I By the Whip
"Mistress, I'm freezing."
The words hardly left her lips before a deserving smack slashed into the chilled flesh of her upper back. It was the pain of a well-known whip that had conditioned even the most rebellious students at the academy. But as Lillian sat defiantly in the frigid snow atop a Siberian dam, it refused to teach her. Simply, it drew her blood and stained the snow.
"You're going blue in the limbs Wolf, I suggest you hurry and transform."
Her Lady stood, dressed in warm attire. She looked much like a murderer torturing her victim, as she indifferently stared at the twelve year old body before her. Lillian's hair was pulled into a loose bun to provide her with no warmth. And she was dressed in her standard training uniform, consisting of white shorts that ended mid-thigh, and a white tank top. There were goose bumps erupting from her icy skin. She was in an unbearable cold, soon she'd lose control of her lips, as she huddled her near deadened limbs together.
"You could kill me Mistress."
"You'd fancy that wouldn't you? Unfortunately, you will simply render yourself unconscious by staying in your human form. Animals of your species cannot die of something so routine."
Lillian managed a glance backwards.
"I-I can't change Mistress."
The words stammered out in the shame they were fashioned, and her Lady took another whipping to her flesh. This time was harder, and her back was already sensitive, eliciting a whimper from the girl.
"Spend less time weaving excuses, and your concentration can be put to your survival. Now change."
Lillian, already adamant on the fact that she was unable to complete transformation, decided to sit in silence, taking a next few whippings until her body was unmovable and her vision was black.
---*---
To this sight her Lady shook her head in disdain. She had a fair dislike for being a trainer. Yet, somehow, training the most defiant gave her a small satisfaction. Lillian was a strong bodied, strong minded and strong willed girl. But there was no room for will in an agency as important as this. There was only loyalty, obedience, and accomplishment. And Lady Ashley was determined to strip every ounce of self from Lillian, until she was the machine she was inducted to become.
She tied a rope unto the girl's left arm, as was her custom for said situations, and dragged the unconscious body through the snow. She was now red and partially blue, perhaps nearing frost bite in her extremities, but it was nothing she hadn't put up with before. In all two years of training this relentless rebel, she had yet to see her severely injured.
And in following custom she dragged the girl into the cabin, leaving her ungracefully and uncaringly lying on the floor.
---*---
Lillian awoke with a throb in her back and in her muscles and an endless chill that couldn't escape the depth of her bones. She was mangled in a sore position, as though she was simply pushed through the door and left to collapse. She looked over to her Lady who was daintily sitting cross legged on the couch, staring out the window, and smoking an elegant cigarette.
"You've yet to tuck me into bed Mistress."
Her bitter humor rang ungratefully to her Lady.
"Don't run your mouth at me. You're damn well lucky I didn't leave you for dead."
Lady Ashley, seeing Lillian sitting in a position of recovery, connected a studded collar around her neck. The design of the collar, conveniently, had the spiked studs facing inward and made a fine tool of punishment when yanked under disobedience.
"I see you've missed your collar Wolf."
Lady Ashley slipped a bit of dry humor and connected a leash. She proceeded to pull the young girl to where she was previously sitting, leaving a ring of pressured indentions in her neck. Slowly they drew blood.
"Mistress if you slit my throat with those spikes, what will you say to the bureau?"
Lady Ashley, enraged by the confidence, decided punishment was in order.
In a quick few moments she had Lillian bound by foot and hand, her whip brandished as a trophy in her steady fists. She hadn't trembled with a whip since her first attempt at punishing, but that was a day that compassion still ran as frequent as her blood. But she had long been stripped of passion, for passion was a means of self. And in this agency, there was nothing but loyalty, obedience, and accomplishment.
"Now, Wolf, listen to me very carefully. I don't appreciate you running your mouth. It has never gotten you farther than the scars it's left. But after a bit of a physical lesson, maybe you will learn to either toughen your skin or tighten your lips."
And those words began the endless marathon of lashings, each one growing more painful. Lillian, again, was on a tipping edge of consciousness. But Lady Ashley would never offer the release, the escape, the satisfaction of slipping away. No, the little rebel would endure every foul comment and loose tongued thing she said. And she'd have those words engrave in her bones, written in the ink of blood and the pen of her whip. After she relived every speech in an overwhelming regret, she'd one day control the urge to be free.
---*---
After the torture, Lillian was unable to form a sentence; the only thing that could escape the dryness of her mouth was an occasional whimper as the whip came down in an extraordinarily hard fashion. She was unable to apologize, nor retaliate, nor bring herself up from the ground. She had been paralyzed by the dominant force.
"Look at me Wolf." Lillian gave her best attempt to comply.
"I offer my strong suggestion that you watch your mouth. I've never beaten you out of routine like I did just then. But it will soon be custom."
Lady Ashley spit on the face she had clasped between her fingers, and threw Lillian's head onto the dirt floor. She was unable to fight as the collar dug back into her neck.
"Sleep Wolf. You must learn to train injured. For tomorrow, even in the excruciating pain I have elicited, your training patterns will not be altered or modified, and you will be punished further if not at fullest ability."
With that, Lillian folded her hands beneath her head to take the pressure off the studs, and fell asleep in the numbness of her battered form.
---*---
Three years passed under the guidance of Lady Ashley. And soon Lillian had spent five years with her. Lady Ashley was attractive, statuesque; her form was lean and curved with femininity, her skin porcelain and without imperfection. She was somewhere in her early thirties, but she looked far younger. Only her eyes were aged. Everyone's eyes were dark and old in the agency.
Lillian had grown somewhat fonder of Lady Ashley over the years of being her dependent. But the whip's legend never died. And in five years, the whip had molded the girl, stripped her of nonconforming emotion, and made her the perfect functioning machine. She was now just another special agent. At her keen age of fifteen, she was already strong and wise and in complete power of herself. Lady Ashley was due to be promoted, and Lillian was due to take her place as a trainer.
---*---
"Oken, bring me Head Trainer Truscott. Tell her this is urgent." The shaggy haired boy complied and rushed out into the snow to find her. Agent Oliver Oken, Co-Head of Communications in the Special Agents Dept., was a transformer himself, often deployed as a co-partner in the field. He was a young recruit as well and transformed to a medium sized bear.
He ran out to find Truscott sitting idly in the snow. She was in her human form, bare save her training uniform, and it was a freezing evening. The sun was rare in this part of Siberia, and the wind itself was cutting through the five jackets Oken had attired himself in.
"Truscott, Major Ryan says he needs you. It's urgent." She got up, hesitantly, and walked toward the heavily clothed boy.
"Are you not cold Lillian?" She gave a firm shake of her head and continued to walk past him in brisk nonchalance.
Lillian was a strange creature. Ever since she'd been broken, she was something of an enigma to everyone who encountered her presence. She was no doubt an amazing fighter, transformer, and she was always successful in her missions. She had a knack for polishing off a messy job and leaving people in her dust. She was one of the Agency's prime treasures, and she was still three years a minor.
Though everyone had a public respect for her, they had a private misconception and constantly labeled her as "strange" or "deranged." Perhaps they were right, but her accuracy deleted all ideas of "mentally ill." She was just broken. And this was her beaten form. This is what Lady Ashley was trained to make of people: Soulless machines.
---*---
"Major Ryan, Oken informs me you need me."
"Sit Truscott." Ryan motioned for her to sit at a small chair in front his desk. He pulled a manila folder from his drawer and plopped it on the table before her. It was thick with inches of information and he gave her a moment to scan it.
Major Jake Ryan, Head of the Special Agents Dept., was a tall and built man. He wore nothing but his Military uniform, and a hat that had all his stars. He was tanned and scarred and a man of late forties. He was gray of hair, but near completely shaved, and his presence was intimidating to anyone who deserved his malice.
He inhaled a deep vacuum of air and then exhaled dramatically, drawing Lillian's eyes off the folder.
"You've kept a detailed eye on her Major." She said emotionlessly.
"She's difficult Truscott. She's a free spirit. She's bold and strong and her mind is twice as resistant as her body. She's an older version of you."
Lillian sighed, remembering the rebellious days of her youth.
"I'm assigning you to train her." Lillian's face was horror. The file declared that this girl had murdered five people before the age of eleven. She was uncontrollable and completely unwilling to conform to anything. She went out of her way to cause difficulty. And Lillian had just been promoted to Head Trainer.
"Major Ryan-"
"Truscott, you are the only one on the team that I believe can handle this girl. You have incredible senses and reflexes, and you have much confidence in yourself and your abilities. You can keep control and keep neutrality, and you started much like she. You must teach her by the whip, as you were taught. Take nothing from her, and keep yourself in constant patrol. She will strengthen you as you strengthen her. Lillian, she is a year your senior, but you must stay in control of her."
The blonde made to object, but Jake was unmoving in his sureness of her abilities. She had never dealt with such a delinquent as this one. This would be her first "un-pre-trained" case.
"I mean not to argue Major, but perhaps Lady Sarah would be more suitable?"
He shook his great head in an affirmative no.
"Lady Sarah has a long temper and too much emotion, and sometimes she is a little whip-phobic, perhaps more so than she need be."
"Major I have never whipped a trainee, nor have I ever handled one on my own. And my temper is high and impatience plentiful."
"Yes, but you will grow harder using a whip. And your temper is fine; you are her age vicinity and may be able to see on easier levels."
"What if she doesn't respect my age?"
"Unless you tell her, it is unbeknown to her."
Lily sighed, deciding she'd have to agree.
"Truscott, you will be fine. She will be cabining with you in your slave dorms due to limited space; and the fact that your senses are so sensitive that you offer the best security." Lily nodded and made to get up.
"You are dismissed. I have to say, I've never seen you so shaken, so at a loss for self confidence. See to it that you meet with Lady Ashley, she requested to see you after hearing of your job promotion."
At hearing her Lady's name, her knees buckled and her bones began to shake.
---*---
"Mistress, I come on request."
Lillian let herself in, after knocking and being invited, and closed the door behind her, locking it out of habit. She knelt before the desk that her Lady sat at, and she hung her head to stare at the floor.
"I've invited you Wolfie. How long it's been since I've had you beneath my guidance." Her voice dripped with a kind of sarcastic humor.
"What is it you request Mistress?" Lillian knew better than to speak out of turn, comment, or laugh, and instead got straight to the point.
"Ahh my precious Wolf, I've taken you so far haven't I? I've taught you to be strong and straightforward." She ruffled her hands in the long golden hair, and being the good trainee she was, she never once pulled her Lady's hands away, nor did she jerk the slightest.
"My pet, I'd like to give you some pointers for your new pet." She pulled from behind her a blindfold and secured it tightly about Lillian's eyes, though her ears could tell her exactly what was happening.
"Alright Wolfie, a trainee is like a bad dog. They don't deserve respect. You teach them discipline by making them do things for you. And with disobedience comes the whip. Lay down rules and show no emotion. No sympathy. Nothing. Never get personal with your trainee, or it will tremble your clutch when you whip them. Do you understand?"
Lillian nodded as she felt Lady Ashley near her.
"Oh Wolfie I see you've gotten yourself a new collar." She fingered the collar, her chilly hands grazing over Lillian's neck. The new collar was fit for her transformation, shrinking with her human form and growing with her wolf body. It demanded respect as it had CAPTAIN written in dark and bold letters. "You must miss the spikes."
She laughed insidiously, throwing her head back and cackling. She stopped and came close, where her lilac breath was hot on Lillian's face. Her voice was sympathetic and whiney and sad.
"Wolf, I stepped a line when I met you." She was encircling the blinded girl and now squatted in front of her. She traced her fingers along Lillian's jaw line. "I suppose I let myself attach to you. Once you started behaving, you were something of a treasure." She continued her motions before lightly kissing her rosy cheek.
"Run along Wolf, I'll see you later." She roughly untied the bandage from Lillian's eyes and let her walk toward the door. Before she exited she called her name once more.
"Wolf, one last thing." Lillian turned around and was met with her Lady's soft yet powerful hand smack across her face. It left a biting sting just as it used to. And Lillian reached her hand to rub it.
"Stay in line Truscott. Come consult me again next week." She waved her hand for Lillian to go, and then sat nonchalantly back at her desk. Lady Ashley was something she never understood.
Flashback:
Lillian was becoming something of a beauty once she began to shed the lack of curves her juvenile body had brought her. She was fourteen and gaining shape and looks. She was quite a looker for her young age and her athleticism kept her shape well molded.
"Wolf, come to me." It was a rare occasion that Lady Ashley let her stay in the Trainer's Cabin, but she relished the closeness to her master. Her mistress was certainly beginning to grow fond of her; after all, she had given her the nickname Wolf- which at one time had been the most annoying nickname in the world. But now it seemed a name of endearment.
"What is it Mistress?"
"Come sleep at the end of my bed Wolfie." It was an unusual request; Lady Ashley had never let her so close.
"Mistress?"
"Now!" Lillian complied, having being ordered in the hardest of voices.
She sat crisscrossed at the end of her Lady's bed, looking downward, her sharp collar firm around her neck. That was when she first touched her. When she first ran her fingers in her blonde hair. When she first grazed her porcelain limbs against her cheek. It was the first of many days when Lillian laid uncomfortably in the clutch of her Lady's rule.
End of Flashback.
---*---
Screaming pierced the cramping air as the blindfold was tightened behind Miley's head. The tough men grunted in response to her kicking fits, and soon- with more difficulty than they had expected given the female factor- she was bound soundly hand and foot. She shouted profanities and threats until she was finally subdued by mouth. Now, she was silent, completely unable to do anything. She was trapped.
It was cold and she was tossed alone in the back of what felt like a fast moving vehicle. She was surrounded in nothing but metal. She began to fidget with the bonds. Her wrists and ankles were in aluminum cuffs and her mouth and eyes in cloth rags.
An idea came to her, it was far-fetch and near impossible. Her hands began moving against the cutting metal, working around to find a way to escape. She concentrated hard, holding her breath, and forcing the focus into her thoughts. Her temples began stinging with the throbbing of a coming headache. And a light-headed feeling came over her.
She felt her hands begin to transform. The fur began to sprout and the nimble feline form began to mold. She felt a pain as the sharp nails pierced through the surface. When the nails came in contact with the metal bondages they made a loud screeching sound.
They ripped through her handcuffs. She undid the blindfold and the gag with what she felt was normal hands. She had made to saw her foot cuffs in the same fashion, but her feline hands had already changed. She was too late. But she wouldn't let her thoughts dwell as she looked about her environment.
It was much like she expected, and was cloaked in opaque darkness. She felt about the walls, considering her chances of escape. It looked near hopeless, but she would try. She hopped around, distributing her weight on the one foot that was her bound feet, and tried to quietly seek an exit. Her heart was beating loud enough to wake a bear in winter and her fear was begging to scream from her freed lips. She reached around for her cell phone, but found she was stripped of it by her captors. She groped for anything to use, but was met with the metal that was her moving cage.
There were muffled voices coming through a wall of the truck. She strained her eyes to see the production of the noise, but could see that it was not near her. She continued to listen, trying with music-trained ears to hear their discussion. It was a fruitless venture. All she could hear were another's footsteps as they somehow had made their way into the back with her.
The footsteps were loud and obnoxious, and very obviously declaring another presence. She tried to step slowly and inaudibly, blindly attempting to evade the louder steps. But it was all in vain as she felt a hand around her mouth and the blunt tip of something on her temple. It was the barrel of a gun. She knew it well.
She sat back as the man rebound her, and in her helplessness, she was quiet and awaiting her fate
*****