Lyra shuddered when Bryn noticed the wandering eyes of the men. Watching him backhand Taskill she hoped the sprite would be all right and felt her teeth sink into her lower lip slightly when her captor's eyes turned to her. She'd done nothing, said nothing, but he was swooping toward her and felt the bottom dropping out of her stomach. Watching him come near she remained where she was, a look of anticipation and trepidation both, flowing through her eyes.<br/><br/>Coming toward her she could see that hurting the men had gotten him hard and felt her mouth go dry. He wasn't a bad looking man at all and there was a small part of her that even found him attractive...it just tended to get buried under the fact that she was terrified of anyone who could keep her trapped as he did. Seeing him reach for her she stepped away from the wall, not using it to shield any part of herself from him and, unlike the men, she never let her eyes leave him.<br/><br/>She had to fight to keep from trembling when he actually touched her, half fear, half arousal in spite of the fear, but as one hand moved to her leg she lifted it for him, letting it caress along the length of his own, the action making her robe part around it so flesh caressed flesh and she was precariously perched for him. If he had been a lover and not a Captor she'd have wrapped the leg around his hip, but she did nothing that would imply she could hold him to her.<br/><br/>Unlike the others her eventual goal was for him to trust her. Trust her enough to slip up and so she didn't fight him but gave over to him.<br/><br/>When his face loomed over hers she didn't kiss him but tipped her head, nuzzling her cheek to his like a submissive wolf seeking approval from it's Alpha. She acknowledged in a very primal way his dominance over her...even if she didn't like it. Shifting slightly, for better balance, she let one hand slide down his chest, her touch a light caress, teasing his flesh as her fingertips slid lower until they wrapped, gently, around the hard press of his cock. Her hands were soft, her touch smooth but sure as she stroked him with that delicate touch.<br/><br/>Lifting her eyes she met his, though her own remained half lowered and her voice came in a soft, almost meek, murmur, "What would please my Master this night?"