Fic: Rainbow's Freedom (Shadow Of The Bat Arc) (7/35)
Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (Shadow Of The Bat Arc) (7/35)
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Kathy Kane, Martha/Jonathan
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized pleasure slave whom has fallen in love with him…but can the Prince of Gotham ever return that love? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Bruce attends the Pleasure Slave lecture.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): June 25, 2007
Date Of Posting: August 20, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1508
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
“Pleasure slaves are the frosting on our cake.”
Professor Arlen Cox
“The Art Of The Pleasure Slave”
2246 C.E.
VII
KOHL, JEWELS, AND NAKED BODIES
The convention center was filled with attendees dressed to the nines. There were cocktails at 6, dinner at 7, and the lecture at 8. People mingled comfortably, discussing their work, the lectures they’d already attended and would attend, and what was sardonically called the Branding Bill.
Bruce drifted around with a drink in his hand and wearing his best tux. Some of the people were dressed as a result of wealth, while others were dressed nicely, but didn’t have jewels dripping off their necks, wrists and ears.
And speaking of what went around people’s necks and wrists, he noticed that none of the waiters and bartenders were slaves. Appropriate for an abolitionist organization.
He drifted out to the lobby, his eyes taking in the protesters demonstrating outside. The signs screamed, Slavery Forever!, Liberals Go Home!, and Freemen Rule! There were other unsavory slogans that turned Bruce’s stomach. There had been protesters every day, but only a handful. Tonight there were at least fifty.
Security was tight, courtesy of Commissioner Gordon, and Bruce returned to the large conference room that was now a ballroom/banquet hall.
Kathy winked at him but kept his cover. Martha smiled and then turned back to a blond man about her age, a man Bruce recognized as her husband Jonathan Kent from pictures he had seen of the couple.
He drifted around, picking up snatches of conversation.
“…and he said that he got nauseated watching it.”
“Branding is barbaric!”
“Well, Alice told me that in France they…”
“…keep the slaves under Full Veil, but on Orion, they’re naked all the time.”
“The local TV station broadcast the execution of that runaway slave they caught last week in Alabama.”
“I hate those things, especially when what comes before is more nauseating than the execution itself.”
“The Gotham P.D. raided that brothel on Blackthorne Street. Ugh, I hate when they pimp the under-legal.”
“Oh, I love the Gotham Art Museum! Sadly, the Amazons In Chains exhibit is beautiful but so frustrating! To think of that proud warrior race reduced to spreading their legs for wealthy parasites or military brass.”
“There was a slave rebellion on Cetra, I heard…”
“…asked if history would be different if we’d won at Gettysburg, for crying out loud!”
Dinner was served, Bruce making small talk. He enjoyed the food, but was pleased when the banquet was completed and they moved to the auditorium.
The lecture began at 8:05, two professors making the presentation: Professor Ben Kessell of Gotham University and Professor Alan Crandall of Harvard. Kessell was a fortyish man with a shock of brown hair peppered with silver, wire-rimmed glasses, and wore a tuxedo as Crandall did. Crandall was in his thirties, blond, and wore a diamond lapel pin that winked in the auditiorium lighting.
Kessell was at the podium while Crandall stood at the end of the stage. The large vidscreen had been lowered.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to ‘The Pleasure Slave’s Unique Status In The Slave World’.” He rested his elbows on the lectern. “We are all attending this convention for the ultimate purpose of abolishing slavery, but it would behoove us to understand the hold some slaves have on our freemen and how hard Masters will fight to keep them.” An image flashed on the screen. A gorgeous male exotic, eyes kohled and naked body jeweled and painted, drew appreciative gasps from the crowd. “This is what we have to fight.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Bruce had to agree. Hadn’t he become attached to his own pleasure slave? He wondered what Clark would look like with kohl around his eyes.
A smile curved Bruce’s lips as he thought of Clark: beautiful, intelligent, and worth protecting.
“Pleasure slaves are a time-honored tradition. Ancient texts of all cultures speak of concubines, special harlots, and pleasure slaves. Unlike courtesans who are of free status, the manacled must perform their primary duties whether or not they desire to do so.”
Bruce shifted uncomfortably. He watched as the slides clicked, various pleasure slaves of both sexes and all races, Human and otherwise, presented to the audience. Bruce was amazed at the variety.
“Pleasure slaves occupy a high place in slave hierarchy. Often they are the most pampered, many never having to do hard physical labor, though some might say constant sex might be a hardship, considering the Master or Mistress.
“Their clothing, when they’re allowed to wear any, is of the finest. Food is plentiful to keep up the energy and beauty of such slaves.” Kessell nodded to his partner.
Crandall took up the narrative. “Old-fashioned customs dictate a pleasure slave must be ‘always open and ready for his Master’. That is why you will see some slaves in public seated and open-legged while clothed, as per their Master’s orders. Some are never clothed, but usually in the present era, that occurs only in the privacy of the Master’s home.”
Well, it would be nice to see Clark in all his magnificent glory all the time, but I’m not about to require it outside the bedroom.
Bruce blushed a little at the thought of Clark naked even inside the Manor, not to mention out.
Don’t worry, Clark, I would never humiliate you.
He had never humiliated Alfred, and he wasn’t about to start for Clark.
“A pleasure slave might know his Master best. And, by the way, ladies, this definitely applies to females, too, both free and slave.” The women in the audience smiled and nodded. “Intimacy can sometimes lead a slave to know his Master well.”
Bruce felt a little uneasy. What if Clark figured out his secret life?
Would that be so bad? Bruce tapped his stylus on his notepad. For so long, it’s just been Alfred and me involved in the Mission…and outside of it, too.
“A truly clever slave can be a Master’s sounding board, advisor, someone who can be trusted more than another freeman. Sometimes more than a spouse.”
Bruce blinked. Clark could be all those things…
“Pleasure slaves are pampered, but also resented, by slave and free alike. A precarious position for one already in a precarious situation, indeed.”
Bruce felt a surge of protectiveness. Precarious, indeed, and he wasn’t about to let that status hurt Clark any more than it had already.
When the intermission came, Bruce drifted out to the lobby.
What he saw outside the glass doors made him slip away to the utility closet, and the Batman hurried to the conference center roof.
A crowd of protesters was shouting at the Gotham policemen in riot squad gear, their eyes concealed by dark visors, stun guns held in black leather gloves.
A woman with a face contorted in hate screamed, “Those abos should go home! We don’t want their kind here!”
A man yelled, “They’re spreading their hippie pinko ideas here! Out of Gotham!”
“Out of Gotham!”
“Out of Gotham!”
“Out of Gotham!”
The protesters surged forward. The police pushed them back. As the protesters gathered themselves to try again, the Batman swooped down between both groups.
“Batman!” The woman who had screamed staggered back, the protesters momentarily taken aback.
“Disperse before someone gets hurt,” Batman intoned.
The woman, thirtyish and stocky, glared at the dark figure. “We have a right to protest, vigilante!”
“You do, but you have no right to threaten these officers or the people inside.”
“We’re a threat to these officers? They’re armed to the teeth!” She laughed contemptuously.
“Get back and we can all go home.”
The man who had yelled before stepped closer to the woman. Tall and thin, his pale eyes narrowed. “We have no beef with these policemen. We do object to these ultra-liberals and their insidious little social agenda.”
“These whackos should go home!” screamed a young blond woman, brandishing her sign. Four-letter words seemed to be her specialty.
“If they’re so ‘whacko’, so ‘fringe’, why be so concerned?” Batman made a sweeping motion with his glove, artfully including his cape.
The stocky woman’s face contorted again. “Because we don’t like their kind!”
“Madame, you don’t help your cause by threatening violence. Leave the abolitionists alone, and they will be gone from Gotham within a day.”
“And what about you? What do you think about this crazy agenda? Freeing slaves!” Her voice dripped contempt.
Batman nearly sighed. “Madame, my opinion is of no consequence. I merely want a cessation of hostilities.” His cape billowed out behind him as a gust of wind came up.
Muttering went around the crowd, their eyes fixed on the implacable Bat and the police behind him, and finally the woman snapped, “Let’s go!”
As the protesters moved away, the head of the riot squad standing right next to the Dark Knight said, “Thanks, Batman.”
“You’re welcome, Lieutenant.”
Batman used his grapple hook and disappeared into the night.
& & & & & &
Fifteen minutes later, ‘Sean Kennedy’ slipped back into his auditorium seat.
this counter installed 11/26/09
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Kathy Kane, Martha/Jonathan
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized pleasure slave whom has fallen in love with him…but can the Prince of Gotham ever return that love? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Bruce attends the Pleasure Slave lecture.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): June 25, 2007
Date Of Posting: August 20, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1508
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
“Pleasure slaves are the frosting on our cake.”
Professor Arlen Cox
“The Art Of The Pleasure Slave”
2246 C.E.
VII
KOHL, JEWELS, AND NAKED BODIES
The convention center was filled with attendees dressed to the nines. There were cocktails at 6, dinner at 7, and the lecture at 8. People mingled comfortably, discussing their work, the lectures they’d already attended and would attend, and what was sardonically called the Branding Bill.
Bruce drifted around with a drink in his hand and wearing his best tux. Some of the people were dressed as a result of wealth, while others were dressed nicely, but didn’t have jewels dripping off their necks, wrists and ears.
And speaking of what went around people’s necks and wrists, he noticed that none of the waiters and bartenders were slaves. Appropriate for an abolitionist organization.
He drifted out to the lobby, his eyes taking in the protesters demonstrating outside. The signs screamed, Slavery Forever!, Liberals Go Home!, and Freemen Rule! There were other unsavory slogans that turned Bruce’s stomach. There had been protesters every day, but only a handful. Tonight there were at least fifty.
Security was tight, courtesy of Commissioner Gordon, and Bruce returned to the large conference room that was now a ballroom/banquet hall.
Kathy winked at him but kept his cover. Martha smiled and then turned back to a blond man about her age, a man Bruce recognized as her husband Jonathan Kent from pictures he had seen of the couple.
He drifted around, picking up snatches of conversation.
“…and he said that he got nauseated watching it.”
“Branding is barbaric!”
“Well, Alice told me that in France they…”
“…keep the slaves under Full Veil, but on Orion, they’re naked all the time.”
“The local TV station broadcast the execution of that runaway slave they caught last week in Alabama.”
“I hate those things, especially when what comes before is more nauseating than the execution itself.”
“The Gotham P.D. raided that brothel on Blackthorne Street. Ugh, I hate when they pimp the under-legal.”
“Oh, I love the Gotham Art Museum! Sadly, the Amazons In Chains exhibit is beautiful but so frustrating! To think of that proud warrior race reduced to spreading their legs for wealthy parasites or military brass.”
“There was a slave rebellion on Cetra, I heard…”
“…asked if history would be different if we’d won at Gettysburg, for crying out loud!”
Dinner was served, Bruce making small talk. He enjoyed the food, but was pleased when the banquet was completed and they moved to the auditorium.
The lecture began at 8:05, two professors making the presentation: Professor Ben Kessell of Gotham University and Professor Alan Crandall of Harvard. Kessell was a fortyish man with a shock of brown hair peppered with silver, wire-rimmed glasses, and wore a tuxedo as Crandall did. Crandall was in his thirties, blond, and wore a diamond lapel pin that winked in the auditiorium lighting.
Kessell was at the podium while Crandall stood at the end of the stage. The large vidscreen had been lowered.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to ‘The Pleasure Slave’s Unique Status In The Slave World’.” He rested his elbows on the lectern. “We are all attending this convention for the ultimate purpose of abolishing slavery, but it would behoove us to understand the hold some slaves have on our freemen and how hard Masters will fight to keep them.” An image flashed on the screen. A gorgeous male exotic, eyes kohled and naked body jeweled and painted, drew appreciative gasps from the crowd. “This is what we have to fight.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Bruce had to agree. Hadn’t he become attached to his own pleasure slave? He wondered what Clark would look like with kohl around his eyes.
A smile curved Bruce’s lips as he thought of Clark: beautiful, intelligent, and worth protecting.
“Pleasure slaves are a time-honored tradition. Ancient texts of all cultures speak of concubines, special harlots, and pleasure slaves. Unlike courtesans who are of free status, the manacled must perform their primary duties whether or not they desire to do so.”
Bruce shifted uncomfortably. He watched as the slides clicked, various pleasure slaves of both sexes and all races, Human and otherwise, presented to the audience. Bruce was amazed at the variety.
“Pleasure slaves occupy a high place in slave hierarchy. Often they are the most pampered, many never having to do hard physical labor, though some might say constant sex might be a hardship, considering the Master or Mistress.
“Their clothing, when they’re allowed to wear any, is of the finest. Food is plentiful to keep up the energy and beauty of such slaves.” Kessell nodded to his partner.
Crandall took up the narrative. “Old-fashioned customs dictate a pleasure slave must be ‘always open and ready for his Master’. That is why you will see some slaves in public seated and open-legged while clothed, as per their Master’s orders. Some are never clothed, but usually in the present era, that occurs only in the privacy of the Master’s home.”
Well, it would be nice to see Clark in all his magnificent glory all the time, but I’m not about to require it outside the bedroom.
Bruce blushed a little at the thought of Clark naked even inside the Manor, not to mention out.
Don’t worry, Clark, I would never humiliate you.
He had never humiliated Alfred, and he wasn’t about to start for Clark.
“A pleasure slave might know his Master best. And, by the way, ladies, this definitely applies to females, too, both free and slave.” The women in the audience smiled and nodded. “Intimacy can sometimes lead a slave to know his Master well.”
Bruce felt a little uneasy. What if Clark figured out his secret life?
Would that be so bad? Bruce tapped his stylus on his notepad. For so long, it’s just been Alfred and me involved in the Mission…and outside of it, too.
“A truly clever slave can be a Master’s sounding board, advisor, someone who can be trusted more than another freeman. Sometimes more than a spouse.”
Bruce blinked. Clark could be all those things…
“Pleasure slaves are pampered, but also resented, by slave and free alike. A precarious position for one already in a precarious situation, indeed.”
Bruce felt a surge of protectiveness. Precarious, indeed, and he wasn’t about to let that status hurt Clark any more than it had already.
When the intermission came, Bruce drifted out to the lobby.
What he saw outside the glass doors made him slip away to the utility closet, and the Batman hurried to the conference center roof.
A crowd of protesters was shouting at the Gotham policemen in riot squad gear, their eyes concealed by dark visors, stun guns held in black leather gloves.
A woman with a face contorted in hate screamed, “Those abos should go home! We don’t want their kind here!”
A man yelled, “They’re spreading their hippie pinko ideas here! Out of Gotham!”
“Out of Gotham!”
“Out of Gotham!”
“Out of Gotham!”
The protesters surged forward. The police pushed them back. As the protesters gathered themselves to try again, the Batman swooped down between both groups.
“Batman!” The woman who had screamed staggered back, the protesters momentarily taken aback.
“Disperse before someone gets hurt,” Batman intoned.
The woman, thirtyish and stocky, glared at the dark figure. “We have a right to protest, vigilante!”
“You do, but you have no right to threaten these officers or the people inside.”
“We’re a threat to these officers? They’re armed to the teeth!” She laughed contemptuously.
“Get back and we can all go home.”
The man who had yelled before stepped closer to the woman. Tall and thin, his pale eyes narrowed. “We have no beef with these policemen. We do object to these ultra-liberals and their insidious little social agenda.”
“These whackos should go home!” screamed a young blond woman, brandishing her sign. Four-letter words seemed to be her specialty.
“If they’re so ‘whacko’, so ‘fringe’, why be so concerned?” Batman made a sweeping motion with his glove, artfully including his cape.
The stocky woman’s face contorted again. “Because we don’t like their kind!”
“Madame, you don’t help your cause by threatening violence. Leave the abolitionists alone, and they will be gone from Gotham within a day.”
“And what about you? What do you think about this crazy agenda? Freeing slaves!” Her voice dripped contempt.
Batman nearly sighed. “Madame, my opinion is of no consequence. I merely want a cessation of hostilities.” His cape billowed out behind him as a gust of wind came up.
Muttering went around the crowd, their eyes fixed on the implacable Bat and the police behind him, and finally the woman snapped, “Let’s go!”
As the protesters moved away, the head of the riot squad standing right next to the Dark Knight said, “Thanks, Batman.”
“You’re welcome, Lieutenant.”
Batman used his grapple hook and disappeared into the night.
& & & & & &
Fifteen minutes later, ‘Sean Kennedy’ slipped back into his auditorium seat.
this counter installed 11/26/09