Her eyes were locked to the spectacle before her, comrades and civilians paraded like cattle awaiting slaughter. At the sight of it, any flames still remaining had extinguished like a candle snuffed as despair welled up within her. Aryel was not easily frightened, at least when it came to her own welfare, but for one who had it in their very nature to guard and shepherd, to see her charges captured while she herself sat helpless and beaten was torture in its own right. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she was aware of Rysalt beside her, still keeping his grip on her horn, while his free hand strayed downwards. Revulsion stirred in her gut to mix with her dread as he touched himself, evidently enjoying the scene before them far more than was necessary. She had more pressing things to worry about than his perversion, however. At his command, a family was brought forward to be skewered before her very eyes, the sight wrenching up another wordless cry of grief from her, echoed among the others awaiting death.<br/><br/>When she looked up to Rysalt again, the hatred in her eyes had not waned, but now it was overshadowed by unhidden, unabashed terror. A battle between warriors was one thing, a massacre of disarmed and defenseless civilians was another. She wanted to leap upon him, to bludgeon that smug face until it was nothing but red paste and broken teeth. She wanted to incinerate him from the inside out, to make him suffer tenfold for every life he had ever taken. But her body was no longer obeying her commands. It had been pushed to its limit and over the edge, and now it was all she could do to remain consciousness in the face of waves of agony that came with every breath she took. She could only wince, her eyes downcast, as he displayed his conquest for them all to see, flaunting her bruised and battered nudity before them. She saw their shock, their dismay, but she also saw their more physical reactions. Had she had any spirit left in her at the moment, she might have been offended, but she was being economical with her remaining fury, saving it all for the man who had done this.<br/><br/>At his command, the survivors looked among themselves nervously. A few acquiesced, lowering their heads in deference. Others, mostly soldiers, stood strong and proud yet. Aryel flinched as Rysalt leaned in to rub salt in the wound, forcing her to see how they looked at her. She either wouldn't, or couldn't respond, but when another man lost his head, her guts twisted. He lapped at her ear, giving her an ultimatum, and for a moment, some of her lost fury seemed to rekindle as she looked up at him, loathing and disgust clear on her face. While fiercely loyal to those who earned it, Aryel was an independent creature by nature. To her, there was a world of difference between voluntary service and surrendering her free will, what he demanded was something she would have sooner died that consider.<br/><br/>But it wasn't just<i>her</i>life on the line.<br/><br/>She had already been prepared to give her life to save them. Servitude may as well have been one and the same as death in her eyes. He threw her to the ground, and as she sat up again, something warred in her gaze for a moment. Ferocious, selfish pride, and her deep-rooted insecurities about her own humanity. A demon would have fought to the end, heedless of the collateral damage. Would martyrdom be a more<i>mortal</i>course of action, then? "...How do I know you'll keep your word?" Her tone was quiet, words meant only for him. In any other context, it might have almost been<i>intimate.</i><br/><br/>Whatever answer he gave, she knew she really had no choice. They could die for certain, or they could seize the few embers of hope offered. The fire died in her eyes as she sighed, face drawn in a pain that was now far more psychological than physical, and shifted to face him, her face level with his crotch as she knelt on the dusty ground. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached up to unlace his trousers, keeping her gaze locked to the task at hand, desperately trying to avoid looking at her followers as she surrendered.<br/><br/>Rysalt seemed eager already, and unease momentarily crossed her expression as his cock was revealed, already semi-erect and leaking precum. He was....big. Aryel hesitated a moment before she leaned forward with hooded eyes, pressing her lips to the swollen head while her hands trailed across his shaft. It took her another heartbeat to steel herself, then she parted her lips and let his manhood slide into her mouth, stifling a gut-churning twinge of revulsion. Too weary to be overly tense, she worked her way downwards, lips wrapped around his circumference, tongue pressed against the bottom of his cock. Her hands strayed from the base of his manhood down to the broad span of his thighs, bracing herself as she worked. His taste and scent were both strong, almost immediately setting her head spinning--or that could have been all the blunt force trauma. She took as much as she could, almost hilting, before she hit her limit and pulled back again, leaving his cock glistening wetly as it emerged again. Aryel leaned away until only the head remained within her mouth, then pushed forward once more to go as deep as before, gradually settling into the repetitive motions of the act. They were all watching, she knew, and her face burned with shame, but she forced herself to continue.