Kyrinn didn't for a moment believe Tanna was sympathetic about what had happened to the town of Baylon Bay.  She may or may not have had a hand in the military campaign about his hometown.  But it was the Westmoreland army and navy that laid siege to the town from land and sea for almost two years.  And that was [i]after[/i] Mother Nature had hit the community with a tsunami, a drought, and a plague all in the span of 14 months.  

Baylon Bay had already been on its knees before the siege and subsequent invasion occurred.  Today, less than 1/4 of the original population of the town remained there alive, and they lived under the boot of a brutal Lord put in place by Tanna's father.

His captor sent the guards away, then surprisingly simply laid down in her lush bed and closed her eyes.  Kyrinn just stared at her in silence, wondering [i]What the hell now?[/i]  He could ask what was going to be done to him.  Or how he was part of the entertainment.  Or what exactly the celebration would entail.

Instead, he simply tried to relax back into the seat and ignore the pain surging through his body.  He'd been run over by a horse, beaten by a handful of soldiers wielding clubs, and punched in the kidneys, and [i]now[/i] he was strung up and out in a way that was concentrating a good amount of that pain in his shoulders and back.

Somehow, he didn't find this entertaining, festive, or celebratory.  But then, Tanna probably hadn't meant for him to enjoy it all, had she?

After a bit, the two servants returned, conspicuously showing their surprise at finding Kyrinn trussed up and their Lady asleep.  They began performing some tasks involving food, drink, and decor.  Repeatedly, the pair of young beauties peeked Kyrinn's way, often coming together to whisper and giggle.

"May I have one of those?" he whispered to them, nodding his head toward a plate of treats on a table.  They looked to each other, then to their lady.  Kyrinn whispered even lower, "I won't tell.  I promise." 

Still getting nowhere, he smiled and winked before whispering one last time, "Give me a piece of cheese and a drink of that ale, and you can lift my hide and look at my cock."

Kyrinn blew them each a kiss, hoping that at the least he'd get something in his belly and at the most this might be the first step toward finding some way out of this mess.  That latter part was a serious long shot, of course.  The two servants were likely slaves, but would they be inclined to risk their lives just for a peek at an above averaged sized penis?  And even if they did want to help him escape, could they?  The shackles around his wrists and ankles were the type that took a key or, at the least, a particularly shaped piece of metal or strong wood to be used as a pick, and even then only one in ten people had the skills to work such a device.