When The Lines Get Blurry 1b
anonymous
January 12 2013, 21:11:59 UTC
Batem looked at her again, "answer him."
She kept her head down, focused on a stain on the floor, "she does as the master pleases. Marking her pleased him." Blue looked confused.
"All of them talk like that," red explained. "They take thier names away."
The batarian grunted, "we teach them to think of themselves as things. Makes it easier for them."
Blue seemed to pale and red smirked, "getting squeamish?"
"No, just never heard of that."
The red marked turian reached out and touched the side of her ribs. Tracing them down to her waist. She spoke to him with her eyes, it wasn't my fault they beat me. I was good. I was good.
The Krogan was fishing around between her legs. He inserted a thick finger into her. She gave no indication of her discomfort except a shallow breath as she adjusted to it. He pulled it out and grunted.
"You break it, you buy it," the batarian warned.
"Awfully marked up," red commented as he paced around her. He weighed one of her breasts in his hand, "nice chest though, and a pretty face."
"I told you she was used goods. You want new condition, you pay the new price."
"What about security? Will she run away?" Blue spoke this time.
The batarian laughed, "maybe if you got a half trained one, this one was broken long ago, part of the function of the implant is to erase memories of her past," he glanced at her, "would you like to run away, slave?"
The question was absurd. Long ago, on the farthest fringes of her memory she had tried to run away from a master. She shivered at the memory, "she has no where to go. Nothing to do. The masters provide for her. She humbly accepts thier benevolence."
"What were you before you had masters?" The batarian prompted.
"She doesn't remember, she is content in her place." It was true. She couldn't remember a life before they had taken her. At one point that had distressed her. Now she felt nothing (a good slave is nothing).
Batem nodded, satisfied, before continuing, "the other function of the implant is to act as a tool for punishment. He picked up her rod on the top of the cage, "some people think we use mind control but it really just stimulates the part of her brain that makes her feel pain. Normally we teach them to be silent, no matter what, but this will make her scream."
She watched the rod warily as he passed a finger over the button on top. Her mucles tensed as he played with it. Batem smiled at her, relishing her fear, and pushed it. Her muscles spasmed at the small trickle of pain. It always started small. It always got worse. The pain spread into her arms and she shuddered, gritted her teeth as it went to her legs. Her skin started to burn and her hands tightened into fists.
"High pain tolerence," The Krogan questioned.
The batarian nodded, "not bad, at least."
She shut her eyes, she didn't want to watch the gaping faces of the turians or see the krogans smile. Her knees trembled and then gave out. She collapsed to the floor with a groan of pain that trailed off into a series of whimpers. Her skin was on fire. She was burning up. She could feel the flames. Couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Her world reduced to the single goal of making the pain stop. She screamed finally, babbling incomprehensible words, begging him to stop it. She was good she was good. It wasn't until the pain faded she found she was curled on the floor in the fetal position as her screams faded to whimpers.
"I'll take her " the krogan grunted.
A feeling of dread blossomed in her chest. She wished the blue turian had bought her. He seemed kind, but she knew what he was. He didn't understand the natural order. He came with a friend to gawk, but he would never buy.
The batarian shrugged, "let's talk credits." He walked the krogan over to another corner and called over his shoulder to the two other buyers, "we have others you can look at."
She pushed herself up into a kneeling position, examining the floor. Blue knelt beside her.
Red was talking to something not her, not his friend. Two fingers rested on the side of his head and she heard him mutter, "In position. On your mark."
She kept her head down, focused on a stain on the floor, "she does as the master pleases. Marking her pleased him." Blue looked confused.
"All of them talk like that," red explained. "They take thier names away."
The batarian grunted, "we teach them to think of themselves as things. Makes it easier for them."
Blue seemed to pale and red smirked, "getting squeamish?"
"No, just never heard of that."
The red marked turian reached out and touched the side of her ribs. Tracing them down to her waist. She spoke to him with her eyes, it wasn't my fault they beat me. I was good. I was good.
The Krogan was fishing around between her legs. He inserted a thick finger into her. She gave no indication of her discomfort except a shallow breath as she adjusted to it. He pulled it out and grunted.
"You break it, you buy it," the batarian warned.
"Awfully marked up," red commented as he paced around her. He weighed one of her breasts in his hand, "nice chest though, and a pretty face."
"I told you she was used goods. You want new condition, you pay the new price."
"What about security? Will she run away?" Blue spoke this time.
The batarian laughed, "maybe if you got a half trained one, this one was broken long ago, part of the function of the implant is to erase memories of her past," he glanced at her, "would you like to run away, slave?"
The question was absurd. Long ago, on the farthest fringes of her memory she had tried to run away from a master. She shivered at the memory, "she has no where to go. Nothing to do. The masters provide for her. She humbly accepts thier benevolence."
"What were you before you had masters?" The batarian prompted.
"She doesn't remember, she is content in her place." It was true. She couldn't remember a life before they had taken her. At one point that had distressed her. Now she felt nothing (a good slave is nothing).
Batem nodded, satisfied, before continuing, "the other function of the implant is to act as a tool for punishment. He picked up her rod on the top of the cage, "some people think we use mind control but it really just stimulates the part of her brain that makes her feel pain. Normally we teach them to be silent, no matter what, but this will make her scream."
She watched the rod warily as he passed a finger over the button on top. Her mucles tensed as he played with it. Batem smiled at her, relishing her fear, and pushed it. Her muscles spasmed at the small trickle of pain. It always started small. It always got worse. The pain spread into her arms and she shuddered, gritted her teeth as it went to her legs. Her skin started to burn and her hands tightened into fists.
"High pain tolerence," The Krogan questioned.
The batarian nodded, "not bad, at least."
She shut her eyes, she didn't want to watch the gaping faces of the turians or see the krogans smile. Her knees trembled and then gave out. She collapsed to the floor with a groan of pain that trailed off into a series of whimpers. Her skin was on fire. She was burning up. She could feel the flames. Couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Her world reduced to the single goal of making the pain stop. She screamed finally, babbling incomprehensible words, begging him to stop it. She was good she was good. It wasn't until the pain faded she found she was curled on the floor in the fetal position as her screams faded to whimpers.
"I'll take her " the krogan grunted.
A feeling of dread blossomed in her chest. She wished the blue turian had bought her. He seemed kind, but she knew what he was. He didn't understand the natural order. He came with a friend to gawk, but he would never buy.
The batarian shrugged, "let's talk credits." He walked the krogan over to another corner and called over his shoulder to the two other buyers, "we have others you can look at."
She pushed herself up into a kneeling position, examining the floor. Blue knelt beside her.
Red was talking to something not her, not his friend. Two fingers rested on the side of his head and she heard him mutter, "In position. On your mark."
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