FSE

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Chapter 12:

Collar

The two new wolves were making the human nervous, despite his master's comforts. Sure, the strange trip to wherever they were was hard enough, but there was something off about the Master when he led the human to his seat, something near fearful. Even worse, the human's cloak had been taken, leaving him prone to three sets of eyes. He'd forgotten how isolating embarrassment felt.

The light beneath his skin was a bit different, however. That one was kind of neat to the human. It reminded him of holding his hand over a flashlight; the mix of pinks, oranges, and yellows aglow. Seeing his stomach for himself was also somewhat reassuring. He was worried he'd gotten it wrong somehow, but he had undeniable proof now. His body really had changed.

The next portion had confused the human more than the others. The reddish wolf had lifted her hands towards him, her fingers fastened into a rhombus. Her maw was moving – as if she was saying something – but a familiar sensation nearly toppled the human, that same overbearing presence from before. Oddly enough, he felt the presence dissipate almost immediately, like it could never quite touch him this time. It seemed strange, but his attention was brought elsewhere when the reddish master moved to place a claw against his throat.

The same light from before was cast into him, but the reddish wolf took a step back after only a second or so. It was concerning. It felt like there was something wrong with him, something that scared her. It seemed to unsettle the Master just as much when he came to see it for himself. The human just wanted to hide by then.

He had seen the Master angry before, but he hadn't been the one to cause that anger in so long, not since their earliest days when he was still learning how to serve his Master Hatchet. He never wanted the first master to be angry – for an angry master struck twice as hard – but he didn't want his new master angry for different reasons altogether. He simply wanted his master to want for nothing. He wanted him to be sated, to have any need handled by the human. He wanted to bring the Master nothing but joy, for that was the reason he so eagerly knelt for him. The Master had given him a life of happiness he never thought he'd have again. Returning that happiness in kind was a need for the human now. Whatever had upset the wolf was something he would aim to fix.

Despite his hesitance, the human chanced edging his hand forward, clasping the larger of the black wolf, hoping to calm the Master as the wolf had calmed him. When the beast turned to him and visibly sighed, his ears relaxing, the human wanted to leap for joy. He had helped, at least a little. His heart beat faster as he relished the thought.

Shortly after, the Master broke the contact, moving to stand behind the human as the reddish wolf approached. The human felt his larger wolf kneel behind him before wrapping those massive arms around him. The human blushed, his heart skipping beats as delicate claws reached up to touch his collar.

'Is… is he taking me here? Now? I–' Gushing thoughts ran idle as a familiar lightness became apparent. His leash had been removed.

'Make no move without a leash…' The gospel seemed a cold reminder in that moment.

His fluttering heart sank into his stomach, a chill rolling over his flesh as he realized how sullen the Master seemed. Something was still wrong. His thoughts ran back to the recent show of anger, afraid that his Master had seen something he couldn't overlook. Before the human could question it, those safe arms began squeezing him tighter. The Master's right arm crossed over his front, pinning the human to the wolf's chest. It wouldn't have been so bad if he could budge. The wolf's second hand came to rest atop of the human's head, tilting it back, forcing him to reveal his throat. Uncertainties danced through the summoned, only causing more confusion when the wolf briefly nuzzled into his presented neck before pulling back away.

The human couldn't move at all, held more firmly than the Master had ever handled him before. It was not tender, but a forceful touch. He was afraid, afraid that he had earned some punishment. When the reddish master began, it was all but confirmed as such…

It started as a discomfort, that same nauseating presence as before wrapping around his windpipe. The pressure grew, the human feeling more and more strain just to take in air. Then it became a more familiar pull, as if his collar was being tugged along. The crusty leather of the collar seemed to sway one direction, only to be drawn a different after. It was like there were leashes surrounding it, trying to coax him into any manner of ways. The pressure applied to these pulls steadily rose, until a particularly forceful one tugged from his front.

A bolt of the sharpest pain surged down his neck, a reminder of why he didn't dare resist any wolf's lead. He flinched, but the Master squeezed in response, never letting him shift to avoid the discomfort. The human tried to turn his head to look at the Master, but even that was denied as the hand held him in place. Another wicked pain spurred another buck from the summoned. The entire collar was being pulled on now, as if it were threatening to be torn apart while still attached.

The craggy leather started to burn against his skin, a strange light accompanied by a searing heat. The fasteners plunged into his collar were ripping through him little by little, the barbs slicing open wounds that kept closing on themselves. That presence reached a point where it felt like his head would implode beneath the pressure. Still, it climbed, challenging him to endure. Eventually, it was the presence that folded first.

With the likeness of a bursting tire, the buckle of the collar blew out, the long-fastened straps of the leather now whipping against his skin. The swirling winds and the pressure in the room only grew, but the presence suddenly didn't seem so hard on the human. It was still there, but it didn't rattle his core as much now, giving him a moment to marvel in terror at the fasteners of his collar that could never be undone before.

Another arc of pain pulled him from his wonder. It felt like his throat itself was being pulled apart now, something he realized wasn't far from the truth. The first of the six spikes slipped half an inch free, causing the summoned to thrash against his bindings in immeasurable agony. Before he had even moved, another fastener slipped, quivering lips parting in a silent scream. Even then, the Master would not let him go.

Greater suffering fell upon him almost immediately; the worst yet by far as the two dislodged spikes began to glow. Within seconds they were rotating, the pointed burs carving threads through his throat as the fasteners attempted to screw themselves back into place. Strands of fine muscle and numerous blood vessels were shredded by the drills, each snapping cord a white-hot iron buried within. His body tried to repair itself, keeping him mercilessly alive as usual, which meant he only relived the sensation over and over with every rotation.

His efforts to free himself had become an erratic thrash, his squirming a violent dance of seizures by that point. Tears streaked from each eye two at a time as he choked up a glob of blood, a glistening mess of spit, sweat, and saltwater dripping down his chest. Still, another spike was dislodged, spurring to life the same as the others already carving tunnels through his throat. Slacking suddenly in shock, the numbness finally started to take him.

He'd been on this brink before, where his body simply wouldn't die, but his head just couldn't handle anymore. It was a slow retreat, like a dimming light steadily dulling each sensation. An odd thing, considering how unbelievably white his mind seemed to go. There was always a sense he was weightless. Untethered. Two more spikes were sent into spirals. Muscles spasmed. Nerves were set ablaze. Anguish overtook him, leading all sensations to bleed together; a state of equal parts pain and numbness. Equal parts of both death, and peace.

A touch of true warmth nuzzled against his cheek, reaching the human even in that sacred place of retreat. Dark eyes parted amid the trance, settling on the Master's face pressed against his own. Master Hatchet was trembling, his brows furrowed. The concern was so blatant as the wolf held the human through it.

A potent warmth drowned the blistering pain. 'Ah… that's right. We do not hope for death nor peace, do we, Master?' His head was nearly torn off by that point, yet a different kind of detachment came to him.

The human pulled himself back to the present just as the sixth and final spike started to spin, desperately trying to re-sink the leather to his skin. The collar itself began undulating again, that familiar feeling of his throat being tugged against. Strangely, nothing even hurt anymore. It was simply tissue breaking and reforming. Pain was there, but that pain seemed small in the scheme of things. A part of him wondered if he had lost his mind as a different part of him tore away. The skin on his throat began to rip, clinging to the collar still.

It felt uncannily like Velcro being pulled apart, the occasional tendon snapping in protest. His collar was snatched further and further from his throat, seemingly determined to take as much flesh as it could with it. Finally, as the last barb was wretched free with a spinning, scarlet splatter, the human was freed from the collar of the first master.

The collar fell to the ground, a grotesquely mangled array of steel, leather, and his own bits and pieces still clinging on. The master released his forceful grip at once, letting the human fall forward, catching himself on weak hands and shaky knees. More blood dripped from his wound, splashing against his fingers. He stared down at the collar, his breathing – though less restricted than ever – felt far too shallow, even as the holes in his windpipe began to close, leaving a strange sensation in their wake. Panic began to set in. That was when the Master came to stand before him, peering down with an apologetic look in his eyes.

The human cast his teary look upwards to meet the wolf's gaze, his mind rationalizing what this all must mean. Cold thoughts came down like rain, spurring the human to quickly look back towards the collar below.

'No…' The human shuddered. 'NO!' He thrust his attention back towards his Master, the desire undeniable. 'But I want to stay yours.'

= = =

Hatchet was holding his human as Cypress began her spell, getting a feel with her magic before doubling down into a chant. She reached a point where she could stop for a moment, remarking about the collar, “The binding itself is going to be easy enough to snap, but the collar is stuck to his skin. It won't detach easily, even after I break the buckle. The spikes have runes on them too, meaning they may explode or something similar when pulled out. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Hatchet nodded. “Nothing that slaver did was for no reason. He starved him to keep him weak. If this collar has the enchantments you say, then couldn't it mean it's another way of subduing him?"

“Well… yes." Cypress yielded. “It could be the cause of many things, and it could be for any manner of nefarious purposes."

“Then we do this. I'll make it up to him after. I know it will hurt, but you can't tell me he isn't in pain as he is." Hatchet faltered for a moment, mulling over his words. “When we were connected, I could feel what he felt. I remember how hard it was for him to to breathe, I just didn't realize it was more than bound leather restricting him."

Cypress closed her eyes, weighing her decision again. She gave a final warning , “Once we start, we cannot stop. It will only bring him more discomfort if we disrupt the enchantment without breaking it. It has to come off, no matter what."

Hatchet nodded again, his nerves eating their way through his gut.

The mage focused, exhaling heavily before drawing a deep breath. She launched into a steady flow of chants after.

The sell-sword secured his hold, feeling immense guilt for something he couldn't quite place yet. He just had a bad feeling about the collar. He had a bad feeling about all of this. Still, Hatchet held the human firm, even when he flinched in discomfort.

“Here we go..." Mortar gulped.

Cypress pulled harder, spurring another jolt from the human.

Hatchet didn't let the summoned move, bracing for what was yet to come.

He held him through it, even as the thrashing gradually worsened. As bad as it was, Hatchet thought things may just be straightforward for once. He cursed the thought when the first two spikes whirred to life. He almost even lost his grip.

“FUCK! CYPRESS!" Hatchet shouted.

The mage just shook her head, her chant faltering momentarily before she pushed herself past the horror of what they were witnessing.

A third spike started to spiral, coaxing a heavier flail from the human before he went limp. Hatchet leaned in, his snout pressing against the tear-streaked cheek as he supported the head of the summoned. He clenched his eyes as the blood was splattered onto his coat, but only nuzzled his human closer, desperate to show he was not alone… desperate to apologize.

Hatchet now understood why he felt so unsettled before all this began. He never should've made this decision for the human.

And I never will again. I swear it. He promised himself. The vow brought little comfort to him, but the summoned finally responded, bringing plenty of relief. Five of the spikes were spinning, but the human's gaze was affixed to Hatchet's now. He stared, that look of acceptance breaking the wolf's heart. He'd never meant to hurt him this way.

The final spike began to whirl as the rest were nearly worked free, the collar tearing the very skin and muscles from the human's throat. Hatchet squeezed one last comfort while reinforcing his pledge. He'd not so carelessly fail his human again.

Smattering the wolf and the summoned with a final coat of crimson, the spikes stopped glowing, the collar and half of the human's throat fell to the floor with a clinking splat. The summoned hung his head, his gaze focused on the bindings below, even as his body began reforming his esophagus.

Hatchet released his grip when enough damage had recovered, moving to stand before the summoned, preparing to apologize any way he could. He never got the chance, he was too stunned.

The human was sobbing, staring down at the collar. Not crying silently, sobbing; verbally.

“He… he can make noise?" Hatchet stammered.

“Maybe the collar was preventing it?" Mortar added, his awe as clear as Hatchet's.

“Possibly… but it could also be from healing the damage from the collar." Cypress whispered.

Regardless of the reason, Hatchet couldn't help but stare, his jaw agape. That is, until the human suddenly jerked his teary eyes back up to hatchet, a rattled whimper paired with his sorrow.

When Hatchet just held the stare, the human reached down, grabbed the bloody collar, and offered it up. When the human pointed to his own throat, and then back at Hatchet, Mortar spoke what Hatchet was too horrified to.

“I think… he wants you to put it back on him, Hatchet."

The mercenary looked towards the king's proxy, appalled. “Absolutely not!"

The human reached forward, grabbing Hatchet's hand and pressing the soiled collar into it, squeezing desperately in his plea.

Hatchet stared, trembling. 'How could he want it back on? HOW?'

The wolf grabbed the collar, tearing it from the human and tossing it across the room, shaking his head with a furrowed brow and an stern snarl.

Hatchet felt another wave of regret when the human's eyes went wide at first, then half-lidding after, his gaze falling as he merely wept with his face pressed into bloodied hands.

“Hatchet…." Mortar began.

“I know." He sighed. “I know, Mortar." The sell-sword turned towards the mage, asking even more favors, “Cypress, can you get him cleaned up? He's also likely hungry after that much healing…"

“Yeah, I can manage that, but what are you going to do?" She crossed her arms.

Hatchet looked towards Mortar as he answered firmly, “I'm going to rinse off outside, and then we are going to buy a few things in town with the king's gold."

The wolf-dog beamed in response, heading towards the door. “No reason to wait! Sooner we go, the sooner we—"

Mortar paused with the door open, his sentence falling flat. Hatchet saw why, the young guard from the town standing in the doorway, a fist raised; as if he were just about to knock.

“I'm sorry to bother you, Sir Proxy, I just didn't know what to do! One moment I was in Grayscale village tending to your horses, and the next I was here… I've been outside a while, I just… You seemed busy with all the noise, and—" The young wolf finally stopped talking, his gaze settling on the strange creature sobbing on the floor. “WH— WHAT IS THA—"

Mortar snatched the soldier inside and shoved him towards the middle of the room with one swift motion.

The guard lost his balance, falling right in front of the human. His eyes shot wide, shuffling away until his back hit something firm.

The younger wolf looked up at Hatchet as the mercenary glared down in return.

“Cypress…" Hatchet sneered, looking to the mage; the one conveniently avoiding his stare. He pivoted to Mortar instead. “So now what?"

= = =

'The Master has betrayed me.' The human stewed in his bathwater, a mix of rinsed tears and blood adding even more salt to his wounds. His head hung, his reflection distorted and murky from the oils and soaps the reddish-master added to the water.

'The new master, now…' he closed his eyes as she gently scrubbed at his back, his tears as consistent as his sniffles. It wasn't that he was afraid of this master. She seemed kind so far, but he just couldn't understand why.

'He said I was his… He signed it to me. Why would he just leave me? Did he bring me all this way to deliver me to her? Is that why he took my collar? For I am not his? Surely it must be. Maybe I failed him? Maybe I messed up? I should've been more useful… I should've offered him more. I should've… I should've….'

Tears splashed into his bathwater. 'I should've obeyed the gospel.'

The new master coaxed him to stand, a towel was all he was given. He understood why this time. He'd let his pants get cut by those other wolves. He didn't deserve such things anymore. That was why Master Hatchet had taken them when he left.

= = =

“No. It's a stupid idea, Mortar." Hatchet grumbled in protest, the town bustling around them.

“It isn't so bad." The wolf-dog turned to the younger guard trailing the pair. “You can read and write, yes?" When the soldier nodded, Mortar looked back to Hatchet. “See? You'll need someone to teach the human to read our language, and you'll need someone to transcribe your notes after. We both know you aren't exactly great with the written word."

Hatchet crossed his arms. “Nope. You and Cypress caused this problem, you two can get stuck with the baggage. I don't work with rookies."

“I have been swinging a sword since I was fourteen…" The young wolf chimes, going silent when Hatchet cast a glare.

“And that was what? Two years ago? And not a scar on you? You're greener than pond-scum, pup. The fact you can't even follow orders proves as much."

“...four years ago." The guard adds before finally going silent, as he'd been ordered when told to follow.

“See? Mouthy pup that has never seen combat. Who the fuck wants that responsibility?" Hatchet huffed.

Mortar nodded, but held firm. “Hatchet, you're going to need help. You won't be able to bring that human everywhere you go, so having someone reliable around in your absence was a problem we'd need a solution for sooner or later. We just happened to get that answer now… You were applauding his courage and backbone just earlier today"

“I…" Hatchet half growled and half groaned. “...I really don't like when you make sense."

Mortar beamed in his victory, tossing a wink back at the soldier behind them. “I'm sure he'll prove himself an asset. I know he wouldn't want to fumble such an important duty."

Mortar veered, heading towards another shop door. “Let's check here next. We still need to get a few things, right?"

= = =

The human blankly stared at the plate before him, the food still untouched. He didn't think he'd ever pass on food again, but the thought of eating made his mouth taste like ash. Everything would surely just taste bitter after knowing Master Hatchet's feasts.

'Don't be tempted by the bread…' He should have listened, now he'd grown far too used to it. Now he'd have to mourn that loss. Most never realize such things, but being without must be relearned after every loss, regardless of how much you knew better than to het comfortable.

His gaze sank lower, right alongside his heart. 'I should've done more…'

Sunlight was cast into the room as the door opened. The human nearly snapped his neck to look, new tears falling as his hope swelled. 'Master!'

'Wake to kneel, or wake to dread'

He took off, the towel around his waist coming undone as the human practically slid into place at Hatchet's paws, kneeling, pressing his forehead against the beast's right paw as fingers trembled against the dark fur. 'Please… please… let me stay yours.'

The master leaned down over him. He first felt a firm touch at his shoulder, then another of gentle fingers tracing his jaw, coaxing his teary gaze to lift, meeting the eyes of brilliant ruby. The human shuddered, his emotions a mess, bigger than the one the collar had left. He practically melted in that gaze, staring up in waiting as the Master smiled down at him.

The Master raised a fist, extending his first finger in a familiar command. 'Stay'

The human nodded, eager to obey. The Master pointed to his eyes, and then towards the door with clear intent. “Look that way."

So the human did, he sat, stayed, and ensured his eyes remained on that door in sheer determination to serve. 'Master's orders.'

The black wolf patted his head once before moving out of sight. The human did not follow him. Time seemed to pass slowly for the summoned, what was barely twenty minutes felt like an entire day dragging by as he waited for more direction. At one point, the Master had walked back to the human, kneeling and taking hold of his hand before gently pricking his finger with a knife – stealing a bit of blood, but that was all the human had received so far. He was truly growing restless with the unknown.

Eventually, his patience was well rewarded. The Master came to stand before him again, one hand guiding the human's gaze up as the other held a sack. He motioned for the human to stand, and the human obeyed without question.

When the Master was certain he had his attention, he reached a hand into his bag, pulling something dark out and letting it unfurl in his grasp. A new pair of pants to replace the damaged ones was the first of the Master's gifts; pants as black as the wolf's pelt, and far nicer than the pair before. The human's eyes danced over the fabric, his heart thumping in awe of such consideration; more so when the Master helped him step into them.

They were soft, but quite sturdy. More importantly, this pair seemed to fit him perfectly. It now made sense why the Master had taken the old pair. He needed a size.

Before the human had even finished swooning, another gift was pulled from the bag; a black cloak swaying in the wolf's hand.

Hatchet tossed the cloak around the human, fastening it in front with a latch of a red gemstone. 'Black and red… the Master's colors!' He was elated by the realization, but when he was turned towards a mirror on the wall, he was shown the true purpose of the cloak. The hood was raised, and a familiar illusion appeared. The intent was clear– It was to replace the ratty one.

The Master lowered the hood, returning the human's reflection to his actual form. The human stood there, smiling as he admired his new attire. His Master stood behind him, a warm flash of those fangs beaming his approval. The human was smiling so much tears began to well again. He'd never expected such gifts…

His eyes went wide, staring at their reflection in nonbelief. The Master had pulled a final gift from the bag, one that made the human stop breathing. Two pieces of black leather were in the Master's hand, both with a black buckle, both with a red stripe running down the center.

Hatchet took the larger one first, holding his right arm out to the side and laying the strap across the part of his large bicep near his shoulder. He pointed at the buckle, and then back to the summoned, a glint in his eyes as realization flashed across the human's own, followed by a toothy smile.

'The Master will match!' The human raised his trembling hand, brushing across the firm muscle to finger the buckle. With a degree of patience on Hatchet's part, the human managed to secure it, drawing it down as tight as he felt was comfortable. As he finished, the leather faintly glowed, the strap seeming to settle into place. As the human questioned what he saw, Hatchet confirmed it.

He raised a claw to his strap, attempting to unlatch it to no avail. To accent his point, he grabbed the human's hand and guided it up to the buckle. It loosened in response. The human was able to take it off, but the Master could not.

Hatchet dangled the next strap, the buckle trapped between his claws as he lifted a brow towards the summoned. The human immediately fell to his knees, staring up at the black wolf, breathing excitedly as he bared his throat, begging the Master to proceed; to make him his again.

Steady hands reached behind his head, the strip of smooth leather gentle and soothing against his flesh. It was thin, far lighter than the first collar, and it sat just below his Adam's apple. The first collar never allowed him much movement, it never let him breathe so easily. This was more than the human could've asked for.

The Master affixed the buckle, latching the strap into place, ensuring it wasn't too tight. When those careful claws pulled away, the human saw a familiar glow emanating from the leather. To great delight, when he raised his fingers to the strap, he noted he could not remove it.

He shuddered, leaning his head forward to rest his chin on the wolf, his hands on his Master's thighs. His eyes turned warm, his cheeks and face heated with a rosy blush as he gazed up in longing and gratitude.

The Master smiled down, that caring look as warm as the human's own. He signed without hesitation. “You are mine. I am yours."

The human stared with a dreamy grin, nodding, shamelessly basking in his victory. His manhood tented his new pants in pride as he returned the sign. “I am yours, Master Hatchet."