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He thrashed in the chains, his hair coming loose from the ribbon and hanging down over his chest. "Milady," he gasped out between blows. She did not answer him. "Milady please stop. Ah!" His eyes were shut tight and he sucked his breath through his teeth as he tried to keep speaking. "Milady, please!" "He means nothing to me," she said to the rest of us, the motion of her arm continuing. "He is but a spoil of war, like a good horse. A fine possession which I will use, or misuse, as is my privilege." His chest heaved with pain, and also I could see, anger. I suddenly wondered what their safeword was. He opened his eyes again and I looked away. Was she drawing blood? "Come on Glin," I said. "Let us see the rest of your prize." She stepped back, smiling. He hung limp for a moment, resting, while she stripped the leggings down to his ankles.