When The Lines Get Blurry part 1a
anonymous
January 12 2013, 21:05:36 UTC
The ship smelled of dirt and sweat but it didn't bother her (good slaves do not complain) because she could see the stars above. She'd spent three days by this window watching them pass. When she woke this morning, however, the window was shut and she understood that that meant. She had been moved around enough times to know and understand that meant the buyers would begin arriving soon.
She hated being sold. She hated the feeling of being looked at and probed by so many eyes and she hated the helplessness of the situation (good slaves understand they own nothing, neither mind nor body, they belong to the masters). The men whose hands she passed through were never a problem, she learned thier kinks quickly, it mainly revolved around knowing how much pain they wanted her in (a good slave does not scream). She wished someone woudl keep her, someone kind. (good slaves ha e no opinions, for they are nothing but things of the masters pleasure).
When the batarian guards came for her, she was ready. They kept the slaves meant for manual labor in a different hold crammed shoulder to shoulder and shackled instead of caged. Only a hand full of pleasure slaves occupied the upper cargo hold, all dressed in the traditional red robes. They were treated more carefully, pleasure slaves were highly trained and very expensive, even old or scarred up. A batarian guard approached her cage. She was careful not to look at him directly. There was a rattle as her cage lock was undone. She shifted to kneel and wait, tilting her head downwards and to the left. Next to her, she could see the other slaves watching with interest.
Most of them were damaged goods. She had been through a dozen owners, each leaving her with a new scar before selling her in exchange for someone else. She had seen similer marks on the other slaves, but she was by far the worst case. One of the mercs jerked his head, beckoning her her to come out. She complied. Buyers would be brought in in small groups by appointment. No one wanted too much attention on the ship. Slave trade was illegal after all.
She lowered her eyes and bowed her head. The guard ran a hand along her hips before taking her arm.
"You going to behave," he asked.
She responded traditionally, "she will do as the masters will."
She started to follow the merc when the leader of the operation, A nasty batarian named Batem, held up a hand.
"They'll see her in here. Hopefully one of them will take her."
She knelt before the two men and took the posture of obedience and Batem grunted approvingly, "she's submissive enough." He dismissed her guard as the guests arrived.
The private buyers turned out to be two turians and a krogan. She studied them from beneath her lashes. The turian with blue markings was giving her an appraising look, but he seemed uncomfortable. His friend had bright red markings and seemed more at ease. The krogan was one of the young ones, she hoped he didn't buy her, those were always the worst (good slaves have no preferences, they do as thier master wills).
The batarian glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, "present yourself."
She untied her robe and dropped it as she stood. The silk pooled around her ankles. Blue gaped. The krogan smiled.
She had had one krogan owner and her experience had been that they were sadistic bastards. He had been the first since her training to make her scream. It had taken her days to realize she hadn't done anything wrong, he just got off on it (good slaves accept what thier masters give, even when they give pain). When he had resold her she was in bad enough shape that she hadn't had a kind master since.
"What the hell happened to her?" Blue asked. He traced the lines on her stomach with his eyes. A former turian owner had given them to her before selling her to the mercs again. The Krogan paced around her and found the whip marks from her last owner, a human with a love of causing pain. He ran a finger down one. She focused on breathing and keeping still.
She hated being sold. She hated the feeling of being looked at and probed by so many eyes and she hated the helplessness of the situation (good slaves understand they own nothing, neither mind nor body, they belong to the masters). The men whose hands she passed through were never a problem, she learned thier kinks quickly, it mainly revolved around knowing how much pain they wanted her in (a good slave does not scream). She wished someone woudl keep her, someone kind. (good slaves ha e no opinions, for they are nothing but things of the masters pleasure).
When the batarian guards came for her, she was ready. They kept the slaves meant for manual labor in a different hold crammed shoulder to shoulder and shackled instead of caged. Only a hand full of pleasure slaves occupied the upper cargo hold, all dressed in the traditional red robes. They were treated more carefully, pleasure slaves were highly trained and very expensive, even old or scarred up. A batarian guard approached her cage. She was careful not to look at him directly. There was a rattle as her cage lock was undone. She shifted to kneel and wait, tilting her head downwards and to the left. Next to her, she could see the other slaves watching with interest.
Most of them were damaged goods. She had been through a dozen owners, each leaving her with a new scar before selling her in exchange for someone else. She had seen similer marks on the other slaves, but she was by far the worst case. One of the mercs jerked his head, beckoning her her to come out. She complied. Buyers would be brought in in small groups by appointment. No one wanted too much attention on the ship. Slave trade was illegal after all.
She lowered her eyes and bowed her head. The guard ran a hand along her hips before taking her arm.
"You going to behave," he asked.
She responded traditionally, "she will do as the masters will."
She started to follow the merc when the leader of the operation, A nasty batarian named Batem, held up a hand.
"They'll see her in here. Hopefully one of them will take her."
She knelt before the two men and took the posture of obedience and Batem grunted approvingly, "she's submissive enough." He dismissed her guard as the guests arrived.
The private buyers turned out to be two turians and a krogan. She studied them from beneath her lashes. The turian with blue markings was giving her an appraising look, but he seemed uncomfortable. His friend had bright red markings and seemed more at ease. The krogan was one of the young ones, she hoped he didn't buy her, those were always the worst (good slaves have no preferences, they do as thier master wills).
The batarian glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, "present yourself."
She untied her robe and dropped it as she stood. The silk pooled around her ankles. Blue gaped. The krogan smiled.
She had had one krogan owner and her experience had been that they were sadistic bastards. He had been the first since her training to make her scream. It had taken her days to realize she hadn't done anything wrong, he just got off on it (good slaves accept what thier masters give, even when they give pain). When he had resold her she was in bad enough shape that she hadn't had a kind master since.
"What the hell happened to her?" Blue asked. He traced the lines on her stomach with his eyes. A former turian owner had given them to her before selling her to the mercs again. The Krogan paced around her and found the whip marks from her last owner, a human with a love of causing pain. He ran a finger down one. She focused on breathing and keeping still.
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