. From his back he drew two eastern style blades and his boots broke through the frosted tundra as he charged forth.

“Master Ulroke!” chimed one of the caravan guards just seconds before he found himself without a throat to speak.

Lye charged into the fray and witnessed the albino werebeast as it tore bodies limb from limb. Its maw rendered and gulped raw flesh by the mouthful. Crimson ichor stained its otherwise pristine, white fur. In its fervor, the assassin noticed a pause of pain in the beast who remained unwounded. As it recoiled, a glimmer of blue shone in its otherwise pitch black irises.

“Hyaaa!” roared a caravan guard, spear first toward his feral target.

“Stop!” Lye commanded. His arm outstretched and hues of black possessed his soldier’s weapon, wrenching it from his grip and burying the spearhead into the distance. The soldier fell to his rear and clambered backwards to flee.

Without time to explain, Lye darted headlong toward the beast. A familiar black magic pulled several throwing needles from the guards on his wrist and flung them into the back of the animal. As they bit into its flesh, the metal spread painfully like roots beneath the surface. The beast reared back slashing its claws out at the silver haired man. Lye closed the gap, avoiding a wild claw inches over his head. His blade plunged into the werewolf’s gut, precise enough to injure without damaging vital organs. The ivory colored beast lunged quickly before the crippling pain was overbearing, its large teeth sinking into his tough flesh. The assassin clenched his teeth under the pain of the wolf’s maw. His hands abandoned their blades and wrapped around the girth of the beast’s neck.

“You will understand my pain!” Lye howled. The magic stolen from Seth Dahlios burst to life. The agony throbbing through Lye’s body broadcasted to everyone nearby. His own men clawed at their shoulders as if they were being torn apart. Those who knew his magic quickly tried to get distance from its effects. Yet only within moments, did Lye’s bones begin to writhe, shatter, and reform. The pain of a thousand pulverized bones replicated on those alive, werebeast included.

Nikita howled out in pain, her grip detaching from the silver haired man’s flesh. Withering in pain she tried to scurry away but the pain of the blade in her gut was paralyzing, leaving her large form immobile. A new wave of crippling torture spread throughout her body, even Camille in the fair depths of her mind was affected.

Please Nikita give me back the control, maybe if I transform back he will stop!! Camille pleaded curled into the fetal position.

As much as the werebeast wanted to maintain control she couldn’t withstand the agony any more. Her bones started to shift and crack, the fur disappearing replaced with fresh pink skin, her muzzle replaced with plush red lips still stained with blood. The transformation took only a few minutes before Camille laid naked and bleeding in the snow.

Her trembling hands clutched her wounds as she cried out in pain. The assassin stood upright and peered down on her with a steeled gaze. “Pl-ease stop..” Her voice hoarse yet pleading, the pain was too much for her body to hold up to with the wounds she had obtained and having just been in her lycan form.

Her eyes threatening to slowly roll back in their sockets as she tried to hold her head up, it lulled to the side before falling back into the snow covered ground.

Don’t pass out, Cammy! Nikita hissed weakly her voice soft yet held a serious tone.

Camille fought as hard as she could to keep her eyes open. Her gaze landing on the man with the scar across his eye, “help please.” She was uncertain if such a man would even consider to help her. The man reached down and wrapped his hand around her neck. With a grunt, he pulled her to her feet and lifted her inches from the snow. His eyes looked over her exposed body in silence as the unbearable pain began to fade from her body.

“There you are…” he hissed with a grin.

Camille’s mouth fell open, her words lost for a moment along with the air in her lungs. Her hands clung to his own grasp around her throat, “s-stop..”

The man chuckled and shook his head. His clawed grasp opened and she fell to the ground. Inhaling the air with greed she sputtered and coughed. “It’s clear!” The man yelled to those you fled the scene. The man knelt beside Camille and forced her to her back where his weapons still stuck out. She felt him gather her wrist and bind them behind her. “Salvage the wreckage, this one travels with me!”

Camille wasn’t sure what was more gruesome, the weapon that was still lodged in her back, the snow that was now starting to burn against her skin or this man that had a cold look of desire and revenge in his eye. “I’m sorry..” The tears weld up in her eyes spilling over her blood stained cheeks, the grief and pain washing over her tattered body.

“You will be,” Lye returned. He cinched the knot tight against her skin. Then, and without much care nor regard, he yanked his blade from her side and used her hair to clean the length of its steel. “If you think of turning, I’ll part your head from your shoulders. Are we clear?”

Lye pressed the edge of his blade to the back of her head. Several strands of blonde fell limp to the snow.

The girl cried out in pain but it didn’t phase Lye, the wound now trickling blood at a steady rate.

The assassin slapped the blade back into its wooden scabbard. Then, he hefted the bloody girl and threw her over his injured shoulder with a wince.

“Sir!” Reported one of his men that wreaked of shitting oneself. “There’s only two of us left. The central cart is completely destroyed and only two of the women made it. One might not survive her injuries.”

“Damn bitch,” Lye swore, hefting her upon his shoulder with a yelp. “Throw the women in the front cart. You get to take point. Give me the other soldier that doesn’t smell of cowardice.”

“S-sir!” The youth saluted before hurrying past the unspeakable carnage to the front wagon.

“You and me are going to have a nice talk in a bit,” Lye muttered as he carried the naked women to the rear wagon. Still spilled over, Lye shook his he placed the captive against the cold, stone wall of the cavern and turned to the wreckage. The wound that the werewolf delivered began to writhe with little while threads like maggots. The folded, twisted, and weaved together were flesh was rendered and stopped the blood from rolling down his shoulder. He pulled a skin of wolf fur from the pile of spilled wares and placed it over the wounded girl.

“Fitting your dead kin to keep you warm,” he added. Skin tucked around her, he gripped her by the chin to better assess her face. “Not a bad looker for a were-beast. Female too. I’ve only seen the males.”

He wrenched her face away from him and turned to the wreckage.

“You killed five of my men, and four of our slaves.” As he spoke, he reached his arms into the chilled winter air and the shadows began to dance along the snow like living ink. “I hope you fed well, because when we arrive at camp, you’ll be working to fill the difference.”

The wagon groaned and crackled as darkness began to crawl along the wood. By some unnatural force it began to right itself. The horse whinnied and stomped, yet seemed oddly comfortable with the event. Once upright, the objects that lay upon the snow shifted, raised, and after taking on a blackened hue, placed themselves back into the cart.

The woman’s eyes grew mimicking the size of milk saucers, her plush lips turning a blue hue as it quivered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen- I just wanted to be free.” Her voice soft, barely a whisper, curled under the fur he had given her clutching her wound.

The assassin chuckled darkly as his work finished. “Free? No, no. Not anymore. But you will make an excellent pet when I’m done with you, mutt.”

He turned to her with a grimace and hefted her over his shoulder only to carry her to the cart. He threw her in the back of it atop a bundle of furs and hoisted himself in behind her. Just as he closed the distance between the two in the wagon the woman tried to create more, a small groan like whimper parting her trembling lips. “Please no, not again,” she pleaded.

“Again?” Lye asked. Like meat, he threw her again to her back where he could tend to the trio of needles still rooted into her flesh. He gripped one and pulled gently and slowly. While painful, the enchanted metal roots gradually reverted to a thin, straight rod.

The woman hissed in pain wincing with each needle that was plucked from her skin, “yes again.” Her eyes darting from the needles back towards the man that was tending the wounds he had created.

Lye continued one by one until he retrieved all of his weapons from her body. “Tough luck,” he commented. From a satchel at his back, he produced a flask. He pulled several vials from a leather case on his waist and pulled the corks with his teeth, spitting them to the side. The contents emptied into the flask in a specific order until he began muttering a chant in Latin. The flask shimmered, then faded.

He poured the contents little by little into each wound he had made. The woman’s face scrunched in pain as she jumped with each drop that touched her wounded flesh. “Fuck that hurts,” she murmured under her breath, her chest rising and falling unevenly. The wounds slowly clotting, healing slightly but not completely.

Finished, he placed the empty flask in his pouch and turned the bare chested woman to her back. His cold hand firmly gripped her breast with a grin on his face. He pressed against her and massaged gently. “You’ll make for great entertainment. Firm too.” The assassin let go and threw more furs to cover her before propping himself against the opposite end of the wagon.

“Sir,” called out a voice from the front of the cart. The canvas parted and a shrouded face peered back at them. “We’re as ready as we’re going to be.”

“Move out,” Lye commanded. “We should still make it by nightfall despite our little run-in here.

“You’re bringing it with?”

“Someone has to pay for our loss.” Lye smirked at the girl as the driver cracked the reins and the wagon surged forward.

Camille wanted to cry out in frustration, she had left one Master behind to be claimed by another. The movement of the wagon jutting forward made her hiss. Her body was still weak and frail from the beating she had taken in her human and werebeast form. The swift movements that landed him on top of her groping her breast made her core tighten and ache. It was the animalistic part of her that enjoyed it more than her own.

Captive again I knew I shouldn’t have fucking let you gain control! Nikita's voice though still weak rang out loudly filling Cammy’s mind as she winced. With all her might Camille banished the beast spirit to the far corners of her mind. She didn’t have the luxury of worrying about Nikita being pissed she had to watch her captor closely.

Each time the poor girl found the courage to say something her mouth fell open then closed shut quickly. Glimpses of what had happened with her old Master when she angered him halted her quick tongue. The seconds passed achingly slower than ever before as she stole small glimpses of the man. She could still feel the shadow of his weight on top of her as she bit down on her lower lip, catching the plush flesh between her teeth. The man’s half-blind gaze met hers for a brief moment before she could downcast her eyes.

“Quiet for a captive,” he stated. “Done pleading already?”

Camille’s icy gaze met his own, “I have been through this before I know pleading will get me no closer to my freedom than I already was.” Pulling the furs tightly around her naked body as a cold chill ran up her spine.

“Why do you want to be free? What’s so pluckish about that anyway? You’re no more free in my custody then you are under a government or the laws of nature,” He scoffed in return. His tone dripped with bitter ire and sarcasm. “Or did that little outburst of your feral side not teach you that?”

Her pale cheeks painted red not with embarrassment but with anger as her eyebrows drew together. “I didn’t mean to kill your men but I probably did those girls a favor by killing them,” her voice holding a snarky tone. “Plus it wasn’t like I was the one in control,” she murmured under her breath before tearing her gaze away from the silver haired man.

“Perhaps,” he whimsically added. “But you’ll serve in their place. This world is nothing but cause and effect, dear. Something I’ll carve into your mind when I’m done with you.”

Camille saluted sarcastically to the man rolling her eyes, “you deal with one psycho path you deal with them all.” Not even two hours into captivity and she was already missing the solitude she had even on the verge of death.

The assassin shook his head. “You couldn’t be any more wrong.” He clambered over to her to put his face close to hers. “You see, I’m not so delusional as to expect you to become completely subservient. That would only make you resent me. No, see, if you want freedom, you can have it, but on my terms.”

He pulled away and slumped against the far side of the wagon. “After you’ve paid your debt of course.”

Camille’s angelic features were masked with the look of confusion, “what’s your name? Can I know that?” She quipped quickly, his response to her stereotype statement peaked her interest a little.

“That depends,” the man responded. “Are you going to put up a fight, or do as you’re told?”

Camille pursed her lips briefly pondering her reply, “that depends on exactly what I am told to do.” She eyed him up and down cautiously as she had realized this man isn't any ordinary man.

“Oh, you’re not going to like it. But you can’t honestly expect to pay back all those lost lives with good intentions, can you?” His tone grew cold and stern. “So what will it be, mutt? Hard way, or my way?”

Camille’s jaw clenched at the word mutt as her gaze hardened. She knew the hard way would only get her wounded more but she wasn't a common whore like those other woman.

“Your way,” she said her voice monotone before looking down at her feet. This was the second time a man had broken her will.

“Good. You’ll prefer that over the alternative. My name is Lye. You may use that instead of ‘master’.” He chuckled. “Or whatever you’d like to call me.”

Lye cocked his head to the side. “And what name would you like to be called?”

Camille refrained her quick tongue from lashing out with a smart remark. Sighing softly she curled closer to the furs to capture as much warmth as she could.

“Camille my name is Camille,” she stated.

The wagon carried on through the wintery path. Free from the valley, biting winds threatened to steal any and all heat it could. Icy gales peeled warmth from the men as they cracked the reins. The tough Salvic horses cried out in the blizzard, each breath a mighty cloud of smoke from their nostrils. As they continued on, the snow crested ridge of trees silhouetted the horizon through the thick haze of snow.

“Sir!” the driver shouted over the whistling winds. “We’ve approached the forest!”

"Good!” Lye shouted back. “Light the lanterns and evoke the wards!”

“Yessir!” The driver gripped the reins and stood for a brief moment. His shadow danced on the flapping canvas as lanterns illuminated in an eerie green light. Moment’s later, the driver sat and pulled an unknown object from a chamber beside him. Immediately, a dull, heavy aura filled the air and the howling winds became muffled.

“Have you heard of Dark Crawlers, girl?” Lye asked Camille.

The girl simply shook her head her eyes shown with a sage-colored curiosity.

“The forest this far north contains hundreds of them. Relics of a time long before the Tap shattered when these frigid lands were still lush and green.” The assassin peered past the canvas for a brief moment before shuffling to lash the fabric tight to the wagon’s frame. “The orcs that live this far north have a legend about this forest. They call it Arughk Fashnah. In their language, it means The Rite of Exile.”

Lye sat back down, this time at her feet with his back against several stacked crates.

“They send their exiles here to die. The forest is pitch black. The snow has formed an icy shell atop the canopy and these Dark Crawlers use the darkness to hunt. They are creatures which should not exist in this world. Mages from the War of the Tap created these abominations as weapons of war. When their master’s perished at Saint Denebriel’s hands, these things remained.”

Lye looked to Camille with his verdant gaze -- one eye crisp as emerald, the other foggy as jade. His expression mimicked grey stone and his voice flattened to a serious tone.

“They’re like spiders, but their bodies are darker than the void itself. Any light that would cast a shadow is consumed by them. They are perfect hunters here, but worst off is the way in which they kill. Their bodies are everything the Tap isn’t. I’ve seen them bite through rock like air and cleave a century old redwood with a single swipe of their appendages.”

Camille was engrossed with the story, her unwavering gaze intense. “Holy shit,” she mumbled softly waiting for Lye to continue.

“They don’t need to eat, nor hunt, but it is all they know to do. The more they consume, the bigger they get until they hit a certain point. I’ve seen it only once, but these brood mothers drop globs of strange inky goo. Not moments later, they sprout legs. Like children. The adults use an old magic to create orbs of light. They use them to lure those who are lost. Then, before their prey has a chance to run, they swarm it until nothing is left. Look.”

As he finished, Lye pointed to the canvas wall. Shadows danced along the surface and through the thick fabric, bright spots like stars shone through the trees. The canvas parted slightly where it met the wood frame. Through it, only what seems like a midnight sky could be seen though the distance. The faint glow of the wagon’s lanterns gave vague details of bark and inky black which seemed to writhe and squirm.

“Our camp is settled against a sharp cliff, in the midst of this forest,” Lye continued. “You can run or leave whenever you like, but the Dark Crawlers will find you long before you can get your bearings in the darkness. Pray that the Brood Mothers are nesting this hour and we make it through the forest before nightfall.”

A shiver ran down Camille's spine as she eyed the shadowy creatures before looking back at Lye. “Thanks for the scary story but I'm not leaving especially naked and not knowing where I am, I am a little smarter than you think.”

“But is your other half?” Lye inquired with a whimsy. “I’d hate to see a treat like yourself go to waste. Tell me, how long have you been…” The assassin gestured to her entirety.

Camille arched a slender eyebrow, “you wanna know my backstory?”

“I’ve never seen an albino werewolf. Female, nonetheless. I’ve heard males can become so territorial the females often don’t survive. So, yes, I’d like to know more about the creature that will be serving me and my men.” His eyes invasively ran down the length of her body, hidden beneath the furs. He had already seen her exposed in her entirely. Thus, no effort needed to be expelled to recall the details of her curvature.

Camille shivered under his intense gaze, she knew that look and it was not a look she enjoyed him giving her so openly. It left a bad taste in her mouth with him just saying she would be serving him but when he added his men her stomach flipped in knots. Her nerves threatening to expel the contents in her stomach.

Nevertheless she forced that all down before breathing in deeply, glancing from him to the green colored lighting that allowed shadows to dance across the canvas. “I grew up like a normal kid, mom, dad and my twin brother. We moved a lot because when my father’s wolf came out he would get hostile and out of control so we were hunted a lot. How most lycan work you and your wolf are mostly in sync a few times where you both bump heads but always understanding one another.”
Clearing her throat she glanced briefly at Lye before continuing, “well my connection first kind of severed when I found my parents slaughtered in our cabin we were living in at the time. That is where I got this scar,” she pulled back one of the pelts to reveal her left side, a large ugly scar marred her otherwise perfect sun-kissed skin. He looked at it indifferently and his lip flared slightly in disgust or disapproval, she wasn’t sure.

Pulling the fur back over her naked body before his eyes could wonder of the curve of her exposed ample side breast or the round shape of her ass. “After that me and my lycan spirit, Nikita is her name, never could really see eye to eye. She was always so bloodthirsty that I barely shifted but when I did it was like uncaging a beast that had been locked away for centuries. Usually I could always gain control back until-”

Her voice faltered for a moment before clearing her throat and pulling the pelts tightly around her for comfort. “Until my twin brother James was killed, Nikita lost her other half and I lost mine. She went crazy killing anything and everything I didn’t get control back until weeks later by then so much blood had already been spilt there was nothing I could do.”

“Interesting,” Lye mumbled under his breath. His eyes narrowed and he rubbed at the stubble of his chin.

Sighing she shrugged, “as for my coloring it is very rare I have never met another white lycan. My mother used to say it was because James and I were twins. The complete opposite like yin and yang. He was quiet and thoughtful, always articulate and serious. I used to be free spirited, not a single care in the world. That was a long time ago and I don’t know where that girl has gone because she isn’t here any more.” Camille paused glancing at Lye her cheeks flushed with colors as she had spilt her entire life story or mostly the jist of it.

She had used her captor as a confidante and not even noticed it until it was all out there for him to do with as he pleased. Running a flustered hand through her tangle, matted honey brown locks. Careful not to meet his fierce gaze for too long. She didn’t like feeling like he had the upper hand with her which he certainly did in every way.

“So you’re alone? No family? Good. Much less complicated that way.” The assassin breathed deeply and turned his attention to the glimmering lights in the forest’s darkness. “I think I'm going to like your other half.”

Camille rolled her eyes, “I'm sure you two will get along smashingly when she isn't trying to rip your throat out.” Her tone dripping with sarcasm, her fingertips grazing over the wolf pelt.

Good going you ignorant broad he knows all about us, Nikita’s tone was harsh but barely a whisper. Cammy sighed with defeat her hands still stroking the fur, with in a way it was comforting or therapeutic.

“Where are we going exactly?” The question fell from her lips without a second thought. “I mean where am I being taken to? What do you intend me to do there.”

The question itself weighed heavy on her heart. Her chest tight with anxiousness as she glanced up at her captor.

He didn’t respond to her, not immediately. The rustling of creatures nearby caught his full attention and his hand hovered above the hilt of his weapons. The caravan continued and the groaning gurgle of the apparent threat faded in the distance. He settled and turned to her.

“To my camp,” he replied. “And as far as my intent, that’s not so easy to describe. In short, we’re going to get that beast inside you under control. The methods of which I’m still contemplating.”

His head fell to the side as he watched her.

“You were a slave once already. Given your looks, I might assume sexual? Or more of the house maid variety?”

Cammy chewed on the bottom of her lip, the thought bringing back painful memories that were indeed still fresh.

“All, mostly fed off of and for entertainment use. My old Master took the term pet to an extreme level.” Glancing at him before down at her hands staring at them intently. The vivid memory of him breaking each one of her fingers and making her eat food made for a house dog turned her stomach.

Her plush lips formed a thin line, her eyes starting to water as a metallic taste filling her mouth. “I'm gonna be sick,” she warned before lunging for the back of the wagon.

Her stomach turning as she held her head out rear, gagging and sputtering as her body tried to upheave its stomach contents. One hand gripping onto the pelt wrapped around her body as the other holding open the canvas.

She felt a sharp pain as her head wrenched back by her hair. He threw her down into the furs and pressed his hand against her mouth. With a finger pressed to his lips for her not to scream, Lye cautiously looked through the hole in the canvas she had just used. The lights in the distance scampered and gathered in one area and began to keep pace with the wagon. He took his hand from her slimy mouth and quickly tied the canvas back into place.

“What was that?” The driver whispered.

“Nothing, keep driving. Pick up the pace.” Lye replied as he crawled over Camille to the rear of the caravan. He peered through a slit in the canvas and the wood. More of the eerie lights had taken to the road behind them. Several hovered above where she had spilled her stomach, while the others followed behind. Lye turned around to his captive with a snarl on his face.

“So now you’ve killed my men and dumped half digested bits of them in the streets while alerting the Dark Crawlers of our presence.” His tone was harsh, but left his lips in a hoarse whisper. “Keep yourself together or I’ll add your skin to that pile. Are we clear?”

Camille nodded using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth,”I'm sorry..” Her voice soft yet sincere.

“First lesson,” he continued. He pulled a mythril khukri from his thigh, grabbed her hand, yanked it open and slapped the knife in her palm. “Stop apologizing. It show weakness. You might need this. Do I need to remind you what will happen if you get any great ideas?”

Her body jolted slightly at the cold metal in her hand. She looked from the knife to him before shaking her thread slowly, “no.”

“Good.” Lye looked up to the silhouette of his driver. “How much farther?” he asked.

“Few scores.”

“Gun it.” Lye ordered. The crack of the reins forced the horses to whinnie. The cart surged, Lye catching himself on a crate before he fell atop Camille. Guttural howls and hallowed screams erupted all around them like a symphony of startled birds. Suddenly, the top of their wagon vanished as an inky appendage swiped it clean off.

Camille’s face held nothing but pure shock and horror as she pressed herself flat against the wagon floor. Lye’s eyes darted around, trying to anticipate where another blow might come. His hand sat on Camille’s back, trying to keep her down lest she lose her head. Another appendage whipped at the crate beside them, leaving a perfect crescent in its wake. Pieces of what were once complete iron ingots spilled out into the street below.

“Hang on,” Lye chanted, focusing on the faint light in the distance. “We’re almost th--shit!”

He ducked low as a wine of darkness swept over head. A thud sounded beside them where the driver’s head gazed lifelessly at the two of them. Lye jutted up to see just the hips and legs, the rest of the body gone merely by contact. He shuffled to the front of the cart and snagged the reins just moments before they slipped free. Lye kicked the driver’s remnants over the side as it quickly vanished in the writhing darkness behind them. Lye cracked the reins, light growing quickly ahead.

Closer, closer, closer…

The cart suddenly surged and tilted downward. The yoke splintered and snapped under the stress sending the horses careening forward as the cart dragged itself roughly through the path. Lye gripped on the wooden frame and with the last of their inertia, they burst through the clearing and into the frigid daylight of a clearing. With a groan and a crackle, the remnants of the wagon came to a halt. Glowing lights danced and swarmed by the forest’s mouth, but stayed within the confines of the darkness. One by one, the glowing orbs faded and broke away until only the pitch black remained.

“You alive?” Lye called out to the bundled mess that was Camille.

Camille’s chest heaved up and down with heaviness, her half morphed claws dug deep into the wooden floor of the wagon. Her mouth slightly ajar as she panted, her gaze tearing away from the tree line to Lye. Her mouth tried to form words but failed her, “I-” Shaking her head repeatedly her body seemed to tremble uncontrollably.

“You’re fine,” he stated. From the bloodied seat of the wagon, Lye hopped down. He walked around and offered her a hand. “We’re here, come on.”

His hand easy swallowed her own as she got off the wagon, her knees wobbling under their own weight. A large fur wrapped around her body to hidden the exposure that was underneath. Camille’s gaze darting all around, the walls wooden a large, the peaks shaved into a point. Guard towers peppered the perimeter with arches at the ready. They seemed to be at the base of a mountain, her eyes then danced from the faces of many men that drank in her appearance. Most licked their lips with a hungry lust, the few woman she did see that freckled the crowd looked detached from any type of feelings, their face hardened with no expression.

The buildings looked as if the were ripped out of the pages of the history books she had read of the viking area. Camille’s stomach turned as she gazed back at one of the men he eyed her up and down like a piece of fine meat. Taking a deep breath Camille forced herself to stand taller, straighter. She wasn’t going to let these men intimidate her, well their leader or whatever he was; Lye did but these others would not.

Glancing over at the silver haired man she moved closer towards him. She would take her chances with this one before the rest. She knew a little bit about him but these other animals eyed her with lust and greed.

“Get a good look,” Lye whispered into her ear. “You’ll be getting to know this place and its men quite well.”

He walked past her to the first cart. Unlike theirs, it was still in one piece. From the back, one of the drivers pulled a frail looking brunette by chains which bound her hands and feet. He jerked her to the silver haired man and they said something to one another Camille couldn’t make out. Then, he punched the girl in the stomach and she crumpled into the snow. The driver lifted her over his shoulder and disappeared through the gates.

Lye turned to Camille. “Come,” he beckoned. “Let’s get you something to wear.”

Cammy strained herself from snarling at the abuse that was openly given. Her heart ached for the woman and it was etched all over her face. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before scurrying after the silver haired man.

“This must be hell on Earth,” Camille mumbled to herself. Lye walked with purpose and briskly, poor Camille’s weak legs could barely keep up.

If any of those grubby bastards think they are gonna touch us I'll rip their fucking stubs off. Nikita’s voice filled her head but this time Camille agreed completely.

She knew she was there to take the woman’s places that Nikita had slaughtered but she was not going to be something for men to stick their cocks in and abuse she had done that once already with one Master. Taking a shaky breath, following her new Master down the street.

As instructed, the werewolf followed behind him. Lye walked through the Seventh Sanctum toward the large longhouse butt against the cliffside, past the several wooden homes billowing smoke from their chimneys. The brutish soldiers and snake-eyed assassins littered about the camp whistled and catcalled as Camille walk behind them. Their gazes teased at the furs she clung tightly to her body. Compared to the surviving slave girl, Camille offered more in every way. To Lye, he could only grin -- If only they knew how dangerous that rose’s thorns were.

“Come,” Lye called out as he opened another set of large, banded doors to the longhouse. Heat from the massive central hearth billowed out into the frigid winter air. Camille’s blond locks swept up and swayed in the updraft. Inside, the floors shone with polished marble. Stairs lead to a second level rimmed with doors to rooms unknown. At the back, atop a raised platform sat a large, white throne made from human ivory. Beside the throne, two more large doors sat closed with iron bars raised to the sides for banding shut.

The young lycan’s eyes drank in the atmosphere around her. Had she not been held captive this place would be breathtaking. Her dark gaze darting left to right.

“Sir,” greeted an athletically built and well-dressed man no older than thirty. His chocolate brown eyes snapped from Lye to Camille then back. “Is this the other one?”

“Caellus, take her to get bathed and cleaned.” Lye waited for Camille to enter before pulling the great doors closed. “I’ll get with Hrothgar for her… attire.” The assassin’s lips curled slightly at the edges. “Be careful with this one. She’s lycan. If she starts to change, snap her neck.”

“Yessir,” Caellus nodded his head

Lye turned to Camille and held out his hand.

“You’re lucky none of them threw you to the snow right there or that knife would have come in handy. I’ll take it back now, please.”

Camille’s mouth fell open slightly in a pout, the knife was the only thing that made her feel semi safe. “B-but..” Camille’s plush lower lip jutted out in a pouting manner. Her hand still holding tightly on the only real weapon she had to protect herself. The look on Lye’s face showed he wasn’t budging with his choice. “Fine,” she glared shoving the knife in his direction handing it over.

The young man ushered her past the thrones, glancing back towards Lye before entering another room. The smell of the earth filling her nostrils, this was a sign the room was made from the mountain the camp was stationed next to. The smell of the crisp air calmed the lycan woman for a moment before she felt a small push guiding her towards two more large doors made of iron. The smell of burning wood mixed with the air as she caught sight of a fire towards the rear of the room. The hand guided through the doors into a room that smelled like old blood. Her stomach clenched with uneasiness. Cages swayed hung from the ceiling others on the ground, different tools that were made for torturing people for pleasure and extracting information from them.

Six large tubs were filled with hot water, at the far end of the room a person was already washing up. Camille looked back at the men, “I can bathe myself you can wait out there.” Her hand pointing towards the area they had just come through. Just as she suspected though the men shook their head. “Can’t do that so you might as well just get in,” the man that had been called Caellus informed her. Stripping off the fur that she had clutched tightly and throwing it at his face before she submerged in the tub. A small groan part her lips a she sunk lower into the scorching hot water. Her muscles and joints starting to relax as she took the soap that was on the stand next to the tub. Massaging and lathering the suds along her arms and legs before washing it off.

The smell of cinnamon perfumed the air around her before she went to work on her rat’s nest of hair. After rinsing the soap out she splashed water on her face before going under the water. A few moments later she came up for eye, the men eyeing her with a slightly lust for look. “Come on lets get you dressed,” Caellus motioned for her to step out into the towel he held open. “Thanks,” she mumbled wrapping the towel around her body tightly.

A thud sounded on the doors, startling the battered girl in the other tub. Without a response, it groaned open where a small dwarven man with a firy beard and bald head shuffled in. The rhythmic chime of metal rang out from the chains and shackles in his hands. Behind him, Lye entered with a trunk dragged behind him.

“This’n th’ one?” rumbled the dawrf in a thick Kachuk accent. Lye nodded and he dropped all the shackles in his hands. He shuffled through the pile of chains, barbed wire, and wrought iron until he worked out one particular set. “Weren’t there s’posed to be more of em?”

“There were,” Lye replied, eyes meeting that of Camille. As he did, the dwarf sauntered up to her. With a large, thick collar, matching wrist and anklets joined by chain in one hand, he gripped her towel and ripped it from her.

An animalistic snarl came from the tattered girl, she quickly gripped the small man’s beard lifting him by it with ease. “You put that collar on me and I’ll rip you in fucking too wee man!” Her voice filling the room as it echoed off the walls. Her eye’s meeting with Lye, “I am fine with the shackles but please not a collar not again..” Her voice grew soft as she dropped the small man on the ground. Her arms covering her large ample breast, her slender waist and curved hips exposed for all to see. Slightly shivering under everyone’s gaze with the help of the cold breeze.

Lye’s eyes narrowed and his hand fell to the hilt of his weapons. “The hard way, or my way,” he repeated. “The collar is to keep your other half at bay. You’re not the first lycan I’ve dealt with. The mithril will collapse your trachea if you try.”

The dwarf grabbed at his treasured beard at first with concern and then with anger on his face. While short, he reached up and snatched Camille by the throat. Caellus moved in behind her.

“Y’touch the beard again, lass, and I’ll turn ye into a carpet!” Hrothgar warned.

“Hands off.” Lye’s command rested the dwarf’s grip from her. He snarled and spat at her feet.

“What’ll it be, mutt? You earn freedom, it’s not given. And you owe me a debt.”

Camille glared at the dwarf before snatching up the collar and walking towards Lye, thrusting it towards him. “Then please do the honor, Master.” Her tone dripping with hatred. Scoping up her honey brown locks exposing her neck to him and turning around. Two small dimples above her nice plump arse as her still wet hair dripped down her back.

The man croned his neck with an audible pop and the dwarf let out a chuckle. “Some fight in that one. If I couldn’t see it for myself, I’d say she’d have a pair of balls between those legs!”

Lye opened the clasp on the mithril collar and slid it over her head as if embracing her. Instead, he pulled it against her throat and closed it shut. The metal shimmered and fused without a lock or key into a perfect singular piece. He then spun her around and held her by the shoulders as he gazed into her with his foggy blind eye and vibrant emerald eye.

He held the glare for a moment, clearly indicating he didn’t approve of the manual labor. Then, he pulled taught the chains on her neck to pull up the shackles for her wrist and continued to bind her hands. Lastly, he took a knee, hands working between her legs as the cold metal kissed her fair skin. One ankle, then the other, joined by a single circular ring which came to rest right in the valley of her bosoms.

His breath fanned across her legs causing goosebumps to rise, her core slightly aching. The iron stinging against her skin and weighing her down.

“There,” he rose to meet her eye to eye. “Comfortable?” His face remained stoic despite the comment.

A fake smile dancing across her lips, “oh yes oh so very comfortable.” Her tone laced with sarcasm as smile fell just as quickly as it grasped her plump lips.

Lye turned about and pulled the trunk in front of her. He popped the latch and swung it open. Inside, it contained several outfits of varying style, color, and sheer. Some dresses left little to the imagination, while others looked as though worn by nobility.

“Here, take your pick. No need to flaunt what the men already want right from the get-go.” As he spoke, the familiar shriek of another girl filled the chamber. One of the tenants tending to her bath firmly grasped her between the thighs as he dried her. She tried to push his arm away and was violently slapped to the floor.

“Hey!” Lye barked. “Enough of that! Wait until tonight’s feast. You can have her then. Now, get her over here to pick something out.”

Camille stiffened at the constant abuse the poor girl was receiving from the men. The girl smaller framed than Cammy with less curvature but she had a sweet innocence to her face. Scoping up the towel the dwarf had ripped off of her early she wrapped it around the trembling girl. “Here,” Camille offering her a kind smile. The girl’s face lit up for the first time since Camille had seen her from the genuine kindness. “Thanks,” she spoke softly before rummaging through the trunk of clothes.

Though Camille was now left naked she rather show gentleness towards the other woman. Kneeling down she tossed the dresses aside as she huffed. Though Cammy was indeed a feminine woman she despised dresses. Relief flooded her as she found something to wear that was more her style. “Do I have to get dressed right here?” She eyed Lye waiting for a response she pretty much knew the answer to.

“You’re already nude, what do you have to be embarrassed about?” Lye stated flatly. The dwarf chuckled behind them, folding his arms to watch. The other ruffians elbowed one another, mumbling what one could only assume were lewd comments to one another.

Meanwhile, the smaller girl seemed to have settled on a modest number. Her face turned slightly upward to the best of a smile considering her circumstances and looked to Cammy as a daughter would to a matron. Lye snapped his gaze to her with a leer.

“You do know she’s the reason your sisters are all dead, right?” he hissed. “She ripped them to pieces right in front of you.”

Camille looked down, the feeling of being ashamed consuming her. She couldn’t meet the girl’s intent gaze. “I’m sorry,” was all she could manage. Quickly Camille shimmied into the tight black pants that looked like they were a second skin, The shackles made it slightly challenging as she put on white shirt that was made from a sheer fabric the neckline dipping slightly lower before she picked up a black corset. Walking towards Caellus she turned, “lace me up.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I have taken them off never put them on,” he held a confused look on his face.

“Do you know how to tie your shoes? Then you can tie a corset.” He struggled for a few minutes before it was all done, the corset cinched her already slender waist as it stopped right below her breast pushed them up higher. As she walked back towards the chest her breast looked as if they were going to spill out the top of her shirt. She then grabbed a crimson colored jacket and pulled it on along with some shin high leather heeled boots.

“Pleased?” She casted her glanced towards Lye and averted her gaze from the girl she knew held a hurt look on her face.

Lye raised a brow at the finished ensemble. Chains withholding, she already looked as if she belonged to the Crimson Hand.

“You might make a good fit yet,” he commented. “So, first things first: You’ll be joining us for a feast tonight which should be in preparation as we speak. You’ll be helping serve.”

Lye looked to the smaller of the two, who had once again become meek. Her distance between Cammy grew, and defeat gripped her body.

“The other five were to be used by the men after the feast. She undoubtedly will be put to her limits.” The girl began to cry silently, hands trembling as she tried her best to slide the dress over her. “You, on the other hand…” He grinned. “It’d be a shame if their advances forced you to transform and that pretty head of yours popped off on the dinner table.”

With an open palm, he placed his fingers beneath the cup of her accentuated bosoms and gave them a playful lift.

“So do try to behave,” he jested.

A small moan parted her lips as she sucked in her bottom lip trying to suppressed the sound. Nodding her head she glanced at the sobbing girl pity filled her already heavy heart. “Lye, please have mercy on her. Those men will break her quickly don’t take out what I did to her sisters on her.” Camille pleaded softly, her eyes filled with sorrow.

“The others were meant for the men’s enjoyment.” Lye wrapped a firm grip around Camille’s jaw. “They’re not gentle. The women hardly make the night save for the toughest ones. Those typically become one of us. So if you want mercy for her, feel free to take her place.”

Camille looked back and forth between the two, closing her eyes she sighed. “Fine I will..” The words left her lips before she even understood what she had really agreed too.

His grip let her go with a snarl on his face. He shook his head and chuckled.

“So,” he began with a tone of disappointment. “Instead of half the responsibility, you’d like to take it all? If you shift, you’ll die. If you don’t, they may kill you. You really would sacrifice your body to a whole camp of murderers, thieves, and killers to save one pathetic gutter rat?”

Camille nodded, “just like I owe you a debt I owe her one as well. I killed her sisters and your woman so I will go down fighting.” She looked towards the girl who looked at her semi relieved.

“You heard her Caellus,” Lye stated, looking to his retainer. “Prep a seat at the table for this girl. Keep guard and let no man touch her.”

He turned to Camille. “And when things get interesting, force her to watch as her savior martyrs herself.”

Camille’s stomach turned in knots as she felt she had paid her debt in full for the girl but created her own hell for herself. She pushed a hand through her long mane of golden brown locks she sighed. “Can we finish getting ready, I need to brush my hair please.” As hard as she tried Camille tried to show a calm face.

Lye nodded as Camille ushered the other girl towards a table, when she was seated Cammy started to run a brush through her hair. “Avery, that’s my name..” Camille looked at the girl through the large mirror and offered her a soft smile. “I am Camille or Cammy for short.” The timid girl returned the kind smile. “Thanks for what you did for me by the way, “ Avery said softly.

Camille couldn’t even form any words to her just simply nodded while she finished with Avery’s hair. It was pinned up in a simple hairstyle yet a few strands hung loosely and flattered her face. “There you are all done now.” Avery smiled in the mirror at her reflection she seemed pleased with the work Camille had done.

Cammy went to work on her own mane, she ran the brush through her long locks. Smoothed out each knot before she worked on loose curls, the curtain of hair framed her face. She painted her lips a bright crimson color that matched her jacket she wore, she lined her eyes with a charcoal colored pencil. The dark color made her midnight ocean blue eyes pop in contrast, when she was finally done and pleased with how she looked she turned.

Lye gave her a slow once over, his gaze intense before nodding. He seemed pleased himself with how she looked and narrowed his eyes in silent contemplation. The man awkwardly met her gaze, thoughts churning in his head until he breathed deeply. “Shame,” was the only word he spoke.

Caellus let out a whistle as he eyed her with hunger. “Well look at that. Mmm mmm good luck keeping the men off you for long.” The doors opened as another man shuffled in. “The feast is already, sir.” Lye nodded before glancing at Camille one last time. Camille’s heart began to race as she followed everyone out.

They were led out the same way they were led in, the group left the room, past the cavern, and back into the main hall where tables lined each side of the hearth. The chairs were filled with the likes of men who deserved to see prison bars. At the head of the tables, atop its platform, sat a large ivory chair. Its seat, back, and arms were fashioned from hundreds of lashes together skulls and bones. The woman followed Lye as he stood before the large throne, he looked fearless and part of Camille admired him for that.

“Hands,” Lye began, his voice echoed loudly over the chatter of the halls. “The last time we gathered like this, I asked you all to fight to the death to prove your loyalty.”

The room fell deathly silent and expressions of those present soured.

“It was met with… hostility…” Lye paused to eye certain individuals within the room. “Today, will not be an unruly demand. Those that have remained in service to me will be thanked. How long has it been since you all enjoyed a fine meal?”

Hushed whispers and grumbles grew faint as he spoke.

“Or felt the pleasures of a woman’s touch?”

The voices grew louder as men snickered and jeered. The females present either joined the hurrah or grew cold and quiet.

“Tonight, you will have both. Unfortunately,” He looked over to Camille as Caellus nudged her forward. The room erupted with jeers and whistles “Your shipment was thinned on the way here. This, will be your entertainment for tonight.”

Lye pointed to the girl at the far end of the table, hunched and meekly staring at her empty plate.

“She has graciously offered to serve you all in place of that girl, over there.” Avery winced, and kept her face down.

“Anyone who thinks they’re bold enough to try her will be removed of his manhood.” He gestured to Camille. “But feel free to do as you please with your lovely new hostess.”

The assassin clapped his hands and fell into his skeletal throne.

“With that, I ask you enjoy the night!”

After the speech was done the feast was under way, the hall was filled with conversation and hollering. Cammy went to work filling mugs of ale, whiskey and other assortments, it seemed every other cup she filled her ass was getting slapped, her breast being groped. “I need a fucking drink,” she mumbled to herself. She looked into her empty pitcher before she headed back to the bar to grab another. Camille walked behind the bar and poured herself a shot of whiskey, tossed it back and down it went. Her body loosened slightly as the liquor warmed her body, a hand gripped her’s that held the shot glass.

A look of shock came over her face as the glass started to crack from the pressure of the hand that squeezed Camille’s. She looked up to see who was doing it, a large brute with dark green eyes glared at her. His face had sharp features and his eyes held lust, “that isn’t for you whores to consume.” The glass broke in her hand, a gasp parted her lips. Crimson liquid started to drip onto the counter as she pulled her hand from the man’s grip. Quickly Camille wrapped her hand in a rag after she fished all the glass from her palm, she turned her attention back towards the male and glared. “What can I get you?” She said through clenched teeth.

“I wouldn’t mind tasting you,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Camille rolled her eyes before she grabbed another pitcher and came back around the counter. Before she made it too far from the man he wrapped his around around her waist and pulled her close. The pitcher contents sloshed and spilt onto the floor, she tried to push away from the brute but his grip on her was like iron. “Let go,” she glared at him.

Head propped atop his fist, Lye eyed the two with his hawk-like gaze. He watched silently, with a face of plain slate as the man’s hand started to wonder her body. Camille started to tremble, her anger filling her cheeks with a crimson color.

“I need to go serve so let go of me or I will have to remove your hands from me,” her tone was tight and tolerance worn thin.

The hands continued to wonder, taking her foot closest to his she slammed her heel into his foot. The man cried out like a hurt animal, with her free hand that still clutched the bloody bar rag she brought her elbow back. It slammed into his adam’s apple causing him to stumble back as he gasped for air. Camille spun around gripping his hair to the best of her ability and brought his face down into her knee. A sickening crunch rang out as the man fell to the ground like dead weight.

Cammy straightened herself up and dusted herself off before looking towards Lye. He smiled eerily back at her, posture unshifted. His head gestured toward the table where three more men had abandoned their feast and stood. They witnessed her actions against one of their own. Camille groaned inward at what laid ahead of her. She knew that she was still weak from what had happened before but the look on the men’s faces.

“Fuck,” she mumbled as she made her way over towards the table a large cheesy grin plastered on her face.

Holding her pitcher in one hand she stood in front of the three men, “what can I get ya boys?” They eyed her up and down the look on their faces almost held disbelief that she had taken down one of their own. A large arm snaked around her waist and pulled her against a solid wall of muscle. “You’re meant as a plaything bitch, now we are gonna show you.”

The other other two started to close in, her heart began to race. Here we go, Camille could literally hear the smile in Nikita’s voice. Using the brute’s weight behind her, she launched her feet of the ground it connecting with the closest man in front of her chest. This took them all by surprise as the one she had used for support stumbled backwards. Quickly she trusted her elbow in the man’s stomach as hard as she could. That left only one male left to take care of. He charged at her like a wild beast, she easily slipped to the side using his magnitude against him. She was smaller and more agile which allowed her to move quicker and faster.

With him caught off guard at her speed she took his head slamming it into the nearest table. She looked towards the other two that were starting to regain their composure. “Do you need more from this plaything,” she quipped.

The room quieted. All attention fell on Camille and even Avery looked on with doe eyes.

“Do you men fancy a challenge?” Lye called out in the silence. Chuckles filled the hall as men throughout the room stood from their tables. Necks cracked, knuckles popped, and dining utensils were taken up as makeshift weapons.

“Camille!” Avery cried out and one by one, the ruffians began to advance.

“The hard way or my way,” Lye muttered from his seat.

Cammy offered Avery a small smile before she picked up a knife from the table. Looking at Lye then back at the men and women that held smug looks on their faces. “I can either continue to serve you people your drinks and food or we can all play.” Her voice fierce and filled the room, most looked like they were ready to charge right then and there.

“I believe the agreement was both,” Lye chimed in over the chatter. “Unless you’d like to share the responsibility with her.” The silver haired tyrant pointed toward Avery and Caellus firmly gripped her by the shoulders. The girl faintly yelped as panic set into her eyes.

“I don’t think shifting would be a smart idea with those shackles, do you?” He added, but with that addition, some of the men diffused and looked to one another. It seemed then, that her knocking four men to their knees finally clicked in their thick skulls. What stood before them was no cock sleeve pulled from the gutters of Salvar. They knew it and the word “lycan” and “werebeast” fell from their lips.

“Caellus my dear take your hand from her shoulder, I didn’t say I wanted to share. I am greedy I don’t share,” her tone mocking the hell of a situation she was in. Cammy winked at the girl as she quivered under the man’s strong grip. She spun the knife in her palm before she gazed up at the silver haired man, “well I hope you enjoy the show if that is how it is going to be, Master.” She spat the last word out with disgust.

“So bet it.” He shook his head in disapproval and waved his hand toward her. Like before, a dark force wrapped itself around the knife in her hands and wrested it from her fingers. “Enjoy.”


Then, like a hoard of predators, the men still resolved to have their way with a Camille despite her heritage, charged. Cammy braced herself, they came in waves at her. The first few waves were taken down but her strength began to diminish as she was overtaken.

The only thing left after all had filled their appetites was a shivering girl, beaten, bruised and bloodied. Silent tears slide down her cheeks as she laid on the cold stone floor. The clothing she had picked out now ripped to shreds barely recognizable.

All but a few stragglers had feasted both on food and pleasure and retired to their quarters for the night. The once pristine hall now lay littered with scraps of meat, knocked over drink, shattered glass, and blood. Through it all, Lye remained seated and missed no detail of the evening. Moral, albeit for the few lifeless men on the floor, raised morale as intended. Finally, and with a stout, drunken laugh, the last two women locked arms and left.

“C-camille?” squeaked Avery who had been forced by Caellus to watch the horrific affair. Her meal remained untouched on her plate and soaked in tears. Lye turned a snarl to the slave girl.

“Take her away,” he commanded his retainer. “Throw her in a soft bed and keep her watch. Don’t get handsy, Caellus.”

Caellus bowed his head and picked Avery up as if she were stuffed with cotton. He hefted her over his shoulder and ventured into the cold toward one of the many barracks. Whether or not the man listened to his words remained unseen, but Lye already devoted enough assets to entertain a captive’s request. With his attention back to Camille’s worn and abused body, the assassin slipped off his throne. The mess of the evening crunched and slopped beneath his feet until he loomed over her in torn rags.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, bowing over her with his hands behind his back.

“Every second of it,” even as the words left her lips her frail body trembled like a lone leaf in a windstorm.

“From where I was sitting, it looked like you enjoyed it,” he teased. “Maybe you’d like to visit them in their barracks for another go? You did kill more of my men in that spit, after all.”

“Go to Hell you bastard,” her voice hoarse from screams of pain and anger, the torture felt like it had drawn on for hours. Lye stood upright and placed a hand over his chest in feigned offense.

“But why the hatred, mutt?” he mused. “It was you that chose to feast on my caravan, you who chose to save the girl, and you who chose to fight. The would have been far gentler had you not broken their noses and killed their comrades.”

He reached down and pulled her head up by her matted locks. “I didn’t do anything to you besides give you clothes and a bath…”

Camille yelped in pain at her hair had pulled enough, in between her thighs throbbed and blood trickled down from the roughness and abuse she had endured. “Well thank you for your kindness Master, I am so sorry I am ungrateful.” Her voice was hoarse but this time she spoke louder, tears slipped down her bruised cheeks. The horror seemed never ending as women had even taken their turns shoving their fingers into her core, groping her swollen breast and kissing her battered face.

Lye’s face soured at her continued sarcasm. To endure such a thing and willingly mock the one person who could end it all spoke volumes of Camille’s character. He let her hair go and his expression shifted to curiosity.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

Camille attempted to stand but her knees easily buckled under her weight, a small yelp came from her as the pain intensified from the movement. “Guess not,” she said as she wiped at her cheeks only for more tears to replace the ones she had brushed away.

Lye signed deeply, but as of late, he was not without compassion. Were Avery in her place, he knew the girl would be lifeless. The assassin lowered himself to the ground and snaked his arms beneath her legs and back. The slick ichor from fluids mixed upon the ground aided, but twisted his expression into one of disgust. With a heft, he lifted her in his arms.

Camille recoiled at his touch, she hissed as he lifted her into the air. “I want to bathe please,” her voice a lot softer as she felt self disgust wash over her. He didn’t answer her and kept his eyes forward as he carried her back into the caverns. Again they returned to the torture chambers where the baths still remained. While now cold, he brought her to one of the four unused basins and lowered her gently into it.

The tattered girl gasped at the shock of how cold the water was but didn’t object as she sunk into it. Her lips began to tremble as she used the same soap she had before and began to wash her body. She scrubbed roughly at her skin, it seemed as if she couldn’t get clean; couldn’t wash away the memories. Small sobs broke past her pressed lips as she scrubbed until her skin was raw and red. She started to pant and cry at the same time still washing at her body that was already clean.

As she cleaned herself, Lye used a nearby rag to slop the gunk from his arms. It smeared more than it came clean and after several rags, he finally rid himself of it. While Camille scrubbed herself raw, he couldn’t help but understand the sentiment. She wasn’t the first nor last to be subject to such atrocities, but her promise afforded her special treatment.

“That’s enough,” he warned as he arrested her wrist from scrubbing herself bloody. “Go get dry. We’ll find someplace for you to relax.”

Camille looked at him through blurred visions, she was too broken to argue. To the best of her ability she pushed herself out of the cold tub. Her sunkissed skin riddled with bruises, cuts, gashes and even teeth marks. Her chest rose and fell as she stumbled towards the table that had towels on them. Quickly she wrapped herself in a towel and dried herself off with a delicate touch.

Cammy dreaded brushing her already tender scalp but her hair was a matted mess. With a tender touch she was able to work the brush through her mane and breaded it off to the side of her left shoulder. She turned towards Lye and stumbled towards him. “Let’s go.” She said softly.

He nodded toward her and held his palms out to her as if to ask if she would like to be carried. Camille pondered the thought before she nodded, she didn’t like feeling weak but the pain she had endured and still felt overcame her pride. Lye obliged, walking over to her and pressing his arms against the bottom of her ass and square of her back. She leaned into him and he lifted her from the ground, her chains resting in the valley of her ample chest.

He carried her from the room, back to the cavern, and through a door she had not yet been through. It opened to a stairway that lead deeper into the mountain, faintly lit by torches. When they finally reached the bottom, he turned the corner to two rows of iron cells. Camille laid her head on his chest in defeat, she had no fight left in her. “Put me in the cage like the mutt you think I am,” her tone lifeless as she closed her eyes.

He walked past several cells, some empty, others occupied with people she couldn’t tell were alive or dead. When they arrived at the far cell, he closed the door behind them and she heard the metallic clang of a lock fall into place. He placed her in the corner on top of a word, wooden cot that groaned under her weight. Then, he walked to the bars opposed from her and sat on the filth crusted floors against them, watching her.

Camille watched him watch her, as she started to laugh. At first it was small giggles then an eruption of full blown laughter. She shook her head as the fit of giggles over took her tired, worn out body. The man’s head cocked to the side.

“Gone mad?” he asked casually.

“I broke that guy’s nose, this all started because he was mad for me taking that shot of whiskey..” She sighed softly as the tears started to well up again. Quickly she wiped at her eyes, she refused to cry any more. “Did you enjoy the show,” she asked him.

“To them, you’re an object. You have no rights to the whiskey they earned in sweat and blood.” His voice stirred some of the prisoners in their cells. Meek eyes peered from the darkness while others tried to remain asleep. “To me, you’re a liability. While you may have served the night instead of the women you killed, you still owe me for the lives of my men lost in that passage. And again for those you managed to kill tonight.”

“Just tack it onto my bill,” she said with much sarcasm.

“You see, we’re a lawless group. Death is common here. The weak are culled and the strong survive, but to an outsider, you have no rights to our way of life. You are here for a reason and a purpose. Fulfill it, and you earn your place.” Lye shifted, boots scraping against the stone floor.

Camille stared at him, her gaze intense and filled with hatred. “And what if I wish to leave? Do I get to leave then or will you make me stay and be a member of this fucked up family,” she snarled pushing herself into the sitting position wincing slightly.

“I’ll be honest with you, I expected them to kill you,” he admitted. “I wasn’t about to stop them, but I am glad you survived. They may not see it yet, but you have a fire inside you and not just that beast sleeping beneath the skin -- taming her will prove a separate challenge. With time,” he pointed to the mythril shackles around her neck and limbs. “I could see you free of those shackles. Strong, wild, and one of our pack, not some drifting feral preying on stray livestock.”

His words struck a chord deep within her chest, she casted her gaze to the side. How could she be apart of these people that just used her and tossed her aside for someone else’s needs?

“I warned you paying your debt wouldn’t be pleasurable.” He snickered. “Well, not for you at least. But if you were to find something enjoyable from it, you might see yourself reborn -- in control of your feral side, and free to kill any man who dare touch you.” He paused. “Against your will, of course.”

“Nikita and I aren’t one in the same, you seem to not understand that. She loves the pleasure and pain where as I don’t like random strangers touching all over my body,” she snapped. “I am a person. I have feelings. Nikita has sexual desires and the need to hunt, we haven’t been one in the same in a long time and never will be.” By this time each word became gradually louder and louder, anyone that was alive and asleep would now be awake in their cells.

“As soon as you start understanding that I am a person and the beast within me is in fact a beast you will comprehend that yes while that was partly me that killed your men and women in the wagon it wasn’t really me. I will take responsibility for the lives I took tonight glady,” she stood up and started to walk towards him. “I would kill every single fucking one of them that touched me tonight, I still can feel them inside of me, the hot breath fanning across my face and down my neck. I would gut them all if I could, that I would take responsibility for.” By the end of her speech she was panting, her chest rising and falling quickly.

His expression reflected that of a parent to an unruly child waiting for the tantrum to end. His eyes ran up and down her battered body, covered only by her chiming shackles.

“You may very well get that opportunity, but I’ll be damned if you can convince me your other half is completely independant of you.” His tone carried no waiver of fear and remained ever calm. “Tell me otherwise, but you are the vessel which contains Nikta, not the other way around. It’s your will that can’t contain her and your will that can control her. Until I see you cage your own beast, you will be treated equally as the thing inside you.”

He rose to meet her heated gaze and his entire demeanor shifted from placid to aggressive. He stepped inwardly toward her as if to invite the same challenge the men did before him.

“Do that, and you can have whatever freedoms you want. Only then will I speak your name. Only then will I see you as anything but an animal. Is that clear, mutt?” His tone punctuated the last word with purpose.

Camille scoffed as she stood at the tips of her toes trying to be eye level with the man, “then tame the beast, Master.” She turned on her heels and headed back to her rickety cot.

Lye drew one of his blades from his back and snapped his fingers. A seam formed on all of her shackles and they fell to the ground with a clatter.

“I’ll gladly beat the disobedience out of a stray,” he spat.

Camille turned slowly, she eyed him up and down. “You really want me to let her out? You want me to unleash the beast after I subdued her?”

“You’re too weak to keep her contained or to do anything to me but you seem to place a lot of stock in your words,” he growled. “You want to threaten me? I’ll teach you and your alter ego exactly where you stand in comparison. Just tell me one thing.” His stance lowered. “If I cut off her head, will you die as well?”

Camille snarled as she turned towards him. “I am not weak, I keep her at bay and choose when to let her free.” She grinned coyly, “that’s like me asking if I cut off your cock will it still work?” She stalked closer towards him, her eyes trailed up and down, “there is a lot of tension in your body Master, shall I let you use me as your men did?”

He grinned at her comment of dismemberment, but he shook his head with narrow eyes. “I could,” he answered whimsically. “But you’ve more than had your fill and I’m not about to bed a dog. You can let that beast out, but it's clear you can’t reel it in.” His body righted as she approached him. Aggression faded from his expression and he sheathed his dagger. “And who is it that’s speaking now, anyway? You, or it?”

Camille trailed a bold finger down his chest, “oh my ego it is wounded.” Her finger ran across his torso before it made it’s way back up to his breast bone. “You’ll know when Nikita is out, but tis me, Cammy the used and abused that can’t reel in the beast when I unleash.” She started to twirl around him before stopping right in front of him once more.

He remained speechless. The moment her shackles dropped, she seemed different to him. He felt apprehensive, but deep down inside he was human and he still held the same primitive urges. He mulled over the prospect of her offer despite the events moments ago and his full knowledge of where she’d been. He took a contemplative breath before his lip flared at the corner.

“Right,” came the eventual reply. “Try and kill me when I’m vulnerable or remove my manhood with your teeth? I don’t know you nor do I trust you.”

He shook his head and made way for the locked door.

“I think you’d had enough cock for the day.”

Camille grinned at him, “I never said use my teeth, you are the one that came up with that little bit own your own there big boy.” She taunted him as she made her way back over towards her bed. “Goodnight Lye.”

He paused at breath’s width from the iron bars and turned a sideways glance toward her. She had a point and for once, he had no witty remark. Lye eyed the shackles on the ground, then back to the woman beside her bed. He gave it no more thought than that and like a specter, he walked through the bars without unlocking the gate. Emerged on the other side, face toward the exit and Camille out of sight, he replied, “Sleep well, pet.”

Darkest Desires receives 795 EXP and 100 GP!

Lye receives 1470 EXP and 110 GP!

All rewards added!