As soon as the soldiers left, the man pulled her chin up to look at him. She was taken aback by his intense gaze.
"I suppose you're wondering why you're here," the voice said.
Gwendolyn looked up into the eyes of her captor. He was tall and muscular, his features sharp and chiseled. His dark hair was pulled back, and his eyes glinted with cruelty.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"You're here because I want you," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.
Gwendolyn's pulse quickened, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn't understand what he meant, but his words made her shudder with fear.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked, his tone demanding.
Gwendolyn shook her head, afraid to speak.
The man grinned. "I'm Lord Zoltar of Saebeorht. And I own you."
He ran a finger across her jawline, his touch sending shivers of fear through her body.
"You'll do as I say, when I say it," he commanded.
Gwendolyn nodded despite a knot of fear tightening in her stomach.
"I'll treat you well if you obey me," he promised. "But if you disobey me, I'll make you wish you were dead."
His words echoed through the room, filling the air with a sense of danger that hung over them like a looming storm, waiting to unleash its fury.
"Do you understand?" he asked, his gaze locking on hers.
"Y-yes," Gwendolyn stuttered, her voice trembling.
Lord Zoltar smirked, a wicked expression spreading across his handsome face.
"Good. Now, strip," he commanded, his eyes flashing with urgency.
Gwendolyn hesitated, feeling lost and overwhelmed. Panic surged within her as she realized she had no other option but to obey, even though she didn't want to. Her hands trembled as she fought back tears as she felt a rush of embarrassment and terror. Her heart thumped in her chest, leaving her feeling vulnerable and helpless.
Lord Zoltar frowned, his voice dropping to a menacing tone. "If you don't obey me, I'll torture you even more. And your life will be like hell."
He reached for her arm, gripping it tightly. Gwendolyn tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron, and she couldn't escape.
"Do you understand?" he repeated, his fingers digging into her skin.
She nodded, swallowing her fear and dread. "Yes."
This was the first time in her life as a young lady of Breckenridge that she had to endure such torment and humiliation. She thought of her past life, filled with dignity and respect, now shattered. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt utterly powerless and exposed.
As she slowly began to undress, the words of her father echoed in her mind: "Never let anyone break your spirit, Gwendolyn." But in that moment, she felt her spirit bending under the weight of despair.
With trembling hands, she started to undress. She couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she shed her clothing, leaving herself completely exposed to him.
After she had taken off all her clothes, Lord Zoltar gave her a fierce look as his eyes searched her naked body.
Terrified, she was painfully aware that she was not only exposed to Lord Zoltar but also under the scrutiny of all the guards. Their eyes bore into her, adding more humiliation. She felt their leering gazes taking in every detail, her dignity stripped away along with her clothing. The weight of their stares made her skin crawl, each moment dragging on as she stood in the center of the room, completely vulnerable.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "You will make an excellent candidate for my plans."
Gwendolyn choked back a cry as she struggled to control the wave of feelings that was about to wash over her. Imagining all the terrible things that may happen to her next, her mind was racing, and she was terrified. She felt more exposed and afraid than ever because of her overwhelming dread of the unknown.
Lord Zoltar gestured to one of his servants, who stepped forward with a nod. She carried a robe and helped Gwendolyn put it on.
Now dressed in sackcloth, Gwendolyn looked completely like a real slave. The rough fabric scratched against her skin, reminding her harsh new reality.
"Please," she begged, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll do anything. Just don't hurt me."
He laughed, his voice echoing in the empty room.
"Begging won't help you now, slave. But perhaps obedience will," he said with mockery.
She knew that he was enjoying seeing her so helpless, so vulnerable. He was enjoying her fear and pain.
His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped to a growl.
"You're mine, now. I will break you. I will use you and destroy you."
She trembled, unable to tear her gaze away from his face.
"Do you understand?" he asked.
She nodded, her mind numb with terror.
"Say it."
"I-I'm yours," she stammered.
He smirked, his eyes full of malice. "Good. Then I can begin your training."
He snapped his fingers, and a guard brought forward a strange-looking device. It was a collar made of metal, and it had a strange mechanism attached to it.
"Put it on," he ordered.
With trembling hands, she did as she was told, placing the cold metal around her neck. It locked into place with a click, and she could feel the weight of it resting on her skin.
"This is a slave collar," Lord Zoltar explained, his voice filled with cruelty. "It will make sure you obey me. If you try to escape or disobey me, it will shock you."
Gwendolyn shuddered, fear pulsing through her body.
"I can increase the intensity of the shocks as well. So, don't even think of trying to escape."
She nodded, her throat tight.
"You must obey me. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Good. Then we can begin your training soon."
With an evil grin, he reached out and grasped her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.
"Come with me," he ordered, dragging her along.
"Where are we going?" she asked, stumbling after him.
"To the dungeons," he replied, his voice full of menace. "You'll be staying there until I decide what to do with you."
The thought of being trapped in the dark, damp dungeons made her shiver with fear. She doubted if she could survive such a place. The cold, wet air and the eerie silence filled her with dread, and she felt her hope slipping away. She couldn't help but think about the horrible things that might happen to her there.