The hot, streaming ribbons of vitae that fell down her back pooled onto the floor below her. The blood stained her skin, her skirts, her stockings. It seeped into the cracked leather of her boots. Every lash laid open her skin and lit her on fire. Every crack of the whip made her jump, for she knew another lash was coming. The minutes seemed to turn to hours as she stood there tied against the post, topless. A nere child she was, her breasts had barely began to bud. All she wanted was to close her eyes and give in to the pain, to let it consume her.
But she couldn't. She had to stand tall and proud. She had to take the whippings and not cry out, even if it meant biting her lip until it bled. She had to be strong for the others and show them that even if they cowered at the threats the Master that she would defy him and take the consequences so the others didn't have to.
She knew that this time it would be worse than any other lashing she had received. Stealing was almost always punishable by death. Almost being the key phrase in this situation. Master Morell was particularly fond of her mother and the 'services' that she provided, and granted Danarya a reprieve from death in exchange for the beating of her life.
She was surprised that he didn't come down and do it himself, what with the fury of being swindled by a lowly servant girl. But then of course, he wouldn't want to dirty his hands with such an ugly deed. He had men to perform such menial tasks while he basked in luxury many floors above, his guests oblivious to the going-on's in his dungeon. Danarya figured that if this was the punishment for making sure her youngers ate, she would take it.
And then, just as suddenly as they had started, they were done. She heard the whip drop onto a near-by bench. A pair of footsteps echoed out until they were no more, and then several sets rushed in towards her. The binds around her wrist loosened and she collapsed in a heap and curled up on the cold, wet, sticky floor. She could feel people huddling around her, trying to tend to her which only made her withdraw further.
She felt a pair of arms beneath her, lifting her up and carrying her out of the room. Whoever it was laid her down on her front and smoothed her hair away from her back. She suddenly felt the cool moisture of the cloth cleaning her skin, the burning of the antiseptic, the tingling of the healing salve being smeared over the open flesh. Their touch was gentle and tender and even though it felt like her entire back was on fire, they made it feel like the flames were being slowly extinguished.
She knew that she could give in now, that she was safe. She had done her duty and she could rest. Just before the black closed in around her vision, she heard a voice, soft and low, whisper in her ear. "Soon, my dear. Soon we will put a stop to this. Soon, and you will be safe and free."
