She promised the count a spanking did she not?

Uten continues to march the ‘prince’ along down a wooden hallway. The floors, and walls appear to be covered in a layer of dust, which makes Levan believe this building has been abandoned for some time. Still being pulled along by his hair by this bandit elf character Uten is currently in the role in the count passes by a window. Reflectively he tries to jerk himself away from it, as he notices rays of sun light pouring in from the outside. Feeling him yank away from her Uten turns around back to the count, and delivers a smack to his face. Witnessing this Skara gasps a little in shock. Watching as the ‘prince’ stumbles down floor caught off guard by the pure force behind that slap.

“Perhaps you were right Kara, perhaps we should have bound up this royal pup, he seems to be getting rowdy.” Uten says shooting a grin to ‘Kara’ as she presses her boot on the ‘prince’s’ stomach.

The count stifles a snicker despite the stinging hand print on the side of his face. Really Kara isn’t the most creative of names Uten could’ve come up with for Skara, but he supposes it will do as good as any other name for the half Orc.

“Huh princey mutt, should I trestle you up like live stock?” Uten glares down at the ‘prince’ pressing her foot down painfully on his tummy.

The ‘prince’ squirms under Uten’s weight no doubt she’s mad about him trying to jerk away from her. Though probably more so in particular WHY he tried to jerk away from her. The count thought it a little unfair of Uten though after all he is a vampire he had spent his whole undead life trying to avoid the sun, can he help it if some of that learned instinct momentarily over ruled his human role in this dream?

“Nghh no I’m sorry please stop.” The ‘prince’ begs for mercy, and the count shoots Uten a subtle look of apology for breaking character.

“Enough stop your groveling, and just learn to obey.” Uten spits as she roughly grabs the ‘prince’ by the hair again, and pulls him to his feet.

Now upright again, Uten continues to drag the ‘Prince’ along down the hallway. Once at the end Levan finds himself being led though what looks like the main area of a run down tavern. The place like the hallway looks long since abandoned with the run counter collapsed in on its self, as well as multiple smashed chairs, and tables littering the room. The blanket of dust ever where signals that this place to has been abandoned for quite some time now.

Continuing onward Levan find him self being led to what seems to be the front door. Kicking it open with a big boot Uten then drags the ‘Prince’ on outside into the sun light. Levan finds himself breathless for a few seconds as he’s pulled out into the morning light. His body shivers as he feels the sunlight dancing across his skin. Oh gods how long has it been since he’s felt the soft kiss of the sun?

For many other vampires it’s the last time they were human, but thanks to Utens powers of dream manipulation it’s only been a few months since she’d had him experienced mother morning’s gift to the world. A few month too many of you are to ask the count, as despite the immortality, and abilities one is granted from vampirism, lacking ability to feel the sun every day with out it searing your flesh is a true curse.

Even with the under ground cave in which his lair resides able to recreate the sky from above, it pales in comparison to the real thing. The only thing that has ever came close to him re-experiencing his days in the sun true sun was from Uten’s dream manipulation. Even still a voice in his head aways told of him that he knew the sun in his sleep wasn’t real. So the count still fantasizes about the day he may truly feel the warmth of daylight once more.

“Get moving pup!”

Though perhaps the only dream the count should be focusing on is the one he currently taking place. As with a shove from Uten the count’s mind returns to his current predicament, more specifically his surroundings. As looking around he sees that the bandits stay appears to be in a thick forests, the only sign of civilization seeming to be a neglected dirt path that runs down the way past the entrance. As well this seemingly abandoned wooden structure does indeed seem to be a former tavern as a few feet away Levan can see a lopsided sign that reads, The Jester’s Ale House in faded bright red lettering. Seeing the sign makes Levan wonder if Uten has planned out a whole back story for this tavern in this dream world. Who is the former owner, why was it abandoned. With Uten’s usual attention to detail in these dimensions of slumber she probably has, meticulous thinking up an entire detailed history on how the place was even constructed. The count shook his head, some times the fae really did amaze him, that creative might of her’s a really wonder.

“And finally we’ve reached our destination.” Uten then announces.

Looking around Levan is slightly confused as it seems their destination is just the back of tavern. Nothing really seems to be worth a trip to the count that is until he sees it. To any one else it would be an mundane and, unassuming thing. In Levan’s situation, or his character situation at least that which is mundane turns to something malicious. Standing before him erected into the dirt grass is is a tall wood pole. The pole is about as thick as Levan’s body, and a couple feet taller then him as well. Long wooden pegs at different heights near the top of the pole stand outwards at a slight upwards tilt. The wooden structure is a drying rack, a object used to hang ones clothing out into the sun to dry. What makes it ominous to the ‘prince’ however is what shouldn’t be their though, as on each of the pegs is a length of knotted rope which hangs down from each of them. Due to this fact it’s clear that the normally innocent laundry rack is more then likely being used as pillory. A object that is used to restrain a criminal for a beating.

The count can predict where Uten is taking this, she did promise to spank him in front of Skara after all. Staying true to the role though the count responds to the sight before him with confusion, and nativity.

“W-What’s that for?” The ‘prince’ stutters backing away from the pole like it was some terrifying beast that was about to jump out and, attack him.

Uten then laughs in a lower sister tone. Her elf eyes emitting a such a predatory aura one would think she has was looking to devour the ‘prince’. A situation not many vampires are on the receiving end of. Before the ‘prince’ can retreat back any further, Uten then grips his wrist, and pulls him into a head lock.

“That my ‘league’ is a makeshift pillory surely you must have seen one, no doubt form your lordly castle, probably seen some poor sap servant whipped raw on it for daring to make eye contact with you for to long.” Uten speaks the word league with as much sarcasm as the venom in her voice.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Skara watching on, there is a tense look in her eye, and she seems like she might almost object to the ‘prince’s’ treatment. Yet she doesn’t, she only watches on in silence not wanting to upset her sister in crime by complaining on your behalf. The half-orc shoving her own desires, at even the hint that she might upset Uten. An action, or rather inaction that Levan finds unfortunate. Not due to him wanting to saved from his fate, but because Skara didn’t affirm her displeasure with the situation. Even with been given a background that doesn’t involve her as a slave Skara nature of discarding her own desires seems to be forged into her very soul. This frustrates the count, him cursing the slavers who that made the poor half Orc girl this way.

He then quickly relaxes again reminding himself that it will take time for the mental manipulation that the Orc girl experienced to be undone. The count resolves himself to temper his patience, he must not be over eager. Instead focusing on helping Skara to find her independence rather then focus on actually seeing any results this early on. So the count turns his attention back to the scene at hand.

“Y-you can really be considering putting m-me up there?” The ‘prince’ chokes on his words with fear as he continues to try to back away form the pillary.

Only able to take a few steps back is he able to before the elf Uten then grabs him by the arm, twisting his elbow behind his back she shoves him forward till his face is pressed against the rough wood.

“NO NO, you can’t do this to me I won’t let you!” The ‘prince’ yells trying to struggle out of the elf’s hold.

It’s impossible though as Uten has seen to it that Levan’s princely body is a lot weaker then her brigade body. The strength of her built up from years of rough living and crime, make the pampered ‘prince’ severely outmatched in a contest of physicality.

“Kara be a dear, please make sure our little royal heir is all rustled up safe and sound for his time on the pillory.” Uten grins wickedly at the ‘prince’, before putting on a sweet smile to talk to Skara.

“Eep yes Utan!” Skara squeaks surprised to be suddenly called to get directly involved in the action, as she has only been in the role of timid a witness so far.

Again you almost snicker upon hear Uten’s name in this dream world she has picked for herself. Utan... gods pray this fae never is given the task of name anything that requires even a drop of creativity in the future. Skara then quickly dashes over to you, wanting to make sure her idleness doesn’t result in you slipping from her Elf comrades grasp, she quickly starts on binding your ankles to the pole, with some rope at the base of the pillory.

“My- you- don’t do this my father will have your heads for this if you harm me!” The ‘prince’ throws out a desperate threat, the panic starting to rise with in him as he feels the rough rope wrap around his left ankle.

The ‘prince’ tries to dance around the foot that Skara is trying to tie up in pitiful attempt to keep himself from being bound.

“STOP MOVING BRAT!” ‘Utan’ roars as she delivers a hard smack to the ‘prince’s’ ass with her free hand.

The shock from the pain on his butt makes the ‘prince’ stiffen up and hold still, in which that time Skara is able to loop around, and tie off the rope around both of his ankles. The count stifles himself as this happens him tempted to let slip a little moan, as he was very much enjoying the feeling of being made bound, and helpless. He’s sure that many other people wouldn’t understand it, but with the amount of power he had both physical, and by his sect it sometimes felt good to let it all go.

To not be able to wield all that power, and for a little bit not feel the pressure that comes with it. After all the count was some one good of heart despite his vampiric affliction. His desire to try to do good, by not only his sect but the world often left him tired. So to have all that responsibility that comes with power taken form him it’s a real treat. To not always have to have his mind racing with how he should navigate what ever problem he or someone who relies on him needs. It feels so good to submit to some one else’s power, to their will. To finally rest his head and not be in charge of even his own fate for a while, I was a joy the count was sure not many would understand.

Of course the prince character he is playing current didn’t share his opinion, and count gave the correct reaction that one such of the prince would give in his situation.

“P-Please don’t-don’t do this I beg of you, please!” The ‘prince’ begs, seeing that his threats has no effect he starts to panic, the only thing left he can think of doing is to appeal to the outlaws sense of mercy.

Skara hesitates hearing the ‘prince’ beg, but only for just a second as the worry of letting the ‘prince’ escape, and by proxy upsetting her bandit big sister makes her quickly get back to tying up the rest of the rope. Taking hold of the ‘prince’ wrist which ‘Utan’ isn’t currently twisting behind his back, she forces it up to the top of the pole with little resistance from the royal boy, mostly because he fear’s being hurt by ‘Utan’ again. Grabbing the rope hanging from the top of the pole, she then ties the wrist of the ‘prince’ which ‘Kara’ currently isn’t holding.

Then ‘Utan’ helpfully holds up the ‘prince’s’ other arm, and ‘Kara’ quick secures that one up as well. Now completely bound, ‘Utan’ then let’s go of the prince him now unable to get away or free himself. However the binds of his hands and, wrist have about a foot a slack. Way to much freedom for percussion punishment on the pillory. ‘Utan’ can’t have the condemned squirming around after every strike now can she now? This problem gets rectified quickly though as all four or the rope ends connect into a knot another part on the other side of the pole. Quickly dashing to the other side ‘Kara’ pulls and tugs at the knot this forcing each of the rope ends around the ‘princes’s’ wrist to tightness. Even as Levan tries to resist, his arms and legs are then pulled all the way taunt around the pole. His arms and, legs wrapped around it with his stomach pushed flat again the pillory.

“There we go perfect.” ‘Utan’ rubs her chin as she admires the sight of the bratty prince, and naked and bound for a punishment.

“P-please let, I-I do anything you want, I can I can convince my father to give you anything, anything at all! ” The ‘prince’, begs, the noble youth practicality in hysterics now.

“The only thing I want right now is to turn that ass of yours into a nice shade of red, Kara be a dear please, and go cut me a nice long thin stick please.” ‘ Utan’ speaks with a wicked sadism to the ‘prince’ only to turn on dime, and talk to her half-Orc comrade in the sweetest tone.

“Ah right s-sis I’ll be right back.” ‘Kara’ gives a little respectful bow of the head to Utan before then scurries off into the woods to find a suitable stick.

This leaves both the count and, Utan alone together. Levan finds himself biting his lip as he takes a moment to feel the corse rope holding him in place. He feels his dick twitch, with excitement as simultaneously a calm also comes over him. He hangs limp in his bondage for just a second, letting him self beheld up right by only the loops around his wrists. His feet tangle across the ground, as slumps down not even keeping his feet flat to hold himself up.

Like a straw doll in the wind all he can so is float. The count right now feels completely liberated. Paradoxical as it is, being completely powerless, completely subdued, made him feel free the most. There is nothing he can do, there is no choice Levan can make, no reason to worry as no matter his fate he can do nothing to alter it. It’s also so arousing to feel. To have the path forward left completely to something else, for him to have no say in what ever is coming next, that unpredictable is so tantalizing. That sense of inevitably when they decide his fate, it’s reassure, something to look forward to.

“Dispairing already are we your ‘lordship’, well go on ahead, it’s not like being hopeful will stay the sting of the lash.”

Uten speaks the fae not giving the count to much time out of his role. Her elf bandit interrupting his out of character limp hanging as the ‘prince’ wallowing in sorrow.

“Why-why are you doing this to me what did I ever do to you?” The count asks, playing into the act of resigned hopelessness he talks as the ‘prince’ with a detectable dreariness in his voice.

“Well besides the fact that I can’t stand the fact that royal brats like you live in luxury while the rest of us common men, I also dislike the fact that your father has refused to pay us a ransom yet, which means your only use to me is as entreatment.” ‘Utan’ purrs as she leers at the ‘prince’s’ noble tush, fantasizing about how she’s going to tan his hide.

“How can you be so cruel...” Levan let’s tears well up in his eyes, the feeling of helplessness like this taking him back to days of his youth.

To a time of being a young lad, just like the prince he is playing was. Back to when he could allow himself to cry freely, and let those negative emotions out, instead of holding it all in. Putting in a brave face for his sect no matter what he truly felt about whatever situation they were in.

Then surprisingly the count feels a hand gently stroke his hair.

“Come on lad there’s no reason for tears least not yet, honestly your lucky, many other brigands would give you a much harsher treatment then what I have in store for you, they would very much rip the flesh off a soft noble boy like you with out a second thought.” ‘Utan’ says wiping the tears away from the ‘prince’s’ face with a strange tenderness, even as she speaks with annoyance towards the ‘prince’ for him not allowing her the privilege of making him cry.

“D-don’t try to act like you’re my friend.” The ‘prince’ says in bitterness as he squeezes his eyes shut, and tries move away from his captors hands.

“Heh that’s it’s brat get angry, don’t despair show me some fight, I love it when they still have some fight!” The bandit exclaims with a grin glad that her prey isn’t just going to roll over for her right away.

The truth of the exchange the pair is however with Uten, and the count, rather then ‘Utan’, and the ‘prince’. The underlying message to the words a subtle encouragement form Uten to Levan. To let the count know that he can let out all his frustration, his fury, his angry. He didn’t have to be calm, and collected like normal. He can rage, he can explode, he allow his negative emotions to boil over. An that’s what he did.

“Damn you, y-you’ll pay for this I swear it, you won’t get away with this!” The ‘prince’ rages at the bandit standing snuggly behind him, his bound hands clenching into furious fists.

Just then there is the rustling of bushes, and Skara pops out from the under brush, her returning with a freshly cut switch in hand.

“H-here I got what you wanted.” ‘Kara’ says sheepishly as she holds out the stick to Utan.

“Thank you, Kara.” ‘Utan’ replies walking over to the half Orc and taking the switch.

Looking back the ‘prince’s’ eye’s go wide as he sees the instrument of his impending punishment. It’s a light birch wood branch, it about four feet in length, and only just as thick then Levan’s pointer finger. ‘Kara’ seems to have also whittled down the stick with her knife some what as there isn’t any bark on the switch, and it lacks any sort of bumps or indents.

‘Utan’ runs her eyes along the length of switch, inspecting it like it was some fine weapon just crafted by a master black smith. Slashing it back, and forth the piece of wood makes an audible swish as ‘Utan’ swipes it through the air. She makes a agreeable smile in response to this, the makeshift very easy to handle. Bending it between her hands she also finds the switch is quite flexible, which is good for quickly whipping back, and forth. It’s slight bend making it very easy to effortlessly generate a lot of force behind ‘Utan’s’ flicks or the cane.

“Nice work ‘Kara’, this will do very nicely.”
“Uten” nods at the switch as she gives it a few more practice swings.

“Ahh I’m glad it’s to your liking sis...” Skara says tugging awkwardly at the leather armor, and animals pelts she wore with a conflicted look on her face.

Even in a dream sees still has that quirk of pulling at her clothes when anxious. While glad that her companion in crime is pleased with her performance, she finds her self uncomfortable every time her eyes wander over to the ‘ prince’s’ helplessly tied to the pillory like a piece of meat.

“Now...”

Levan’s heart starts to beat faster as sees ‘ Utan’ approaching. His ears prickling with ever crunch of the grass she makes, as she sees walks. Both excitement, and fear swirl around Levan’s soul in a unholy embrace as he anticipates his impending doom.

“...Let’s enjoy the show the young “prince” is about to give us.” ‘Utan’ wets her lips with her tongue as takes a stance on the left side of Levan.

He clenched his fists again, wiggling around, and pulling against his bonds once more as he feels ‘Utan’ tap the switch against his bare bottom to line up a strike.

“Please-please, don’t...” He begs softly one last time, the character of ‘prince’ holding out for mercy, while the count eagerly awaits the strike.