Re: Like She Owns Him (2/12) John/Sam, bottom!John, AMTDI, dubcon, sexual slavery, obedience, etc.
anonymous
October 17 2010, 21:09:13 UTC
There are other people in the atrium. John keeps his head down, but he can't help glancing around surreptitiously. There are more guards in the same uniform as the ones who met them at the surface, armed with clubs and occasional Wraith stunners. There are plenty of people dressed like the receptionist, in plain gray tunics. And then he sees a tall woman in a flowing gown with a patrician air, marching along with a man in tow, and John realizes with a jerk that he's looking at a slave.
The man is nearly naked except for a complicated leather harness with straps run from his shoulders to his crotch and up between his bare buttocks. He's being led by a leash, and it's only when he turns that John realizes it isn't fastened to the harness, but rather to a pair of rings set in his pierced nipples. His head is down, his face expressionless, even when his owner tugs the leash, pulling on his nipples in a way that has to be painful.
John's face is hot when he turns away. He doesn't dare catch Sam's eye. And then the receptionist's assistant is back.
"Please," she says. "Follow me."
She takes them to a small room and hands Sam a box that makes a suspicious jangling noise.
"Thank you," Sam says, but the woman doesn't leave. "I'm sorry," Sam adds, "but could I have a little privacy?" She uses "I" rather than "we," John notes with approval. She's definitely on her game.
The woman's hands are straight at her sides. "I am to stay and answer any questions."
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Sam says, but the woman shakes her head.
"I am to stay," she says.
Sam frowns, but she's smart and doesn't argue any further. She opens the box and lifts out a set of black leather straps. John can't quite figure how they're supposed to go. There are numerous metal rings and buckles, some large, some small. Sam traces the lines of them with her finger, like she's figuring it out.
John doesn't dare attempt to peer into the box himself. He only hopes there's no piercing equipment in there.
"Take off your clothes, John," Sam says, and to her credit, her voice is steady and authoritative. John suppresses any kind of reaction and does what she says, stripping efficiently. It isn't like he didn't know what he was getting into, and this is for Rodney. He just has to keep telling himself that.
"Very good," Sam says when he's finished, and there's enough of her usual warmth in her voice to make him feel a little better. It helps that she's keeping her eyes on his face, not straying lower for even a moment.
"He's awfully hairy," the observer says, not giving him any such respect, and Sam's head jerks around. The woman looks bored, like she's assessing a head of livestock. "We can take care of that for you."
John's face goes hot and it's all he can do to drop his head. It's nothing he ever did with Nancy. Nothing he ever wanted to do.
"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary," Sam says airily. "I like him the way he is."
The woman's voice is still flat. "Is he unpierced? You should at least take care of that."
John can see Sam's jaw set. "That won't be necessary, either," she says clearly.
The woman frowns. "He will look foreign. Not like a proper slave."
"Where I come from," Sam says, "we like them like this."
The woman's eyebrows lift. "But you are here, now. Asking for an audience with the plutocrat."
Sam's face is still tight, and John knows exactly what she's thinking. He tries to catch her eye, to show her that he knew the risks, to tell her that even a god-damned piercing will heal, but she doesn't look at him.
"Will it be permanent?" Sam asks. "The hair removal, I mean?"
The woman frowns. "I'm afraid not. He will need retreatment when it grows back."
"Okay," Sam says, and her eyes do meet John's, full of mute apology. "You can do the body hair. But nothing more."
John doesn't dare nod, just lowers his head slowly. He hopes she understands.
The man is nearly naked except for a complicated leather harness with straps run from his shoulders to his crotch and up between his bare buttocks. He's being led by a leash, and it's only when he turns that John realizes it isn't fastened to the harness, but rather to a pair of rings set in his pierced nipples. His head is down, his face expressionless, even when his owner tugs the leash, pulling on his nipples in a way that has to be painful.
John's face is hot when he turns away. He doesn't dare catch Sam's eye. And then the receptionist's assistant is back.
"Please," she says. "Follow me."
She takes them to a small room and hands Sam a box that makes a suspicious jangling noise.
"Thank you," Sam says, but the woman doesn't leave. "I'm sorry," Sam adds, "but could I have a little privacy?" She uses "I" rather than "we," John notes with approval. She's definitely on her game.
The woman's hands are straight at her sides. "I am to stay and answer any questions."
"I'm sure I'll be fine," Sam says, but the woman shakes her head.
"I am to stay," she says.
Sam frowns, but she's smart and doesn't argue any further. She opens the box and lifts out a set of black leather straps. John can't quite figure how they're supposed to go. There are numerous metal rings and buckles, some large, some small. Sam traces the lines of them with her finger, like she's figuring it out.
John doesn't dare attempt to peer into the box himself. He only hopes there's no piercing equipment in there.
"Take off your clothes, John," Sam says, and to her credit, her voice is steady and authoritative. John suppresses any kind of reaction and does what she says, stripping efficiently. It isn't like he didn't know what he was getting into, and this is for Rodney. He just has to keep telling himself that.
"Very good," Sam says when he's finished, and there's enough of her usual warmth in her voice to make him feel a little better. It helps that she's keeping her eyes on his face, not straying lower for even a moment.
"He's awfully hairy," the observer says, not giving him any such respect, and Sam's head jerks around. The woman looks bored, like she's assessing a head of livestock. "We can take care of that for you."
John's face goes hot and it's all he can do to drop his head. It's nothing he ever did with Nancy. Nothing he ever wanted to do.
"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary," Sam says airily. "I like him the way he is."
The woman's voice is still flat. "Is he unpierced? You should at least take care of that."
John can see Sam's jaw set. "That won't be necessary, either," she says clearly.
The woman frowns. "He will look foreign. Not like a proper slave."
"Where I come from," Sam says, "we like them like this."
The woman's eyebrows lift. "But you are here, now. Asking for an audience with the plutocrat."
Sam's face is still tight, and John knows exactly what she's thinking. He tries to catch her eye, to show her that he knew the risks, to tell her that even a god-damned piercing will heal, but she doesn't look at him.
"Will it be permanent?" Sam asks. "The hair removal, I mean?"
The woman frowns. "I'm afraid not. He will need retreatment when it grows back."
"Okay," Sam says, and her eyes do meet John's, full of mute apology. "You can do the body hair. But nothing more."
John doesn't dare nod, just lowers his head slowly. He hopes she understands.
Reply
Leave a comment