The wheels turned, and turned again, ropes and leather creaking as Brom turned the gears, and the machine drew her out, until her shoulders and upper back were lifted slightly, forcing the joints to take her weight, the drawing pressure. Unaware of how he was trying to listen, striking a delicate balance, she squirmed, and then whimpered aloud without shame as she was pulled tight, wrists and elbows and shoulders all growing hot with the strain, a muscle in her side twinging with the threat of tearing, and still her ankle was injured - perhaps the worst pain of all, there, the already-weakened joint distracting the sensation of the rest of her limbs being ready to be torn from her like that on a roast goose.<br/><br/>Only her head could she move freely, and it fell back upon the boards before she felt his touch, first on a breast heaving with frightened breaths, and then upon a sensitive inner thigh, his fingers making a circle of warmth there - and she lifted her head, glancing down there, and then looking up at him with a pleading grown. "There, m'lord? But... you... what good is a brand, if none can see?"