"You should not waste your energy, my dear. You will want to conserve your strength for enjoying the festivities of the night," he mocked as he proceeded to pinch her nipple. He cruelly increased the pressure of his grasping fingers as pain flashed in her eyes.
"No!"
That scream merely brought laughter from the male audience surrounding her.
Another figure in black emerged from the group and addressed the audience. The air of command was unmistakable in his stance. Light reflected off his blonde hair and the ring on his hand, swallowed eventually by the black robes that swirled around him.
“Our brothers, as you have probably heard, our latest member and the master celebrant have arranged a surprise for our celebration this Midsummer’s Eve,” he announced amid cheers from the audience.
"However, this surprise necessitates some special rules.” Looking at each of the leaders, he continued in deliberate, harsh tones that brooked no argument. “This lady is the reserve of the leadership of our brotherhood and the member whose guest she is. No one, not even the leadership, is allowed to leave bruises on her in any way."
He held up his hand as murmurs swept through the crowd, halting the rising dissent that had the sneering figure starting forward in protest.
"You do not wish to challenge me, do you, master celebrant?" The menace in his voice and manner warded off further protest from the brown-haired figure with the ugly sneer. Sulking, the master celebrant backed off with obvious reluctance.
Hope rose in Marguerite's heart as she pleaded with the blonde leader who was inexplicably familiar. "Please, please, cease this and release us, we will never mention this to anyone."
The blonde man visibly winced as he cast his eyes upon Marguerite and glanced round the audience. In a soft voice laced with regret that reached only her ears, he crushed the last flickers of hope in her breast. "I am sorry, my dear, making you the reserve is the best I can do. There is nothing I can do to completely deny the brotherhood its enjoyment of the Midsummer feast."
As Marguerite's eyes went flat with despair, he sought to increase what little comfort he could throw her way.
"I will not be part of it, but I cannot say the same for the rest of the leaders or," he flicked a scornful glance in William's direction, "indeed, your friend who has brought you and your companions as sacrifice on this day."
Marguerite turned her head away in fear and despair.
The clink of cups brought her attention back to the scene. The sneering figure was raising a toast, "Drink up my brothers, for our annual feast shall begin." Marguerite raised her head and stared in horror as the men swallowed drams of powder mixed into their cups of mead. Only the blonde leader abstained. The smell of male arousal rose and was overwhelming as the front of their robes tented with obvious animal desire.
Despite her determination not to allow visible signs of her fear to appear in front of the audience, the blonde leader saw the slight trembling that had began in her limbs. Taking pity on her, he brought a cup to her lips. "Drink this, it will help. A sedative has been added and it will help with the pain. You do not want to be fully conscious for what is to come."
Although she turned her head away from the cup, the man held her nose and forced half the liquid down her throat. The glint that played off the ring caught her attention, but the numbing effect of the drink and drug took effect even as she tried to recall where she had seen the ring.
A terrifying scream tore through the air as the blonde leader turned away from Marguerite. Her head whipped round as a scene of terror unfolded before her eyes.
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