Consummation

Giselle went over to a cupboard and removed a stack of gray material. When she brought them to Jack, she could tell that they were clothes. “Put them on,” she said, handing them to her.



Jack bit back a question and nodded, unfolding the top garment. It was a long pleated skirt, the exact shade of colorless gray as the top. While she wished for her own clothes, it really didn’t matter what type of clothes she was wearing, as long as she was able to remain wearing clothes.



Giselle consulted a sheet of paper and pulled out some undergarments. “Here,” she said before rummaging in the same cupboard for a pair of sandals. Jack accepted them gratefully and wondered how the senior slave had gotten her correct size. Maybe the paper held results from the body-scan.



Once she was dressed, she stood quietly, wondering what would happen next. The clothes weren’t uncomfortable, exactly, but there was a strange heaviness to them that had nothing to do with the weight or thread count of the material. While her new garments were loose enough to permit her free range of motion, the fibers themselves felt thicker than normal. She supposed it could just be her mental perception of these slave-clothes.



“Follow me,” Giselle said, and set off through another door. This led to a hallway, where Jack encountered more slaves wearing the exact same outfit. She stared at them and was tempted to greet them, but they merely looked at her with varying levels of curiosity or disdain. Further on, Jack saw someone in regular clothes, distinctly collarless, leading a young boy along by a leash. The boy’s face was dirty with flushed cheeks, his eyes bright as though he had been crying. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight.



Jack stared after him, shocked by his youth. The pair rounded a corner, however, and disappeared. Turning, she caught up with Giselle with a few lengthy strides.



“A slave is never so ungainly. You shouldn’t have fallen behind in the first place,” was all Giselle said before resuming their walk.



I’ve got to be more careful.



Soon enough, they stopped at a door. Instead of going inside like Jack expected, Giselle leaned in closely and hissed, “If you screw this up, I will make your life a living hell. I can make sure you’re sent right to the worst whorehouse on Uburi, do you hear me? I can do it. Don’t think for a second that I can’t. Don’t think about defying him or being anything other than the model trainee. Remember everything I’ve told you and we’ll get along fine.”



Jack was stunned, but before she could even think of an appropriate reaction, Giselle knocked softly on the wooden door. At the clear ‘come in,’ she opened the door and beckoned for Jack to follow. Inside, the room was dark.



“Giselle, leave.”



Giselle gave a little bow and said, “Yes, sir.” She shot Jack a warning glance before leaving the room.



“Come here.”



Jack couldn’t see who was speaking, so she walked toward the source of the voice.



“Stop.” She stopped in her tracks. “Don’t move. Lights.”



Suddenly the room was filled with a level of brightness she hadn’t anticipated, and it all seemed to be directed straight into her eyes. She winced, and remembered to lower her eyes. God, she wanted so badly to look up and see who she was dealing with!



“Giselle explained the rules, didn’t she?”



Jack nodded. “Yes, sir,” she murmured.



“Speak up.”



“Yes, sir, she did,” Jack said again.



“Good.” He paused, appearing to be studying her with eyes that stripped her of every layer of clothing. It was as though she could actually feel his eyes as they crawled all over her skin. She suppressed the urge to back away and cover her chest with her arms.



His next words seemed to come from nowhere. “Well, those slavers who brought you to me didn’t tell me you were fresh until they had already charted the course to the planet. You’re beautiful. Normally I wouldn’t hesitate, but you’re grossly untrained. The printout Giselle gave me says you are even a virgin.” He paused, as though he were expecting her to reply. Jack didn’t want to take any chances, so she held her peace. For all she knew, this was a test of some sort.



After a moment of silence, Bentley said, “Well, Giselle seems to have scared you into submission, at least. Did she threaten to have you sent to a whorehouse if you pissed me off?”



Were these two in it together or something? Jack nodded and replied, “Yes, sir.”



“Well, I’ll be making that decision. I’ve got something in mind for you, but you need to make it worth my while. What about basic service?”



Jack swallowed and licked her lips. What did he mean? “Please, sir… I don’t understand.”



Bentley growled in frustration. The sound was so like Riddick’s…. Stop, Jack. He’s dead.



He may have been dead, and he may have been an utter bastard while he was alive, but the sound of a growl coming from her potential owner—she couldn’t bring herself to say Master, not yet, and maybe not ever—made her heart race. Ingraine fear from her time with Riddick, or something else? She wasn’t sure.



“You know, service. Serving food and drinks during meals. Were you ever a waitress?”



She hadn’t, but she couldn’t imagine that it was overly difficult to learn. “No, sir, I’ve never done anything like that formally. I could learn, though.”



Sucking up to a trader, Jack? Aligning with the enemy?



No. Just self-preservation. If I need to adapt to this, I’ll do it. No matter how much it hurts.



“Good. Can you dance?”



She shook her head. It had been offered as an elective at school, but she had opted for journalism instead. What did they want her to dance for? “No, sir,” she replied.



“Not at all?”



She chewed her lip for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve never tried, really. But I’m a quick learner.”



“Are you now.” It wasn’t a question. “How flexible are you?”



Jack was puzzled. What did that have to do with anything? She wasn’t as flexible as Riddick, that was for sure. She couldn’t dislocate any joint on a whim, but she figured that compared to the average person, she was pretty flexible.



“I’m not sure what to compare it to,” she answered, adding a belated, “Sir. I did gymnastics when I was a little girl….”



“Show me what you can do.” The command held no room for an argument. Not quite knowing how to begin, she stretched out her limbs, hoping she wouldn’t get yelled at. When no word of complaint came from the figure before her, she sank down into the splits. She hadn’t done them in years, but surprisingly, she made it all the way down, despite the pain that flared up. She didn’t know quite how she was going to get back up, though… Oh! She had a sudden idea.



She leaned forward and spread her arms out in front of her. Twisting her hips, she was soon lying face down on the smoothly cold floor. Pushing her chest up, she slowly brought her legs forward, bringing herself into a crouch. Her knees gave a warning tremble, which she ignored. She had no choice but to ignore it. Forcing her legs to obey, she rose and stepped as smoothly as she could into a backbend. She hadn’t tried this in forever! How the hell was she able to do it?



Jack kept demonstrating her flexibility as best as she could, but there really wasn’t that much she could do besides repeat her motions over and over again.



Thankfully, he spoke up in a few moments. “Stop. Very good.” Breathing more heavily than she expected, she stood still with her eyes to the floor. Sitting in a ship for almost a month had really weakened her, it seemed.



She heard him push a button and call Giselle back into the room. There came a knock at the door, and Bentley again called out, “Come in.” When Giselle appeared in the doorway, he looked at Jack and jerked his head toward the other slave. “Giselle will take you to the barracks.”



Giselle’s voice, calm and even, said, “Follow me.”



Keeping her head down and her eyes on her feet, Jack obeyed.



~*~



Grange forced himself not to shuffle his feet nervously when he named an asking price.



“You’ve got to be kidding,” Bentley laughed from behind his big desk. “You think I built up this business by agreeing to prices like that? She’s completely untrained. Like I said, I’m doing you a favor by buying her.”



He took a sip of his water and stared at Grange, who felt more uncomfortable by the minute. Yes, he could certainly see how Bentley had been able to build this business. The man was a shrewd bastard, plain and simple.



“She’s gorgeous, though, and damn near broken,” Grange protested. “Didn’t cause any trouble on the ship.”



“She’s too old,” Bentley cut in before Grange could continue. “Training her could be a real problem.”



Grange shrugged uncomfortably, and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I see your point.” He didn’t, not really, but there was no point in arguing. Even if he took her to another, less reputable trader, the situation wouldn’t get any better. He’d get even less money that he was going to get from Bentley. Privately, he didn’t like the concept of slavery much, and Jack was a nice kid. She didn’t deserve any of this, really. But hell, the universe was a big, bad place. She was a victim. If he could profit from her misery, so much the better.



Stuffing down the last shred of hesitation, he and Bentley agreed on a price. That done, he produced her ownership papers and signed her over to the trader. Bentley handed him a programmed credit chip and shook his hand. “The money will be available in a few hours,” he said, nodding toward the chip.



Grange grimaced. Doing what he’d just done—selling another human being—he may be a criminal, but that didn’t mean he was heartless. Taking her to the other side of town would be the same as dooming her to a brothel, or worse. Bentley was the best he could do.



A final nod, and Grange was out the door.