Pride 13

The fresh clean scent of a woman was with him, each inhale of breath flavored with the briefest hint of flowers. He couldn’t identify which flower she smelled like exactly, Sabbath nuzzling his face into hair. He very much like this woman’s scent, and such was his drowsy state, that he didn’t wonder why a woman was in bed with him. He merely enjoyed, his arms wound about a soft body, keeping the woman pressed against him.

He could feel her breasts resting against his one arm, Sabbath wanting to shift his hold, so that he could test the weight of them. He did another nuzzle, and murmured an endearment in Drule, some silly little phrase that held no meaning other than to let the woman know he was appreciative of her nearness. In more ways than one, his morning’s erection pressing against her bottom.

Sabbath couldn’t resist doing a slight grinding motion against her, teasing them both as he planted sleepy kisses on the nape of the woman’s neck. It was at that movement of his, that the pleasant dream evaporated, Sabbath hearing the woman let out a frightened sound. The whimper didn’t fit in with his perceptions of a willing partner, and his grogginess was quickly chased away.

Even before Sabbath opened his eyes, he was quickly reviewing the potential partners he hoped to find besides him. His options were limited, considering he was currently in the midst of an assignment far away from Doom. The women friends he sometimes courted would have remained behind on the home planet, and Sabbath had no pleasure slaves to warm his bed. It could have been a whore from a brothel, though Sabbath had always avoided those places for the sickness infested dens they were.

“Romelle.” Sabbath said quietly, his open eyes revealing her back to him. He quickly lifted his head free of blonde hair, grateful a Drule lacked the human’s ability to blush. He didn’t let go of her, a guilty part of him liking holding her. He tried to reason it was for both their safety’s, Sabbath not knowing how Romelle would react once she was free of his embrace.

She didn’t say anything to him, save to let out a muffled sob. He shifted again, trying to put space between her and his erection. He was highly embarrassed by his body’s condition, but also bothered by what had happened the night before. Sabbath had intended to be cold, to remain unfeeling around the former princess. He wasn’t so cruel as to make her sleep on the floor, but he had refused to give up his bed to her.

So he had set her up on one of the cushioned chairs in the corner of his bedroom, giving her blankets and a pillow to ease her comfort. She had curled up, and gone to sleep, though Sabbath had remained awake for some time, just staring at her. He could admit in the privacy of his own thoughts that he liked looking at Romelle, the girl a blue eyed beauty that was very pleasing to the eyes.

Sabbath knew he wasn’t the only one who thought Romelle beautiful, a fact that meant trouble for the girl. It only reminded him that he couldn’t let her run around the ship unattended, and all his anger and possessiveness had come forth with that thought. The force of his feelings disturbed him, Sabbath wondering why he was so attracted to Romelle. Why he cared so much, more than he had ever cared for any other slave in his care.

Romelle wasn’t the first slave for Sabbath to own. He had a small number of house slaves back on Doom, men and women who helped to take care of his property. None of them were used for sex, and Sabbath had always been careful to make sure the women that he kept were not pretty. Romelle was exactly the kind of slave he avoided, and not just because of her looks, but the trouble she would surely cause him.

A trouble that quickly manifested itself when she had began to dream, the girl tossing and turning in the chair. He had tried to ignore how disturbed she was by her nightmare, but then she had begun to whimper and cry, until finally he had moved to rouse her from her sleep. Romelle had woken with a scream, Sabbath catching her in his arms as she tried to leap forward. She hadn’t exactly been comforted by being in his embrace, the girl crying and fighting him until she realized who he was. And then Romelle was clinging to him, breaking down into heart felt weeping.

In her panic stricken state, it had been easy to get the details from her about what had disturbed her so. Romelle had had dreams, about the family whose fate was so uncertain, the girl imagining them brutally killed. But more than that, she had relived the moments when that group of soldiers had cornered her, the molestation playing out much further than it had in reality. She might have attacked Sabbath if she hadn’t recognized him as the one person who had saved her, who had stopped the rape from taking place.

It made her cling to him, the girl too frightened to go back to sleep. He had tried to pull apart from her, but Romelle had persisted, seeming to take comfort from his nearness. In the end, Sabbath had given up, gathering her in his arms, and taking her to bed. As strange as it seemed, she had been comforted by his hand running through her hair, and the way he rocked her soothingly. Eventually she fell asleep, tears drying on her cheeks. Sabbath had followed soon after, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that he had held her in a protective embrace all night long.

“I…I’m sorry.” Sabbath said, trying to apologize for the way he had woken them. “I…I was disoriented. I thought you someone else.” She said nothing, just holding herself still. Romelle didn’t even show curiosity, not asking who he had believed her to be. He had to fight to keep from babbling, not wanting to admit it had been a while since he woke up with a woman in his arms.

“I didn’t mean to…to do what I did.” He added, relaxing his hold. “I want you to know, you needn’t fear that kind of behavior from me. I wouldn’t purposefully take advantage of you.”

A shaky sounding breath was expelled from her, and then Romelle was speaking. “You wouldn’t?” She hid her surprise well, sounding more wary than anything.

“No, I wouldn’t.” He answered, and she slowly turned to face him. Her eyes were no longer rimmed with red, the girl having slept off her tears for hours now. “If there’s one thing I can promise you, you’ll be safe with me Romelle.”

“Safe…” She echoed, then shook her head. “Is there such a thing…for a slave? Especially one that is going to Doom?”

“Sometimes.” He said. “I want you to know…I’ll treat you fairly. But…I expect you to behave, and do as I ask.”

“Do as you ask?” A wary look. “What would you have me do…?”

He paused, not sure what kind of skills she had. What could a princess know of maintaining a clean house? “Can you cook?” A shake of her head, Sabbath feeling frustrated. “Sew? I suppose you can clean…that’s one thing that doesn’t take much skill.” She flushed then, and he realized how insulting his words had been. “I didn’t mean it that way! I just…I know you’re used to a different lifestyle than a slave’s….”

“I was never meant to be a slave…” She whispered.

“No one ever is…” Sabbath replied. “You could have done worse.” He added, trying to paint a bright side for her. “As for as masters go, I am neither harsh nor cruel.”

“I don’t like that word.” Romelle protested. “I shouldn’t have a master…” Her face seemed to crumple, he panicked as he realized she was about to start crying again. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” cried out Romelle, the first of her tears falling. “Arus wasn’t supposed to fall, my family wasn’t supposed to be killed!”

“Shhh…” Sabbath murmured, gathering her against his chest. She shook, and then began to softly pound her fists against him, doing a wordless crying. “Shh, I know. It’s not fair. But then life often is not…”

“That doesn’t make me feel better!” Romelle snapped, a bit of her earlier fire back in her eyes. “I don’t want to be here….don’t want to do this!”

“I’ve asked nothing of you…”

“Yet.” She quickly pointed out, trembling. “But you will in time. I know your kind.”

“My kind?” Sabbath arched an eyebrow at her.

“Drules.” She hissed. “We’ve all heard extensively about what you do to worlds and people. You’ll be no different from any of the others….”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Sabbath couldn’t help but feel a little bit of annoyance at her words. Didn’t she know yet that he was different? Hadn’t he proved it by saving her, not once but twice? Did comforting her from her nightmares count for nothing?!

“Oh really?” Romelle sat up when he did, eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?” She demanded. “Why fight in this war?! Why command soldiers? Why even keep slaves?! You’re profiting from your Empire’s cruelty. If you were really different, you’d turn your back on the Drule way.”

“If I had, we would have never met!” He hissed at her. “Then who would have prevented your gang rape, Romelle?!” She sputtered, seeming shocked by that. Sabbath got out of the bed, trying to ignore the way his erection still tented the crotch of his pants. “You have much to learn. About Drules, the Empire, and even reality.” With that said, he stalked to the bathroom, fingers already pulling on the drawstring waist of the pants. By the time the bathroom door was closed, he had the pants off, Sabbath stepping into the shower.

The cold water didn’t do nearly as much as he would have liked to cool him down, his erection remaining as did his annoyance. And yet it didn’t stop him from picturing Romelle in his mind, as he took his cock in hand, Sabbath doing a low growl of sound as he began to jerk off. As his fist pumped up and down the length of his hard shaft, he thought of the moment when he had first awaken. Of how Romelle had felt in his arms, all soft curves and pleasing woman. Even the memory of her sweet scent was enough to get him excited, Sabbath thrusting furiously into his hand.

He managed to keep from groaning out her name at his climax, seed splattering against the stall’s glass. The water quickly washed it away, Sabbath standing there panting. He felt immediate shame, hardly believing he had masturbated over Romelle. It was a first for him, this imagining a slave to help him get off. It felt like a violation, not just of her, but of him, Sabbath wondering what kind of spell Romelle had cast over him.

Grumbling, he began to viciously wash his body. He wondered if it would not be wise to rid himself of Romelle, and yet knew there weren’t really any Drules on Arus he would be able to entrust her to. Even among his friends back on the home world, they’d not be able to resist making a bed slave out of her, and that was something Sabbath protested with every fiber of his being. To the point it disturbed him, Sabbath wondering why he couldn’t content himself to keep Romelle out of sight, out of mind.

“It’ll get better when we get to Doom.” He decided. Hopefully once there, King Zarkon would quickly send him off on another invasion. He could leave Romelle behind, set her up with the other slaves on his property, and forget all about her in between missions. Ideally the next campaign would be long enough a time for Sabbath to lose interest. Until then he just had to endure this time on Arus, Sabbath and Romelle forced to keep close quarters together.

“I can manage…” He said it out loud, as if that could convince him of his strength and will power. And yet, the instant he stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes locking with Romelle’s, the little certainty he had gained, fled.

Clad only in a towel, Sabbath stalked over to the intercom system, intent on ordering up a breakfast for them both. He didn’t ask Romelle what kind of foods she liked, Sabbath figuring it was time she start getting used to having decisions made for her. She’d have to eat what her master gave her, as well as wear what he commanded her to, Sabbath realizing the issue of her clothing had still not been decided. Nor would it anytime soon, Sabbath deciding to leave her in his shirt for now.

He set about to braiding his still wet hair, trying off the ends with bead fastenings. Romelle sat on the edge of the bed, watching him do this, but she didn’t speak. “I have a house on Doom.” Sabbath said, to fill in the silence. “It’s no castle, but it is a modest size. Big enough to need at least half a dozen slaves to tend to it’s maintenance. And an additional two to be on call for meal time.”

He could see her reflection in the mirror, Romelle still refusing to speak. “They’ll be able to show you the ropes…get you acclimatized to the ways things are done in my house….” Sabbath couldn’t tell if she truly had no curiosity about the things he was saying, or if she was just that good at feigning indifference. “I live alone, save for my slaves.” He added. “I’m not yet married, and my family lives elsewhere.”

He finished braiding his hair just in time for the knock on the outer chamber’s door. Sabbath stalked over and opened it, a brown clad slave wheeling in the meal. The slave kept his eyes lowered, but Sabbath was sure he hadn’t missed anything. No doubt word would travel that Sabbath had been all but naked in the presence of his new slave, and people would assume they had been intimate.

“It’s fine, leave it.” Sabbath grumbled when the slave began trying to unload the cart’s contents onto the table. The slave didn’t question him, hurrying out of the room at the first chance. Romelle waited until the door was closed before she joined him at the table, surprising Sabbath when she began to help put the food out on the table.

“Do…” She hesitated, Sabbath and Romelle having started to eat the fine meal laid out before them. “Do you always make sure your slaves are so well fed?”

He paused, giving her question the consideration it deserved. “I make sure they all eat, and that they maintain a healthy weight.” Sabbath admitted. “Although they don’t get to enjoy such rich food normally.” He hid a smile when she glanced down at her plate. “I’d eat up if I was you, Romelle. It might be a while before you get to enjoy such fine cuisine again.”

She heeded his words, practically gobbling the food down. He actually chuckled then, admonishing her. “Slowly or you’ll choke.”

“Will….will I ever get to see my cousin?” It was a sudden but not unexpected question, Sabbath shrugging.

“It’s not really up to me.” He admitted. “She’s the prince’s slave now. And most slaves don’t normally interact with ones from different households…” Especially those used for pleasure, he thought darkly.

“Will he treat her kindly?” Romelle asked a question Sabbath wasn’t sure how to answer. Prince Lotor’s lust for Allura was legendary, as was the animosity he harbored towards her. The young prince had been planning his revenge against Allura for three years now, the rumors speaking of a grave insult she had given Lotor. An insult that was only added to by the loss of Drule lives, the poverty many of their people suffered, and the way the expansion of the Empire had been halted by Voltron and the Galaxy Alliance.

Sabbath had apparently paused too long, for Romelle seemed to deflate. “Guess not.” She murmured sadly, staring down at her plate.

“Every master is different.” Sabbath told her. “I can say one thing in Prince Lotor’s favor. He does not share his slaves with others. Your cousin will be protected in that way.”

“Protected?” Romelle asked, brow furrowed.

“Yes. She’ll bear his emblem.” He explained, reaching for a glass of fresh water. “It marks her as a royal slave, and thus the other Drules will know they cannot…take certain liberties with her.” She seemed to blanch, Romelle surely getting what he means. “You’ll have to remain close to me during the times we leave this cabin.” Sabbath added. “Or else I cannot assure your safety.”

“The other Drules would hurt me.” She said flatly, and he nodded.

“That they would.”

“And this is perfectly normal among you?!” He nodded again, and Romelle practically snarled. “It’s barbaric! You take away people’s rights, not even their bodies are theirs to own! I can’t even walk amongst your kind without being molested?!”

“I’m afraid that’s the way it is.” Sabbath sighed then. “You’ve mentioned you’ve heard stories about my people. Then you may have heard about how…active a Drule male’s libido is.”

“Just because they are hornier than the average human male, it doesn’t give them a right to molest and rape people!” Romelle snapped.

“No, it doesn’t.” She was surprised by his agreement, eyes growing wide with shock. “But a few upset slaves won’t change things. Change, if it were to come, has to start with our rulers…and I doubt very much King Zarkon and Prince Lotor would want things done differently.”

“You tell me to trust you….to believe you won’t harm me. How can I, after hearing about such things?!”

“I guess we just have to wait and see.” Sabbath finished his meal, then went to get dressed. He returned promptly, and gestured for her to stand. “Come Romelle. It’s still early enough to beat the crowd.”

“Are we going somewhere?” She asked, reluctantly putting aside her plate.

“I need to get you some things..” Sabbath said, hesitant to go into detail. He walked around the table, and took hold of her hand, Romelle not fighting him.

“Clothes?” She asked hopefully, and he nodded. She looked relived, following him trustingly out the cabin.

“We’ll have to make a stop before that.” He said, trying not to outright lie to her. She didn’t question him, actually stepping closer to him as they passed by several soldiers. The men blatantly stated at Romelle in open appreciation, forcing Sabbath to struggle not to threaten them.

All too soon they were inside Jorgis work shop, the collar maker having no slaves at the moment. The purple skinned Drule smiled in greeting at Sabbath, and gave a curious look to Romelle. Sabbath knew she made an odd picture, being clad in one of his shirts, but he didn’t try to make excuses.

“You just missed the prince.” Jorgis was saying, speaking in basic.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he was getting that new slave of his collared.” Continued Jorgis. “The one that looks a lot like your slave.”

Romelle reacted to that, but before she could say anything, Sabbath was speaking. “The former princess of Arus?”

“Is that what she was?” Jorgis wondered. “Eh…no matter. A slave’s a slave.” He shrugged. “You came at a good time. Most of the commanding officers are still either sleeping, or whoring it up with their new slaves. I can get your girl fitted and out of here before the afternoon rush starts.”

“Fitted?” Romelle was looking between the two Drules, confusion in her eyes. “Are you a tailor?”

Jorgis looked annoyed by that, and he quirked an eyebrow at Sabbath. “You’re letting her talk without permission?”

“I’ve given her leave to speak freely for now.” Sabbath quickly said. Jorgis snorted at that.

“Man, you really are besotted if she got you to grant her that!” He started to walk away, waving a hand at the display of collars. “Find one you like, and then I’ll get to work fitting her for it.”

“Collars…” Romelle said softly, staring with dawning horror in her eyes.

“It’s necessary.” Sabbath said, bringing her so far unresisting form over to the display.

“Necessary?” She repeated, then made a scoffing sound. “What purpose does this serve except to degrade and humiliate me?!”

“It’s a way to keep track for one thing.” Sabbath answered. “There’s a locator implanted in each collar…”

“So no one can escape!” She surmised, and made a swing at the display with her arm. Her intent was to knock it over, but Sabbath caught her by the wrist before she could cause even one collar to fall to the floor.

“Yes.” Sabbath sighed. “Doom doesn’t look kindly on slaves that run, OR masters that lose them.” He looked away from her, and picked out a collar, choosing one that was a pearl white metal. It was simple in appearances, but then he had never been one for flashy displays of wealth.

“And this is to be a part of me for how long?” Romelle asked, staring at the collar.

“For as long as you remain a slave…” She closed her eyes then, but he gave her credit, she didn’t faint. Wordlessly, Sabbath led her over to Jorgis, and helped her onto the table. She seemed in control of herself until the first of the manacles snapped into place, and then Romelle went wild. She began crying, struggling as best she could, trying to get free.

“Easy Romelle, easy!” Sabbath told her. “It will not hurt.” But it was hurting him to see her distress, and that made him want to growl even more. It was ridiculous, he had collared slaves before, so why was this one any different? Why did seeing Romelle so upset make him want to hold her hand, and whisper reassurances during the whole process?

“Then why the chains?!” She shrieked out in demand.

“You have to be still for when I seal the collar into place.” Answered Jorgis. That did not calm Romelle, the former princess crying harder. Jorgis was immune to her tears, fitting the frame around her to hold her head steady. Sabbath wished he could be so cold and callous, knowing it was costing him points in Jorgis’ eyes for each second he wasted in trying to reassure Romelle. And yet he couldn’t stop, Sabbath giving in and taking hold of her hand. Fingers laced with hers, he bent over her, whispering things. She had to stop her shrieking to hear what he was saying, and that distracted her enough for Jorgis to take her neck’s measurements. Sabbath would continue to speak reassurances during the hour it would take to make a collar that would fit her, and all through the welding process. And all the while, Romelle stared at him, a betrayed look in her eyes.


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