Fic: Rainbow's Freedom (RobinSong Arc) (23/41)
Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (RobinSong Arc) (23/41)
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Ollie/Dinah, Melody, Edmund Caldwell
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. As Bruce and Clark try and adjust to being lovers as well as Master and slave, on a warm spring night a new member of the Wayne Household is added: a little boy whom Bruce sadly identifies with. Dick Grayson further pushes Bruce along the path of Abolitionism as the child brings further Light into the Manor. The entire series can be found here.
Genres: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): R for sexual imagery and language.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Two very different Households contemplate the question of slavery.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): November 29, 2007
Date Of Posting: August 9, 2008
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1356
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Slavery affects the freeman as well as the slave. While the slave is dependent on the freeman, the freeman is dependent on the slave. Soon the freeman can’t dream of abolition because slavery is too entwined in his own life.
Dr. Charles Renshaw
“Psychology Of The Human Race”
2161 C.E.
XXIII
THE ORDER OF THINGS
The shriek cut through Ollie as he and Dinah sat up in bed.
“Melody,” said Dinah, and was quickly out of bed, pulling on a robe. Ollie followed as he pulled on pajama bottoms, his heart pounding.
Melody was sitting up in bed, sobbing and rocking back and forth as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“It’s all right, honey,” Dinah soothed, hugging the child to her. Melody clung to her, crying quietly. Ollie sat on the other side of the bed, stroking her hair.
“Was it the whipping again?” Dinah asked softly. At Melody’s nod, Dinah’s face tightened. “It’s okay. You’re safe now…”
“L…Lord Wayne’s Prize…they were…were whipping him, too.”
“I know.” Dinah continued rocking the girl. “He saved you once and we’re very grateful.” She looked at Ollie, whose expression was grim. “Don’t worry anymore, sweetie. You’ll never be hurt like that again.”
Melody hiccoughed and dragged her hand across her eyes. Ollie handed her a tissue.
Finally they settled Melody back down under the covers, Dinah kissing the top of her head, Ollie patting her shoulder.
Once back in their room, Dinah paced angrily, her filmy peignoir swirling around her.
“It makes my blood boil every time I think of how the Caldwells treated that child.”
Ollie sat on the bed, running a hand through his hair. “Dinah…”
“Ollie, they whipped her and god-knows-what-else! Hell, they nearly killed Clark when he had the audacity to save Melody from a beating!”
“Dinah…” Ollie tried again.
“Ollie, I want to do something!”
“I know.” He stood up and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “It’s not easy.”
“Can’t you make a statement?”
Ollie sighed. “We’ve been over this.”
“But…”
Ollie dropped his hands and turned away. “I can’t just come out for abolition, Dinah.” He crossed his arms and turned back to face her. “If I came out in favor and became active in promoting it, I’d have to sell my slaves.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the bedrooms beyond the door. “These people have been with my family my entire life, and some before that. How do you think that Clara would feel serving as cook in another kitchen, or Regan taking care of other horses in another stable, or our sweet Melody somewhere else?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “You say that Bruce loves Clark and I agree. Do you think that he would ever sell Clark? Or Alfred, the man who probably kept him from going crazy after his parents’ murders, and has been with him his entire life, raising him after that tragedy. And Dick! Do you think he’d part with that sprite?”
Dinah recognized the passion behind her lover’s words and held out her hands palms up.
“Darling, I know you don’t want to part with your loyal Household…”
Ollie began to pace. “I can’t just declare them free! Remember that case twenty years ago when that damn fool abolitionist declared his slaves free? The Govs proclaimed them runaways, and you know what is done to runaways.”
Dinah’s stomach knotted. “I know,” she said softly.
“If a clever lawyer and a sympathetic judge hadn’t saved those poor souls, they would have suffered gruesome deaths.” Ollie rubbed his face. “You can’t be all starry-eyed about this. People’s lives are in the balance!”
Dinah approached her agitated lover. “It’s a vicious cycle, love. If no one speaks out, slavery continues.”
Ollie sighed. “I know.” His tense muscles relaxed as Dinah slipped her arms around his waist. “There has to be a way, and we’ll find it.” Dinah rested her head on his shoulder and Ollie put his arms around her and hugged tight.
& & & & & &
Hundreds of miles from Star City, in a darkened study lit only by moonlight, sat the silver-maned patriarch of Greenwood, the estate of the Caldwell clan.
It was quiet, no screams or moans this night as his sons were out and he was more interested in reflection than fun-and-games.
The estate a mile away was on his mind. The so-called Prince of Gotham dwelled there with his arrogance, his prize whore, and the little strumpet he had picked up at the circus. Circus trash was what that boy was, not fit for the well-bred.
But then, what slave was? They were put here on this earth to serve those born free, to be used in any way a Master or Mistress deemed fit.
Edmund smiled as he leaned back in his leather chair. A slave’s best use was for pleasure, and if pain was mixed in, what of it? That just heightened the pleasure. A little pain, a little humiliation, a little blood…it all added up to a wonderful thing.
Chuckling softly, he reminisced about particularly satisfying sessions. The whores he had purchased over the years had given him varying degrees of pleasure, and his sons as well. Some of the sluts had been truly pathetic and quickly put back on the block, while others had been quite talented. When he and his sons were finished with them, there were brothel owners willing to take scarred and damaged slaves, as long as the damage was reparable and the scarring not disfiguring.
Edmund sipped his tea. That pretty little slut who had served him the tea would make a weekend’s entertainment. He would pencil her in.
Their toys were of highest quality, designed for pain and pleasure: pain for the sluts, pleasure for their Masters.
As it should be.
Edmund watched as a cloud scudded across the moon. He could not understand the foolish abolitionists. Surely they saw that it was the order of things: enslaved and enslavers? How else to expect the darkness of the human heart to use a safety valve? Let the economists prattle on about slavery being the foundation of the economy. What slaves did was allow freemen to let out those dark urges safely. Other freemen were safer if their natural violence was directed at those born to suffer it. Otherwise what savagery would be unleashed? Surely these foolish dreamers could see that?
Edmund shook his head in amazement. People could be so blind.
The slave-loving abolitionists believed in freeing slaves. Foolish, utopian dreamers.
Fortunately they were on the fringes of society and not taken seriously, or shunned like that pathetic Andrew Carver.
He made a note to step up the harassment at Oakwood.
He looked out over the grounds in the direction of Wayne Manor, where the so-called Prince of Gotham dwelled.
The Prince of Gotham.
He sneered at the honorific. Prince, indeed! The Caldwells had been one of the Founding Families of Gotham along with the Waynes and Braddocks. The Caldwell Building was just as important as the Wayne and Braddock Buildings, and his family were just as big philanthropists as Bruce Wayne, the arrogant prick.
At least young Wayne had the sense to treat his slave as one. He might be overly protective of his pleasure slut and the other whores in his Household, but as far as Edmund knew, he hadn’t committed the sin of loving any of them.
Bruce’s slut was certainly a beauty: strong thighs, flat stomach, an ass begging to be taken, just like that mouth. A whore’s mouth if ever there was one. Edmund’s groin tingled at the thought of that mouth wrapped around his cock. Pity the young Prince didn’t lend his toys.
Oh, what a time he and the boys could have with that delicious whore! Take him in the mouth, in the ass, hear his moans and screams…aah, Paradise.
Yes, he would have to keep an eye on that pretty piece.
Who knew? Someday he might enjoy that exquisite flesh.
Edmund licked his lips as his eyes glittered in the light of the moon.
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Ollie/Dinah, Melody, Edmund Caldwell
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. As Bruce and Clark try and adjust to being lovers as well as Master and slave, on a warm spring night a new member of the Wayne Household is added: a little boy whom Bruce sadly identifies with. Dick Grayson further pushes Bruce along the path of Abolitionism as the child brings further Light into the Manor. The entire series can be found here.
Genres: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): R for sexual imagery and language.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Two very different Households contemplate the question of slavery.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): November 29, 2007
Date Of Posting: August 9, 2008
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1356
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Slavery affects the freeman as well as the slave. While the slave is dependent on the freeman, the freeman is dependent on the slave. Soon the freeman can’t dream of abolition because slavery is too entwined in his own life.
Dr. Charles Renshaw
“Psychology Of The Human Race”
2161 C.E.
XXIII
THE ORDER OF THINGS
The shriek cut through Ollie as he and Dinah sat up in bed.
“Melody,” said Dinah, and was quickly out of bed, pulling on a robe. Ollie followed as he pulled on pajama bottoms, his heart pounding.
Melody was sitting up in bed, sobbing and rocking back and forth as she wrapped her arms around herself.
“It’s all right, honey,” Dinah soothed, hugging the child to her. Melody clung to her, crying quietly. Ollie sat on the other side of the bed, stroking her hair.
“Was it the whipping again?” Dinah asked softly. At Melody’s nod, Dinah’s face tightened. “It’s okay. You’re safe now…”
“L…Lord Wayne’s Prize…they were…were whipping him, too.”
“I know.” Dinah continued rocking the girl. “He saved you once and we’re very grateful.” She looked at Ollie, whose expression was grim. “Don’t worry anymore, sweetie. You’ll never be hurt like that again.”
Melody hiccoughed and dragged her hand across her eyes. Ollie handed her a tissue.
Finally they settled Melody back down under the covers, Dinah kissing the top of her head, Ollie patting her shoulder.
Once back in their room, Dinah paced angrily, her filmy peignoir swirling around her.
“It makes my blood boil every time I think of how the Caldwells treated that child.”
Ollie sat on the bed, running a hand through his hair. “Dinah…”
“Ollie, they whipped her and god-knows-what-else! Hell, they nearly killed Clark when he had the audacity to save Melody from a beating!”
“Dinah…” Ollie tried again.
“Ollie, I want to do something!”
“I know.” He stood up and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “It’s not easy.”
“Can’t you make a statement?”
Ollie sighed. “We’ve been over this.”
“But…”
Ollie dropped his hands and turned away. “I can’t just come out for abolition, Dinah.” He crossed his arms and turned back to face her. “If I came out in favor and became active in promoting it, I’d have to sell my slaves.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the bedrooms beyond the door. “These people have been with my family my entire life, and some before that. How do you think that Clara would feel serving as cook in another kitchen, or Regan taking care of other horses in another stable, or our sweet Melody somewhere else?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “You say that Bruce loves Clark and I agree. Do you think that he would ever sell Clark? Or Alfred, the man who probably kept him from going crazy after his parents’ murders, and has been with him his entire life, raising him after that tragedy. And Dick! Do you think he’d part with that sprite?”
Dinah recognized the passion behind her lover’s words and held out her hands palms up.
“Darling, I know you don’t want to part with your loyal Household…”
Ollie began to pace. “I can’t just declare them free! Remember that case twenty years ago when that damn fool abolitionist declared his slaves free? The Govs proclaimed them runaways, and you know what is done to runaways.”
Dinah’s stomach knotted. “I know,” she said softly.
“If a clever lawyer and a sympathetic judge hadn’t saved those poor souls, they would have suffered gruesome deaths.” Ollie rubbed his face. “You can’t be all starry-eyed about this. People’s lives are in the balance!”
Dinah approached her agitated lover. “It’s a vicious cycle, love. If no one speaks out, slavery continues.”
Ollie sighed. “I know.” His tense muscles relaxed as Dinah slipped her arms around his waist. “There has to be a way, and we’ll find it.” Dinah rested her head on his shoulder and Ollie put his arms around her and hugged tight.
& & & & & &
Hundreds of miles from Star City, in a darkened study lit only by moonlight, sat the silver-maned patriarch of Greenwood, the estate of the Caldwell clan.
It was quiet, no screams or moans this night as his sons were out and he was more interested in reflection than fun-and-games.
The estate a mile away was on his mind. The so-called Prince of Gotham dwelled there with his arrogance, his prize whore, and the little strumpet he had picked up at the circus. Circus trash was what that boy was, not fit for the well-bred.
But then, what slave was? They were put here on this earth to serve those born free, to be used in any way a Master or Mistress deemed fit.
Edmund smiled as he leaned back in his leather chair. A slave’s best use was for pleasure, and if pain was mixed in, what of it? That just heightened the pleasure. A little pain, a little humiliation, a little blood…it all added up to a wonderful thing.
Chuckling softly, he reminisced about particularly satisfying sessions. The whores he had purchased over the years had given him varying degrees of pleasure, and his sons as well. Some of the sluts had been truly pathetic and quickly put back on the block, while others had been quite talented. When he and his sons were finished with them, there were brothel owners willing to take scarred and damaged slaves, as long as the damage was reparable and the scarring not disfiguring.
Edmund sipped his tea. That pretty little slut who had served him the tea would make a weekend’s entertainment. He would pencil her in.
Their toys were of highest quality, designed for pain and pleasure: pain for the sluts, pleasure for their Masters.
As it should be.
Edmund watched as a cloud scudded across the moon. He could not understand the foolish abolitionists. Surely they saw that it was the order of things: enslaved and enslavers? How else to expect the darkness of the human heart to use a safety valve? Let the economists prattle on about slavery being the foundation of the economy. What slaves did was allow freemen to let out those dark urges safely. Other freemen were safer if their natural violence was directed at those born to suffer it. Otherwise what savagery would be unleashed? Surely these foolish dreamers could see that?
Edmund shook his head in amazement. People could be so blind.
The slave-loving abolitionists believed in freeing slaves. Foolish, utopian dreamers.
Fortunately they were on the fringes of society and not taken seriously, or shunned like that pathetic Andrew Carver.
He made a note to step up the harassment at Oakwood.
He looked out over the grounds in the direction of Wayne Manor, where the so-called Prince of Gotham dwelled.
The Prince of Gotham.
He sneered at the honorific. Prince, indeed! The Caldwells had been one of the Founding Families of Gotham along with the Waynes and Braddocks. The Caldwell Building was just as important as the Wayne and Braddock Buildings, and his family were just as big philanthropists as Bruce Wayne, the arrogant prick.
At least young Wayne had the sense to treat his slave as one. He might be overly protective of his pleasure slut and the other whores in his Household, but as far as Edmund knew, he hadn’t committed the sin of loving any of them.
Bruce’s slut was certainly a beauty: strong thighs, flat stomach, an ass begging to be taken, just like that mouth. A whore’s mouth if ever there was one. Edmund’s groin tingled at the thought of that mouth wrapped around his cock. Pity the young Prince didn’t lend his toys.
Oh, what a time he and the boys could have with that delicious whore! Take him in the mouth, in the ass, hear his moans and screams…aah, Paradise.
Yes, he would have to keep an eye on that pretty piece.
Who knew? Someday he might enjoy that exquisite flesh.
Edmund licked his lips as his eyes glittered in the light of the moon.