It had been almost two hours since the scouts had arrived and the man shrouded in black had appeared. She was giddy with pleasure as she proudly looked at her catch. She slowly walked around him, tracing the lines of his muscles. He flinched at her touch; this excited her more. He had looked so handsome in his uniform, so powerful, so full of hope and duty, now hanging in shackles he looked like no better than a bunch of rotting vegetables hanging in Wilfred’s cool room.
She stood on tiptoes and kissed the scout’s lips, letting her hand move down his chest. It was sticky with blood, with sweat. Leaning against his chest she listened for his heartbeat, it was still strong, if not a little fast. She let her nails scratch down his strong arms, perfect for a deep embrace.
‘Are you having fun?’ He turned his head from her; but she gripped his jaw and drew his gaze to hers. ‘Do I not please you? Am I not worthy of your gaze?
The man started to speak, but a mouthful of blood gurgled forth spraying her face. She smiled and licked the blood from the corner of her mouth.
‘You are the most worthy of all, Majesty,’ he whispered. Had she been in his position she would have spat in her face. Why were people so weak?
She unhooked the chains that held the scout and he fell to the floor with a thud. She moved toward him, and caressed his face. Her touch was almost tender as she removed the shackles.
‘I am truly sorry you are in pain, I was only playing.’ She giggled.
The man looked at his Queen, and flinched as she pressed down on his chest, he took small sharp breaths, each breath was more painful than the last; his body was broken, his breathing becoming more laboured. She pushed once more on his chest, the room fell dark.