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The Mare

Rage hammered through my head, a thick veil of red descending across my vision as I looked at him.

How dare he. How DARE he.

My snarl surprised even me, low, guttural, animal.

"Why?"

He just shook his head, pleading eyes staring at me. Pity had been wasted on this one so far, and I was not going to make that mistake again.

Anger flooded through my body, finding expression in my whip arm. Restraint, care, all reason had fled and I took three steps across the floor and swung at him with a ferocity I had never known before. My aim was unsure, I only knew I wanted to make him scream.

The cruel whip smashed into his abdomen, curling around to flay his flanks. His cry echoed through the room, as I surveyed the damage, a line of blood leaving a darkened patch on his silken fur.

His pain was the sweetest wine, and I needed to slake my thirst.

Walking slowly around his bound form, I let the rage build again before flying into the next stroke, this time arcing across his shoulder blades, their broad muscled expanse now shaking at the sudden agony.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry!"

Sorry? Sorry? I could not even form the words, just an inchoate snarl. He does this and the best he can come up with is sorry?

The mist descended again, and only cleared some time later when I was conscious of a crushing fatigue. Standing still a moment panting for breath, I collected my senses.

The sounds from the middle of the room had changed. Dimly I was aware of a sound that took some deciphering. A soft yet insistent high pitched mewling cry, undulating in frequency and intensity, masking some basic attempt at communication. Lost in the noise somewhere was one word, please, all that was left to an already broken mind.

Smells next, nostrils flaring to sample the room. Fear and pain, heady mix so beautiful most times and yet this time somehow more delicious and yet more unsatisfying. Then blood, rich and tangy, filling the back of my throat with its sensual metallic caress.

Sensation then, a burning almost painful feeling in my whip arm, the feeling testament to the force and intensity of what had gone before. I truly had gone on until I couldn't physically wield it any more.

Behind it all was that mysterious sixth sense, the combination of all senses and none. I could sense the other slaves in the room, the six stallions who I had brought here for the purpose, my beautiful pets. They were silent, and respectful, but I could feel their unease, their fear. It was an intended bonus from the proceedings.

Flicking my sweat filled forelock from my face, I lifted my gaze again, regarding him with eyes still enraged but more controlled now. The first rush of need had been satisfied.

He was beautiful. He was always beautiful. When I saw him on the slavers auction block I knew I had to have him, though I was not alone. It cost me a small fortune to beat off the other buyers, finally besting Lady Lentara when the price rose into the stratosphere and it became apparent I would not back off. My fellow mare had a reputation for exquisite body slaves, but not the purse to add this one to her stable. Not quite 18, more colt than stallion, he was too good to miss, a chance to write on a blank canvas, to create my own perfect slave. And there were other reasons.

He was still beautiful now, though his beauty had been marked and spoiled as some would think by the criss-cross pattern of whip marks, covering his body. For me, his beauty had been enhanced immeasurably. One of the most satisfying parts of owning something so exquisite was the right to destroy it if you chose.

His perfect long muscled form was displayed almost like a sculpture. Paws raised to the ceiling, spread out and manacled to chains drawn tight, his fetlocks also bound to manacles in the floor. He was drawn like a bowstring, spread in a perfect X form, every straining line in his body exposed for artistic appreciation. I was an artist with the whip, and I had let my passion out on the canvas of his skin.

Palomino colouring, with golden mane and tail, and eyes so perfectly blue. They were still open now, though they appeared not to be able to focus. His ears flattened to his skull, trying almost to smash their way into his brain in sign of abject submission. His submission was a little late however. Far, far too late.

With a practiced eye I sized up his wounds. I could see he had suffered, the damage was immense, blood flowing freely across his pale buff fur. In my rage I had not cared where or how I hurt him, and as a result some places I would normally avoid had felt the whip. His sheath oozed a line of blood, and his scrotum showed the evidence of a hard impact, bruising and angry fire coloured welts marring those perfect orbs. It was no wonder he had been reduced to this broken mess.

Good.

I walked to him, his head now bowed. Taking his mane in my paw, I pulled it back roughly, forcing his head up as I brought my muzzle close to his ears.

"Why did you do it? Why did you run? Why?"

"Please..."

"I gave you everything, everything. You were my special slave, my favourite. I allowed you to pleasure my body, to share my bed, I saved you from being bought by some lesser mistress who would never have appreciated you the way I do. I gave you everything! You are mine, absolutely. And yet you do this!"

"I'm so sorry..."

"No I am sorry Tannak. I own you, my beautiful slave. I could have you killed, gelded, tortured on a whim and yet I treated you with honour, and you betray me like this. You know the penalty for running. Now I have to punish you and it grieves me to my heart."

"Please, forgive me Mistress..."

"Why should I?"

"Teltheria."

The name was like a blow, shocking me deeply and shattering my sense of control. I struggled for composure. How by all the Gods did he know?

"Is that why you ran?"

"No. I ran because my sister was to be sold to the Tauren traders as a pleasure slave. I had to try to save her...I am the stallion of my house now whether slave or not. I had to try. But when I was searching for her, I found out."

"Your sister. Jaslin. I remember now."

"My mother...she was your..."

I stopped him with a look, control returning. There are certain things I did not want discussed openly amongst my slaves.

"Did you know who I was when you bought me?"

Yes, that was the question was it not. I waited him out, my mind a whirl of emotions.

The truth was that I had. One look at him and I knew. His beauty was so familiar, and the name left no room for error. Teltheria, my first lover, when life was simpler and softer and the future was something to worry about tomorrow. Her body was my drug, her laughter and cries of joy my music. I had thought we could be together forever.

I learned the inherent cruelty of life from her.

When she married that worthless stallion my heart broke forever, leaving fragments cold and dark in its place. I had watched her from a distance, and I had seen her granted foals, a filly and a colt. The colt had been almost a copy of her, his colouring, his beauty, like it was cast from the same mold by an artist with a sense of the sublime. It had hurt to see him, and yet I had hungered. As he grew, I caught only glimpses and yet they were enough to arouse and terrify.

Then she had died, and a part of me rejoiced as well as grieved. The worthless stallion proved his worthlessness, selling his own children to the slavers to avoid slavery for himself as his debts threatened to end his freedom. It had availed him little, killed in a tavern brawl over a game of cards.

When I saw him for sale, I believed the Gods had granted me my one wish. I could have a part of her back, on my terms. Now his knowledge threatened to undo everything.

I had wanted more than just a slave. How could I reach into him and find that piece of what I lost when he must know that was what I sought?

"You would do well to stop asking questions slave. You ran from your mistress, something punishable by gelding at the very least. Your fate is solely mine to decide. You do not have the right to ask."

His eyes pleaded now, though he kept silent. Perhaps he could still be bent, even broken. The right lever to move this stallion presented itself to me.

"I will save your sister Tannak. I can be merciful, and she will make an excellent addition to my household. Do not thank me though, there is a price."

His eagerness was genuine and spontaneous.

"My Lady...Mistress...please, but please do this if you can, and I..." he choked on the emotions.

"Very well Tannak. In return though you will do something for me. I am your Mistress, and I can order you to do anything, any time. I can do anything I wish to you. I can control your body. Now I want to own your heart...your soul. Submit to me utterly Tannak, as your slave Mistress, but also as your only love. Give me everything, and I will save your sister, and not destroy you as you deserve."

His look was mesmerising, the thoughts playing across his eyes in ways I could read. How could he do this? His mother's lover, to worship willingly and not by compulsion. A slave can retain some sense of worth knowing what they do, they do because they have no choice. That place inside remains for them, safe from the picklocks of their owners.

He was being asked to open that one place of safety, and throw it open to his tormentor. As he struggled in his bonds I could see that he would do it. He had more than just Teltheria's body, he had the best parts of her soul too. That I had learned in the months since I had bought him, as I began to break him to my will. I hated him for it.

I knew he would pay the price. It was the only thing he had left.

As he nodded his head, eyes locked on mine, I felt the blood surge through my body, the fatigue falling away to be replaced by euphoria. His breaking would be my finest triumph, the highest satisfaction possible. A testament to my will.

I reached for him, nodding to the other stallions in the room to prepare. Planting a single kiss on his muzzle I felt him give in, our bodies touching as I delved into his muzzle, my tongue sparring with his. His response was so beautiful, the feel so like that of a lover, passion and desire mixed with care. I cupped his battered balls, gently touching them as my fingertips felt out the leathery skin of his scrotum, caressing and pleasuring. His genuine groan was my reward, and the feel of his magnificent cock sliding from its place in his damaged sheath.

I took his length in my paws and stroked, the feel of him thickening and hardening making my body burn and my sex pulse with need. Slick wetness began to fill me, the sense of heat and the scent filling me with anticipation. His cock reached its full extent, the heavy flare filling and throbbing in the air. He was almost ready.

All this time I could hear the other sounds, obvious in the echoing room. The sounds of aroused stallions stroking themselves, the precum making for a wet squelching noise as they worked their thickening shafts to my satisfaction. My other pets had been told what was expected. Their mistress' new favourite, source of jealousy, would be theirs.

I cupped his balls again, squeezing hard as he cried out, his ears flattening again just as they had begun to flick upright.

"Remember this day and my mercy Tannak. Your balls should be under the knife now if I were a less merciful Mistress. One long cut with the knife, right here."

I ran a fingertip between his swollen orbs, the soft skin feeling so beautiful to touch. He whimpered at my words.

"It would be slow, and painful. No quick cut for a runaway slave, the gelding would be slow agony as a warning to others. Before the end you would be begging me to finish you."

His eyes pleaded with me, fear filling them. I was reaching him somewhere deep inside.

I motioned to the first stallion, Callen, a huge black Clydesdale I had bought three years ago. His taming had been eventful, his body bent to my will reluctantly. The thrill of his final submission was still a memory that brought fire to my body. Now he would get the chance to unleash his desires on another.

I stood with body pressed against him, the feel of his blood soaking into my fur adding erotic charge to the embrace. Holding his head with his mane, I kissed him, my slave, my Tannak.

My paw reached for him again, his perfect cock. His whimper aroused me more as I roughly handled him, knowing he hated and yet desired it. Harsh fingertips rubbing over his shaft, then caressing his flare, so wide and shapely on the end of his cock. The slaver had forced him to display on the auction block, final humiliation for the slave, but it added an extra impetus to the bidding as the potential buyers got to see the perfection of his body mirrored in this, his stallionhood. For the beautiful virgin, still really a colt, it was a rough initiation into his new status.

I felt it now, my fingertips claiming possession again, the hardness so good to touch. Then I cupped his damaged balls once more and squeezed. He writhed and moaned, his cry lost in my muzzle as I enjoyed him straining against me, fingers lazily torturing his orbs.

I could see Callen now, his body pressed to the back of Tannak, his muzzle licking at the neck of the terrified bound stallion. A jerk from Tannak, his eyes flying wide as he felt his tail roughly pulled upwards, his mane yanked back keeping his head in place.

I had confirmed his virginity once I had him. His tiny pucker so tight and so vulnerable, his cries and pleas had been so satisfying when I first penetrated him with a strap-on, every thrust lancing into his soul. He was about to know a new pain though, and Callen was a cruel choice. The massive Clydesdale was massive everywhere, his cock one of my favourites when in a certain mood.

The brown eyed Clydesdale looked into my gaze, he knew better than to take liberties. Without breaking the disquieting kiss, poor Tannak trying to make some ineffectual protest around my muzzle, I winked at Callen, enjoying his satisfied smirk.

A terrified shaking scream came from Tannak, deep inside and crashing out around my kiss. I felt every shake, the power of his fight to avoid shameful violation. And I felt his failure, the pain and realisation that something was being taken from him, something he could never recover. The taste of his suffering was nectar, my tongue seeking out his own and revelling in his kiss.

I felt the power of Callen, through Tannak's bound body. The hard grunting power of his thrusts as he hilted deep in the virgin stallion, increasingly hard until with a final groan he was all the way in. I knew exactly how big that cock was, and the thought of it buried in that sweet little ass made my cunny weep. I fondled Tannak's cock, fighting its slight deflation in response to the pain, and stroked slowly, teasingly, making him suffer the knowledge that he was hard and leaking while having his virgin anus violated on my orders. He would know his place, or this would seem like a picnic.

Callen began to fuck harder, legs spread wide and his powerful thighs driving his thrusts as he punished my runaway slave with his cock. I loved watching Callen in full cry, and one of my favourite pleasures was ordering him to fuck one of the other slaves for my entertainment, while another pleasured me with his tongue. Or occasionally, when he became too cocky, I would force him to take it, shame and resentment written in every muscle. Yet he would do it, he was well trained. I had long since broken him.

My body caressed and teased, every nerve aflame as I felt the uncontrolled shaking in Tannak against my skin. His moans and cries were as beautiful as his body, a perfect accompaniment. I stroked, feeling his cock start to throb and jerk. A new cry came from him, surprise and shock. I knew what that meant, the long punishing thrusts from Callen were hitting his prostate, drawing fresh sensations from the slave's body.

His balls drew up, the fleshy orbs filling with need as he dealt with the unfamiliar sensations. I could hear Callen grunting with effort, his cock probably feeling new pressure from a clenching anus reacting to its first hard fuck. He was not to be granted such a boon, my slave. He would learn the price of defiance.

His body went rigid, the chains creaking as he reacted to the feel of hard paws crushing his balls, my fingertips digging in to the battered flesh. I broke the kiss, letting his head throw to the ceiling, mouth open in a silent scream and eyes staring wildly. It was a moment before anything came out, and when it did, it was a loud shattering whinny of torment.

I reached for his softening cock and rubbed the still thick tip on my clit, almost unable to stay standing as the pleasure seared through my body. His receding cries made my ears quiver as I used him for my pleasure, the thick ring of his flare feeling so good on my swollen nub.

I saw a look from Callen, part query part plea. He deserved a reward.

"Yes Callen."

The Clydesdale grinned in infinite pleasure, pleasure mine to allow. He threw himself into the last ride, fucking with manic power to bring himself to conclusion. None of my slaves were allowed to cum without my express permission. Ever.

His body writhed with the onset, his tail thrashing high and he let out a long nickering cry as he unleashed inside Tannak, burying his cock to the hilt and filling him with hot stallion cum. His muzzle shot down to Tannak's neck, biting hard in the throes of orgasm, the mating bite an added humiliation. My beautiful slave cried out at the feel, a single tear running down his cheek. He remained, head bowed, trying to hold together as Callen pulled out, softening cock still massive as it hung towards the ground dripping cum and blood from the punishing fuck.

With a toss of his mane and a slap on the well whipped ass, Callen stepped back to admire his conquest, still grinning cockily. He may need to be put back in his place soon.

The smell of cum filled the room, mixing with the scent of aroused stallions. My pets all had cocks hard and ready, precum drooling unheeded to the floor as they waited their turn. Who would be next?

I made my decision quickly. Nathar. He would be perfect.

Smiling at the tall bay coloured quarter horse, I beckoned him to join us. Nathar was a different horse to Callen, in body and nature. Tannak was to learn another lesson.

Nathar returned my smile, shyly and uncertainly where Callen would be arrogant. He stood behind my bound slave, letting his paws run gently over the tormented flesh, soothing and comforting. I had never managed to whip an essential goodness from Nathar.

That would not stop him doing what he was commanded however. He held on tight, his arms embracing Tannak to gently play with his nipples drawing unconscious sighs. A whimpering cry at being penetrated was still less than what Callen had wrought, Nathar's long thinner cock sliding into the already opened tailhole with ease before he began an easy fucking, long strokes testing the depths of Tannak's ass.

A beautiful bay muzzle sought out Tannak, licking across his neck and up to his ears, teasing with his tip as he built the pace of his fucking. Lewd slapping sounds now accompanied each thrust as his hips rammed into Tannak's behind, drawing gasps as the hard mass contacted the whip wounds on his muscled cheeks. I gripped Tnnak's cock, stroking it to full hardness again, bringing him to the edge and backing off, crushing his balls whenever he showed signs of near orgasm.

I moved in to hold him close again, loving him the way a mistress should love, my body against his, nipples to his chest, his cock rubbing against my folds as I kissed. I wrapped my arms around him too, drawing Nathar close as he reached out to hold me against Tannak, and soon we were pleasuring eachother through Tannak's bound body, every thrust from the quarter horse driving Tannak against me. I sought out his muzzle, and we kissed over Tannak's shoulder, passion and need driving a hard kiss as we both heard a long nickering sigh from the punished slave.

For long ages I loved Nathar, while the helpless Tannak was used, bystander and prop for our play, his body part of our sex and yet not. He would know what could be if he gave himself to me utterly, and what he could be denied.

Soon my stud begged permission and I agreed, pleased with his efforts. His cries increased until I felt his orgasm, his paws gripping me tighter as he filled Tannak with a week's worth of seed, thick ropes splashing deep in his bowels as he groaned between us. I swept Nathar's cute black forelock from his eyes and smiled at him as he blushed, his pleasure at my pleasure always so enjoyable. Then he pulled out, and I could hear soft drips hitting the floor as cum leaked from Tannak's tortured hole.

His night had only just begun.

My inflamed folds needed attention, and I knew how to enjoy the rest of Tannak's punishment while seeking my own satisfaction. Leaving his body, my eyes still holding his, I walked to a low couch on the wall facing him, and called for two stallions, Callen and Morell, a big grey shire stallion with immense stamina and control.

Morell knew what to do as I held Callen back, seating himself on the couch facing the trussed stallion, his mottled pink cock held upright for me. Turning to face Tannak myself, I straddled Morell's hips and lowered myself onto him, his thick cock parting my lips with satisfying thoroughness and making me moan uncontrollably as I rubbed up and down before finally settling into his lap, his cock buried but not deep, the flared head rubbing me in the perfect spot inside.

I reached down to cup his balls, the largest of my stallions, always feeling so good in my paws. I squeezed them teasingly, satisfied at his nickering whinny, then started to stroke his shaft below my pussy, then my lips, then finally my clit as he used his massive thigh muscles to slide me up and down his cock, only a few inches a time but perfect for my needs. The fire burned within, and it would break soon.

Looking at Callen, his cock hard again, still leaking and covered in the residues of his fuck, I beckoned him forward to kneel between my legs, enjoying his supressed anger at being made to kneel. I pulled his silken mane to me and drew his muzzle to my sex, and threw back my head in ecstasy as he went to work, tongue and lips pleasuring me. There is no feeling in the world like having two stallions working for your pleasure, one cock and one tongue in sync.

I enjoyed their efforts, my body building to my first deep orgasm as I looked at the wrecked remains of Tannak, hanging in his chains, his body and mind pained beyond his ability to take. He was looking at me, my pleasure, my body. His cock pulsed in the air, precum drooling from the tip, his expression a mix of so many emotions. Tears now coursed down his cheeks, and sweat had run across his coat, mixing with the blood to leave red streaks across his buff fur. As he gave a heaving sob, I came, screaming out my pleasure as waves surged through me, paws gripping Callen tight against me almost painfully.

My beautiful lost love. Oh Teltheria, what would I give to have you see this.

Pulling Callen off me, I rose and let Morell's thick cock slide free, now throbbing with anticipation. He was well warmed up now. Perfect to be the next to punish my slave.

So it went on, as I drew the next stallion to the couch, each taking his turn inside me until his cock and Callen's increasingly resentful tongue had brought me to another shattering climax, then taking his place inside Tannak. Each new violation brought a fresh cry, new moans and tears, until with a great whinny another load of sweet stallion cum flooded his abused ass. Through it all I watched him, and he watched me, his mistress, and his promised love. Perhaps he thought of his mother doing to me what Callen was now, her lips on my sex as we mated.

If not now he soon would, once I had his sister.

Finally it ended, the last of the six filling him. Ranfurlan was the most striking of my stallions, pure white with a golden mane, and tall and lean. He bit absently on Tannak's ears, enjoying the freedom to dominate and relish his own pleasure, as he fucked with amazing speed. His hips moved in a blur, the slapping sounds like a constant paean as he bucked into him, the thick pink shaft rubbing raw an already tormented pucker. Something about this last fast fucking finally broke Tannak completely as he sobbed and begged, his eyes blazing as he stared into mine.

"Please...I love you Mistress...please make it stop...please make it stop...please!"

His pathetic cries drove me to the hardest orgasm of the night, body consumed by fire as I heard Ranfurlan unleash his seed, the high whinny of triumph echoing in the chamber.

As my final stallion dismounted, licking Tannak's neck absently, I felt my body consumed by a deep sensual calm. It was enough for now.

Rising from the stallions taking their turn with me, I walked to my slave. I had something for him, left beside the couch for this moment.

I gripped his mane, raising his head to face me again, the pain in his eyes all I could see.

"You have been punished Tannak, but I am merciful for I love you. You will feel no more stallions inside you tonight."

His whimpering gratitude was so delicious, I could almost taste it and wished it had physical form so I could. His tears were another thing however, hot and tangy, as I licked them from his cheeks while he shook.

"As a sign of your disgrace however, I will give you a gift instead of the gelding you deserve. Here, I have had this fashioned just for you."

His eyes wandered barely seeing to what I had in my paw, an ingenious contraption of steel and leather. He stiffened in fear, not knowing yet fearing the worst.

"This will ensure you remain mine, and your body is mine to command. The cock cage and straps will make it impossible for you to become fully hard and cum while it remains on, a penance for your betrayal. I think a month may be sufficient...or longer."

His magnificent cock had softened now, though clear precum still oozed in a line to the floor. With rough care I fastened the cage over his stallionhood, the straps cutting into the base of his cock and the top of his scrotum.

Standing back to admire him, I circled him, drinking in the sight of his body marked with whip and cum at my whim. I had a last thought, a final touch and one to bring Callen back to heel.

"Callen, clean him."

The smirking Clydesdale jerked at my voice, understanding yet not wanting to.

"Mistress?"

"His ass, clean him for me."

Controlling his shame and anger with difficulty, Callen knelt behind Tannak, pulling his tail aside with an angry gesture. Leaning in, his eyes darting to mine as if hoping for a reprieve, he slowly brought his tongue to the pucker of the young stallion, now red and torn from his punishment.

Tannak's heartfelt cry exploded, as he felt a rough stallion tongue on him, lapping at his nethers, licking up the blood and cum from 6 hard fucks dripping from his damaged anus. Callen knew well enough not to shirk it, and so he did his job efficiently, tongue cleaning the raw taint and inside his thighs, every drop of cum licked away until there was only a slow drip from the ravished hole, still unable to close.

I dismissed them all with a nod. All but Nathar.

"Now take him to the baths and clean him, and tend his wounds Nathar. Then bring him to my bedchamber."

"Yes Mistress."

Nathar was perfect for the task, bringing Tannak back from the edge just enough for me to work on him again. His good nature had its uses.

Later as I reclined, the glow of triumph and satisfaction still heavy on my body, I heard the sound of shuffling hooves as Tannak was returned to me, the blood washed from his coat but whip wounds still visible under the fur. His cock cage looked perfectly fitted, his softened cock still extended inside the bars of the cage unable to withdraw into his sheath thanks to the cruel straps. He would be always on display, and always needy.

I drew him down to me, and he curled into a ball as I held him, gently stroking his mane.

"My love, never think I do not love you even though you are my slave. And I will repay your love with love."

"Yes...Lissa."

Once more a name from his sweet muzzle had thrown me into panic.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"My mother...she never mentioned you by your name Mistress, but she once talked about one she loved and lost, she called her Lissa. Just before she died, she wanted me to know while she could. I didn't know it had been you until I ran away."

I froze, my heart wanting to beat through my chest as a cold hand gripped and pressed.

"She told me she had not wanted to marry my father, but her father had insisted and she had to obey. But all the time with him she loved Lissa, and still loved her at the end. She kept hoping she would come and save her, take her away from him, but she never did. She told me always to follow my heart, whatever I did, or I would always regret it."

My paw went to my chest, the feeling of dread growing.

"She was holding a gold necklace when she died, a gift from Lissa."

"Describe it!" I wanted to believe and not to believe.

"A triple chain in gold, like a braided mane, with a strand of real mane woven into it. Black mane, like yours."

I barely recognised the sound, and it took some time before I could make sense of it. Crying. And it was me, as I held my pretty slave, fragment of my lost love. A love who was never truly lost, had I only known.

"I will love you Mistress, love you like she did if I can, if you save my sister. If not, you can geld me, whip me, torture me or kill me but you will have nothing but my body. Ever."

As he huddled in a ball, crying softly in my arms, I held him, still stroking his mane, remembering another mane like this, one woven into an identical necklace to the one he had described, buried deep in a drawer in my dressing rooms.

Dazed I rose from the bed, leaving him there, eyes unfocussed yet awake, and trotted to find it. It took some time, it had been so long since I had seen it. Finally, opening another box with increasingly desperate paws, I drew it out, rubbing the surface on my skin. The mane was still there, still the beautiful golden colour I remembered, the same gold as his.

With a snarl I picked up a priceless vase from the dresser and hurled it at the mirror, the shattering impact the only satisfying thing for me in that moment.

I had set out to break him, and yet it was I who was broken. The irony would have been enjoyable, were it not for the pain.

"Nakkam!"

I yelled for my secretary, emotions calmed for the moment. There was a lot to be done swiftly if I was to claim Jaslin from the Tauren slavers, and not a moment to lose.