Araña ignored his question, instead turning on the ball of her foot with a swish of black silk, then walking to the corner of her bedchambers. There, laying closed upon an iron podium was an ancient tome of spells and potion recipes. She unclasped the rusted lock holding the sinister leather cover shut, then opened it.<br/><br/>The withered, faded parchment wheezed as they revealed their secrets. Each page, scrawled in various hand-writings of countless other sorceresses before her were the ingredients and incantations of hundreds, if not thousands of dark spells. Araña carefully turned each page by the corner with her black fingernails. Human oil would smudge and damage the writing if one was careless, and the book already displayed many such injuries. A phantom line of pain flashed across her buttocks as she remembered bearing the wrath of her mistress's cane for marring a single word in her youth.<br/><br/>After several minutes of patient searching, the book displayed what she sought. The name of the potion she desired had an old, nearly unpronounceable name, but a hastily scrawled note in the margin made the loose translation 'The Widow's Bridle.' It was a concoction to mesmerize and subdue any person who consumed it, turning them malleable to bend and control.<br/><br/>The ingredients were simple enough: nightshade, milk thistle, hornet wax, and devilfish scales, to name some of the more common items in her stores. But there was one ingredient among the many that acted as a catalyst to the whole concoction: the seed of the one you wished to control.<br/><br/>Araña's smile broadened further as she scanned the list one final time, memorizing the ingredients and other notes she needed, then shut and latched the book. She turned once again to her captive prey, who had long since stopped actively struggling, then glided back to him, body moving with a natural sway and haunt. The tome's notes had mentioned some interesting and erotic passages; she knew she was going to enjoy this victory even more.<br/><br/>"I have many things planned for you, milord," she finally revealed cryptically, then worked her fingers beneath the pauldrons he wore, finding the securing buckles and releasing them. It wasn't the first time she had to break the shell of a man, though watching her servants do it was far more violent and entertaining. "You may think that you will not enjoy it, but I assure you, you<em>will</em>"<br/><br/>The pauldrons fell to the ground with a heavy clank, where she brushed them away with her foot. Slowly, she began to undo the clasps on his breastplate.