Lost in the Woods

Chapter 2

Loki thought that the anticipation would be the worst part - not knowing when the pain would come, having no control over it. His stomach churned with dread as he waited. It was impossible for the actual duration of the punishment to be worse than this horrendous forestalling. Surely, nothing could compare to this degrading expanse of time.

He believed that thought, right up until the point where the leather strap made first contact with his skin.

The sound was bad enough. The high pitched whistle of the whip slicing through air and then the dull slap as it stroked his flesh. The grunt of exertion from the guard, coupled with the chink of the manacles as Loki's fists clenched harder.

However, as bad as the sound was, it couldn't even begin to compete with the pain.

The first few strokes were hot, like fire. It felt as though someone had doused a metal rod in hot coals then struck him with it, letting the boiling steel press against his skin for an immeasurable count of time. Each stroke landed slightly slower, leaving a crisscross trail of burning marks against his fragile skin. Then, as the whip passed the small of his back, it began to inch upwards. The strokes that overlay previous marks made Loki bite down harder on the fabric roll. After two dozen lashes he heard his jaw crack, bones complaining at the unrelenting pressure. However he couldn't open his mouth, couldn't cry out and give the Asgardians the pleasure of his pain. It became harder with each stroke not to howl. A primal scream was working it's way slowly up the clenched muscles of his throat. He felt that any second now his resolve would give in and he would shriek like the wounded animal he was.

The guards watched, some recoiling at the sight, other's relishing it.

"I knew it; the bloody trickster can't be a sentiment being. He doesn't cry out, doesn't scream. It's unnatural." one man said, nudging the brunette to his left.

The second guard nodded. "I've seen men with four times the bravery than this worm fall to pieces beneath the lash. If he had a scrap of humanity left in him the demigod would but make a sound."

Over the rushing in his hears Loki heard the Asgardian's words, but instead of making him cry out it only resolved his desire to keep his silence.

Let them think I'm inhuman, he thought bitterly, because they're right.

As the count reached thirty Loki felt a dark cloud begin to encompass his mind. It pressed down on his thoughts, blurring the edges of his sight. He welcomed the blackness, finding solace in it's depths. As he sunk into unconsciousness he found reprieve from the burning pain. Sleep would numb his body from the abuse it was being inflicted.

Sadly though, the escape didn't last. Not long after he drifted away Loki was awoken by the icy sensation of cold water splashing across his face. He spluttered, wincing as reality washed back over him. By now it felt as though every inch of his back had been branded.

"Wake up! Order's are to keep you conscious." someone muttered roughly in his ear.

Loki didn't bother to reply.

As the strokes continued he began to notice a difference. Instead of a smack, the whip was contacting his body with a wet thud. The warmth that began to run down his legs alerted the demigod to the new damage. His skin, too fine to hold out against such beatings, began to split under the pressure of the leather coil. Just when he felt like the pain couldn't get any worse, it had. He couldn't find words in his mind to express the agony. Sweat ran down his forehead, mingling with the red liquid that pulsed from each new wound. He could almost feel the delicate strips of skin folding back like shreds of ribbon. The thwack of blood splattering against the white walls echoed in his ears.