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Alrik took Artemis back to his ship and into the engine room, and handed her a standard engine repair kit. This took much longer than it would have taken if Artemis were unhobbled.
"Master, your engineer doesn't have any extra tools he likes to keep in addition to the standard ones?" inquired Artemis.
"No, she doesn't," replied Alrik.
"I see, master. Will you remove these manacles now?"
"Sorry, I still don't trust you."
"A longer chain, perhaps, master?"
"No. In fact," he paused and pulled out a heavy ball and chain from the bag the guard had given him, "I think I should chain this to your hobble to make sure you can't run away too easily."
"Why? Master, you are here, guarding me, anyway."
"I'd rather restrain you than fight you. Now, please, stand still."
Remembering her promise not to resist unless he hurt her too much, at least until he got his deposit back, Artemis did has instructed.
However, between the heaviness of the ball, and her weakness from having been fed so meagerly in the recent past, it took her quite some time to make it to where the dyner coils were, and she quite forgot to bring the equipment, but Alrik brought it over for her.
Once there, however, it took her all of five minutes to confirm her diagnosis that the dyner coils were indeed the problem.
"Two of these dyner coils are damaged. One will have to be replaced. The other needs only a couple new fuses and a few new wires."
Alrik enjoyed watching her work. While focusing on the engineering, the look of pain, humiliation, with a resolute determination disappeared from her face. Aside from the nudity, chains, and bruising, she looked like a beautiful, intelligent, freewoman: one that he could fall in love with. The look of pain and humiliation briefly interfered when the manacle's got in the slave's way, and Alrik was tempted to remove them, but she usually figured out how to maneuver in spite of the manacles, and when she couldn't, she would ask Alrik to pull this or press that, and soon the pain and humiliation would again disappear from her face.
Unfortunately for Alrik, it only took Artemis 15 minutes. Even restrained by manacles, her hands were skilled, as he saw. When she was done, and the engine had been tested to Alrik's satisfaction, she remember the brand and tattoos a little below her left hip, the collar around her neck, the chains she was held with, and the fact that she would spend most of the next three days being gawked at, groped, and raped by many strangers, and at the end of that time, she would be auctioned off to a rich, probably sadistic, as likely ugly as not, new master who would rent her as a trix or use her as some other sort of dawlie. She could try to run away again, but in all likelihood, she would spend the rest of her life - which could easily be hundreds of Earth years (she was already 656 Earth standard years) - being raped, violated, tortured, and humiliated. Sure, she occasionally managed to sneak a peak at books, get her hands on gadgets, and get a brief assignment not related to sex and humiliation - that was how she knew so much about engines - but her masters rarely lost interest for long, and when they did, she was soon sold.
Alrik saw the look of pain, humiliation, and resolute determination return to the female slave's face. If he had seen pain, humiliation, and fear on her face instead, as he was accustomed to seeing on the faces of most female sex slaves (even if they smiled and pretended to be happy, he could still tell, upon close examination), and which he couldn't stand to look at for long, he would not have done what he did next.
"Artemis, how would you feel about being my new engineer?"
"Would you also want me to be your trix or dawlie, master?"
"No. I want a girlfriend, not a dawlie, and I don't want to be a pimp."
"Pimp is an ancient word," Artemis paused, remembering stories she had heard as a child about the time before slavery was legalized.
"How would I be punished when I didn't do as you wanted, master?"
"Do I seem to you like the sort of man to punish slaves frivolously?"
"Many of my former master's used disobedience or failure as an excuse to fulfill their sadistic fantasies, master."
"I'm sure they loved you, then. You must have given them plenty of excuses. It's a surprise those ones ever sold you."
"They want mild or even moderate resistance, not runners they have to call the bounty hunters on, master."
"Do I seem sadistic to you?"
"What will you do to me if I run away, master?"
"I won't buy you unless you promise not to."
"I can't make that promise, master. Firstly, even if I made such a promise based on the assumption that you would treat me gently, what if you became cruel? Secondly, I don't just want a life a slavery with a gentle master. I want freedom. Running from a gentle master who had paid a great deal of drackals for me would feel somehow less than right. But if I run from a cruel master, at least I have some hope of success. Very little hope, but enough to hang on to."
"Even if you make it to one of the so-called slave-free worlds, they still have mutual recognition treaties. Sure, they'll try to stop the bounty hunters from leaving their port cities. They will fail. And once the bounty hunter has you collared and restrained, the mutual recognition treaty becomes effective in your case, and the planet's authorities have no say in the matter, other than to enforce their slave welfare laws, which might briefly protect you from being beaten or dragged out in public nude, if you are very lucky. Of course, once the bounty hunter leaves orbit with you, the slave welfare laws are no longer applicable."
"But I can try, master. I can try to free myself of my chains, don a disguise, and steal a fast spaceship. I can try to outrun the bounty hunters to a slave-free world. I can leave the port city at once and find a place to hide. If I'm found, I can try to fight and find somewhere else to hide."
"Sure. You can try. But here is a better idea. You agree to be my slave. I bid for you, and if I win, you be my engineer. I'll give you the same percent I give my current engineer: 10% of every mission. I'll charge you 10% interest per year, compounded monthly. Of course, I'll have to charge you for living expenses, any possessions you might want to have for yourself, and the time I spend restraining and disciplining you."
"10% interest per year, master? How about 7%?"
"9%."
"8%, master."
"Done."
"What is this discipline you speak of, master?"
"Relax. Scolding you for bruising yourself is a form of discipline. I'm not cruel."
"Master, are you actually going to time how long you spend scolding me?"
"No, but if it becomes too much of a burden, I'll have to bill you for it."
"Master, why not keep a freewoman engineer and not bother?"
"Because you are better. Because she would have had me replacing the whole engine, and I don't have 5 million drackals."
"Do you expect me to do all my work chained up like this, master?"
"I hope to build trust with you, so that I can at least reduce your bondage when we are up in space. When we are on the ground, you will be locked in the brig, chained because I don't know how good a lockpick you are, or else supervised and chained, like you are now. And believe me: if we ever go to a slave free planet, the chains will be much more stringent, and if we don't need you in the engine room, you won't be able to move much aside from a little squirming."
"If I have sex with you, will you pay me for it, master?"
"Like I said, I want a girlfriend, not a trix. And if you agree to engage in sexual activity with anyone else, I'm selling you, you understand? If you want to have sexual relations with me because you like me, that's great. If you don't, I'm glad you know how to say no, because I'm likely to come on to you.
"Do I have to be chained if we have sex, master?"
"If you want to take advantage of me falling asleep after sex, then: yes, you will have to be restrained at least a little during sex so you don't take advantage of the situation, and more tightly when we are done so you don't run away after I fall asleep. Sorry, but that's how it will be, if you agree to have sex with me."
"Master, what will you do if I change my mind and run away?"
"I'll hunt you down, capture you, and if you don't have a really good explanation, stick ginger dildos in your vagina and asshole, whip your breasts, ass, and crotch, and leave you chained in strappado and other uncomfortable positions until I get you to market so I can sell you."
"Others have done worse, master. What will you do if I pay off my debt?"
"Then you will be free. I'll give you your papers. You will be welcome to work for me, or not work for me, and to date me, or date someone else, or date no one at all."
"Very well, I agree, master."
"Before I buy you, I'll need to examine you. If you resist or tell me to stop, I won't buy you. You must do exactly as I say."
"Get on with it then, master."
"No, first, we go to the brig."
He took her there, and locked the door behind them, setting it so he could get out by entering a passcode.
"I am going to unchain you now. You must not run away or make any sudden movements," Alrik told the woman. He did, and it was the first time Artemis stood without chains or ropes or other bondage (collar excluded) since the last time she picked the locks on her chains and ran away.
"I need you to stand with your feet about two feet apart. No, three feet. Good. Now, put your arms up and your hands on the top of your head. There. Try not to move unless I tell you to or gesture you to do so."
In all fairness to Alrik, he really did mean only to assess her physical health - the strength of her muscles, just how malnourished she was, the extent of the bruising, and any other possible abnormalities - and generally to estimate her fair market value. But he was attracted to her. She was intelligent, strong-willed, and beautiful. If she were free, he might already be planning a proposal. As it was, she was a slave presently under his control, she was naked in front of him with her legs spread wide, and by agreeing to the examination, she had essentially agreed to groping. We must accept that if he did more than was proper, it was only human for a man in his position to do such a thing.
He began by looking into her eyes, those dull, violet eyes that could be so much more if she were better treated. He brushed her lovely straight black hair out of her face behind her ears. He stroked her cheek, remembered this was an examination, and felt her bone structure. Her cheeks were well defined. He opened her mouth, pointed a tiny flashlight inside, and turned her head to different angles so he could get a better look. The slightly large, but only enough that it made her lips appear fuller. In fact, now that he looked more closely, the lips were slightly swollen, probably from oral sex. As for the condition inside, he supposed it was only natural given that she'd been on display for six or seven days, and that once he bought her, she would soon have clean, white teeth again.
The bruising round her neck, presumably from her collar being yanked on leashes by her masters, guards, and interested customers, was worse than he had thought it was. There was even some swelling. Mostly purple with some areas of yellowish green, it was obvious her neck had been yanked at from multiple angles, as the bruising was wider than the collar. He pulled her arms down, gently adjusted the collar, and walked all around her to get a better look. She flinched slightly when he touched it. This was obviously more bruising than one would ordinarily get from leading a slave on a leash, even a defiant one such as Artemis.
"How did this happen to your neck?" Alrik asked, sympathetic.
"Masters used leashes on me, master."
"That," stated Alrik, "is obvious. What else?"
"There were a few masters who pulled on the leashes faster than I could run, at least in whatever bondage I was in, my master."
"I'm not your master yet. The name's Alrik."
"Master Alrik, when they did this, I often fell down, with the masters still yanking on my leash. And you do know the hook my spreader bar was attached to above the display block can be lowered, should a master wish to try me for oral sex. Sometimes, they use a leash to position my head the way they want it. Sometimes, they yank hard on that leash, master."
Alrik really was growing quite fond of Artemis. It was difficult for him to see and hear this. A part of him began to feel a little angry at the people cruel enough to do this for her. But he quickly suppressed that anger. Treating slaves cruelly was not only the social norm, it was encouraged, lest the slaves grow disrespectful. The masters had a right to do this to her. If he didn't like it, well, it was on him to buy and protect her.
Alrik went on to examine her excessively thin, obviously undernourished shoulders and arms. The smoothness of her pale skin, which Alrik took too much pleasure in stroking, was interrupted by chain indentations just below her elbows, from elbow bondage, no doubt.
The wrists were severely damaged, although not so much as the neck. The bruising was extensive, though. Artemis obviously didn't like being chained. Alrik considered using softer bondage after he bought her, perhaps cloth, silk rope, or something padded. No, this one had a history of running away, and steel isn't something easy to cut through, and a little careful positioning can generally make it near impossible for the slave to pick the locks on her chains. Perhaps, when they were flying in space. The escape pods could be easily configured to not take her commands, and she did not seem like the sort to throw herself out an airlock. Perhaps, when they were flying in space and he was supervising her anyway, a softer bondage would be useful occasionally.
"You should really try not to struggle against chains to the point of bruising yourself."
"Master, what dignity would I have if I behaved like a perfect little tratsch?"
"Haven't men bruised your neck enough without you doing this to yourself?"
"Master, if you do not want me to struggle against your bondage, then do not restrain me."
"How can you ask me not to chain you up when you have such a long history of being a runner!?"
"How can you expect me to be a willing little dawlie just because you give money to people I hate!? Master, you must accept that slavery damages the enslaved, and if you wish to keep a slave woman, you will have to damage her."
This actually gave Alrik a pang of guilt. He had been wishing that she was a freewoman, that he could court her as such, that he could fall in love with her and her with him, and not have to deal with any of this slavery business. But he also did not have the kind of money that he could use to just free a nearly top-of-the line (aside from the whole defiance thing) female sex slave just because he was a bit fond of her.
"You know what sorts of buyers are going to be bidding on you in three days time. You know what they will do to you if I don't buy you."
The slave broke her gaze with him. He was right, of course. Her alternatives were worse. That is why she agreed to this.
He lifted her chin. "Look at me, Artemis," he said, gently, and waited for her to lift her eyes to meet his.
"Master, I am sorry, master. Master, please buy this slave in spite of her faults, master. Master, thank you, master."
"What, you are following Dorian slave protocol now?" asked Alrik, more amused than anything else, and let go of her chin.
Her fingers were long and slender, but the palms of her hands were covered in dried blood. It appeared she had been digging her nails into her palms hard enough to draw blood. He remembered that she had not cried out when the man had put clamps on her nipples and yanked on them. Perhaps this was what she did instead when she was in pain. If he ever had to punish her painfully, he would have to do something to prevent this.
He moved her hands back to the top of her head and told her to keep them there.
Going down, her breasts were surrounded with a sort of abrasion indicating breast bondage. It went behind her back, too. The damage from nipple clamps was relatively minor, but the breasts were bruised. She'd obviously been beaten. He went on to check for any unusual lumps. Were it not for the damage, she probably would not have flinched and squirmed so much at this point, and Alrik probably would have enjoyed it more.
He did, however, immensely enjoy stroking her waist and belly, entirely too much in fact. Sure, she was underfed, but the skin was so smooth, and although she did not seem entirely happy about this and squirmed a little, she did not seem to be in pain and did not flinch. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he worked his way down to her crotch. He would have been unable to resist having far to much fun here, had she not, when he pressed up against the area with his hand, flinched and lost her balance. This area was bruised too, unfortunately.
Alrik caught her, gave her a moment, and repositioned her. He noticed the blood was flowing from her palms again.
The slaves ass had obviously been treated worse than her breasts. They were badly bruised, and a few welts were visible. The welts shouldn't have happened while she was on display, but the guards didn't catch everything. Underneath the damage, however, it was obviously a very muscular, well shaped ass.
Alrik continued down her legs. They were not so skinny as her arms, but feeling them, he realized there was little if any fat: it was nearly all muscle. The inside of the thighs was extensively bruised, no doubt from men pressing between her legs for forced sex. On her left leg, a little below the hip, was a brand. It was a very old brand. Alrik guessed that Artemis was among the first generation of slaves to be captured. The more modern slave ID tattoo was beneath this, and beneath that, a few warning warning tattoos. For example, a tally of how many times she'd run and a bounty hunter had to be called. Twelve or more. The tattoo makers had decided it was pointless to tally beyond twelve. Great. The ankles were about as damaged as the wrists. Other than that, the legs were quite pleasant to gaze upon and feel.
All in all, this added up to quite a bit more physical damage than Alrik had noticed before the examination. However, thanks to that immortality modification, she would heal much more quickly than an ordinary slave. He estimated it would take a week after he bought her, at most.
Alrik knew it was nearly time to take her back to the display block. "Up against the wall," he ordered. He pulled her arms behind her back and pulled her elbows together. She resisted slightly, and he pressed her harder against the wall to stop her. He locked a short metal chain around to keep her elbows tightly pressed against each other. He then locked another short metal chain around her wrists to keep those together.
"On the floor, face down," he barked the next order. She was rather graceful about it. She'd obviously had to sit down / lie down before with the use of her arms. However, with her breasts pushed forward so far from the elbow bondage and her back subsequently arched, her head never made it to the floor.
The hobble came next, only this time, Alrik shortened the hobble to only one foot long. Better to get back more slowly than to risk a runaway situation.
He then ordered her to kneel, facing him, lower legs flat against the floor, thighs upright, legs spread as much as the hobble would allow so he could see her crotch. He made the same pattern of chains connecting her waist to her collar as before, but hoping even more this time he would not be compelled to pull her by it.
Artemis's compliance was not without hesitation. The examination she had received, the use of elbow bondage which pushed her breasts forward, and the order than she kneel with her legs open while Alrik added more chains, not to mention the tendency of his eyes to roam occasionally, all made her quite certain that he wanted her sexually, not just as an engineer.
She was no fool, though. She had been a slave for 635 years. Before her enslavement, she enjoyed Stoic philosophy. She had childhood onset leukemia. Rather than taking the pain medications given as charity to the poor, she learned to live with the pain, in spite of it, in accordance to Stoic philosophy, and had a successful enough career that she was able to pay for the gene therapy needed for proper treatment of leukemia when she was 19. Her slaver did not know this about her. He only knew that she could never be completely broken like the others, but because of her beauty and the genetic treatments he had invested in her, she still turned him a good profit when he sold her. Over the centuries, she had frustrated many masters with her defiance. She was not afraid of pain, as what was important to her was honor, dignity, and hope, and she felt she had to struggle some to hold on to a bit of those. Nor was she afraid of being killed by an angry master: she had lived long enough already, and death would one form of escape. Still, given a choice, she would prefer a gentler master to a crueler one. Alrik was not all she hoped for, but he was better than she'd had in over 500 years, so, hoping to be bought, she resolved to tolerate his flaws, for now.
Alrik pulled the slave up by her upper left arm, fast enough that her body briefly twisted such that her breasts and head pointed up a bit more. Keeping his left hand firmly around her upper left arm, he put his right arm behind her and reached around to her belly, and, holding her at his right and stroking her belly, took her back to the slave market, back to the display block, where he helped the guard set the merchandise spread-eagled on display again, with much less resistance than when he had taken her down.
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