Blurred Lines

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Quatre Winner, Jul 21, 2014.

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  1. Another place, another master. Luna was used to the routine, used to the shackles, to the hot iron of the brand. He had a new brand now, but was used to pain, so it barely registered. At the moment, he was just waiting in the plush, well-appointed bedroom, not actually noticing any of the finery around him. The elf had never been impressed with such things, as in the end they meant nothing. All he gleaned from such surroundings was that his master was extremely rich, possibly royal. He'd heard some talk between the slaver and his purchaser- some high official or other- but not much to effect. Though sex slaves were a common and encouraged commodity, the official had seen fit to treat the matter as though it was some delicate operation, not naming names. Luna didn't care either way, as rank never had anything bearing on how cruel his master would be. Such finery usually masked monsters. That was his experience, anyway.

    At least the mattress under his knees was soft. He'd had to kneel in the traditional slave's pose on worse. In his experience, he could be there for a few minutes, or maybe a few hours. It was hard to tell, sometimes. His new master could want him then, or be too drunk to do anything until later. Luna was glad to take a few moments of calm, where it was just himself in the room, listening to the fire crackle in the grate. When things got hot and sticky and painful he'd just send his mind away, as he always did. For now, he was fighting the urge to try and catch a few winks.

    Trying to keep awake, Luna shifted slightly on the mattress, pressing his palms more firmly against his bare white thighs. At the moment, he didn't even have the dignity of the traditional flimsy tunic usually given to sex slaves when they were not being used. Hopefully he'd get one before too long- Luna knew more or less what to expect from this whole thing. The short tunic that barely covered him, small rations, little sleep. The most that could be said of masters was at least there was some sort of routine. Once he had their behavior patterns figured out, he usually knew when he could sleep or eat.

    Or when he could sing. He never did so in earshot, if he could help it, but he would still create in his head. It was just a wordless tune he'd either made up or learned somewhere, he couldn't remember; his mind was often so fractured that such thoughts wouldn't come clearly like they should. He could remember what happened in the immediate past, so long as it stayed immediate. He could recall and follow his master's commands, but past masters, their secrets, their sins, were all vague and shadowy once he had gone to the next master. It was a coping mechanism, possibly, the mind shoving irrelevant information to the back so he had only what he needed to survive. At the moment, he just needed to focus on his inner music and send his mind away, but he was still very much on guard. The moment he heard anyone coming near him, he would be in the present again.
  2. The loud ring of steel meeting steel could be heard all throughout the training hall as the brothers sparred. They had begun the practice as a way to inspire the soldiers with their skill and ensure that they did not get lazy in the sudden stalemate they saw themselves facing with the Dhani of the desert. Ryvvik, the older of the two, had suggested it and had widened his stance, attacking his younger brother with powerful attacks. Ahssah had been a bit shocked by his brother's brash actions, but had reacted quickly, lashing his blade out in defense.

    "Come now brother, you'll never land a single hit if you move as slow as the Orcs of Vandahl." Ahssah joked as he jumped out of the blade's range.

    "Says the one so intent on running away like those pathetic snakes of the desert!" Ryvvik sneered, clearly getting agitated by the darker boys antics.

    However before he could move their father Andaerean, King of Zenthos, land of the Drow, walked into the room. Clearing his throat, the older gentleman dismissed the knights with a wave of his hand before pointing to Ryvvik and beckoning him closer.



    "As you well know, tomorrow will be your twenty-first name day. You are also aware of the current stillness of the war with the Dhani."

    "Father where are you going with this?"

    "Ryvvik, as a sign of goodwill the Dhani have sent a present to you in hopes that we can negotiate a peace treaty. As your father, I have accepted the gift and have had it placed in your rooms. I have also agreed to a meeting with the Dhani chief, which you will be present for with your gift, in a fortnight's time."

    Hearing the finality in his father's voice the young Drow knew he had no place to argue and simply nodded when appropriate. He did not agree with his father, but refused to let any of the men, nor his brother bare witness to his backtalking his father. He nodded in way of acceptence and dismissal before leaving the man with the excuse of visiting the bathing chambers before appraising his gift. The walk was quick as was his bath, the slaves there making quick work of him. He rushed to his rooms, not even allowing himself to get fully dressed as he strut through the halls.

    Ryvvik was not one to believ that he was the most handsome man out there, but his took great pride in his appearance. He was paler than most Drow, his skin more of a peachy gray instead of the dark obsidian of his father and brother. His lithe, toned body covered in a combination of battle scars from the ongoing war and the alabaster marking of his mother's clan. His long, cobweb coloured tresses were still dripping water as they framed the contrastingly angular, yet somehow rounded face. His water heavy bangs covering part of his sharp, yet soft amber eyes as he walked into his rooms to find a slave, presented to him.

    The larger man blinked away water as he stared at the boy on his bed. He had never had a slave before, at least not one that belonged soley to him. His family had owned slaves for generations and even his little brother kept a young human woman by the name of Naera. Ryvvik had always been content to either take his frustration out on the battlefield or satisfy himself. Not knowing what to do in a situation like this, he simply went with his gut.

    "So you're the Dhani's present for me, huh? Can't say the old lizard has bad taste though." He said, more to himself than anthing.

    "So what is your name, elf?" He asked, placing a finger under the boy's chin and gently lifting it to meet his eyes.
  3. Luna did not move, or make any motion that he knew the Drow had entered. He seemed to be still as carved marble, barely drawing breath. Inside his own mind, however, the cogs were turning. Not too much- he was no genius in dullard's clothing- but enough to gather basic information about his surroundings, and about his new situation. Luna had learned to watch without seeming to do so; it was a helpful ability when trying to avoid off-handed blows. Without looking up at his potential new master as he entered, the elf was still able to note his posture and bearing, and the scars on his body. Unlike the many markings of past violence on Luna's flesh, the Drow had clearly earned his in battle.

    He was a warrior, then, and a prince, if Luna was any judge. He'd served more than one of those in the past, until the Dhani captured and killed his last master. No tears shed, there. It was a simple exchange of goods, even to him. What the Drow's personality was like remained to be seen, but Luna didn't have any expectation of a change. Masters were masters, no reason to think Drow were any less brutal. The most he could hope for was that this one was too lazy or war-mongering to pay much attention to him. He was only there to be a pretty toy, after all, with his elegantly-built body and delicate features. His milk-white skin and dark blue hair would set him off to advantage in court, which was probably why the royal official had gotten him.

    Feeling the fingers against his chin, Luna tilted his head up without any resistance, not meeting his master's eyes even then. It was not allowed. "I am Luna, my master." he said, his voice soft and beautiful, cut somehow toneless. His large blue eyes were the same, their color like the richest sapphires, but somehow dull. He'd been a slave too long to feel that burning in the heart that rises up to fire the eyes, and give resistance to the soul. The same deadness of spirit still clung to him as it always had, making his movements mechanical, and his obedience absolute. Even the part of his mind that noted his master's comely features only did so in a vague way. His scattered mind noticed things, discarding any information that wasn't necessary to survival. Everything else seemed to disappear into the ether.
  4. Ryvvik frowned slightly at the lack of life in the sapphire orbs of the elf. Although instead of commenting, he simply released the smaller man from his loose hold. Taking a step back to appraise his 'Gift', he let out a small hiss of disgust. He was repulsed.

    He was greatly repulsed, however it was not by the slave himself. No, he was disgusted by the obvious signs of mistreatment and abuse visable upon the expanse of porcelain skin. He never understood how people could hurt such as him, those who were weak and could not protect themselves from the cruelty of others. He couldn't stand to see the evidence of such a painful past and without a second thought tossed the fresh shirt he had yet to put on, onto the boy's head.

    "Put that on." He ordered quickly as he rumaged through his chest for a shirt for himself.

    He had a feeling that his shirt would be a bit too large for the boy, but it would cover more than the meager tunic that most pleasure slaves were forced to wear. Shaking the thought off as he laced the front of the soft blue shirt he had just finished putting on, Ryvvik turned toward Luna and crooked an finger at him.

    "Are you hungry?" He asked, his nearly topaz coloured eyes crinkling in the corners with his moderately concerned frown.

    'He's probably starving. Who knows when he ate last. Dhani Savages! The drow thought bitterly.
  5. Luna's chin fell back again, almost to his chest, where his heart-beat increased almost painfully. There could be no mistaking that expression on the Drow's face, which the elf had caught just before his head bowed automatically. His new master was not pleased, though what he found wrong the slave couldn't tell. Masters of Ryvvik's status could afford to be ridiculously picky about their possessions; it could be something as trivial as the way Luna's dark, feathery hair was cut, or that his eyes were the wrong shade of blue. Being an elf, Luna was considered a "high-end" slave, but apparently he wasn't good enough. Not that Luna much cared about the Drow's opinion of him on a personal level, but failing to please a master on any level inevitably brought severe punishment to the slave. Having the wrong skin-tone, or ears that were too large, were the slave's fault, after all.

    Though Luna remained in his silent pose of submission, his mind raced, trying to come up with some way to escape the inevitable retribution. It was the constant battle of a slave's life, to navigate around their master's cruel and intemperate natures, escaping the lash as often as possible. Luna began to think, in a twisted form of practicality, that if he pleased this Drow prince enough right here and now, he might be spared. Luna had become so inured to sexual abuse that he could think of it in such unfeeling terms, as a means to an end. It had long ago ceased to make him feel like vomiting; that was when he still had a heart to feel shame and sorrow for his predicament. He was empty now.

    Having just decided to 'put on a show' for the Drow prince, and get him in the mood, hoping to put off a little pain, when Ryvvik suddenly changed tactics on him. It was such an unexpected turn of events that the elf jumped as the shirt hit his head, nearly falling back onto the mattress. For a moment, he didn't move, not sure what to do. Masters didn't just literally give the shirts off their backs to a slave. They gave nothing but bruises and welts. Hesitantly, Luna lifted the fabric folds enough to peer at his master with one wide blue eye, then slipped the garment on because he had been ordered to do so.

    Not that it made any sense. Was he that repulsive to his master that the Drow wanted him covered? He seemed more or less unconcerned with the fact, not even bothering to strike Luna for the insolence of not being appealing. Though the elf didn't dare look at him directly, he still watched the Drow from under his dark fringe of hair, trying to figure out what was going on. Concepts such as kindness were so foreign to him that he didn't even trust the dark blue shirt the prince had given him. Said shirt now slipped off one bony shoulder, revealing an old slave mark, among other faded scars. If the prince looked closely, he might recognize the mark as a symbol of his own distant Drow kin in the North. Being one of his first marks, Luna didn't think about it, though if anyone had drawn his attention to the circle of raised flesh, his scattered memory might have drawn together long enough to remember cruel, dark faces.

    Right now, Ryvvik's dusky complexion wasn't any more reassuring. His question about Luna being hungry was bizarre, to say the least. Not because Luna wasn't famished- the fashion for wispy slaves hadn't done his already slender frame any favors. Why a master should even think about a slave being hungry was something Luna hadn't experienced before. Masters tended to treat him like furniture, and forget that he had any need to eat or sleep. To be asked if he was hungry was something the slave hadn't prepared for. A stunned look crossed his face, rather like a rabbit facing a badger. Luna seemed to tense, not knowing what to do, except to nod once. What did the Drow mean by all this?
  6. Dusky lips gave a slight twitch upwards at the hesitant nod. Ryvvik fought to hold in a chuckle as the image of Luna's puzzled expression filled his vision and mind. The look of pure confusion had been refreshing to the prince, until he realized that the confusion was not from abruptness but from lack of understanding. Brow furrowing at the thought, Ryvvik brough his index and middle fingers to his mouth and let out a near piercing whistle. It was less than minutes later that a matured Dwarvish woman walked into the room.

    "Yes Mast-ah...You boy, remove yourself from the master's bed at once or I-" She began addressing the prince, only to pool her attention on what she assumed was tresspassing slave.

    "Daeva, relax. He is perfectly fine where he is." Ryvvik interupted quickly.

    "But, Master-"

    "Enough Daeva, I simply called you here to ask if there was any chance you could bring two meals here." He spoke with authority, though one could see how much he respected the stout woman.

    "Oh of course, deary!" She said before heading off as quickly as her short legs could carry her.

    Ryvvik turned toward Luna with a smile, assuring him that the dwarf was normally less brash. He soon turned away and headed for the small dining table in his room and sat in one of the two large chairs, before beckoning the young elf over to him with a crook of his fingers. Merely seconds later the food was brought in and placed on the table and the serving slaves and Daeva were dismissed with a polite nod and respectful gratitude.
  7. The whistle made Luna go visibly stiff for a moment- it really was rather piercing, and hurt his sensitive ears. He'd heard such whistles used to call hounds; was he to be torn apart by hunting dogs? The slave learned long ago not to even tremble out of fear, though his pale face turned several shades whiter. Only when the dwarf woman entered did his expression of mute fear turn back to confusion. He'd never seen a dwarf as a servant before; in the other courts he'd served, they tended either to be merchants or clowns. Then again, Luna was terribly aware of his own lack of knowledge on a great many things. Day-to-day survival didn't allow for much growth of the mind.

    Silently, the elf observed his master's behavior toward the dwarf woman, noting that they spoke to one another with familiarity. This only served to increase his confusion, and heighten his guard, as he had no real idea of what it meant. Servants were not above 'helping' their masters when it came to pleasure slaves.

    Luna could only observe and wonder what this was all about, his eyes stealthily watching Daeva's squat figure leave the room. When they turned back to the Drow, it was only with more uncertainty. He did not return the Drow's smile because he didn't know he was supposed to, only moving to stand next to his master because he had been commanded to do so. A simple hand gesture was as good as a command to a slave. What was Ryvvik planning now? This close, Luna could feel the warmth of the Drow's body, which made him nervous.

    When food was brought out, rather than the violation he expected, Luna felt his knees go a bit weak. What was this? What was going on? None of the serving slaves had that universal look of fear in their eyes when in Ryvvik's presence. The prince was even acknowledging their existence by nodding and smiling. If the Drow suddenly turned into a blue lobster the next moment, Luna would not have been more surprised.

    Of course, very little of his emotions actually showed on his face or in his body language, unless one knew what to look for. His blue eyes kept flickering up to Ryvvik's face when he thought the Drow wasn't looking. He did not speak because it wasn't permitted, yet a hundred-thousand questions still perched on his tongue.
  8. As the food servants left his quarters, Ryvvik turned back to Luna. He could see the questions swimming in those vacant, azure eyes and sighed in the reality that he probably didn't have the answers to them. He was hesitant to ask the slave to sit and eat with him for it seemed that a strong wind could knock the boy over with his confusion. While Luna may be his first slave, Ryvvik was not a fool to their world and how many are abused and rarely spoken too if not being ordered. He knew from then on that in order to get his message across clearly, he needed to act.

    Deciding against it, the prince simply made two plates of food, one with considerably more meat than the other and one with more vegetables. It was a rather quick process and when he was done piling the food onto the plates he turned back toward Luna. Knowing that the boy would either try to politely refuse his offer to sit or being as tense as a viper ready to strike if he asked him to sit, he sighed before reaching out for the boy. As he lifted the elf into his lap, he couldn't help but note how light he was. No boy his size should weigh so little.

    He had to adjust his way of sitting to ensure that Luna understood that this position was not to be taken as sexual before moving both plates in front of him. Ryvvik had only ever sat in a position such as this, with someone on his lap, two other times. Once, three years ago to feed his baby sister, Elora when her caretaker had became suddenly ill and they couldn't find a replacement. He could still see Ahssah's smirk when she spit up her food onto Ryvvik's back when he burped her. The second time it was to calm the child as she cried for the death of her caretaker only a year later.

    Mentally shaking off the thought, the drow quickly scooped up some of the rice and greens into his mouth and slowly chewed before repeating the process with the steak and potatoes and attempted to feed the blue haired elf in his lap.
  9. (Awwww! Sitting in his lap! So cute! Don't mind Luna- it'll just take time for him to come to love it ^^ Also, what Kira does here he really, really, really, doesn't want to do. Training and all, sadly.)

    Luna's heartbeat increased rapidly as he was lifted into Ryvvik's lap. For all the prince's care to make it not seem sexual, the poor slave's mind had been bent that way so long that he couldn't help making such connections. Never in his memory had he been held for any other reason, and found neither comfort nor safety in the Drow's arms.

    Even after the terror of his master not being interested in him, now Luna was afraid he was, and the change so confused him he felt like screaming. It had been two and a half days since he slept, and more since he ate anything but a crust of bread chucked at him through the bars of his pen. The smell of food in the room was almost maddening, and so was Ryvvik's behavior. What did he want? Why was he changing his mind about Luna all of a sudden?

    However, knowing what was expected of him (he thought), and hating his new master for it, Luna forced his mind to retreat in preparation. He had played such games countless times, so much that he was almost numb, and his body and mind would separate while his masters 'enjoyed' him. That numbness would help him now, as it looked like he might get a little food out of this 'game'. If he could keep his stomach from rebelling, anyway.

    Ryvvik would see Luna's whole manner shift in a moment, going from blank and shellshocked to sultry and submissive. Both of Luna's small hands pressed against his firm chest, as the little elf leaned out a bit, taking the forkful of potatoes and meat slowly into his mouth. Kira made sure the Drow could see his lips and tongue, and that he made the kind of noises masters usually liked to hear during such play. That last wasn't too hard, since the food was good, and he was quite literally starving. The elf chewed, tilted his head back a little to expose his white neck, and swallowed. When he turned to the Drow, he was licking his lips seductively.

    "Oh master, that was so delicious…." Kira was a very good actor, unless you were really paying attention to subtle body language. His half-lidded blue eyes were strangely unfocused, but in them, if looked at carefully, sat pure hatred and disgust. Even as he leaned in, parting his full lips and bringing his mouth close to Ryvvik's, the elf's mind and heart, what was left of them, were far away. He wanted to get this over with, but was too skilled at his work not to hide it. Masters never saw his true feelings unless they looked for them…which they never did.

    "Does master wish to taste the juices on my lips?" he whispered, so close to Ryvvik's mouth their breath was mingling. It was a good thing he'd long since gotten used to the nausea, the shame, the self-hatred. A bite of food like that would last him awhile, unless he was forced to throw it up again…which had happened before. Luna didn't know exactly what kinds of games this one preferred, but he'd find out soon enough.
  10. Luna's shift in attitude was noticed by the drow. One couldn't just shift from scared and tense to seductive lush without someone noticing. However, Ryvvik chocked it up to relaxation, at least until the elf had leaned toward him. The prince had not been expecting the elf to try and kiss him and only just managed to pull his face away for a moment. He didn't understand the change. He had tried his best to make the situation not sexual and had even fed the boy, though only a bite, himself.

    "Please, refrain from such actions right now." The drow said, voice authoritative but calm.

    He was not used to such attentions, even with his rank and standing, no one had thrown themselves at him like this. Of course Drow women tended to be the more volatile sex, often more prone to violence and malice. The were often to proud to due such things. However, prince needed to stay calm and reassure Luna that nothing would happen that night. Sighing, Ryvvik brought the goblet of water to his lips and drank before turning his full attention to the boy in his lap.

    "Luna, I have no intention of sharing a bed with you in the manner you expect." he spoke surely, his eyes taking an almost metallic gold shine.

    "Right now I want you to share this meal with me and then we can both rest. I am tired and it seems that so are you." He motioned toward the elf's half lidded eyes with a dusky finger before scooping up more food into his mouth and repeating the action to Luna, motioning toward the second water goblet for the bluenette to take if he desired.
  11. If Ryvvik thought that Luna's change was quick before, there was no comparison to how swiftly the elf shut down once given the command to do so. His whole body went still, and he turned his head, hanging it forward, as though he was some pretty mechanical doll that had been switched off. He didn't lean against the Drow, but seemed to be held up by the stiffness of his spine.

    Not that he was, in any way, disappointed to have such things stopped. He hadn't wanted them in the first place. Ryvvik's behavior just confused him, since he had never been rebuffed before. Why was he sitting on the Drow's lap and being fed if it wasn't going to lead to the usual disgusting acts? Luna felt so lost that weariness began to take over, and his mind more or less shut down. Ryvvik had caught onto that, too, it seemed.

    Nodding dumbly, the elf felt something close to gratitude trickle into his consciousness. It wasn't a strong emotion yet, but he couldn't help being glad that the Drow didn't want him tonight. He also couldn't help being astonished at the fact that he was being fed good food, without any return 'services'. At the moment, he just accepted the forkfuls and the water without any real questioning of why, or how. He would later, but his body was about ready to shut down any minute.

    It didn't take long for him to be full- he had gone so long without a proper meal that more than his little portion was dangerous. However, as he did not know what to do about his new master, he tried to keep eating, even though he was starting to feel sick. Maybe that was the game after all? To give him good food, only to deny it at the last moment by making his body reject it? His dry eyes pricked- he should have known...

    (OMG "bluenette"….that had me laughing so hard XD)
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