A/N: This chapter contains graphic scenes of a violent and sexual nature.

Chapter Four

"We'll catch up with the others within the hour." I said, checking the ground for recent tracks as we paused by the stream to catch our breath and have a drink. I bent down and splashed water onto my shoulder as best I could. Rollo knelt down beside me and I moved to get up.

"Just sit still. I'm only wrapping your shoulder." His hands worked deftly as he tore a long strip from his shirt and wrapped it tightly around my wound.

"Thank you." I kept my eyes on the steady stream of water gushing by.

"You won't be thanking me later. It's deep and needs to be sealed." We walked along the stream for half an hour more before we caught site of the others. The journey to the farm was hard and uneventful. We were all sullen and quiet, stewing in our mutual hatred for the situation. My shoulder ached with every step I took but I kept it to myself. By the time we reached the cabin a putrid smell was coming from underneath my bandage even though I had cleaned it every chance I got. It should have been sealed earlier.

"How bad is it?" I asked, looking back at Rollo, his face was impassive as he cut away my shirt. To his credit he barely even grimaced as the material fell away, exposing the ruined flesh that was my back. Siggy and Aslaug weren't nearly as good at keeping their composure. Aslaug quickly ushered the children into another room and didn't return. Siggy stayed but her horrified expression made me wish she'd leave as well.

"I've seen worse." Rollo said, heating his knife in the fire, not commenting on anything but my current injury. For that, I was grateful. "I'll have to cut away the dead flesh. Siggy, I'll need ale."

"Do you think it wise to drink now?" the exasperation in her voice was telling.

"It's not for him." I knocked the cup she offered me aside and reached for the jug.

"Are you ready?" He asked after I'd gulped down half of it of the jug's contents.

"Do it." I clenched my teeth and tried to breath through the pain. Each tug was excruciating but he finally finished and picked up the red hot blade that would seal my wound. I heard the sizzle before I felt the burn. My scream was cut short as I began to pass out from the pain and the fever that had gripped me for the past two days. The room faded to black slowly as I struggled to stay conscious.

"No." I mumbled, shaking my head.

"It's alright, Ylva, rest now." I felt Rollo's hand stroking my head and my last effort before succumbing to the darkness was to jerk my head away from his big paw.

The dungeon was scarcely furnished, nothing but chains hanging from the ceiling, a low fire in the middle of the room, and dozens of racks with every torturous instrument that you can imagine. The air was cold, so cold I could see my breath in front of my face. The first time I was brought down here I hated the permanent chill, but now I was thankful for it. It numbed my skin to a degree and that made my punishment easier to bare.

"You know what I think?" His deep voice vibrated through the stillness. I could hardly breath through the gag in my mouth, much less answer his question. But in the last year I'd learned that he never asked questions that he actually wanted answered.

"I think you like this. My other pets only needed two, maybe three sessions in here before they learned their place." He circled me slowly, dragging his whip lazily behind him. It was his pride and joy, a whip with five tails and connected to the end of one of those tails was a small jagged piece of metal. Occasionally I felt a tiny bit of my smooth flesh being ripped away. It was excruciating, unlike anything I'd ever imagined. My arms were separated and chained to the ceiling so tightly that my toes barely touch the ground. The blood from my latest flogging dripped down the back of my legs and pooled at my feet, making it hard for me to find purchase on the slippery stone floor.

"This is your tenth time down here. I can't say that your disobedience doesn't give me a small measure of amusement." I felt the whip bite into my back before I heard the crack echo through the room.

"If you try to escape again my little pup, I will flay your back to the bone, whether it kills you or not." Three more strikes with the whip followed. My vision was narrowing as the pain increased. Maybe there would be no next time, maybe this was the last time. Maybe I would finally die from his abuse.

"Shhh" He whispered in my ear, trying to calm my sobs as he gently stroked my hair. "You have so much spirit, so much fight... when I finally break you, it will all belong to me." He pulled the gag out of my mouth so he could hear my screams as he sodomized me. The passing of time was hard to calculate. After my last punishment, when I was finally brought back upstairs, it had been a full week. This time, it was almost three. Three weeks of constant pain.

I woke up thrashing around in the bed. The fire was burning low and the air was freezing but I was boiling hot. I could hear low voices coming from the other room and my hand went automatically to my throat. I breathed a sigh of relief when I felt the naked, smooth skin. It took me several minutes to work out that I had finally come home.

"Ragnar." My voice was gritty and barely audible to my own ears. But the others heard me stir from the next room and soon I heard footsteps coming my way.

"Ragnar, please." I called out, trying to rid myself of the memories that had been brought to the forefront of my mind.

"He isn't here, Ylva. He will be though, very soon." Aslaug knelt by my bed and her touch was surprisingly gentle as she bathed my head with a cool cloth.

"Please." I groaned.

"Here." Rollo said, holding a cup to my mouth. I took a sip then turned my head and spewed up onto the floor.

"Please, make it stop." I moaned into my pillow.

"You must drink, drink it all and keep it down." Rollo held my head steady as I began to shake uncontrollably. I did as he asked because I knew that I had to get better, to think clearly, and to live.

"Ragnar, where is Ragnar?" I asked, reaching out to grasp Rollo's shirt.

"What's wrong Ylva, are you in pain?" He asked.

"No. Please just make it stop. No more." I grasped his hand and felt a strange sensation fall over me as I was pulled back down into the darkness.

"Look at that, it's beautiful." I stood before the mirror wearing nothing but a metal collar around my neck. It was so tight that if I were to shift into wolf form it would choke me in a matter of minutes. But I was grateful for it, it meant that I didn't have to spend every minute inside the tiny cage that he kept his pets in until they earned the right to be collared. I had been with Sir for over three years now and while escaping was still my number one priority, it tended to get lost in the day to day monotony of life at Sir's Manor. That was the only name I knew him by. All of his other pets, both male and female called him Sir. I had balked against it at first, refusing to say it. I called him Cunt instead. When we finally moved from "Fuck you Cunt" to "Fuck you Sir" it was a momentous occasion.

The day I was collared was the day I received one of the worst beatings of my life. Sir was having a dinner party and had neglected to tell me that I was free game for any and all of his friends. When I was serving wine to the guests one minute and feeling a hand between my legs the next, I simply reacted. The culprit escaped with a broken rib and a black eye. I would say that I was lenient. But Sir saw it differently. It was a test and I had failed miserably. He took it as a personal insult. So he chained me up in the middle of the dining hall, in front of everyone, and whipped me until I couldn't remember a time when pain wasn't a constant factor in my life. After that, he left me there for three days and let it be known to everyone that I was free for the taking. My body was his to do with as he saw fit. He could give it away or keep it for himself, whatever he desired.

The next time I woke up, things were clearer, easier for me to focus on. It was the middle of the night and the fire had burned down. A shadow sat in a chair next to my bed, slumped over and breathing heavily. I rolled onto my back and winced slightly at the pain from my injured shoulder.

"Ylva." Ragna woke the moment I moved. His voice surrounded me like a warm blanket. "Don't lay back on your shoulder, love. The bandage was removed to let the wound breath." His hands were gentle and warm as he reached out to help me turn back over onto my stomach. I was stiff from laying in the bed for so long.

"When did you get back?" My voice was gritty and harsh from the lack of use

"Yesterday. You've been out for nearly a month. Rollo thought you were going to lose your arm or worse." He pulled his chair right up next to the bed and rested his hand on top of mine.

"At one point, I thought I would never wake up." I nodded my thanks when he passed me a horn of water.

"A few more weeks and it will be healed. The god's have favoured you." He refilled my horn and placed it on the table within reaching distance.

"What gods?" I said with a snort.

"You don't believe in the God's?" The curiosity was written all over his face.

"There are no God's, Ragnar. Only us." I took a deep breath and stared at the wall. "Will you put my bandage on? I want to lay on my back."

"Rollo said you fought like a beast, he'd never seen anything like it." He got up and lit the candle by my bed. I shivered as he pulled the blanket down my back. He worked quickly and silently. I started to roll over when he finished, but he placed a hand on my back gently holding me in place.

"Ragnar." My voice was uneasy.

"Is this the complication you spoke of?" His face looked hard and harsh, even in the soft light of the candle.

"Yes." My voice was void of emotion as I stared at the wall while he examined my back.

"This is what kept you away for so long?" I jumped slightly as his fingertips slowly traced the puckered flesh.

"Yes." I didn't move or protest as he walked around the bed and laid down next to me, never lifting his fingers from my back.

"Who did this?" The warmth of his body spread rapidly and I inched closer to him.

"Sir was the only name we knew him by." I stared intently at the same spot on the wall.

"We?" I was becoming used to the sensation of his fingers running up and down my spine.

"There were others. He was a collector. Mostly shifters, like myself. When he tired of one of his pets he cut their head off and mounted it. The walls of the dungeon were lined with them, in both animal and human form." I took a deep shaky breath as my voice trailed off.

"Tell me, Ylva." There was the hint of a command in his voice, an edge I wasn't prepared to cross.

"Everything?" I asked.

"Everything." So I did.

"Food was scarce at times, so I would often hunt as a wolf to keep myself alive and well feed. I heard the arrow whistling through the air, but it pierced my flesh before I had a chance to move. The poison on the tip made me sleep for days. When I finally woke, I spent the next seven years wishing that arrow had pierced my heart. My arms were shackled to the roof. He left my legs free at first, not anticipating me using my them as a weapon. I nearly escaped because of his negligence. I paid dearly for that, though. When I wasn't hanging in the dungeon he kept me in a tiny cage in the cellar with his hunting dogs. He kept me there for three years until he trusted me enough to let me roam freely through the house. He put a collar around my neck to keep me from shifting. No matter what I did, I still found myself in the dungeon for the slightest offenses. He said I was his favorite, his greatest challenge so far." I took a deep breath and reached for the jug of ale sitting on the table.

"He could never break you." The smile in Ragnar's voice made my heart physically ache.

"Not in the way he intended, but there's more than one way to break a person. He made me enjoy it, Ragnar." I slowly pushed myself off the bed and stood on my wobbly legs. "Even when my back was opened and bleeding, he forced me to scream out in pleasure as he took me again, and again, and again. He gave me to his friends to use as they wished. For seven years I belonged to him. I didn't eat, sleep, or piss without his permission. I relied on him for everything, and he took great enjoyment in reminding me of the fact that it was only by his wish that I was allowed to draw breath." I slowly paced the length of the room.

"Ylva." Ragnar's voice was ragged with emotion and there was no hint of a smile as he put his feet on the floor and started to rise.

"You wanted to hear this, so you will sit there and listen." I placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated, wincing at the pain that shot up my arm as I did so. He reached out and pulled me down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me as tightly as he dared.

"We have plenty of time for you to finish. But now, you need to rest." He placed me back in bed, pulled the covers up and sat back in his chair.

"You don't have to sleep in that chair, you know." I yawned as my eyes began to get heavier.

"I know." His smile lit up his whole face. "I can always go to bed with my wife."

"There's plenty of room here, for you to sleep." I emphasised the sleep part.

"I would never take advantage of you when you're injured, Ylva." He pulled his shirt off, flexing his muscles as he did, before sitting down to take off his boots.

"Even if I asked you too?" He climbed on top of me, careful to keep his weight off of my shoulder as he slowly lowered himself down with one arm, while pulling me up towards him with the other. He bent his head down and buried his face in the side of my neck, taking a deep breath to inhale the scent of my hair.

"Don't tempt me." He rolled onto the other side of the bed and reached over me to put out the candle.

"What are you going to do about Borg?" I asked into the darkness.

"We'll figure that out tomorrow. Sleep now, Ylva." He threw his arm over me and pulled me closer. I fell asleep almost instantly