Raskreia casually sipped from the chalice by her side. (Ignes right arm had been fractured in no less than five places).
Her breasts heaved. Thighs shifted and splayed. The thin fabric clung to the well-endowed frame.
"Tomorrow..." the dampness continued to run down the sides of her face. Raskreia raised a delicate
eyebrow, "Tomorrow?"
The string of blood remained connected until Raskreia broke the contact, dribbling down the underside
of the woman's chin.
She shifted her until she was no longer straddling her lap, and instead repositioned her to face the wall.
"Kneel."
Ignes obeyed, breathing still shallow and beleaguered, as she supported the fractured appendage with her other arm, stars periodically exploding in front of her vision with every movement, no matter how minor.
She nudged her thighs apart with a booted foot.
And Raskreia raised the scalpel. She would make Ignes feel, in full, what she had inflicted upon her captives.
It would be a long, enjoyable night.
As she struggled to support the fractured appendage with her other arm. She could barely breathe for the raw agony, a condition much like being winded. She gritted her teeth, clenching her jaw and endeavoring to force air into her lungs.
It was a struggle she was rapidly losing, and she felt exceedingly light-headed.
Raskreia's voice broke throught the haze. "Breathe, wench."
Raskreia pressed her knee into the woman's back, directly between the shoulder blades.
Ignes vision blurred, fading in and out. It would be a long night.
The enamel bits came off in her hand, which she cupped to the side of her face, as if flattered by the gift, crimson flowed/flowing inbetween slender fingers.
