Big city

When Paige finally regained consciousness, she found herself chained up to a bed. Just that it wasn't just any bed. She could tell from the smell that it belonged to none other than Chance. Also, the fancy decorations spoke for themselves. And there were all those red embroidered pillows and blanket.

She'd been stripped naked. Alright, then she must have been seriously passed out.
She hurt. There was a strong smell of her own blood in the air, even a bit nauseating, and covering up some of the other stenches. But there was one above all of them.

She'd lost. She'd fought and lost it all. No longer the best. No longer the princess. Princesses didn't lose battles, and she had. All those people had seen her fight and fail miserably. Most likely they'd also witnessed Chance dragging her out. Shame boiled in her. They'd seen her lose. She'd lost. And now she would lose again. Did it even matter? Not as if anything much worse could happen.

Now she knew why those she defeated had never complained much – and it wasn't only that she didn't leave them much time for raising complaints. Death was honest, death on arena had honour in it, but this... this mercy the Old Devil had shown her... It was far worse than any death, however painful.
Oh yes. There was pain, a lot of it. Just that it didn't matter. Nothing did. She felt so very empty, her mind drifting. She wished to close her eyes and cease existing. But the thought was silly, since wishes didn't just come true out of a blue.

Nonetheless, she tried to free her arms and legs, but found that the restraints held firm and tight. Chance had kept her inhuman strength in mind and by the look of it, he'd been planning this for quite some time. There were shackles around her wrists, binding her to the bed posts – yeah, it sure did look like in some low category porn movie, but she wasn't surprised. Chance was just the man to watch that kind of shit and get off on it. There was another pair of shackles around her ankles, and third set pulling her knees apart. She lie on her back like an offering. Yeah, to the god of rape. She wondered if it mattered. Her body was battered and bruised, warm blood dripping from countless wounds, but the greatest injury had been done to her mind. She knew it, but it did not lessen the fact.

She had just began to wonder where Chance was when the man entered, still fully clothed, though with a bulging showing through his tight jeans and fiddling something between his fingers that looked like a gag.
She snarled.
“So, you have come to rape me, Chance...”
The man smirked. “Not necessarily. You could always be willing.”
Paige pulled at her restraints. “Willing? Then what are these for if you think I could be willing?”
Chance shrugged. “Simple precautions. In case you would forget about our little bet, which you lost, which I won, leaving me entitled to a beautiful night full of hot passionate sex with you. Oh, princess, I've dreamed about this so long.”
Paige bared her teeth. “So I notice. What a man you must be, to chain a woman up in order to make out with her... Real heartbreaker.”
Chance grinned. “You know what, Paige – it really ain't your heart I am aiming here. I ain't no romantic fool.”
“No shit,” Paige muttered.
“But I have dreamed of you, Paige. I've longed to have you and now I will. Just that I had to break you to get you. I don't mind. You're even hotter like this, with all the cuts and bruises. And the chains really suit you...”
Paige didn't say anything. She closed her eyes. A hand touched her face and pulled her jaw downwards. She didn't put up much of a struggle when Chance gagged her. She merely wondered, why. She wasn't going to cry for help. Did he really expect her to? There was no one to call out for. Sure, some of Chance's employees might have been compassionate, but they wouldn't have interfered into their boss's business. No, not even Hiram. And even if someone would have come... it was her fight, but one she'd already lost, too. She'd accepted that bet, so certain of her imminent victory. And she'd been so very wrong. She mused briefly about where the werewolf could be, and what he'd be doing right now. Perhaps taking a nice shower, washing off the dirt and their mingled blood. He'd had the strangest oldest eyes she'd ever seen.

Chance's hand slid over her breasts and bare belly, stopped for a moment upon her pubic hair and then dived between her spread legs. Her muscles tensed. Chance laughed.

“Not a chance, princess. I know what these chains are worth. They'll keep you here alright. You know, just in case it'll take time to make you like it. But you should know better. I can be one hell of a lover, and you... I wouldn't really be surprised if you were a virgin, sweetheart. Actually, I am quite sure you are – yet. You smell like one. Nope, I ain't a werewolf, but my nose is keen in these matters. The better. You will be awfully tight, both your cunt and your ass. You see, Paige, I'll have them both tonight. At first, I'm gonna tame your pussy, and then I'm gonna pull my boner out, all covered with my seed and your juices, and slam it up your arse, right to the bottom. I wouldn't mind having it up in your mouth, too, but you see – I don't really trust you, yet, so we'll have to save that for future. But we'll get there, don't you worry.”

He sounded victorious and invincible. Well, he was. He had the woman of his dreams right here, all spread up prettily, with the moist bush, flushed, pointy nipples. He bit down into the left one and felt her body tense, pelvis arching upwards. He had the urge to remove her gag just to hear her moan, but... he got a hold of himself. It would be better to keep her silent. Just in case. One had to be cautious when dealing with werewolves. They were pretty unpredictable, after all.

Instead, he found pleasure in sucking and biting her nipples. He mused he should have bought clamps, too, but... oh well, he could do it some other time. Like – next time. Yeah. Clamps. A pair for her tits and another for her pussy lips. That would be neat. He'd enjoy tormenting her, for all those times she'd given him that cocky little smile which announced that in Paige's eyes, Chance wasn't worth a cat's piss.

Only when he licked over her cheek did he notice her eyes. They were opened, yet inanimate. There was no life in them, the damnable woman was staring into nowhere, and her body was rigid, too. No flush on her cheeks, and her cunt was dry, too. He checked and double checked. She didn't even try and move away from his prying fingers.

He slapped her.
She smiled. Oh, at least that was a reaction, though a very curious one. Why would she smile?

“Oh, so you like it rough, maybe,” he smiled, too, and viciously. “We can play it that way, too.”
He slapped and pinched her breasts. They made a nice thudding sound and felt so warm under his hand. He felt like doing it over and over again.

“Take that, bitch.” She was his. His princess, his bitch, both at the same time. If Chance would have been capable to love anyone but himself, perchance he would have loved her. However, since he wasn't, he simply and carnally desired her, albeit very powerfully.

He stroked his cock, rubbing it against her thigh. He was so hard it hurt, and the sight of her, the smell drew him closer. Yet he found time to tease her a little bit more.

He slid a hand over his boner.
“Just look at that, Paige. Pretty and big, isn't it? So very hard, just for you. What do you think, how will it feel having all this inside you, up that tight virgin pussy... So very tight, I'm sure, so you'll feel the whole of me. Doesn't it just make you wet, to think you could have it?”

There was no reaction, just an almost rigid body which didn't move more than he made it move. What the fuck was this woman about? Was she frigid? Naah, hardly. Just hard to arouse, probably. He let his hand slid between her thighs and play with the mound of black hair. Thick and full. Mostly Chance preferred shaved pussies, but in her case, the hair – the fur – turned him on. It spoke of her wildness and animosity.

Paige hissed around the gag and her breast heaved now. It was very, very hard to keep her composure when something... something like this was being done to her, and by this most despicable man. Her body wished to struggle against the restraints, even when she tried to keep her mind still. But something... something was too alive in her, and it battled against the doors of her self control.

Chance growled in frustration. She wasn't even wet there. He pushed two fingers roughly inside her.
Paige's body arched upwards. It wasn't so much about pain – she'd had thousands of times worse, even now with all the wounds, but he was touching her there. Her... That part of her was something which belonged only to her, it was private, it wasn't like her fists or feet or even breasts. It was... private. And now this man was poking around there, hurting her, humiliating her... Bile rose in her throat and she struggled.

The man grinned. “Oh, so you're not so very ignorant after all? Like that?” Even his fingers could hardly fit in, but it still hurt and Paige struggled, again.
Chance laughed.
“Anxious, are we? So am I, my dear, so am I. Well then, let's not keep you waiting, princess. I am all set and ready, you see?”
He rubbed his cock against the inside of her thigh.
Paige growled. The shackles burned her wrists and ankles as she tried to pull at them.
Chance took his fingers away, but the feeling was still there, all that tingling dark pain. She felt... dirty. If he was done with her, would she be black, would she be dead?
Chance gripped her thighs, hard enough to leave bruises atop of older ones and positioned himself, a very big and hard rod now poking her most soft and already irritated parts.

“Such a cute little virgin, aren't you,” he whispered and licked over her nipple. Her body was already covered with sweat and now it jerked. He tried to push into her, but couldn't get in. He grunted and tried again, with no other success than hurting her.

“Relax, bitch,” Chance demanded, to no avail, of course. Paige only struggled more. It was no longer about what she thought or felt. It was the she-wolf in chains and struggling to break free. It was the wolf wronged and violated, and even if Paige could take it, the beast could not.

Chance pulled her outer lips apart with trembling fingers. Nails grazed Paige and the wolf roared. And there was that rod of iron and flesh, being pushed into some place where it would not fit and where she did not want it.
It hurt, and it was a very different kind of pain, one that drove her wolf wild. The chains cracked, but Chance was oblivious and too much into his own activity to hear those little sounds. His panting was louder as he tried to break his way in, feeling as if her bones were fighting against him.

He was angry, and dug nails deep into her hips.
“I AM gonna take you, you bloody bitch,” he vowed. “I'll fuck you, whether you want it or not. You WILL be mine!” He thrust again and this time deeper, breaking past something.
Paige's body burst forward in pain and berserk, all restraints breaking. Chance had his cock half way inside her, still, when her teeth found his throat and tore into it. Blood gushed into Paige's mouth and she savoured it, but then she ripped again, until the despicable rod inside her turned soft and limp.

Chance Manning was dead.
She-wolf shook him off and the dead body landed on the floor with a loud thump. This was what snapped her partially out of the frenzy. She was covered with blood, shackles still around her wrists and feet, but all the chains broken and when she pulled now, the rest of the metal gave away, too. She had killed him. He had almost raped her – she was sure he had, and she had killed him. Now she would be killed, oh yes, they would take her and slay her for killing a respectable citizen, because Chance was such, because he was pure blood human, and even if he raped and whored, he still had all the rights whereas Paige had just lost her final – the right to live.

She panicked. And her mind shut down again, this time not in bestial frenzy, but a sheer childlike terror and helplessness. She didn't know what to do, where to go, no, there was no place to go, no she couldn't go back to daddy, because Orville couldn't protect her. But for this moment here, she wished she could be daddy's little girl again and find refuge in his arms. They'd been so warm and kind, he'd loved his little girl so much.

And then, all of a sudden, there were hands around her, and she jerked and attacked, digging teeth deep into the flesh she found and clawing at it.
Whoever it was, he let her carry on with it, soundlessly. After a little while, though, she heard a voice which almost rang familiar. It said:

“When you are done, let me know.” A dark, murky, rather bored voice. It was something so totally random, that she let go of her prey indeed. Dark greyish brown eyes locked into hers.
“Very good,” he said. “Now, there is the shower. Go and wash yourself. Get dressed. And then we leave.”

Wait wait wait, just hold on, what the hell was this man saying, and why... how... why was the Old Devil here, of all the people, how and why was he here, saying... what the hell was he saying to her? Leaving?
He could smell her confusion.

“There is no time,” Woland said, in a bit bored tone as if he'd have to explain something really obvious to a little stubborn child. “You killed him, and you must escape, or they will kill you. I will help you escape. But you will have to do as I say. Do you understand?”

His arms were still around her. The smell was strong, yet fresh and clean. His hair were moist, and fur on his body as well. Paige could trace the soft lingering scent of soap. So, he'd been under a shower. She snickered.

He gripped her shoulders firmly and shook her a little, claws digging into her flesh, however, the touch was not disgusting as Chance's had been. He made her look at him, look him into the eye, and how very ancient those eyes were, how very weird.

“Snap out of it,” Woland ordered. “Now. Unless you want to die. Do you want to die?”
She shook her head, tears in the corners of her eyes. She'd never wept, not since she was a kid, and now she did. She felt so helpless.
She heard the man sigh. Then she was simply picked up. And again, the touch was not disgusting. Her body seemed to trust this man, the one who'd almost ripped her into shreds. Still, being held like this felt... soothing. Safe. She wished to close her eyes and sleep, to have no care over her fate. She was so tired of being strong and alone, forever alone.

Woland locked the door and then carried her to the bathroom. She was already naked, and now he removed his own clothing. Her mouth opened and eyes looked at him in surprise, but then he turned the water running and when it hit them both, he began to scrub the dirt and blood off her. She was just a tiny thing in his hands and against his body. Paige shivered, and she still cried. When his hand touched her most private parts, she froze for a second, but fell limp again. There was nothing sexual in that touch, and nothing violent. Woland washed her as one would wash their child. Maybe she was. Maybe she was his child. He was taking care of her, wasn't he?

He took the shower down and let cool water run over her irritated skin. It felt so good that now she was crying because he was being kind to her. No one hadn't, not after she'd left the Dandelion pack.
The man sighed again. Well, more like grunted, but anyway...

“Try to get a hold of yourself,” Woland muttered. “You'll have to.”
She didn't respond, merely clang to him, seeking protection like a little pup.
“Very well then,” he grunted, turning off the water and holding her steadily on her feet. “Where are your clothes?”
“In my room,” she whispered.
“And where is that? Can we go there?”
“Far,” she murmured. “Very...far.”
He nodded. “Fine. Then you'll wear some of his clothes.” He walked her back to the bedroom and seated her into an armchair. Then he rummaged through Chance's closet, browsing different clothes.
He returned with a straight jacket, pair of jeans and T-shirt. He tossed them into quivering lap.
“Get dressed.”
She didn't move.
He knelt before her and gripped her chin, once again forcing her to look into his eyes.
“Get dressed... Paige Blake. Now.” It was a very quiet very stern order, one she could not resist. So she rose and pulled the jeans on, thus covering her most vulnerable parts. It still hurt down there, but the water had done her much good, wiping off the blood and most of Chance's despicable scent, too. Then she slipped into the shirt, breasts aching and heavy against the cotton, nipples erect from the coldness of water. Woland aided her to put the jacket on, since her mind was close to wondering off again. She just wished to shut down, all of her. But he wouldn't let her and deep inside, she must have been thankful. She did not want to die. Not on the arena, not in Chance's bed, and not anywhere. All beasts wanted to live, this was the most primal struggle of every being.

“And now we go.” He took her by the hand and lead her outside. The room with a much messed up and bloody bed, with a savaged corpse on the floor remained behind. The door fell shut and it opened something in Paige. Without being forced to do it, she looked at Woland.

“Thank you,” she breathed as he lead her through the corridors up towards the exits. He didn't even nod, but she could feel him press her hand for a moment. And then they were on quick pace again. Some noticed them, but they were too fast for any questions. Hiram called out her name, but she had no will or time to respond, since he pulled and dragged her to keep in pace with him.
Where are we going, she longed to ask, but she wasn't sure if she'd really want to know the answer, so she didn't. She merely quickened her pace, so that she wouldn't look ridiculous in his tow.
And then they were out of the house in the cold morning and she didn't look back. She only knew that she would never come back here. This part of her life was over. Paige Sheppard was gone, she'd died on the arena and in Chance's bed, all of her washed down by the cold water.
She was Paige Blake again, until she would be someone else. Someone new. As long as she lived, she could be.