tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Rebellious Slave Ch. 05

The Rebellious Slave Ch. 05


To my readers: As always, I read all of your comments, so feedback is appreciated, especially since this is my first story. Be warned, from here on out the story will contain sexual violence, much more along the lines of "nonconsent" than "reluctance." Enjoy!


Belvodeil, clearly appalled that his Commanding Officer had caught him in an elaborate lie, grimly looked down at Kara's clipboard, to observe the bid Lord Arlington had made. In an instant, his face turned pale with fear and rage. Defeated, Belvodeil took one last look at Kara before storming off into the crowd, perhaps to get something to drink.

And there was Kara, who sat stunned for a moment, not sure how to assess her situation. Then, in one sudden burst, all of her anxieties were let loose.

"What is this shit?" she hissed to herself, under her breath. "I was supposed to be sold to a Captly's client! A farmer, or a banker, or something! Not to that sadistic lunatic!" Kara strained desperately against her bonds, trying to a get a look at her clipboard. It was imperative that she find out what Lord Arlington's bid had been, so that she could effectively gauge the probability of ending up with him. Maybe, if the bid wasn't too high, Belvodeil would come back. If she had to choose between Belvodeil and Arlington, she'd take the short tempered jack ass from the train any day of the week.

"Listen, sweet heart. Let me give you a few tips." Up until now, Kara had largely ignored the slave who shared her table, finding her other surroundings far more interesting. But now, upon hearing these words whispered harshly in her ear, Kara looked up. The woman, bound to Kara's right, was dressed exactly as she was, but was an entirely different kind of woman. Kara could make out the tattoo of a dark purple spider, hiding out in an ink web along the woman's shoulder. Her whole body was covered in scars: a few bullet wounds, a stab marking, a spray of burns. But Kara couldn't bring herself to think of the injuries as deformities. Indeed, the slave sitting beside her wore them proudly, and in spite of her restraints, glowed with a confidence most unbecoming of a slave. From the obnoxious grin on the woman's face, Kara would never had suspected she were at a slave auction. "Listen up, babe," the woman continued. "Lord Arlington is the man they bring in when pain isn't an effective interrogation technique. He's a mind fucker. He fucks with minds. So, it will be imperative to learn when he's bluffing, and when he isn't."

"You say that like he's already bought me." Kara didn't like the casual, undisturbed manner with which the woman spoke. "That Belvodeil guy really wants me. He'll probably come back for another bid."

The scarred women rolled her eyes. "Please," she replied. "Belvodeil doesn't have the balls to try and out bid his Commanding Officer. Unless there's someone else out there who wants you, you belong to Arlington now. So, do you want my tips or not?"

"Do you have to say it like that?" Kara hissed, still straining to get a look at her clipboard. "I'm not even supposed to be here! I was sold to Martkorp purely on a whim! I was supposed to be at a Captly's auction!" Kara, knowing it would be useless, tried to find a weak link in the chains holding her wrists.

"Oooh, tough break, kiddo." The woman blew a puff of air out the side of her mouth, trying to shoo away a strand of stray blue hair. "But what are you going to do? I was supposed to be dead a long time ago, but look at me. I'm chained up, surrounded by these pompous pricks, wearing a fucking circus costume. I mean, seriously, have you seen these outfits?" The woman looked down at the red attire she'd been dressed in, incredulous. "Do I look like an acrobat, or a contortionist to you? No, I don't. It's gross. I look way too much like a girl. I'd kill for some pants right about now. A cigarette or some whiskey would also be nice. I could settle for either one."

"Great," Kara wondered aloud, not bothering to keep her voice down. "I'm sitting next to an idiot. Perfect. I've been sold to a sadistic lunatic, and also I'm chained next to an idiot."

"No need to be polite," the woman laughed. "But then again, why would you listen to me? You haven't the slightest idea who I am." The woman cleared her throat and straightened herself up, pushing her body forward proudly. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alyssa Terrence, from intelligence. More specifically, I've been a Weapons Specialist for the past ten years. I'm surprised you haven't heard of me. I mean, your uncle and I knew each other. We were kind of tight, back in the day." And now that she mentioned it, Kara did recognize the name. "Listen, sweety. I know this is rough, and it'll only get worse. But, if you want to make it out the same way you're going in, you should listen to my advice. I've worked in intelligence a long, long time. I know how these guys work. I've been interrogated by many of them. And if Arlington's interrogation style is anything like his slave breaking style, you ought to be worshiping my words right about now."

Kara looked ahead of her. They were starting the live auction soon. Clients hurriedly made their way to a series of metal chairs, all lined up in front of the wooden auction platform, their excitement evident. She sighed, not sure she was ready to resign herself to the situation, at least not yet. "Alright, I appreciate it. What else can you tell me?"

"Well, Arlington reads his victims pretty well. He'll push you until he finds a line, and then he'll work on making you cross that line. When he's done, he'll push some more until he finds a second line to work with. The key is to try and prevent him from finding a line in the first place, so resist every dumbass little thing. Indiscriminately resist everything. Create imaginary fears for yourself. And have fun with it. I've heard Arlington wears these stupid little kitten slippers. I don't know if it's true, but if it were, that'd be hilarious...Anyway, you could feign a kitten phobia." Alyssa rattled her chains as if helpless, faking a terrified voice. "Oh, god, master! Not the slippers! Don't make me kiss your kitten slippers!"

"This isn't funny!" Kara screeched defensively. "And what do you mean by lines? What the hell is a line?"

"You know," Alyssa began. "A fucking line. See, we all have certain things we're willing to do under enough duress, right? But then there are those things so totally abhorrent that, even under extreme stress, we won't do. That's a line. The more lines an interrogator can push you past, the more information he can extract. Or, in your case, the more subservience he can demand."

"Do you even know what you're talking about?" Kara asked angrily, the horror of the situation making her rude. "Is Lord Arlington even really an interrogator? He probably lied about my uncle. After all, he was responsible for taking Gardok's east side. Wouldn't that make him military personnel, not intelligence?"

Alyssa sighed. "Trust me, sweat heart. I know what I am talking about; I've been intelligence longer than you've been alive." She paused, as if waiting for a response from Kara, but got none. "Didn't they educate you, at least a little, on how Isleydor is operated? If you haven't noticed, the man's name is "Lord Arlington," with emphasis on the "Lord" part. In Isleydor, there are only four people with that rank, who serve in military functions, as intelligence personnel, and as legislative heads. Basically, they hold leadership positions in all the major branches of the government, allowing them to coordinate between them. He's one of the four "Big Names," so to speak, who serves under Dumais Kerrell. So, yes, he's done quite a bit of interrogating. Although, I've never dealt with him personally."

The pair looked up as an older gentleman approached their table, his eyes and hair a dark, foreboding grey. He wore the black, military uniform of a man exclusively from intelligence. Alyssa must have recognized him, for she grinned wickedly as he approached. "Greenwood, my feelings are hurt. Have you been here this whole time, but have only now decided to visit?" The man paused in front of Alyssa, his serious eyes unamused. "Oh, come on. Don't be like that," Alyssa teased.

"I assume you'll be going live in a little while," the man mused, lifting Alyssa's clipboard in his hands to study it. Kara couldn't make out the exact details of each bid, but there were quite a few of them. Alyssa must be popular around here. "If that's the case, I suppose I shall see you on the floor in a moment. Still, I was hoping to get a look up close before I make any bids." He eyed Alyssa wearily.

Alyssa winked seductively back. "You know, love, I've really missed our little chats. I asked for you in Bremmington, but you'd already been moved back to Gardok. I swore on my life that I'd only scream for you, though, and I kept my promise. Still, it'd be nice to finally reconcile our differences, one-on-one, wouldn't it?" Alyssa's persistent grin suddenly turned malicious. "But you better make sure you lock me up tight, and even then, I'd sleep with one eye open at night."

Greenwood was unfazed. He took one last look at Alyssa and clucked disapprovingly. "God, you're even more scarred up than I remember. Such a shame, but you'll do." Then he, too, whisked off toward the wooden platform, to await the live auctions.

"You know that man?" Kara asked, unsettled by the exchange.

Alyssa shrugged. "I wouldn't say I REALLY know him, but we've been engaged in...How do I describe it? A twisted, sick love affair of sorts?"

"Thank you for your patience this evening!" The words boomed loudly across the auction room, originating from a Martkorp employee on the wooden platform, standing before a microphone. "Typical rules hold for the live auction. The minimum bidding increment will be $50,000. Please, do not harass the merchandise. We'll start with the most highly contested pieces and work our way down from there."

It took four fully grown men to drag Karrington, head of the White Horse Rebel Alliance, onto the stage. Defiance was written in every line of his face, as he was forcibly chained to a large, wooden "X" at the stage's center. He was bare chested, but wore long, yellow pants which hugged tightly to his waist and ankles, the entire piece decorated in strange golden designs. He was still gagged, drool dripping from his mouth as he attempted to shout in spite of the device. He was clearly the most prized piece of the evening, and Kara was shocked to find that the starting bid was $600,000. Finally, after much distressed bidding and shouting, he was sold for over three million to an exotic looking women with dark, red eyes---an unnatural color, Kara noticed---and long, similarly red hair. She wore a tan suit, an impressive sword hanging from the scabbard at her side, and she stood with a regal sort of elegance. To afford such a high price, she must be another of the "Big Four," Kara thought.

Next up, Kara saw a women she recognized, and her stomach began to tingle with butterflies of nervouness and a protective sort of affection. It was Tamius Sue, the general who had protected Gardok's east side and along with it, Elandra's unit. Like Karrington, she wore yellow and gold pants, but was also allowed a similarly decorated bra. The bright colors stood in stark contrast to the red and gold of Kara's uniform, and she wondered if the difference was used to distinguish the most highly prized pieces from the rest of the slaves at auction. The thought lingered only for a moment, as Kara watched Tamius approach the platform. The general didn't struggle, but stood tall and regal, ungagged but silent. With deliberation, she willingly allowed herself to be guided onto the platform and chained onto the wooden "X," where she stared down at the clientele condescendingly. She was absolutely beautiful, long yellow locks tied behind her in a thick pony tail, her fierce hazel eyes scanning the crowd relentlessly.

"We'll begin the bidding at $300,000," the auctioneer began. "Three hundred, do I hear three fifty? Four hundred thousand? Four fifty?"

Among all the chaso, Tamius stood still and defiant until, finally, she was sold to Lord Arlington for one and a quarter million, which wasn't surprising. Tamius had held onto Gardok's east side long after the north, south, and west sides had been taken. At the end, when it became obvious that the White Horse wouldn't be able to win, she hadn't made a run for it. Instead, she'd divereted her men and their resources to escorting fleeing families from the city, doing her best to provide safe passage to any survivors. When she finally did leave the city, it had been too long. She hadn't had the head start on Martkorp's hunters necessary to escape or, at least, that was how the story went. From her position, Kara couldn't see the man who'd bought Tamius, and who would undoubtedly buy her as well, but she was still able to watch her general and marvel at the woman's calm.

Martkorp's handlers approached her once the auction was over, to release her hands and have her delieverd to Arlington. And, once her bonds were released, Tamius moved to follow her captors off of the platform, but paused. Then, in an instant, she assaulted the nearest Martkorp handler with a series of rapid blows to the spine, hitting essential pressure points, so that the man went limp, falling unexpectedly to the ground. A second handler, trying to quickly remedy the situation, charged at Tamius with a taser in his out streched hand, but the general was quick on her feet and dodged it easily, gripping the man's wrist in the process and sharply twisting it, forcing him to release the taser. She scooped it up before it hit the ground, tasing her opponent into submission. She had been flanked by four handlers, two in the front and another two in the back. The two in front of her had been downed and were no longer a threat, so Tamius leapt into the air and sumersaulted backwards, then over the handlers behind her, landing onto the platform with ease. Kara gasped in awe. She hadn't thought anyone could jump that high. Tamius was now facing the two remaining handlers, their backs turned to her. And before the pair could turn around to face their captive, Tamius had swiped the larger man off of his feet and had subdued the last man the same way she had the first, hitting essential pressure points until his mucles became involuntarily limp.

Kara inahled sharply. There was no way Tamius could escape, in spite of her immense acrobatic and combat skills. But the general seemed to have known this all along. As Martkorp handlers rushed the stage to subdue her, Tamius complacently spread her legs and positioned her hands behind her head, fingers interlocking, the classic slave position, prepared to be taken. Then, with cold eyes, she looked down toward Lord Arlington, and though she didn't shout, Kara could hear her in the dead quite of the auction hall.

"That was your only warning, Arlington," she said, seriousness in her tone. "If you are going to bury me, you had better bury me deep."

Then, it was over. Kara watched breathlessly as Tamius, now bound, was led away and into another room, so that the next piece could be sold. Two more yellow uniforms were auctioned off and soon after, so were a few red ones. It was an hour before Alyssa was set up on the platform. She, like Tamius, didn't protest as she was led towards the stage. Bound to the wooden "X," Alyssa stood cheerily, as if she weren't on display and about to be purchased. How could she amass such confidence, such self-assurance? Kara really didn't understand the woman's bravado, or how she maintained it. But Alyssa grinned toward the crowd, unfazed, then shouted out obnoxiously, "You must be at least seven inches long to buy this bitch." The horrified Martkorp handlers rushed toward her with a ball gag, but were too slow. "You can't really punish a girl's pussy with anything less," the Weapons Specialist continued. And on that note, Alyssa was gagged, before being sold for $350,000 to the grey haired man from earlier, Greenwood.

As the night wore on, Kara watched as the slaves in the surrounding room were led onto the platform, auctioned off, and whisked away into oblivion. Then, to her surprise, Kara's name was called out by the auctioneer. Kara had assumed that Arlington now owned her, but earlier in the evening she recalled hearing that a bid had to go uncontested for twenty minutes in order for a piece to be reserved. Since Arlington's bid had been made five minutes prior to the start of the live auctions, that wasn't the case with Kara. A serious case of stage fright suddenly hit her as the Martkorp handlers took her down from her spot along the wall, cuffed her hands in front of her, and gently walked her towards the platform. The closer they got, the higher the stage appeared, ominous and foreboding. When they finally reached the stage, Kara's handlers tried to push her up the wooden steps onto the platform, but Kara refused to move forward. She was far more afraid of being up there on display, the eyes of Isleydor's most notorious military personnel upon her, than she was of the Martkorp handlers flanking her. But when the auctioneer looked at Kara's handlers impatiently, one of them picked her up, slung her over his shoulder, and forcibly carried her up onto the stage. At Kara's frightened squeal, the audience laughed heartily, clearly enjoying the evening.

As the handlers cuffed her wrists and ankles along the wooden "X," Kara tightly closed her eyes. It was one thing to be one of many slaves chained along a wall, surrounded by clients who often passed her by or only glanced at her momentarily. It was another thing entirely to be strung up on a stage, the focus of everyone's attention. Perhaps, if she didn't look, she could trick herself into thinking that no one was ogling her right now. But then Kara remembered Tamius' defiant stare, and couldn't bare to turn cowardly just as things were getting rough. Cautiously, she opened her eyes, only to see a crowd of sinister faces below her, Arlington's among them.

"Before we begin, I'd like you all to take a moment and look in your merchandise catalogs," the auctioneer began. "We apologize for some important information they're lacking, which has only recently come to our attention. In the past half hour, the piece on display, Kara Chrystein, has been identified as the young lady responsible for the Eastern Ammunitions Incident. For those of you who were affected by the incident, this new information may be helpful when you decide whether or not you'd like to place a bid. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with the event, we'd like to provide a short summary. In early August, a train carrying over twenty million dollars in ammunitions was blown apart by an ameuter team led by this lovely little lady, effectively delaying Calihistra's eventual defeat by a month. Although a simple military medic, her relationship to Florence Querren and others make her an interesting piece, innocent in appearence, but fiesty when needed. We'll begin the bidding at $50,000."

Kara was horrified to find that the crowd now looked much more interested than it had been. There were murmurs between neigbors, curious looks, and a few clients who had previously seemed bored were suddenly skimming through their catalogs to learn more. Kara desperately wanted to cry out, to explain that the mission she had led was a one time event, that her commander had guilted her into it, that she wasn't nearly as interesting as the auctioneer claimed. But even though her mind was screaming protests, Kara kept her mouth shut, certain any adverse reactions would only peak further interest in her potential buyers.

"Do I hear fifty? One hundred? Do I hear one fifty?"

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byHisPet21© 27 comments/ 146360 views/ 83 favorites

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