Part 2: The Monthly Cycle

Prologue

You don't know what it is about this woman, but she always makes you nervous. Not the normal kind of 'meeting with your boss' nervous either. Something about her just makes your insides feel quivery, like they were trying to rebel from the meeting and run out of the room on their own.

A small breakfast had been presented for this meeting, which caused you even more dismay. Your nerves had put your stomach into a state where even looking at food made you feel ill.

You did the polite thing though, accepting a small cup of tea and a pair of plain shortbread cookies. Just enough not to be insulting at the hospitality, but not enough to cause an embarrassing scene in her office.

At least that's what you hoped.

You sipped your tea as carefully as you could, concentrating on keeping your hand steady. You really didn't want to give away the state of your mind to her or, at least, not make it so obvious that she had to comment on it.

"Since you performed so well on your first assignment." Signaling that the morning's pleasantries were over. "I have decided to see if you can handle something slightly more intense."

You nodded slightly, "I think that would be fine. I'm sure I can survive it."

She raised an eyebrow slightly, in mock surprise. "I would not speak so fast if I were in your shoes. Even the assignment I am about to give you is relatively tame compared to what I could be giving you."

"Of course." Was all you could reply to her minor chastising.

Her hands reached to the side of her desk and picked up a small wooden box that you failed to notice previously. She placed the box down on the desk, directly in front of you.

"If you find this one so uninteresting," She added, with a challenging spark to her voice. "Perhaps we should move you up to an Ivory class customer for your next assignment."

The Monthly Cycle

"Is it that time already?"

Mary Riordan nodded in reply, a bit sadly.

The Elvish woman smiled reassuringly. "These things happen." She leaned to the side, opened a drawer in her desk and took out large leather bound book. She placed it on her desk as her fingers felt along the top of it. She found the red silk place holder and opened the book.

She looked up at Mary again, "Three nights then? The usual accommodations?" Mary nodded again.

"Good, good." The mistress replied, her fingers finding a charcoal pencil and writing Mary's name in on the first empty line. "And I assume I should arrange for the usual visitor?"

Mary swallowed and nodded, "Yes please."

"Very well then." The Elvish woman closed the ledger as she turned to look out the window. "Room 241, but there is a few hours yet. Give me an hour to have the room made up properly for you."

Mary nodded again and started to stand up. In a rare show of emotion, the mistress smiled again, "You should not worry so much. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Everything will be fine."

Mary smiled weakly, "Thank you." She thought for a moment. "I think... I think I'll go get something to eat while the room is... well, is..."

The mistress just nodded, "Take your time."

Mary picked up her bag from the floor and walked out of the office. She wandered in her own thoughts as she walked. She didn't really like this place, but she still felt lucky to be able to come here. Many others like her were not so lucky and always came to miserable ends. The lucky ones were dead long before the madness gripped them. The unlucky ones, well, they left a trail of broken bodies and lives behind them like ripples following a boat.

She shook her head slightly, trying to cast the dark thoughts aside. She decided she'd treat herself to a good meal. She felt she deserved at least that much.

Hardly anyone even noticed her as she walked through the hallways and she just kept her eyes on the ground. Glancing up only occasionally to make sure she didn't walk into anything or anyone. She didn't like looking at the people here. Most of them were half dressed most of the time and she had no desire to see that.

She wondered what they were thinking as they pranced around like this. It all just seemed so... dirty and embarrassing. She couldn't fathom what made them all feel comfortable to be like this. The familarness they all seemed to have, the ease at which they moved around and dealt with each other, it all seemed alien to her.

She pushed her spectacles back up her face, before they slipped off the tip of her nose; during the entire movement she still kept her eyes on the ground.

She really did not want anyone here to recognize her either. The last thing she wished to happen was for someone on the streets outside to stop her and talk to her about this place. But then she figured the likelihood of that happened were slim to nil. None of them recognized her as being part of this world. To them she was just background noise. Maybe a librarian or a bookkeeper for the place. No one for them to pay much mind to.

She slipped silently into the dining room and easily found an empty table. It was still a bit early for the evening's meal, so the room was agreeably quiet. She had only sat for a moment before the waitress was quick to attend to her needs.

Mary kept the conversation short and simple. She listened to what was on the evening menu. Ordered and left it at that. She wasn't rude, but she didn't follow up on any of the waitress's attempts to make small talk. The small talk was really only intended to make her feel comfortable. And she didn't think that would be possible.

Mary stepped in her room and looked around slowly. It was much as she expected. Bare stone walls, no windows, and only one doors in addition to the one she entered from. All the furniture had been removed and a jumbled pile of hay lay on the floor in one corner of the room.

She closed the door behind her and then opened the other door. A plain washroom, just as she expected. She stepped into the room and placed her bag on the counter. She looked herself in the mirror for a moment, absently fixing a few stray locks of crimson hair that had slipped out of her braid. She took a deep breath and resigned herself to the fact that this was the way it had to be.

Mary started to undress slowly, removing her cloak and hanging it on the hook mounted on the wall of the restroom. She then delicately unbuttoned her white cotton blouse, slipping it from her shoulders and carefully folding it before placing it on the counter next to her bag. She removed her dress next, slipping it down her legs, then carefully folding it as well, placing it on top of her blouse. She sat down to unlace her boots, slipping them off her feet and placing them to the side, in an orderly fashion.

She remained sitting as she rolled her stockings down her legs, first the right leg, then the left leg. Then rolled them together and placed them with the rest of her clothes. She reached for the long ponytail that hung from the back of her head and slid the hair band off the end. This she tucked into her bag before running her fingers through her hair to untwine the braid her hair was in.

She stood up again now, making it a point to keep her back to the mirror. She never wanted to look at herself like this. She loosened the corset binding her breasts and slipped it off. She tucked this out of sight in her bag then took a moment to rub the deep red indentations in her skin the edges of the corset had left. With another deep breath, she slipped her panties down her legs and quickly pushed it into her bag as well.

She removed her spectacles from her face and carefully folded them closed. She placed them onto a safe spot on the counter, and then turned to walk back into the other room. The stone floor was cold under her feet and she just tried to pay attention to nothing but that. She hated walking around naked like this, exposed, even if it was in the privacy of her own room. Feeling the pebbles and grit under her feet gave her something else to think about.

She sat down on the pile of hay and started to feel around it. It wasn't very comfortable, in fact, every where it touched her just made her feel itchy and uncomfortable. Finally her hands found what they were looking for.

She fished it up from under the hay and it made dull metallic sounds as it banged on itself. The chain, here it one of them were, the manacle hanging from one end. The other end imbedded securely in the stone of the room. With meticulous attention, she slipped one of her wrists into the manacle and snapped it closed. She tugged on it once, then twice and, to her satisfaction, it didn't budge an inch.

She continued this procedure three more times, until the other manacles entrapped both her wrists and her ankles. Mary sat back on the hay and tried to relax. There was nothing more to do but wait. Wait until it was all over.

Mary opened her eyes with a bolt. She was awake instantly. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing up. Something wasn't right. She could tell.

She stretched very slowly, quietly. So that no sneaky eyes would see her. Her skin rippled over her muscles and her spine popped silently, each joint in rapid succession. The room was dark, but that didn't bother her. She narrowed her eyes slowly, but saw nothing. No movement, not a single thing. She wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air. There were many scents, straw, mildew, and sweat of all sorts. All of the sweat seemed stale, old, nothing to be concerned with.

She took a tentative step forward, but something pulled at her leg, keeping her from moving. She shook her leg now, trying to throw off whatever it was. She heard the metallic jingle that came from it and she realized immediately what it was.

She quickly shook her other leg and pulled her arms at the same time, only to find they were in a similar state as well. She let out a low growl of annoyance now and started to strain against the bindings. She could feel the metal cutting into her skin, but the metal head firm.

It was the chains! The damn chains! She hated these things! They kept her here! Kept her from running! Kept her from being free!

"Iron!" She screamed out in disgust, straining her arms even harder against the chains. "Again! Why did she put me here?!"

Her words gave way to a loud howl of pain and disgust. It was a threat, meant to be carried far on the wind. She wanted her to hear it. She wanted her to know that one day she'd find her and she'd make her pay for doing this to her again.

Her howl was cut short at the sound of someone at the door. She slinked back slightly, trying not to be seen, but the door opened and the figure looked directly at her. He carried a torch in his hand; the brightness of the fire hurt her eyes, making her squint against it.

"Ah, you're awake." The figure said in a male voice. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep straight through the night."

The outline of the figure was humanoid, but large. She couldn't make out any details while her eyes slowly adjusted, but his scent seemed familiar. She recognized it from somewhere. She burrowed through her mind, trying to associate the smell with a memory.

He placed the torch in a wall holder near the door, and then turned to look at her again. He recognized her immediately, he knew her well. After all, they'd been doing this for months now. The wolf girl, as he thought of her, was a wild spirit, always needing his attention. Sometimes he managed to break her over the course of their short encounters, other times she remained sternly resolute to him. It was a challenge, one he truly enjoyed.

"Bastard!" She screamed out at him as his smell finally connected to a memory. "I'll rip your throat out! I'll gnaw on your bones!"

He smiled in response to this, "My, aren't we just all full of zeal this evening?"

She growled in response, holding her place and staring at him. She hated him! He was the one that held her here! It was all his fault! But mingled with the hate was something else. Lust. She wanted him. And she could smell that he wanted her too.

He placed his bag down on the floor, then turned and locked the door.

Her growl grew into a roar. How dare he turn his back on her! She went to leap at him, to sink into him and show him the folly of his ways. The chains held her firm; they didn't even allow her to flex forward, much less leap at him. Her roar grew in intensity, mustered on by her frustration.

He turned to look at her again, "Now now... You don't want me to have to put the muzzle on you again, do you?"

Her growl softened into a rumble in the pit of her belly. She remembered the muzzle. She hated that thing more than she hated the chains.

He smiled at her reaction, "Good." Then took two steps towards her, dropping down to his haunches to look her eye to eye. He didn't know anything about her, beyond what went on in this small room. He didn't know what she was like when she wasn't like this, half wolf, half woman. To be truthful, he didn't care to know any more about her, he was happy with her just this way.

She met his gaze and held it. Her eyes unflinching, her spirit unwavering. She stared back at him, never even blinking. But he just held his stare and she could feel the urge in the back of her head. It was small at first, just a nagging, wanting her to look away, but it grew. Once it started to grow, it grew faster and faster until it couldn't be resisted. She turned her head away in disgust, breaking the eye contact.

He chuckled in reply which only infuriated her. Only one thought flashed through her mind, that she'd make the bastard pay for laughing at her.

She lashed out at him instinctively, flexing her fingers as she swung out at him. Her fingernails extended slightly and bit through his shirt and into his flesh, raking across his chest.

His face betrayed nothing. He just smiled at her, unfazed by her lashing out at him. But his body betrayed his pain. She saw his chest cringe back from her nails and it was almost satisfying.

He didn't give her much time to revel in it though. His large hand reaching out and grabbing her head by her jaw. Forcing her to look him in the eye again. "Are you done?"

Her lips curled in a snarl and she flexed her arm to lash out at him again, but this time his free hand grabbed her wrist. Both of his hand squeezed, just enough to hurt, making her squeal in pain. "I said... Are you done?"

She fought against the pain and spat in his face. Causing him only to chuckle again. He released his hands from her and stood up. "I see we're going to have a very enjoyable time."

He had the audacity to turn his back on her again, walking back to his bag as he took the remains of his shirt off. He used the tattered cloth to wipe the saliva from his face then dropped the shirt in a crumpled ball. He bent over his bag and dug around it for a moment, fishing something out and then turning to face her again.

She stared at him defiantly, smugly. She saw the five welts across his chest, tinged with dark blood. She had drawn first blood and there was nothing he could do to change that now, but he didn't seem to care. Then she saw what he was holding in his hand.

He held the muzzle up where she could see it. It was dark leather and would fit snugly across her face, buckling behind her head. Once it was on, she knew she couldn't get it off until he took it off her.