<span style="color: #FFBFBF">As Trinity sang his song to charm Sygrin, she felt him slipping away.  As she absorbed his rage it was quickly replaced by powerful strength that was too much for her to bare.  She began to panic as it became clear he would not fall to her mind control as any of her previous victims had, yet she felt he was becoming something more to her than another forced sex slave.  She did still want him in that way when she saw his muscles and intensity but also in so many other ways when she saw his pain and emotions.  She dreaded what horrors lurked in Sygrins mind, she wanted to relieve him of all those burdens, but she couldn’t grasp his mind, she couldn’t control him.<br/><br/>And she didn’t have to.  As his mind drifted away behind a shield of blurred memories and horrid flashbacks, he moved closer to her physically.  He lifted her tiny frame like the lifeless broken rag doll she was.  Was he doing the things she begged him to do or just aiming to do something much worse?  If she was to die this way, it would be a blessing.  Just feeling his warmth, his arms around her, brought her peace in a lifetime of pain and suffering.<br/><br/>Unable to read his mind, she had to assume he was going to kill her like so many prisoners had tried and failed to do.  Who wouldn’t want to kill someone who could control and then forcibly mate with them?  This would be much better than what the master would do to her now that she failed her function.  <br/><br/>Then he spoke, he promised to protect her.  And when Sygrins claws reached for her neck, blissful death never came, only a different kind of relief.  She gasped as her throat finally opened up enough to breath in deeply.  He had ripped her collar off!<br/><br/>No sooner could Trinity breath out when Silverion bolts struck Sygren.  She winced as she watched the massive wolvine pull the bolts out of himself and throw them at her captors.  She had never seen anyone do that before.  She had never seen any prisoner who was so strong or fast... or accurate… or scary!  He was a monster indeed but he was also her monster now.  Even though he had just murdered and started a revolt that she knew would only be returned with both of their slow painful deaths, she felt safe with him.<br/><br/>As he began to fight, she tried to get up but couldn’t.  She had to fix her stomach if she was going to stay with him, maybe she could even help him.  Trinity held her breath and clenched her fangs as she carefully pulled the open gash in her belly closed.  Once the edges of her bloody ripped skin collided, they merged and her healing factor kicked in to seal the wound.  She lay on her back and closed her eyes as she felt the weak new skin forming along the seal.  Sygrin had given her this gift of time to fix it, and he had given her information that was even more valuable.<br/><br/>She realized this as she turned her head to stare at the broken collar on the ground.  They had told her it would kill her if she failed, but Sygrin had torn it off as easily as the pain maker had torn open her stomach.  Could this tool of oppression and pain really be ripped so easily this whole time?  Being raised in captivity, Trinity could not even contemplate what this meant, but a whole new emotion began to fester inside of her as she looked up to watch Sygrin fight for her, it was hope.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, that hope faded as soon as it sprouted.  The shackles tightened, and she was pulled away.  She dug her claws into the cement floor until they bled and she tried to beat her weak malnourished wings against the air but it was useless.  The chains easily pulled her through the hidden door and straight back into her cubby in the wall that was her cell.  Back in the darkness, the only place where Trinity could truly be alone, she let out a hateful sob.  She was so wrapped up in fantasy of comfort, death, and even hope, that she had failed to seduce and mate with the target prisoner.  Now Trinity knew her punishment was going to be bad, really bad.  This was the first time she had failed.<br/><br/>As expected, the bottom of her cell opened up and she fell into another chamber, the torture pit.  She had spent most of her life in here, working with Pain Maker.  He always told her she was his favorite patient, because she could heal almost any injury instantly and he wouldn’t have to wait to try something new.  Trial and terror, as he called it.<br/><br/>But this time he was not giggling when he stepped out of the shadow, belly first as usual, then the gleam of his bladed whips as they rained down on her, wrapping around her body and dragging her across the floor to corner where various sized hooks hung from the ceiling and her blood had left permanent stains the floor and walls from years of splatter.  He was usually excited and talkative as he used the hooks as pulleys to slowly lift her up by the bladed net of whips that wrapped around her, but this time he was quiet.  The blades cut deeper into her all over until they held Trinity up to his eye level.  She was used to this pain, it was his expression that terrified her.  He was not excited to hurt her this time, he was angry, upset with her.  What he could do when he was angry terrified Trinity to the core.  She began to truly panic as he slowly pulled one of her wings out through the blades that held her up, they never liked her wings!  They didn’t need them...  She knew what Pain Maker was going to do.  The thin layer of webbing between the joints of the wing shredded as it squeezed out of the blades.  He pulled it to its full wingspan about five feet long, then inserted a hanging hook into the tip of it to keep her from pulling it back in.<br/><br/>As his chainsaw revved up, Trinity began to cry.  As it began to cut at the base of the wing near her back, Trinity began to scream and struggle, only making the blades dig deeper all around.  She shrieked louder than she ever had, the high pitch deafening her own ears as Pain maker slowly cut through the hard flesh, the veins, the bone.  Her wing was cut off.  Like a waterfall, blood flowed from the mangled stub protruding from her back.  The severed wing swung from its hook beside her.  Trinity never stopped screaming as her torturer began to slowly pull out the next wing.  Her high pitched shrieks turned into repetitions of one word, a name.  “SYGRINNN!”  “SYGRIIIIIIIIINNNNN!”  “SYYYGRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNN!!”</span>