7-12-19 RP Notecard
Her eyes opened slowly, she tried to stretch.. and couldn't. Her wrists were still bound behind her back. It took a few ihns for her to realize how stiff she was, laying on the ground, bound. It took a bit longer still for her to feel the flood of memories hit her. She looked down at her body, still covered in that fine material that was so skimpy she felt naked. Emotionally? She was drained, almost to the point of being numb. The slaver had toyed with her mind in such expert ways, letting her think .. right up to the last moment... that he was going to let her go. A flare of indignation welled up, followed by anger and hatred, like a flash fire that quickly burned out. She was just too spent, too depleted, to maintain it.
The slaver..... another race of her heart - where was he? She listened carefully for sounds of activity, his voice... any hint of what was in store. She heard nothing, alone in the room, what sounds she could glean from her surroundings were nothing but the birds outside the window and muffled voices from elsewhere in the kennel. She could smell food cooking, then again it might only have been the hunger making her suffer olfactory hallucinations. At this point? Anything was possible.
She rolled to her knees, groaning as stiff muscles rebelled against the movement. Her head was hung low, shoulders slumped. She was staring at her knees, so primly pressed together as was expected of a good Gorean free woman. She knelt there for what felt like an eternity. Her thoughts bounced around, fragments that lacked any cohesive order, snippets of conversations, images buried in her memory. She had grown up with slaves around her, slaves who had been pampered by her mother and step-father because they, the slaves, had pampered her as a girl and then as a woman when she had come of age. She knew much of what would be expected of her in this condition, more than she was willing to let on. Would it be better if he thought her so inept that he discarded her, leaving some chance of returning to her former self? Or should she reveal to him that she knew at least the mechanics of enslavement? Every question that plagued her mind raised new questions, and her mind continually tried to explore every potential avenue and outcome of each of them. That was one thing that might set her apart, she had a brilliant mind fed by education gleaned growing up in a household of successful merchants. She was not a slave bred in a kennel and given only the rudimentary knowledge of serving and pleasing. Did she really ~want~ to stand out, though? Would it not be safer to be thought nothing but one of the run-of-the-mill slaves who filtered in and out of city kennels, driven by little else than the sycophantic desire to "be pleasing"? Alone in that room, she slowly spread her knees apart, for the first time in her life, assuming the position of nadu.... in the attire of a slave. Sure, as a teenager she and her friends had done it, just kailia-ing around, it had been hilarious and edgy as they laughed and teased one another, pretending one or the other of them had been enslaved by some nefarious man intent upon enjoying everything... wait... everything? He had said that! He had said that he wanted everything from her! She all but slammed her knees back together. What was interesting? Alone in that room, she could have risen up and settled into one of the chairs.... but didn't.
Was it meant to be another torment, being left alone, again? Her entire life, the only time she had ever been alone, had been when she slept, slaves always lurking near by, family just down the hall from her chambers. She had to admit, her thoughts kept returning to the slaver. He was unlike any man she had met, infuriating and calculating, intelligent, infuriating...capable of kindness, though said kindness was likely nothing but a facade from behind which he could carry out his plans, did she mention how infuriating he was?
Rested, though clearly not well-rested, she recalled the girl on the steps and only in retrospect did she realize the cold glare of the pale blond's eyes. She did not think much about it, the woman kneeling there had, thus far, little reason to understand true fear, especially considering the one thing she feared the most, had apparently come to pass - she was in revolting silks, with a steel band about her slender throat - worse, such a condition was not the result of her own actions. She snorted derisively, realizing that even a lifetime of perfect conduct, having never behaved in a slave-like fashion, was not enough to prevent the fate looming ahead of her. A vicious grin crossed her lips as she considered her 'friends', Arcadia and Bella, and the fact that there was a good chance they too would discover all their behavior would not spare them - even more ironic was the fact that neither of them was particularly well-behaved in the first place.
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