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This part is an intro piece to two longer fic's, and I'm trying out an odd concept, mostly because my brain is broken and I can't do anything normally. So, this intro piece (likely two or three parts) is the intro to different 2 stories. The premise in the intro is that Spike purchases 2 slaves (Tara and Xander), with the intention of only training one as a pleasure slave, and using the other as leverage (emotional blackmail). At the end of the intro he makes his choice. The story then splits off into either Spara or Spander, depending on which slave he picks. |
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![[info]](http://www.spanderfiles.net/userinfogif.gif){kind=small}
The Lady or The Tiger?
by
C. Woodhaven
Part One
Abaddon was one of the few remaining slavers’ worlds. Governed by demons, it lived up to the hell that its name promised. It was not a good place to be a human. It wasn’t always a good place to be a demon, either.
As humans moved across the galaxy to colonize, the demons soon followed.
Much to the demons dismay, the pioneer spirit of the humans who struck out to find a better life for themselves also kept them from being cowed by the frightening creatures they encountered. These humans didn’t care if a creature defied logic. If attacked, the humans defended themselves ruthlessly. They found that fire killed just about anything. So the demons congregated on one of the furthest worlds they could find, making it their own and biding their time.
For a hundred years chaos reigned. Although the demons knew that all they had to do was wait for the humans to become complacent again, they were after all, demons, and they thrived on carnage. Scores of bloody battles raged, new ones often beginning before old ones were complete. Thousands died, and then hundreds of thousands, and the planet lay in ruins.
From the ashes rose a new order, built by those who realized the futility of pointless violence. Unlikely alliances were formed as they sought to purge the mindlessly violent from their ranks. Then they began to rebuild. Clans began to separate again, and cities rose from the scarred plains. Where there once was total chaos, order reigned.
But the wisest among them realized that the order would never last unless the demons were allowed to be demons. They would soon turn their lust for rampant carnage on each other if they were not allowed an outlet for their natural aggression and need to dominate. Thus the slaver class began.
By then, humans had had generations to settle into their new worlds, and once again made easy prey. Young men and women, full of an aimless wanderlust, were easy to entice away from their homes with promises of a better life. Harvest raids were also conducted on sleeper ships, and sometimes travelers were simply abducted from out-of-the-way locations.
Once on Abaddon, they learned the harsh truth of their new existence. Some of them were trained in the arts of pleasuring their demon masters; others competed in the warrior games, or were marked as breeders and kept out of general circulation. And the unruly, the ones who wouldn’t accept their place, well, there was a place for them too…
~*~*~*~*~
Spike was bored Tuning out the droning of his assistant, he lounged in the back of his transport, eyes roving the streets outside and looking for something interesting. He’d been planetside for months. His erstwhile grandsire had summoned him to court, ordering him to fulfill his duty. Spike bristled at this. Technically, his sire should have been serving her time at court, but she had been deemed unsuitable, so Himself had decreed that Spike would serve in her stead. Now Spike was stuck, bowing and scraping and yes Sir’ing himself into sheer, mindless boredom.
He wanted to be off-world, basking in the light of alien moons and bathing in the blood of unsuspecting innocents. Fighting, fucking and feeding. But no, he was stuck with a bunch of pretentious elders, being lorded over by that enormous prick, Angelus.
His attention wandered back to his assistant, Gen, when he realized that she had been trying to get his attention for the last several minutes. “What was that?” he asked her.
She glared at him. “I was saying that there has been some sort of disturbance ahead, and traffic through this corridor is being re-routed down into the city.”
“And?” Spike asked, wondering why she thought he cared
She sighed. “This will significantly delay your arrival at his lordship’s estate. He will not be pleased.”
“And yet, I find myself still wallowing in a lack of concern.”
“Master Angelus will not be pleased if his lordship is angered,” she replied tersely.
Spike smirked. “Bonus.”
Gen glared. She looked perky even when she was furious. Spike couldn’t tell if it was the annoying flip of her dark brown hair, or the way her brown eyes flashed. Even the bright white utility jumper she wore screamed cheer. It was nauseating.
Spiked rolled his eyes. “Dial it,” he said curtly.
Gen slid the vid-screen into view and punched the numbers.
The corpulent Lord Arvis soon appeared on the screen in all his grotesque glory. His pale skin, stretched nearly to bursting over a bald head, had a blotchy reddish cast to it. At a glance, other than two diminutive yellowing horns on his forehead, he looked fully human. His small piggy eyes, however, contained no spark of compassion. They were coldly calculating the reason for Spike’s call.
“Ah, Master Spike, I’ve been awaiting your arrival. No problems, I trust?” His thick liver colored lips curled up in a parody of a smile, but his flat eyes continued to bore into Spike, even through the vid.
“Yeah, about that,” Spike said dismissively. “Ran into a bit of a delay. Gonna be a bit longer.”
“Really.” Arvis paused, his mouth turning back down into its natural state. “That’s most unfortunate. I was under the impression that Master Angelus was in rather a hurry to acquire this package. I went to a great deal of effort to get it so promptly.”
Spike hated dealing with this crap. His face grew hard as he said, “Look, Arvis, Angelus very much appreciates the effort involved.”
Cold eyes narrowed even further. “I don’t think he does. I was very specific when we made our arrangements. The package is to be picked up within the hour or he forfeits; no exceptions. I have several other interested parties that realize the value of this particular prize, and are fully appreciative of its …” he paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words, “ … time-sensitive nature.”
Spike glanced quickly at Gen, who shook her head. They’d never make it within the hour. If he didn’t pick up this package, Angelus would flay the skin off his back. Twice. It cost a fortune and it was all he’d been talking about for weeks. “Look, mate,” he started, “I know full well that you’re under the gun and want to rid yourself of this thing. Angelus paid a pretty price for you to get it. But if you’re willing to double-deal him, go ahead. Just consider it the last bit of business that you do with the court. And with that goes your protection.”
Gen’s eyes went wide and she started to panic. “Sir, you can’t…,” she started.
Spike reached over and switched her off. He didn’t need to deal with her meltdown just now.
Rage swept over Arvis’ face. “You think that you, a first-timer on the council, still smelling of the putrid earth they buried you in, can scare me with your idle threats?,” He sneered. “They’ll stake you out for the sunrise before they stop doing business with me. I get what they need.”
Fury washed over Spike. His voice dropped dangerously low as he said conversationally, “Normally, I’d say you were right; first-timers typically don’t have that much pull on the council. We get sent back and forth over this god-forsaken place, running errands for the elders. But me, I’m not even supposed to be here. I’ve got years before I’m truly obligated to fulfill my duty.” He narrowed his eyes, his tone becoming venomous. “Me, I’m here early because I bagged two slayers on my own when I was off-world. They want me here because I remind them what a real vampire is.” This wasn’t precisely true, but he wasn’t going to tell this fat fuck that.
Spike continued. “There’s nothing I’d like better than to be off-world, but I’m stuck here. And if the only entertainment I get is from taking down pompous, self-important bureaucrats like you, and skinning them alive...I’ll have to take it,” he said, smiling cheerfully at the thought.
Arvis paled. “You wouldn’t!” he sputtered.
“Yeah, mate, I would. But more importantly, I can,” Spike continued. “See, the difference between them and me is that I care fuck all about the rules.
“But I can guarantee you against the rules or not, if I dragged you in kicking and screaming, the court would feast for weeks on your fat arse, and no one would come to your aid. So, what do you say? Give me a bit longer?”
Arvis held Spike’s cold gaze with his own for a moment longer, then pursed his thick lips together. “Fine,” he said tersely. “However, there is only so much time that I can keep it here. It needs constant…”
Spike cut him off. “How long?”
“No more than five hours, or it will be unsalvageable,” he replied.
“Fine. I can be there within two, and have it back to Angelus in time for sundown.” Spike smiled. “How ‘bout we buy you a pretty poppet for your troubles, huh? We’re passing through the slave district as it is.”
Arvis paused a moment, his normally flat eyes sparkling in a decidedly predatory way. “Yes, I think that would be acceptable. Something…new…to play with would be quite nice,” he said maliciously, and Spike could almost see him salivating.
Spike nodded as he turned off the vid.
He debated leaving Gen off for the remainder of the trip, but she’d never let him forget it. He flicked her switch.
As Gen hummed back to life, a blandly generic feminine computer voice broadcast “MicroCosm’s SevenGens. Working for you!” while she booted up.
He knew she was fully booted when her eyes blinked open and she finished her previous speech. “…speak to Lord Arvis that way. He’s...,” her voice drifted off as she computed how much time had elapsed between the beginning and end of her statement. She scowled at Spike. “Sir, I have asked you repeatedly not to do that. I am a SevenGen personal assistant, not a …toaster oven.”
“Do you even know what a toaster oven is?” he asked her, smiling as her scowl deepened.
“Lord Arvis?” she inquired.
“Dealt with. We have to stop briefly at the slave markets…” -she bristled at this- “with his lordships’ permission,” Spike finished, and she calmed somewhat. “I’m picking him up a little something. No need to get your circuits in a bunch, yeah?”
~*~*~*~*~
One thing Spike did love about being homeworld was that it was vampire safe. The city was designed specifically with his kind in mind: lots of tall buildings with deep shadows, oversized awnings, and necro-tempered glass. They were all used in combination to block the sun’s deadly rays. He had no difficulty getting from his transport into the slave mall.
He’d left Gen in the transport. She had wanted to come, to keep him out of trouble. But what was the point of being evil if you weren’t going to get into trouble? Besides, he knew she reported everything he did back to Angelus. He’d told her he’d meet her in the loading area.
He sauntered around the main level, smirking at the fact that while everyone gave him a wide berth, they couldn’t help staring either.
He knew he looked good, with his hair just bleached moon-white and done up in spikes, a loose bone-white shirt left open to the navel and tucked into tight breeches, and deceptively soft looking black boots that could pack an unexpected wallop in a fight.
His long black coat billowed out behind him. Not his beloved duster, some modern lightweight fabric that shimmered when he moved. Damned thing had the Council’s emblem embroidered in blood-red on the left shoulder – an intertwined A and C, combined with dripping fangs. He imagined that whoever on the council had commissioned it thought it looked noble and threatening. It looked stupid. At least it was small...well, smallish. The morons could have splashed the thing across the back.
His duster had been packed away with his other off-world trinkets. Angelus had thought it too provincial, and nearly burned it when Spike protested. With Spike wearing it. So he had put it away for the joyful day when he got off this flying mudball, and accepted this inferior substitute.
He strode through the main arcade, over to one of the pricier merchants. The stock was all displayed on a rotating dais. Rows of clear tubes, each holding a single, scantily clad human displayed for sale. With their hands bound behind them, the slaves were forced to stand at an awkward attention in the narrow tubes. Judging from the serene looks on their faces and their wide smiles, they were having Bliss Gas piped into the tubes along with the air. It was like looking at life-sized dolls that had been packaged, wrapped and processed for consumption. It was creepy – even Gen looked more alive.
Spike lit up a cigarette and perused his selections. An oily looking salesdemon slithered over. “May I help you, Sir?” it asked.
Like most of the merchant class, the squat toad-like salesdemon was an Anuran demon. Its bulging eyes lingered on the cigarette and then darted to the Council emblem on Spike’s coat, and Spike knew it longed to tell him to put it out.
He smirked. “‘fraid I’m going to set your pretties on fire, are you?”
“What? Oh, no sir. We use nothing flammable in our packaging. Please feel free to partake,” the demon said, almost jovially, but its eyes kept darting around nervously, its tongue flicking ceaselessly over its bony lip ridges. “It’s forbidden to use Bliss Gas on any live human slave trade,” the toad said.
“Uh huh,” Spike replied, unimpressed. “It’s also cheap, undetectable in the blood even to vampires, odorless, and keeps the toys in line.”
Spike flicked his butt at one of the tubes and it bounced off. He laughed when the salesdemon visibly flinched. “Don’t really care what you do to them, do I? Not my problem,” he said. Then he pointed to a blonde female with overlarge… assets. He figured she’d be exactly the type that Arvis would like: all tits and no brains. “That one. She squeamish about fucking G’nrda demons?”
The salesdemon brightened immediately “All our merchandise has been properly trained to…”
Spike cut him off, “Don’t need a pedigree. Yes or no.”
“Of course sir, yes, she’s trained for G’nrda.” The toad nearly bent in half bowing in apology. Stupid git.
“Fine, I’ll take her. Strip her off and tie a pretty bow around her or something, will you? She’s a gift. I’ll pick her up in the loading dock,” he said dismissively. He passed his council I-dent card over to be scanned. “Make it quick.”
“Yes sir.” The toad scanned the card and handed it back with a claim check as it scurried off to make arrangements.
Spike strode off through the mall toward the loading dock.
~*~*~*~*~
“Riley, please…don’t do this.” Spike heard the delightful sound of an anguished female pleading. “Please, don’t do this,” she repeated, softly.
Spike paused. It was unusual for humans to speak so freely at the slavers’ mall. Begging was common, but this quiet pleading was different. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the source.
He spotted them, off to his left on a public sale dais, a group of three humans, two males and a female. One of the males wore the insignia of an overseer on his collar. Even without the insignia, Spike would have known he was the overseer. They all had a vague military bearing that carried over from their training.
The other two were dressed for sale, leashed and collared with their hands bound behind them. The overseer was binding them each to a post, readying them for sale.
The girl, her dark blonde hair pulled up into some sort of twist, was wearing a short sleeved white top that came to just below her large unbound breasts, and a long white skirt made of the same synthetic material. It seemed to both cling to her everywhere and float about her at the same time. The fabric had been rolled from her waist all the way down around her soft rounded belly, stopping at her hips. She looked….lush, her owners presenting her as a strange combination of virginal bride and breeder that typically didn’t mesh, but which suited this girl well.
The boy was just as interesting, skin bronzed to a honey color and oiled, showing off muscles that had most likely been acquired by hard physical labor rather than training. His only article of clothing was a small bit of fabric fastened around his waist, which barely reached his mid-thigh, and was of the same white material that the girl was wearing. His longish shaggy brown hair bespoke of convenience rather than style, and his face was dominated by large brown hurt-me eyes.
Spike was intrigued, and moved closer, pretending to examine some leather restraints in a stall nearby. A malicious glare sent the salesman scuttling away, giving Spike an unobstructed view of the unfolding drama.
The overseer had finished strapping the boy and the girl in, and was busying himself with the keypad on the terminal, presumably pricing the pair of them.
“Riley,” the girl said softly. She had her head down and tilted away from the street, and barely moved her lips when she spoke.
The overseer, Riley, looked up from his typing and held her gaze as he said, “Tara, I…”
“Please,” she murmured, “I’ll do anything, anything at all. Just don’t …”
“You know it’s not up to me,” he answered softly, his eyes still locked with hers.
“T-tell them I’ll work the tents, I really will do a-anything, please...” There was an edge of desperation in her voice.
“Tara, NO!” the boy hissed, “I won’t let you do that, not for me.” He wasn’t as good at being discreet as the girl was. A few patrons in the streets looked up at his exclamation. He immediately clammed up.
Riley, the overseer, glared at the boy, his face hardening. Spike saw that the kid had the common sense to drop his gaze and bow his head.
Tara looked at the boy, then back at Riley. “I will work the tents,” she whispered more forcefully. “All day, all night, whenever they want, however long they want. Just please don’t split us up.”
Riley looked at her solemnly. “Tara,” he sighed, “I don’t have a choice. You know where they should have sent him.” He indicated the boy. “I got them to agree to sell you both instead. It was all I could do.”
Tara opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it again. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. When she opened her eyes again Spike saw that they shimmered with tears. She glanced at the boy, and at Riley, and nodded in understanding. “Do you think someone will buy us both?” she asked, voice wavering a bit. “Together?”
“I’m sure…” Riley started, and then shook his head, apparently unwilling to lie to the girl. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve been ordered to discourage that if I can.”
The tears that had been welling up in the girl’s eyes silently spilled over and down her cheeks in a stream. Spike could nearly taste her despair. It was beautiful.
“God, Tara, I’m so sorry. Please don’t cry,” the boy whispered.
She took a deep breath and struggled to regain her composure before murmuring back. “Not your fault, Xander, never think that. Just keep safe, ok? I love you.”
“Ok, you two, enough. It’s time.” Riley’s voice was more firm as he punched a few final buttons and the digital sales display was activated. The entire dais shifted forward, indicating that he was open for business.
Spike was intrigued. Loyalty among slaves wasn’t uncommon, but between a slave and an overseer, it was nearly unheard of. Relationships between the groups were painfully discouraged. He wandered over to get a better look at the pair.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one interested in these two, either. By the time he’d gone the short distance to the dais; several demons had gathered around the pair and were examining them closely. He watched as the girl, Tara, turned gray as she felt a Corswa demon slide one of its primary tentacles up under her skirt to examine her more fully. Both its secondary tentacles were busy slithering about the rest of her body; whether it was trying to soothe or stimulate, Spike couldn’t tell. Girl stood still though, didn’t flinch.
Corswa demons were smaller than average human females and easily distinguished by their five sets of tentacles and prominent forehead crest. They were creatures that looked as if they would be much more comfortable swimming rather than standing. They trolled the markets, always on the lookout for un-neutered human females. The human womb was an ideal host environment for their eggs. Usually after one spawning, during which the hundreds of miniature squid-like creatures literally crawled out of the host’s body upon hatching, the girls went mad and had to be constantly restrained. Most only survived two or three spawns before becoming completely catatonic and needing to be put down.
The boy wasn’t faring much better. A nearly seven-foot tall waiflike demon with damp blue-gray flesh stretched painfully over its bones was clinically examining the boy. Likely a breed farmer looking for new stock to add to his stable. Occasionally the demon would make a comment to his squat companion, who in turn made a notation on a tablet.
When the demon reached underneath the boy’s sheath and began to evaluate his manly bits, the human was unable to hide the revulsion on his face.
Spike had seen enough. Angelus was always harping on him for not taking advantage of his status as ‘demon lord’, but Spike had never been interested in owning slaves. Who needed a fawning sycophant, especially one that had to be fed and clothed, and had messy bodily functions? These two, however, had managed to capture his interest, and that was something quite rare lately.
Spike stepped up onto the dais, between the slaves. The overseer was making his sales pitch; outlining the skills the two possessed to the crowd and trying to generate more interest. The Corswa demon was now apparently doing more than just feeling the girl up, judging by the clenching of her jaw and the beads of sweat appearing on her brow.
In the blink of the eye, Spike reached out and roughly pinched the sensitive forehead crest of the Corswa demon with his left hand, pulling it closer to him. It howled in pain and was forced to retract its tentacle or risk losing it. Spike shoved the demon quickly off the back end of the dais. His right hand shot out, just a blur, and snatched the throat of the spindly demon before pushing it off the back end of the dais into the ally behind as well. “Move along,” he snarled.
The spindly blue demon’s companion came up on Spike’s right and attempted to restrain him. Spike spun, quickly grabbing its arm and tossing it after its companion. He felt his face shift, vision sharpening as his brow ridges rose and his fangs fully extended. He slid his hands under his coat, and from the small of his back he pulled two silver railroad spikes from their hidden sheaths. He splayed his arms and took a fighting stance, holding the spikes as he would a pair of sai’s. They gleamed wickedly in the bright artificial light. “Still want to play?” he asked.
The Corswa paled, and spat. “Ischtt Vanshi!” Dirty Vampire.
Silver was corrosive to them; any contact and their flesh began to melt away. If they were lucky, they would only have to quickly sever a tentacle or two to halt the spread of damage. A touch to the head or torso was deadly. It glowered at the metal in Spike’s hand for a moment longer before slinking off, inching along on its four ballast tentacles. sssliss-thump, sssliss-thump.
The other two demons stalked off, grumbling about vampires being rash and violent half-breeds. They knew however that the market was full of humans for breeding. The boy was a good find, but there would be others.
Spike turned to the overseer, tucking his weapons back in their sheaths. “I’ll take them both,” he said, as if nothing untoward had happened.
Riley blinked for a moment, and then regained his composure and said in a firm voice, “I’m sorry sir, this stock must be sold separately. I’ll gladly sell you either one.”
Spike stepped closer to the overseer. “Look, mate, sorry about the ruckus,” Spike said, completely unremorseful, “But I’m on a tight schedule. You’re selling, I’m buying. I’ll take the two of ‘em.”
Riley paled, but held his tone firm. “I’m sorry, Sir. The stock is set for individual sale.”
Spike asked coldly, “Know who I am, boy?”
Riley’s eyes darted to the Council emblem on Spikes coat. “Yes, Sir,” he said crisply.
“Your owners refusing to do business with me, then?”
“No, Sir,” Riley said firmly.
Spike made a show of looking Riley over from head to toe, before he tilted his head to one side and said, “You belong to the Phelon, yeah?”
Riley nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he replied, and squared his shoulders, bringing himself to full attention.
Spike rolled his eyes at the show of bravado and said, “Phelon would sell their own mother for a profit. They never met a bottom line that they didn’t like. I’m the offer you can’t refuse.” Spike held up his council I-dent card, and said, “Ring them up.”
Part Two
Tara sat with Xander in the back of their new master’s transport. Immediately after purchasing them, the vampire had led them to the loading docks, and into the cargo area of his transport. He clipped their leashes to the rods provided.
“Sit,” he said, indicating the metal bench. Before even confirming that they had followed his orders, he turned and strode out of the cargo area, leaving the hatch doors open calling over his shoulder, “No talking.”
They sat. Tara looked at Xander, seeing that her own surprise was mirrored on his face.
The vampire had returned almost immediately with a third slave. Even if the girl hadn’t been entirely nude, except for a gaudy bow, Tara could tell she had been sold as a toy. The girl had the disturbingly vacant eyes and rapturous smile on her lips that all the toys shared. It was like cheerful catatonia. Tara felt her stomach clench in a sick knot.
Toys were the hottest new thing on the slave market; they didn’t really require training, just looks. Even though it was forbidden, slavers kept them strung out on Bliss Gas or kept them under spells long enough to sell them. Most of them didn’t live long enough for their owners to notice a personality change when these control methods wore off.
Once the toy had been loaded, the vampire had locked the cargo area, and the transport took off.
Tara wasn’t sure how long they traveled, although it seemed like quite awhile. She was just thankful that she could sit, and wasn’t required to kneel on the hard metal floor for the entire journey.
Once they stopped, Tara was surprised that the vampire wasn’t the one who opened the doors, but a SevenGen unit.
She came in scowling and muttering. All Tara could pick up was “…stupid vampire…” and “…not a dictaphone…”
The SevenGen unclipped the toy’s leash and said loudly “We …Are …Leaving. Do…You…Understand?” as if the girl were deaf, or spoke a foreign language. The girl didn’t respond, but smiled wider and rose slightly unsteadily to her feet as her leash was tugged. The SevenGen sighed dramatically and pulled the girl out.
After the doors were shut and locked again, Tara risked another look at Xander. He raised his eyebrows, and mouthed “What the …?” Tara shrugged and shook her head.
She had never even heard of slave owners who allowed their personal assistants to be blatantly disrespectful in front of their slaves, or to handle slaves directly. As far as Tara knew, that task was always reserved for demons or trained overseers.
Now that they were alone, she and Xander moved closer together so their thighs and shoulders touched. She didn’t know how long they’d be together, and she wanted to take advantage of this small bit of comfort. She didn’t dare talk to him, and she fervently hoped he stayed quiet too. Xander sometimes babbled when he was nervous. She had no idea what the vampire would do if he were disobeyed.
They sat like this, silently communing until the doors flung open loudly.
She and Xander immediately slid apart, and watched as a large metal storage box of some kind was loaded into the cargo area. The box was so heavy, the transport settled appreciatively under its weight.
Two demons, of a species Tara didn’t recognize, climbed into the transport and began to maneuver the box inside. They must have been incredibly strong, even for demons. They made quick work of securing the object, their iridescent blue skin not even breaking a sweat. Just as they snapped the final latch in place, the vampire sauntered in.
He glared as the blue demons brushed past him to exit the transport, but didn’t say anything. He walked around the perimeter of the box, and confirmed that it was secured, and then headed over to where Tara and Xander were fastened.
As he stood in front of Tara, he pulled a small object out of his coat pocket. She recognized it as a portable scanner. They were used to download information encoded on a slave’s collar. She lifted her chin and tilted her head so he had access to the port on her collar.
As the information was downloading, she felt her new master’s hand stroke the side of her chin and tilt her head slightly so she was facing him. Her eyes locked with his, and she immediately lowered her gaze respectfully.
She looked up again as she felt him impatiently tap her face, locking eyes with him once again. He had the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen. They seemed to bore into her very soul. She desperately wanted to look away; her skin nearly itched with the intensity of his stare. When she heard the scanner beep, indicating that the scan was complete, the moment was broken.
She gratefully looked away as he removed the scanner and moved to scan Xander’s collar. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he also forced Xander to look him in the eye during the scan. She hoped Xander would be able to keep his hostility in check.
Once he had completed the scan, he ran a thumb gently across Xander’s’ lips. “So pretty” the vampire said softly, and then laughed when Xander jerked back slightly.
Tara held her breath to see what type of punishment Xander had earned. She was again taken by surprise when the vampire simply pocketed the scanner. He skirted around the cargo box and strode out, saying, “Got it Gen, let’s get the hell out of here”.
Before they heard her answer, the rear doors closed and were locked again, leaving Tara and Xander alone, with the box.
As the transport started up again, she and Xander again moved together. She risked laying her head on his shoulder. It was awkward with their hands bound, but worth it for the comfort.
Tara was also glad for the warmth. The temperature seemed to be dropping. It must have been much closer to nightfall than she had realized.
It never occurred to her that the drop in temperature might have something to do with the cargo box they'd picked up.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike slid out the vid-screen and attached the scanner to the port on the side. Gen was being blessedly silent, sitting across from him.
Arvis had been thrilled with Spikes gift. He had the dozy girl on her knees, sucking his three cocks like a pro within minutes of their arrival. He ordered his minions about to get the cargo loaded into Spikes transport and off his hands.
Spike was glad to be out of there.
On the vid, Spike looked over the information the portable scanner had retrieved from his newly acquired slaves.
Summary – SID 875496
Verbal Identifier: Tara
Species: HUMAN, Captive born
Litter: #1147856
Gender: FEMALE
Magical Proficiency: LEVEL 8.5/10
Breeding Potential: Breedable / Unspayed
Overall Health: HEALTHY
Current Age: 21
Life Expectancy: 45-50 yrs
more
Summary – SID 564721
Verbal Identifier: Alexander
Species: HUMAN, Captive born
Litter: # 1147850; reassigned #1147856
Gender: MALE
Magical Proficiency: LEVEL 2/10
Breeding Potential: Breedable / Unneutered
Overall Health: HEALTHY
Current Age: 20
Life Expectancy: 25 – 30 yrs
more
The data stored on their collars was fairly mundane. Mostly a listing of skills the two had acquired. Tara and Alexander seemed to have the good, or perhaps poor, fortune to only have one owner. Phelon were notorious for working their stock exceptionally hard to earn additional profit from them.
The skill lists for the two of them were lengthy. Both had worked the infamous Phelon tents, although Tara more extensively than Alexander. She could do a fair bit of spell casting, and excelled at potions. Alexander had a wealth of experience in nearly all fields of manual labor, from kitchen duty to carpentry.
Once Spike scrolled through all the data, he realized he'd acquired the most useful information while running the scan. His new purchases were very interesting.
Tara was nearly in a panic when he’d looked her in the eye, but she’d done as he’d commanded. She was very accommodating, and wanted to remain unobtrusive, and his perusal had made her exceedingly uncomfortable. But she bore it because it was what he desired. He wanted that kind of unquestioning loyalty in a slave.
Alexander, however seemed to wear his defiance on his proverbial sleeve. His eyes flashed and sparked when he’d been forced to meet Spikes gaze. If his file didn’t indicate he had been born a slave, Spike would have sworn he had been recently enslaved. He smiled at the memory of how the boy had flinched when Spike had stroked his mouth. The boy’s passion was arousing. To manage to break him and yet keep all that passion would be a challenge.
Spike had to make a decision; he had purchased the two of them because they seemed quite close. That closeness gave him the advantage in leveraging their affections to suit his needs. He was tired of being bored and it seemed like an interesting challenge to mold one of these two into his perfect slave and possibly a claimant.
He had no interest in acquiring multiple slaves and sponsoring them indefinitely in the pleasure houses, like Angelus did. He only wanted to sponsor one of them, to slowly bend and corrupt until there was nothing but the desire to please him. The question was which one?
~*~*~*~*~
Xander didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry at the irony of belonging to a vampire. As it was, he sat in silence in back of the transport for the long journey, offering any comfort to Tara that he could. It was his fault that they’d been sold.
He knew that he owed Riley his life, and possibly Tara’s as well. He’d done the unforgivable, although the only regret he had was he’d unintentionally harmed Tara. She’d been taken from the only home she’d known because of him, and it was likely that without Riley’s intervention, Xander had put her life in danger as well.
Xander silently vowed to do anything he could to make things right for Tara, if he could. He owed her that.
The debt he owed Riley was one he probably couldn’t repay. Since Riley had been able to successfully negotiate with Master Tamor, Xander was fairly certain he knew what the overseer had to sacrifice to keep him alive. Tamor had been after Riley to join his warrior stable for quite some time. Riley had been given a choice because of his status as overseer. The warrior games were brutal, and Riley had been resisting.
It was only a matter of time before Tamor found the right leverage to persuade Riley. Gambling on Riley in the games was a far more profitable use of his skills and training. The Phelon were nothing if not greedy and ruthless in pursuit of profit. Tamor would never have rested until he had managed to ‘convince’ Riley, but Xander hated the fact that he and Tara been the leverage their former master needed.
When Xander had been up on the auction block, he’d been disgusted to realize that the first demon interested in him seemed to be a breeder. Although when the bluish freak slid part of an unwelcome and painfully unlubricated finger into Xander, he thought the creature might have been looking for something else. When the vampire had jumped on the dais and tossed the others off, and demanded to buy them together, Xander hadn’t known if he should cheer or puke. He settled on being glad that Tara was spared Corswa spawning.
Xander was grateful that they’d been purchased together, but once they’d been situated in the transport and he’d seen the toy being loaded as well, he’d become afraid for Tara. He was sick that the poor girl had been reduced to a mindless sex toy for a demon and feared a similar fate for Tara. He was ashamed to find that he breathed a sigh of relief as the nameless girl had been dropped off as a gift. It did not bode well for them if the toy was for their owner.
Xander was puzzled when he realized that the large blue demons were securing a cryo-box. They were used to transport humans over long distances, keeping them in stasis. He wondered what, or who was in it.
When their new master, the nameless blond vampire, came in to scan their collars, his behavior reinforced the fact that he didn’t seem to follow any protocol. Xander had a tough enough time obeying well outlined rules, erratic behavior made things that much harder.
Xander was ashamed with himself that he was unable to control his anger and disgust at being touched by the soulless creature. He wasn’t so stupid to tell the demon what he thought, but he had been unable to keep himself from flinching when it had touched his mouth. He had the nauseating feeling that there was a possibility that the vampire would be touching more of him than his face. Better him though, than Tara. He would do anything to spare her that. He just hoped he had the opportunity to offer.
When the transport finally slowed and then stopped, he and Tara reluctantly separated from each other. This was possibly the last time they’d see each other. The rear doors flew open and the SevenGen unit appeared. She seemed irate again, and somehow managed to stalk around the large cryo-box toward them.
“You two breathers going to give me trouble?” she asked them.
Xander and Tara looked at each other, and then shook their heads.
“Come on then,” she said with a sigh, unclipping their leashes. “I’ve got to get you to clean-up and off to observation. You’d think I had nothing better to do than pet sit,” she grumbled to herself as she led them out of the transport. “Try to keep up, will you?”
~*~*~*~*~
“Spikey! Glad to see you made it.” Angelus bellowed in a superficially cheerful voice, patting Spike on the back with deliberate excessive force. Spike rolled his eyes, everything was so dramatic with Angelus. Spike was thankful that he’d sent his newly acquired slaves off with Gen to be prepared for his evaluation.
“Yes, I managed to get your stupid box back here in one piece,” Spike sighed, then asked “Gonna tell me what’s in it, seeing as how I traipsed all over this god forsaken place to get it here?”
“See, now I was going to ask you about that. You seem a little tense. Didn’t everything go smoothly?”
“Oh, save the concern. You know exactly how things went down.”
“What makes you think ...” Angelus started
Spike cut him off. “I’ve been here for five minutes, Angelus, and you haven’t bitched once. About anything. I stroll in here hours late with a package you’ve been anticipating for weeks, and all you can manage is ‘you seem tense?’ Tosser.”
“Spike, I’m wounded,” Angelus mock gasped, clasping his hands over his heart. “I care about your well being.”
“Whatever. I’m outta here.” Spike turned and started to walk out.
“Tell Gen I said ‘Hi,’” Angelus called after Spike.
Spike didn’t even turn to answer; he just lifted his left hand up and flipped Angelus off over his shoulder.
Spike heard Angelus chuckle as he strode out. Prick.
~*~*~*~*~
His slaves had been separated and were now awaiting his formal evaluation locked in their own examination rooms. He was currently viewing live feed of his new stock on a split vid-screen in the small control room he occupied.
Both pets were kneeling in the rest position, backs straight, buttocks resting on their heels and hands resting loosely on their thighs. They were both wearing sheer tunics now, presumably from their cleanup, instead of the other gear.
Spike still wasn’t sure which one of them he wanted to sponsor.
He’d been to the main admin office at the pleasure house, registering his intent and getting an appointment for check-in and the initial exam. He still had to fill out his specific examination requirements, but the prelim had been taken care of.
He shook his head. You’d think this place was run by a bunch of humans with the insane levels of bureaucracy.
The pleasure houses were run by Mimeologe Demons. The whole lot of them were clones. It was unnerving to see so many duplicates milling about, but they didn’t believe in associating carnally with anything, so the task suited them perfectly.
He really only half listened to his obligations as sponsor. The basics that he’d gleaned were that they would train his slave to his specifications. The slave would then have to work off Spike's training debt with other clients until or unless he decided to issue a claiming challenge. He’d be allowed access to his slave at any point he liked. Spike figured he’d work out the specifics later.
Looking at the vid, his eyes lingered on the girl, she had such a soft lush body. He could imagine stroking her for hours, denying her release until she begged him to do something, anything, and then sinking roughly into her warm welcoming flesh sending her over the edge with his forceful thrusts, driving hard into her as he rode out his own release.
And the boy, so full of passion and anger. To have him on his knees wrapping those pretty lips around Spike’s cock intent on pleasuring him. Spike could almost see the boy glaring up at him resentfully with those dark eyes, being betrayed by his own hard cock hanging heavily between his legs, throbbing for release.
Spike closed his eyes and thought: Moment of Truth… The Lady or the Tiger?
When he opened his eyes and looked back at the vid, he grinned. Choice made. He walked to the proper door and keyed it open.
This ends the intro tale for this verse. The story splits off now into The Lady, in which Spike selects Tara to be his pleasure slave, or The Tiger, where Xander is his choice. The stories will be very different, as Tara and Xander are very different. You may read one, or both or neither and play choose-your-own-adventure in your head.
I will say that you will not get a full Technicolor picture of the verse if you don’t read both tales. For example, the tents – Tara has a real issue with them, so they are heavily explained in her story, Xander – not so much of an issue, so not as much of an explanation. The cryo-box is very relevant in Xander’s side of the tale, but not Tara’s (at least as of yet).
| Lady | Index | Tiger |
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