Guro Challenge #21: Breathplay
#13 of 33 Day Guro Challenge
"N-no, please... aaccck..."
"Head up!" Dotti grabbed the stoat's whiskers and yanked up, pointing his snout at the sky. The captives had been lined up by height, kneeling on the sand, each at the footpaws of a hare holding a length of rope. Brocktree stood behind them, just in the peripheral vision of the rat at one end of the line. The remaining hares picked up the discarded vermin's uniforms, bundled them, and hurled them into the sea. A weasel tried to cover himself and Southpaw kicked his elbow until he returned his paws to behind his back, where the hare firmly bound them.
The vermin tensed as something pressed to the backs of their necks, some panicking and trying to get up before their respective hares held them still. It proved to be only a long piece of wood, not a blade, but this did not relax them, and they were soon proved right to be fearful. A spearhaft matching the one behind them was hooked under their chins, and the huge paws of Lord Brocktree twisted the metal heads as if they were paper; within seconds, the necks of the captives were tightly gripped, their chins held up, the breath of some unfortunates with broader necks already coming in rasping gurgles.
"I'd advise you to stay calm," said the badger sternly, grabbing a sobbing weasel's ear. The weasel was drooling, breathing rapidly through her nose. "Deep breaths and you'll be fine. I'd rather you didn't choke now. Unlike you, I don't want to slay a defenceless creature."
"That's it, fellers, deep breaths and stop squirmin' so much." Dotti strutted around the end of the line and along in front until she reached the particularly frightened-looking stoat. "Stop moping, bucko," she said, nudging him in the belly with her footpaw. Something brushed her ankle; she looked down and leapt away, screaming in disgust. "Oh, I do say! I know I'm a fatal beauty but that's a bit much, really! Just be glad I won't kick a bound beast, you-"
"Eh?" Brocktree looked, and the stoat cringed, ears crimson, unable to curl up as he obviously wanted to do. "Ah. Nothing to worry about, Dotti, it looks like I tightened this too far. That happens sometimes when a beast is strangled, something to do with blood flow."
"Really? Seems silly, it's in the opposite direction from his heart than his neck is."
"Yes. Ask the healers why, I don't know."
"Oh. Oh dear, my apologies, stoaty feller," said Dotti, bowing briefly and ignoring the stoat's furious glare as every other beast in sight, woodlander or vermin, stared at him. Some beasts burst into snickers, and he couldn't even turn his head to see who. He curled his tail up for cover and shifted his legs, which didn't help, even when the slightly loosened restraints slid to his shoulders and he could breathe again.
When submerged, wooden spearhafts tend to swell up. In this case, the ones pressed across the throats of the defeated vermin were squeezing harder with every step. A rat passed out, and the others in the row cursed and struggled with the deadweight. A wave knocked them over and covered them, choking them, filling their mouths and noses with stinging salt and leaving them sure for eternal seconds that they would drown until it passed and they were able to struggle up again.
The icy water was helping a little, but it wasn't cooling the unlucky stoat's blush.