bakerstreet | The Slave Auction Meme

The Slave Auction Meme

â§ Leave a comment with the character's name, fandom, and whether your character will be playing the part of 'slave' or 'master', plus preferences for scenarios if you have any.
â§ Respond to others with one of the scenarios below or feel free to make up your own.
â§ Please remember to be respectful of others while you play

Warning: Be aware that this meme deals with dark subjects like slavery and may also contain non-consensual/dubiously consensual sex, violence, and kink.

SLAVES

1. The Newbie - This is your very first auction and you don't quite know what to expect. Hopefully you remember your training and don't disgrace yourself in front of your new master. Hopefully someone thinks you're worth buying at all.

2. The Oldtimer - You've been bought and sold and bought again so many times. You've seen it all before and don't think this time is going to be much different. In fact, the only real anxiety you've got is whether or not someone's going to pay for a more than slightly used slave.

3. The Pet - You're a pleasure slave. A bed warmer. A decorative piece of artwork. You're meant to look pretty and be pleasing and not much else.

4. The Guard - Your master hired you because of your ability to swing a sword or shoot a gun, not your looks.

5. The Escape Artist - Somehow you always manage to squirm out of your master's chains. Too bad you seem to get caught after a while. Maybe your next daring escape will be permanent. Then again, maybe your next master has special ways of keeping you locked up.

6. The Undercover - You aren't a slave at all, you're just pretending to be one. Why? Well that's up to you. Either way, your cover is blown if you don't act the part.

7. The Specialist - You have a skill that no one else has. Something rare and valuable. Something your master needs more than anything else.

MASTERS

1. The Customer - You've owned slaves before and this trip to the market is nothing new to you. Still, you're hoping to find something worth your while.

2. The Gift - Someone bought a pet for you, isn't that nice of them? Or maybe it isn't so nice. Did you even want a slave in the first place? Well you're stuck with one now.

3. The Giver - You're selecting a slave for someone else, and they need to be perfect. Perhaps you'd better test them out first to make sure you're getting your money's worth.

4. The Trainer - You specialize in taming unruly slaves and making them over into perfect, obedient, well-trained pets.

5. The Rebel - You hate the idea of slavery, but the system isn't going to go away any time soon, so the next best thing is to buy up any slave you can get your hands on and free them, right?

6. The Companion - You want someone to be with you always, someone you can talk to and depend on, someone who will never leave your side. It's a good thing that money can buy that these days.

7. The Undercover - You're not actually a Master. You're at the auction for an entirely different reason. Maybe it's special policework, maybe you're trying to hunt down a certain someone. Either way, your cover is blown unless you act the part.

As always, feel free to use a combination of scenarios or make up your own if you have other ideas.

Snagged from here.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Fae wouldn't be off base in that accusation. Or, at least, of being the master's favorite. Keelan wasn't unlike the other man with their master, pushing the limits of his patience until he was met with extreme circumstances. Apparently that was his 'type', as evidenced by the both of them in the room. Which had him amused enough for the light quirk at the corner of his lips.

"I don't see any point lying to you," Keelan admitted. "In a fight between the two of us, you may probably win. I have no battle prowess. Before working here, I was just a shop keep. But I also don't know how well you fight. Probably not very good, since you're in those ropes."

His foot came up to shove Fae back down onto his back, whether it hurt. Pain was a good motivator for positive behavior. "But if you think I'm going to raise to your bait and let you go, I'm not that naive and I'm not taking a beating for your escape, either."

Keelan released his hold on the other man, sinking to his knees instead. Long fingers dug into the waistband of his slave pants and began tugging them down slender hips, obviously uncaring whether this action was wanted or not. The job was simple: screw and beat Fae into submission by whatever means he deemed necessary. He had one thing in mind first, though.

It wasn't particularly easy. Well not the finding them, that part was easy enough, prescription drugs were easier than the harder stuff a lot of the time, and they were comparatively cheap. But not cheap enough. She'd gotten herself in all sorts of trouble to keep up her supply, until eventually her debt had gotten bad enough that she wound up here.

"Knew a guy. Not a great guy, it turns out."

"My father is not prone to exaggeration," Seraphina replied with a thin smile, but there was fondness behind it.

Setting down the quill on the drip plate to drain, she capped the inkpot. "The reason I was at the auction in Dorne," she began, glancing at the doorway of the tent and the silhouettes of the guardsmen standing watch. Then she seemed to reconsider her approach to beginning the conversation by that angle.

"I'm sure you've noticed," she started again, "that the soldiers here do not wear the insignia of House Pitchiner. They are, in fact, all sellswords. We've never had a large holding, and my father took the loyal of Greencross men with him to fight the Pentoshi, but did not want our land undefended. This troupe of sellswords call themselves 'Fearlings', and in many ways, that name is accurate. I trust the hold of coin over them, but coin doesn't buy loyalty... and it doesn't train the younger generation in a way that I would want them trained."

She lets that sink in for a moment, and then returns to her original statement. "So the reason I was at the auction, was to try and find someone with proper, reputable training, perhaps a disgraced Knight, or a displaced fosterling bastard, I don't care about their circumstance. As long as they can teach, and teach well. Not just about swinging a sword or firing a bow, but about how to be loyal. How to be someone who can be relied upon, not simply because they are being paid to do so."

[ either someone likes him and is super dense, or someone doesn't like him but is pretending they do. XD ]

She keeps her head down, respectfully, but she does flick her eyes up so she can take a look at Alcuin's face - her gaze is a bit critical, and there's definitely a fair amount of intelligence behind it - before looking back at the ground, hands clasped in front of her.

Asking what she'd like to be called seems like a test. A trick to get her to betray an opinion of something that has nothing to do with what the master wants. She's not ignorant of them, and she's failed them before. "I would be pleased by whatever you would like to call me," she says, her voice soft, and manages not to grit her teeth to hold back the lie. "My last master called me Galatea."

She doesn't particularly like it - especially as she's not so stupid or uneducated that she wasn't able to pinpoint where he got it. Thought he was soooo special, a real Pygmalion, because he took a girl's perfectly functional arm and replaced it, just for his own benefit. What a dick.

She doesn't say any of that, though.

No men, I think, is probably the biggest one. Um. You're not into toilet stuff, right? [ She was pretty much skipping to the extreme and gross stuff right off the bat because pretty much everything in between was pretty great. ] No permanent marks or anything. Piercings are actually okay though...

[ She used to have some nipple piercings but they healed after a period of not wearing anything in them. ]

You're very... pretty, by the way. [ She blushed again. ]

"Shimada Cybernetics makes cybernetic enhancements and prosthetics," Hanzo said, and his demeanor warmed a little. He lifted his pant leg to reveal a gleaming metal and carbon fiber calf. "We're one of the top prosthetics companies in the world. I would rather be back in Development, but it is my family's company, so I am doing this instead."

[Little of column A, little of column B....]

"Hm," he hums noncomittally. He knows that avoidance. He's used himself, years ago. "I would rather call you something that you like. I have never named anyone before, and I am sorry to say it, but I was not terribly fond of the man who owned you last. I'll not stop you if you would like to keep the name he gave you, however."

He tilts his head, watching her. "You may stand easy, if you like. We are not an overly formal household, and I'll not strike you if I've the choice."

"Do tell. Also, I guess we're walking, unless we get a man with one of those wheel carts."

He got out and knocked on the driver's window and got the directions to the nearest pharmacy.

Once he was next to Noriko again, he looked up at the sky. "Nice weather, at least."

She can't help but quirk a wry little smile at Alcuin's admission - she never liked him either. She doesn't say as much, and she doesn't change her posture, but she does lift her head and her gaze, just a bit.

"My name is Aña," she says, and despite herself, she sounds a bit defiant as she adds, "It's the name my mother gave me."

She doesn't trust his comment about not hitting her, though. Not yet. She's heard it before.

Vincent looked down at the false leg. He was surprised but not disgusted. In fact he was amazed.

He smiled, listening to Hanzo. He liked making things as opposed to running them. Couldn't blame him, a company seemed like a lot to take on, doubly so when you're taking over from your late father.

"Do you think you'll ever be able to back into it?" he asked.

"Friend, turned dealer, turned loan shark, turned...slaver, I guess," Nori explained. That was the short version at least.

She climbed out of the car, more electricity jumping, sparking from her head to the door frame as she climbed out. She scrubbed a hand through her hair to try and dissipate the static.

She looked skyward, half expecting the heavens to break out in a torrent of rain just to spite her. "You might not want to tempt that. You know, I don't think you can just walk into a pharmacy and buy that stuff," she warned.

"I hope so. I want to change the company from how my father ran it... It was never truly his passion, the way it has become mine. I hope to find the freedom to at least be a part of the development process again, instead of simply being in charge of the numbers." Hanzo let his pant leg fall - in fact, Hanzo was a double amputee, though you would never know it watching him. He had full range of movement - in many ways, he had more range of movement than he had when his legs were muscle and bone.

"But we are still many years away from that, unfortunately."

"Maybe most people can't." He left the rest mysterious and open-ended. He wouldn't even be buying it. He started walking at a comfortable saunter.

"What's your favorite food, Noriko?"

He thought a moment before saying, "James told me about your father, I'm sorry." he said. "I'm sure he'd be proud of how you're handling the company and will be handling it going forward though" he offered a small encouraging smile.

Sounded like Hanzo was a better fit for the company if his father was more of a numbers guy and less about the product. He hoped things turned for the better for Hanzo, both so that he could get back to what he enjoyed doing and, on a selfish note, spend a tiny bit of time with him.

[ Mildly surprised, Ezio combed his hand back through the boy's hair again, letting his palm cradle his cheek. ]

Bist du Deutscher? [ 'You're German?' he asked, and introduced himself next, before asking for the young man's name: ] Ich heiße Ezio, ah...wie heißt du?

[ The slaver stammered something unimportant, vexed that he didn't understand, but Ezio was the buyer here, and didn't care what the man's feelings were. ]

She kept pace about a half step behind him, looking curiously at his face. Some how she didn't doubt it. He seemed like a man who always got what he wanted. Always.

"...Omuraisu, probably?" she decided, "It's like a fried rice omelette. My mom used to make them for me and my brother."

"That's..." which country was she from again? "Japanese? Never seen that on a japanese menu."

Then again he had no idea how to spell that, and he didn't read japanese, so he wouldn't be able to tell you what half the things at the fancy japanese menu were.

"What's your favorite thing you can actually get in New York?"

"My father and I..." Hanzo sighed then shook his head. "James talks too much for his own good, sometimes." He pulled his phone from his pocket when it started buzzing at him. "What do you want for dinner?" He asked, while tapping at the keyboard. "Any preferences? There's a vegetarian thai place that's good..."

Vincent felt a little bad about bringing it up and he hoped James wouldn't get into trouble.

He nodded though at the suggestion. "Sounds good." He'd not had thai in some time.

He didn't bother Hanzo with any more questions as it seemed whatever he was typing was important. Or maybe that was just Hanzo's face being all serious. Hard to know.

[A sudden hitch in his breath signaled Kurt's surprise at the touch, his head leaning into it, eyes becoming half-lidded in content.

Although, being spoken to in his native language made them re-widen with curiosity and caused his features to brighten with exhilaration.] Ausgezeichnet ...!

[He let a wide grin come across his face, unable to hide the fact that he was thrilled they could converse and the slaver would have no idea what they were speaking of.] Schön dich zu treffen, Ezio. Ich heiße Kurt.

That made sense. Noriko hadn't had that much opportunity to visit Japanese restaurants in America, but from what she'd heard it didn't sound like the sort of dish they'd feature, it was more of a house hold thing, like...pancakes. Though Americans had whole restaurants devoted those.

"Pizza," she admitted with a small flush. It wasn't that impressive of an answer, "That's kind of lame, I know."

The man does have a point, there's a reason he keeps getting sold, but on the flip side of that, there's also a reason he keeps succeeding in escape. He's no one noteworthy, but he has a decently colorful history when it comes to fighting. It's all he's ever known really, so this isn't just him at his best. There's just no other way for him to be.

Fae isn't expecting him to just own up like that. He basically told him Yeah, you'll probably beat me, so what? The response earns a huff of amusement, one that cuts off into a grunt when he's back on the floor.

"Hey hey, don't underestimate me just because I've gotten myself into a shitty situation. I mean, I know it looks bad with the blood on my face and all, but give me some credit, I broke a few things on them, too." He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, head tipping to the side with a tight grin. "I probably couldn't function right if I ever found myself not pissed off for half a second."

He feels fingers hook into his pants, warm skin brushing against sharp hips and muscled thighs as they're pulled down. Fae doesn't really seem to care, as he's still talking. "A shop keep." He snorts, shoulders bunching as he chuckles. "That's pretty lame." He raises his hips a bit as his gaze falls to the other man, quirking a brow. "Not as glamorous a job as sucking cock, I guess?"

Fae's always run with the wrong people, so it's no wonder his life is just a string of hopping one shithole to the next. He wonders how a simple person like this wound up in such a life. It's no mystery why someone would covet him, as Fae has no issues admitting he's obviously attractive - but was this a choice?

[For what it mattered, Roshana told him nothing of what she was plotting forever. And he knew she was plotting for she was practically gliding along the ground for the past two days – arched, knowing and delighting in his frustration at being left out on a secret so tantalizing. Mavros nearly went so far to pluck on the strings in their circles, see what resounded but stopped himself just after a test. The only thing that would have amused her more than watching him dig after a particular spot would be have been seeing him range to sniff it out. He loved her, surely. They were raised together and she had only a year on him but she tested his patience as much as he wheeled hers…when he had the chance.

The hand of cards he had at the moment left him with very little to counter with.

So he did not call it sulking but he did set up for an evening of distraction in the downstairs parlors of his family’s townhome. Dressed down for the rare evening in with their newly purchase phonograph cranked and rippling music while his violin strung along in accompaniment when he was not pausing to drag on a smoldering cigarette. When Roshana graced him with her presence he was sweet, affecting unaffectedness while asking after her evening’s outing as if he was not by the very blood they shared beguiling. He was not easily pulled from the parlor but eventually agreed, dragged along with his violin still in both hands with Roshana’s sharp-nailed grip leading him back to his own rooms and oh-]

Cousin.

[He had been to countless parties since coming of age but few had been as pleasant as the one. Such a sharp-sweet scented omega with the wits to match. The literal agony of wanting so badly to lay claim on him, steal off with him right in the middle of the evening as if he were in rut and so uncultured to be carried away with it. Impossible, since there was no greater insult than to steal another’s pet from under their very nose. It went as unspoken fantasy in heated looks. He contented himself with their flirting, outrageous and pressing while Dorian’s scent rose.

Mavros stilled at the doorway, his eyes roaming over the vision Dorian made trussed up and so adorned before he turned sharply to regard Roshana.] What have you done?

[He had to kiss her for it when she told him. You seemed to like this one, she said. His birthday was two weeks away but he would never say no to such a gift before it. They were quick in speaking, voices low and he did not so apologize but scold his own annoyance with another kiss to her forehead. He attention shifted back once the door closed behind the flow of her skirts. Mavros steps forward, the first point of contact between them becoming the tip of his violin's bow under Dorian's chin to raise it higher.

The question was there on his lips, answered before he ever needed to give it voice.

Mavros grinned, slow and wide.]

You remember me.

Edited (i'm fixing shit) 2016-09-29 22:35 (UTC)

Her body sang to him at a glance.

Vayne's eyes narrowed on the girl, appraising her with a look like a wyvern roused by hunger. She was beautiful, yes, but any leering fool could have seen that - and while her beauty alone could set a man's pulse racing with fever, Vayne's eyes were lured to...other details that her courtesan's robe could not disguise. That instinctive, weight-forward balance. That perfect kinesthetic awareness of herself. The reflexive way her back straightened when she refused to bow.

Her body sang of battle - and an art of battle. A very specific one. Vayne felt a thin smile tugging at his lips as he met her glare. Cid knows me only too well.

So focused on her was he that Vayne almost missed that kick that sent her gasping to her knees. His eyes flicked briefly to the guard. Such insolence from a maid of common birth could hardly be tolerated, true...but it was far graver insolence to strike a companion of House Solidor. He made a note to have that one flogged.

Vayne set his glass aside and crossed over to where she seethed on her knees. He reached down, cupping the girl's chin in his palm to turn her face up to his. No doubt she'd recoil from his touch, but the briefest glimpse of those eyes was easily worth a moment's disdain. "She's quite lovely," he said. "Does she have a name?"

"The Doctor tells us she is simply called 'Tifa.'" Gabranth made a show of looming over Tifa, casting her in his shadow. "He also made mention that a number of her conspirators from Lowtown are now his 'honored guests'...and that he would shudder to think of their fates should he learn Your Excellency became somehow displeased with his gift."

"How thoughtful." Vayne gave an upward nod of his head, yet his eyes did not lift from her glare. "Thank you, Gabranth. That will be all. Leave us."

The Judge Magister led his men from the room, though in truth they had already left Vayne's thoughts for the evening. The doors shut, leaving them alone in this chamber of amber lights and lurking shadows that had once been the home of her King. Vayne circled around her as a Worgen might circle its mate, his eyes wandering that exquisitely braided brown hair and the windows of skin bared by that scanty robe. For all the elegance of his birth and upbringing, he could not deny the tension knotting in his thighs.

"You needn't remain on your knees, Tifa. Here." Vayne arrived before her again, and offered his hand. A corner of his mouth lifted. "Unless a student of Master Zangan is so easily laid low?"

Konoka had only been urgent in finding her measuring before she came back. Once she did, she also stopped again. Letting a slave simply loose might be a bad idea, given that she didn't know her well enough to see if she'd do anything desperate. But those chains were unsightly... and way too noisy to boot. Couldn't she keep her from pulling any fast ones some other way?

Deciding that it was better to risk it, Konoka instead spoke on the matter. "Please don't pull any fast ones. My family is well trained in a number of arts, and they won't be as nearly as kind if you break my trust. That being said..." There was something in the way Sonja fidgeted that made the brunette curious. "You seem to be squirming quite a bit in those. Are they really that uncomfortable?" She thought that these were thicker cuffs so they wouldn't chafe, but...

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 12 of 42

The Slave Auction Meme

no subject

The things I've been googling for these threads man, lol

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Please don't judge me for my internet history, mr. FBI man

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

oh god why does this hurt my heart already

no subject

no subject

ALL ABOARD

no subject

no subject