Fighting Dreams Ch. 08

She did something... he doesn't spank like that for pleasure..

He leaves that slave sobbing and crosses the room. There's a snapping sound and a shriek. One seems to be the object of his ire now; though they don't come as fast as the others did, they seem to produce twice the effect. But as I listen in my dripping stillness, she seems to misstep in some way because he works her over for far longer than he did the first until I can hear her chain rattling with little sobs.

A snap sounds beside my ear, making me jolt a step forward. The chain rattles as I whimper, aware that the noise has done what he meant it to; leave me wide open for a punishment. I feel his hand grab my hip to steady it and the other writes fire to my ass.

There's no point to pretending it doesn't hurt. Neither is there any point to over stating how much it does. So I let the noises come from my core, and focus simply on staying put as it builds.

When he stops, I'm shuddering and throbbing from rear to knees. I can feel the heat glowing off my skin. Breaths are sucked around the gag, drool coats my chest. But I stand nonetheless in my position. I did it. It's done. I can please him.

He doesn't praise. He doesn't correct. He just walks away.

"Spread" is the command he repeats three times, before each one of us. I can hear the others gasp when he gives another command. But it's not until he ges to me that I understand why. I hear something heavy set between my legs..

"Kneel, all the way down," he orders coldly.

I sink to my knees and feel the silicone rod impale me. It's thick, and it slows my descent as I tremble before him. Spreading wider, I try to make my body sink lower; it does nothing. Suddenly I feel his heavy hands on my shoulders give a push that makes me gasp as it forces me to take that thick knot at the base.

"Ride it." He commands. "Up... down."

Like a drill sergeant, he calls the cadence of our motions as we're made to ride those dongs. The pain of being stretched lingers, but it eases with each thrust of my hips until my pussy is leaking its pleasure down the long phallus.

But I remember my rules from being under the white haired bitch. No matter how long I ride, I may not cum. No matter how they subject me to the best and worst of feelings it is not my job to worry about orgasming. I exist just for their viewing pleasure and if I'm pleasured by my task is a secondary benefit.

I live to serve them. Whatever they want. No matter how good it feels. No matter how my pussy aches to be allowed to cu. I am a good slave.

One of the others must lose her control because I hear his crop lick her with each motion up and down that he calls. She sobs beside me, hypersensitive and punished by his hand. Right as the edge is about to break through me, he orders us to stand once more with our arms over our heads.

I obey despite the insistent ache in my dripping core.

Time stretches with silence. I've nearly counted four hundred when I hear the snap of a crop's tip meeting flesh and hear a small yelp. There's a second and third before silence reigns again. I feel something clip to my wrists, probably another chain.

Patience and obedience. I am a good slave. I will obey as I'm needed and I will be happily ignored when I am not.

"Heels off the floor."

The order makes me pause as my fogged brain tries to make sense of what that means. Heels off the floor...where the hell even are my heels? Oh that's right. They're on my feet. So am I supposed to levitate? Or dangle myself? Or can I just...?

I lift up to my toes, flexing my foot forward like a dancer might en pointe. It's surprisingly a simple maneuver, and it must meet his goal because though I hear him behind me, he doesn't swat me. No he just brushes a hand down my back.

As the minutes drag, I find my calves starting to seize and tremble. Fatigue sets in quickly as I can feel the drooping of my position. I am a good slave. I must endure.

Rocking foot to foot helps a little. Time, though, leaves them shuddering and despite my best efforts, sinking lower and lower. Based on the rattling I hear beside me, I'm not the only one struggling.

There's a sound like a crack of wood and a startled yelp from the girl beside me. Five seconds later, that crackling sound has her weeping as she moves and shifts in her bonds.

That must be what he was doing behind me. I know that sounds too well. Zap triggers.

Even knowing the shock pads below are waiting, my muscles just can't hold on any longer. My heels drop and the electricity rapidly forces me back into a full flex, twitching from the jolt which contacts me with it a second time before I can struggle to hold myself into that flex once more.

Slaves that can't or won't obey are punished.

The lesson writes itself into my bones as I fight with my body to obey the simple command of keeping my heels off the floor. Twice more I fail before I can force myself into a full flex once more and there I tremble as I use my grip on the chains to move the fatigue to my arms. And there I clutch for my life.

I'm so lost in the task, I don't hear him until he's right in front of me. His hands unhook mine from my bonds; he lifts me down slowly to my hands and knees.

Then he inspects me with those same hands, running from hands to arms to shoulders to chest to sides to calves to feet and back up. I sit still as a statute for his touch, whimpering only as he skims the delicate folds of my sex that pour their nectar. When his inspection is complete, he eases me back into my kneeling position to wait.

I've done it... I've managed.

I can hear the girl beside me sobbing still.

"Not bad for dungeon sluts." He comments aloud, getting to his feet.

"Not so bad yourself," Black remarks, pacing around us. "Though you may have broken Two."

Reg snorts. "If she can't keep a mild stress position or hold an orgasm, she can't make the block. I don't know what Ian was thinking recommending her for evaluation; she's not anywhere close to ready."

"What about the others?"

"They're both clearly ready, though not perfect. One's evaluation is fair given her contract. But for three, I would recommend letting a female DM do her final rating. The first seems significantly lower than her actual performance," he replies as I hear him washing his hands.

"I disagree," Black comments. "She's experienced with you after all and therefore more responsive."

The silence hangs as the faucet squeaks off. "Even though you hid my pet under there thinking I wouldn't notice," He notes walking across the mat. "I always recognize my slut. But the comment stands. Re-rate her. Or take it up with King; the video speaks for itself."

But when the mask pulls off my face a bare second later... the disappointment that flashes through his eyes as he takes in my face carves itself into my memory. He's not happy to see me, and he's not happy with how I've performed.

"Oh pet..." he murmurs crouching down as tears flood my eyes. His words slap me back into reality. "You've always been delightfully naive."

He brushes a tear away with his thumb, but there's no comfort in his gaze. Just a burning scorn. "The loss of your contract wasn't a mistake. You were never meant to be anything more than a virgin slave for me to break so that when you went to Seth you'd be useful. And damn if you haven't made it difficult."

"The House trains the best slaves. When you decided that you weren't going to pay him back, he sent you right into my arms. And now that you've passed the final test, it's time to go back home to your Master. And it's time for me to get paid when he buys you back at the auction."

Rule one... Everyone lies....

There's a hole in my chest.

I could spear my hand under my ribs and take my shredded heart out and there'd be less damage than what he's done.

But I'm frozen to the spot, blood thundering in my ears. I can't even move as he reaches back to clip my hands together behind me. The breath seems to have frozen in my chest.

"That..." he comments softly to Black as he stands, "is how to break a slave properly."

Black doesn't answer him. Instead he looks to his assistant and orders, "Take her back to her cage. She's to be bound and confined under supervision until the auction."

I don't bother trying to fight them as they pull me to my room. I'm just a slave.... Nothing more... nothing at all.... Just money on a paper. My body is buckled into a suit that leaves me fully restrained, and then they put me out of consciousness entirely.

The House keeps me under tight supervision after that evaluation.

I'm not allowed any use of my hands, and only minimal use of my feet. There is rarely a time when I'm alone. But it makes it easier to lose myself in the numbness that's been left in the wake of this pain.

Unlike before, though, I'm not kept in that little room long. No, they collect me a day or so later. Then it's down to the spa where I'm soaked and moisturized, buffed and polished. They wash out the mess of my hair and braid it down my back. They trim my nails down, paint them, and wax me from head to toe before giving me to the Keepers so I can be restrained once more.

In between sleeping and eating, I'm kept in a bird cage in Alexander's office. Soft music plays for company and a glass wall to the outside tells me the passage of time. But my eyes stay to the carpet and the music keeps me wrapped in my own head. My hands are never left free, though eventually he lets me keep them in front of me.

He doesn't talk to me except to give orders and I'm grateful; I don't have to speak to obey.

But even those cold eyes grow a little softer. There's a pensiveness in them, a drawing back to the corner of his mouth. He seems pleased with their work.

When he makes me stand before him naked that evening as he lays out his needles along his desk, I don't tremble or shake. There's no more fear of his methods. Just the knowledge that he will use me as he wills. I'm a slave, and if it means I'm not punished by worse things, I don't care.

But though I stand naked before his desk under the moon, those needles never touch my flesh.

.

Whatever he had planned, he finds me an unworthy doll for it. The needles are rewrapped in their black velvet lined case. I'm returned to my cage unscathed but the frown on his lips deepens after. I find his eyes flick to me more often as he works; his calls are taken more frequently out of the office.

Days and nights pass. Nothing changes except that I'm occasionally allowed out of the cage in the afternoons, and instead of Alexander it's Isaac who manages the routine orders. I'm allowed to eat and sleep in my cage as the marks on my skin fade.

The tears have long since dried up. I'm going through the motions until I'm taken back to Seth and knowing that once he has me, it's over. Jazz won't exist. There will just be the drugged up shell who he keeps as his puppet. And for once... I'm okay with being a hollowed out doll. It's so much easier than the pain.

But one evening, another figure slips into the office as the sun is fading.

"Oh, kraljica," deep voice rumbles as he reaches down to stroke my hair through the bars. "I almost feel sorry for you."

I don't look at him. I don't want his pity. I'm happy to just lay here, untouched and alone.

"But the fact remains: You weren't his to keep no matter what the outcome came to," Rex murmurs as he pets me. "But for as well as he's played the game, he didn't account for everything."

"While not all the Ten may like you, we all hate a traitor," he continues, "He surrendered you to the House and we are going to fight to keep you. Regardless of your debt, you've tried to please no matter who held you."

"But there is only one way to avoid the auction, girl. You'd sign a second contract with the House for more than your original was worth and Devon would authorize the funding to pay off your debt to Regulus...all according to the standard contract rules. I'd have to pull in some money from the others, but between the three of us we could outbid everyone in the room."

Remember your rules....everyone lies. Everyone always lies because they want something. Money. Power. Information. But they only have power when you believe them.

I make my lips answer. "Save the money. I don't want it."

He stares down at me; his hand freezes. "You realize that Martinez will be at the auction. If you go to the Block there will be no guarantee that you return."

"At least with Seth, " I reply quietly while curling tighter into a ball, "I won't remember what he does to me. I can pay off my debt and disappear forever. Or maybe I can inspire him to handle that too. Here? Everyone lies."

"Fatalism isn't attractive."

I look up at him numbly. Caution should temper my words, but what do I have left to lose? "Neither is pretending you're here to help."

"I'm offering you a choice."

"Slaves don't get to make choices...this is just a test. And I'm not stupid enough to fall for it."

Rex's eyes are dark storms. His voice is thick with disapproval as he stands. "Since you want to tempt fate, fine.."

"Good luck, Jasmine. You will need it," he warns as he steps out.

Other slaves come in soon after he leaves. Once again, I'm beautified but instead of going back to the cage I'm led to another room.

There I'm brought to one of the ten raised platforms and set on the clear stool. My ankles are locked to it; my arms are secured to a bar behind my back that makes me arch forward.

My eyes stare down at the spot on the floor when told; the girls fix my braid to lay over a shoulder.

A few dabs of rogue and cover up then are set to my skin and blended to look natural. A scanner beeps as it reads my anklet; a tablet is set on the floor in front of the stool with what looks like all of my information. Another tablet plays a video of snippets from the sessions in Black's dungeons.

Auctions aren't quite like the livestock auctions of the olden days. More like a display floor of a dealership. There's negotiations and electronic bids. But unlike the dealership floor, touching is permitted and there's very little noise beyond the discussions between partners.

There's nothing I can do. Once the contract was signed, I sealed my fate. I only wish I'd known what a fool he was taking me for. But what did he teach me? That expectations only bring disappointments.

My cheeks have flushed, I can feel the prick of tears but I dare not let them fall and ruin my makeup. So I close my eyes, resting in the silence as others are brought in and taken to their places.

Fifteen other bodies to be auctioned, just like me.

The lights lower moments before the room begins to fill with people. They're dressed like this is a formal event; suits and dresses alike shimmer with expensive threads.

Some faces I recognize. The Ten are here, and with them some of their lower ranks. There's Bolton and Seth lingering at each displayed girl. I also recognize the man that Dream spoke to when I was at The Basement. And I'm a little surprised to see Cassius and his company sweep by.

Ignoring Bolton is easy enough; but Seth doesn't allow me the courtesy to pretend he doesn't exist. No, he takes the braid and slowly pulls down until I have to lift my eyes to stare into his.

"I warned you, little bitch," he states. "This is just a formality. By the end of the night, you'll be back where you belong in your cage. And I don't plan to let you out again. Not until I've gotten my money back."

There's nothing I can say to him that I won't pay for later. So I let the puppet take over as he gropes and pinches my breasts and buttocks; when he's bored, he'll leave.

Thankfully something catches his attention across the room and I am free of him a few seconds later.

Cassius visits me next. He reads the tablet thoughtfully, then looks up where I am bound. "Such lifeless eyes, kraljica," he sighs as he sets it down and reaches up to skim a hand over my cheek lightly. "You aren't the girl I remember meeting. But I wonder if you just haven't been tended properly."

The gentleness makes my chest ache. My eyes slowly raise from the floor; there's no words needed. He studies me with intention but when my eyes return to the spot they were holding, he walks away.

Expectations make reality painful. How many times did Reg tell me that? I block out the party completely and let that familiar numbness sink back in. This all is just a formality. They've already made the deal.

So many more pass by. A few pause to look, but among their chattering decadent forms, I may as well be an oak tree. Ignored, immobile, and silent.

The lights go from lowered gold to green some time later and then brighten.

"Ladies and Gentleman, that concludes our auction," King says into the microphone. "Please arrange transport of your merchandise with Mr. Black once you have signed the transfer form."

When the last of the guests have filed out, one by one the slaves are led away. I expect I will be soon. Knowing Seth, he'll get me himself just to rub salt in the wound all the deeper.

Surprisingly, it's not one of the assistants that comes to my pedestal. Nor is it Seth as I had expected.

"Jasmine."

Slaton's sharp voice makes me listlessly look up. He holds up the leather belled collar and the black lead attached to it. Stitched on it in white thread is a simple moniker that breaks any hope I had left. "Are we going to have a problem?" he asks.

Why would we? I already know what comes next... and there's no point anymore.

I shake my head slowly. Closing my eyes as Slate buckles the piece into place, I wince as that shrill little bell sounds when it bumps against my chest. The chain that goes between my feet is barely enough to step forward so that I can stand when he finally lets my hands release from the bar. They won't risk me running.

Slate steers from my elbow as he takes me from the Basement up in the elevator.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way," he says quietly. "Goodbye, Jazzy."

The doors start to open and before I can turn to meet my Master, the world goes from bright to nothingness.

I wake up on the floor. The tile grout lines have pressed into my skin; my bones ache. I slowly sit up, wincing as the bell's chime announces the motion. My limbs are still clipped together; any coordination is limited to managing to get my body up to kneeling.

My eyes swing around the blank purple walls until they land on the male sitting in his armchair so casually.

"Welcome home, kitten," Seth greets with a cold smile. "It's been far too long."

To be Continued.