...look right through me....
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He had been explicitly exact in the details of his orders, so that Briseis could not find a way to mess up his evil plan. Draven had revealed to her at last that he knew her father, quite well in fact, that he had a bone to pick with Kershov, the Ice King. The ebony titan had told Brie all about his hatred for some lass from his puphood pack, and how he had made an intricate plan to slowly murder her, but that Kershov had gotten in the way and foiled everything. And now, Draven‘s master plan involved Briseis herself, despite the fact that she did not wish to be involved. She had never known her father, not for single day other than his name, but she still did not wish to cause him any hurt or pain. No, all Brie wanted was her freedom. It seemed that what she wished for did not count for much…

Draven had told her first of all that she was not to tell Kershov that he was her father. Nor was she allowed to tell him that they were related, that she was his daughter, that they shared blood, or a variety of ten other phrases that would hint to Kershov that something was awry. She also was not allowed to mention Draven‘s name, nor mention Halina, whoever that was. And again, so that Brie would have no way to get around it, told her a myriad of different phrases she was not allowed to speak to allude to either of the previously mentioned wolves. But that was only the beginning. She had been forced to tell Draven about the sudden urges of love she had felt for Rogan, despite the fact that she barely knew him, and Draven had told her to ask him to be rough with her, to tell him that that was how she liked it, and that she wanted him to take her forcibly. But not during the day, and not in the pack lands. No… She was to go out a ways and make sure that they would find Kershov, who no doubt would be on a rampant rampage. She was to tell Kershov that it was Rogan who had stolen his child, and then lead the king to his daughter. Draven of course would coincidently not be home when Kershov arrived... But even that was the end of it, no. She was to gain Kershov’s trust, to join his pack, and then, eventually, seduce him. Briseis had cried over and over again - if it had been her choice, she would still be a virgin, but Draven had raped and ravaged her body so thoroughly that there was no hint of innocence left. And now, if she did this, if she successfully got her own father to sleep with her, she would be surely condemned to hell, sent to rot and burn in a grotesque, abhorrent smelling cesspool of filth for the rest of her days.

But that was what Draven had commanded, so that was how it would come to pass.

And so she had taken Rogan away from the packs, in the direction of Uyaraut. She nuzzled against him, her heart breaking as she seduced him, as she felt his muscles against her soft flesh. Briseis ached for him, but it was sickening not to know whether she did because Draven had told her she did, or because she actually did. The nuzzling and cuddling turned into foreplay, and that had been when Brie had tilted her nape so that she could reach one of his twin towers upon his caput. Incisors bit slightly and tilted him towards her, and she felt like she needed to cry, but couldn’t, wasn’t allowed to, was physically incapable of it at this moment, and that in itself was painful. Her mouth opened to release her warm, hot breath onto his skin, and then she said the words exactly how Draven had said them to her, despite the fact that it made her stomach boil and roll, despite the nausea flaring in her gut.

“Do you know what really turns me on? What gets me hot, hot for you? The thought of you taking me with force, having your way with me, being rough. There’s nothing I want more than that, for you to bite me and take me and claim me as yours. After all, Rogan, I am yours…”

She wished that she could tell him the truth, that she could be honest with him, perhaps he would save her, take her away from this place, take her away from Draven. But he knew only what she told him, knew only her spoken word. If only he was a telekinetic, one who could read her thoughts… But despite the odd and terrifying creatures of magic within the world now, that was not one of them. Briseis rubbed against him, encouraging him on, but her pillars were twisting, searching for the sound of an approaching wolf. And as soon as she heard paw steps, she screamed in full, her heart breaking and she thought about what it would do to Rogan, about what Kershov would do to Rogan. She willed herself to cry, but tears would not come. Not yet… It wasn’t time. Her pleading gaze rose and finally fell upon the pallid form of Kershov. There was no mistaking him, with grotesque ripping scars tearing half of his muzzle away from his mall. She wanted to say ‘you are my father. I’m your daughter.’ But instead what came out was…

“Help me! I know where your daughter is Kershaw!” The tears began fully now, alligator tears that she didn’t want… But she was but a marionette doll, or strings being pulled by the devil himself…


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