Enwrapt in the humiliation of her taste, she could just see out of the corner of her eye as Owen stalked from the hall, and while she yearned to cry out to him it was rather a relief - even moreso after Brom and the lady ceased their low whispering and his boot shifted from torturing her unwilling sex to shoving her bodily out toward the middle of the room. Her hand skittered across the damp stone, and then she crawled, wondering what he meant.<br/><br/>The answer came quickly apparent as the space around her was soon filled by a slow circle of hounds, and her head lifted to watch them with dawning, horrified realization. First the horse, then being made to act like a pet for the Baron, and now this. She let out a low moan of protest that was likely to be lost beneath the cheering, and she looked back over her shoulder at the Baronet, prepared to plead for leniency.<br/><br/>Until, that is, she saw the expression upon his face, and of the woman beside him, and she recalled her conversation with the girl in the kitchen. Mercy was something not even to be hoped for. So her head dropped again, tears welling up in her eyes as she tried to screw up her courage against the revulsion in her stomach.<br/><br/>Then one hand lifted from the stone, lifting hesitantly toward one of the nearest, less hungry-looking of the sleek animals. "Good dog...." she quavered.