bakerstreet | bidding wars

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bidding wars

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.

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It makes a perfect, awful sense. Yuri shudders, hearing about a warranty. So this is his best choice. Trust a blood-drinking mass-murderer. Great.

It's still better then where he was a half-hour ago. He rubs at his wrists. Shivers at the idea of going back, hands on him...

Yuri doesn't speak for the rest of the ride. Just lets his brain drift away, fade into one of his dance routines. God he wants to move. Bury himself in the steps and music, forget what's happening. Even if it's just a few minutes.

Jack leaves the boy to his thoughts.

It is a lot to take in.

Eventually, though. The car stops in front of a large iron gate. Jack reaches into his pocket to withdraw a remote and he clicks it and the doors open and they pull inside, gate shutting behind them.

"Oh good. We're home."

The driveway is long...the house is large, but definitely not a castle. Two floors, plus an attic, surrounded on all sides by trees that have grown up into a small forest. There's a greenhouse to one side and a pond to the other. It is nice. It looks like a house though, not some gothic chateau.

The car stops at the porch and the driver hastily get out to open Jack's door. Jack retrieves the key to Yuri's bonds and undoes the cuffs on his feet, no longer fearing a kick in the face.

"Let's get you settled, then. Come inside."

It feels so odd. They didn't send the boy with anything. There is no suitcase...no backpack..nothing.

Jack steps out of the car without unfurling his red umbrella and the purpose of the trees is revealed...they make the area surrounding the house shaded.

"You'll have to let me know what you like when you are up to it. This is your home for the next year....longer if you want I'm not going to throw you out....but I'm not going to force you to stay after that if you don't want to. Still....please let me know if you need it. I can take you shopping in a day or so...have you pick out some clothes. Creature comforts...you know...things you like."

He feels like some doting uncle.

He'd much rather be remembered that way than the monster an accident of birth made him.

Jack opens the door with a jagged looking key just as the driver leaves to park the car. He gestures for Yuri to enter.

"Come in, I'll show you to your room."

It is nice...the furnishings look old fashioned...because they are originals. There are various portraits of pale skinned, red eyed Soldiers lining the halls, each has a name plate on the bottom.

"The Morrisons are a...well known family in certain circles, " Jack explains, "I am the only one who lives here, though. The others are all out and about in the world...I guess I am more of a homebody."

Of course. They didn't exactly give Yuri time to pack.

Yuri only grunts at Morrison's offer. This isn't his home. Even though under other circumstances, he would want it. It's nicer then anywhere he's ever lived. There are trees, for fuck's sake.

(There's a finger of ice at that. Like Yuri's betraying all his grandpa's hard work.)

He fights to keep back any expression. He doesn't want to be impressed. Doesn't want to like any of this. Hearing he has his own room though... somewhere that isn't a cell... Maybe it's like having a patron. Most artists have those, right?

Except with patrons you have a choice.

They reach the end of the hall and Jack opens the door there.

"Ah, here we are. This one is yours."

The room is large. There is a Queen size bed that is obviously freshly made, a dresser and a bedside table. There is a television mounted on the wall and the remote to it is on the bedside table.

Jack opens what looks like a closet door, only to reveal that it is a bathroom with an actual bathtub and fluffy towels sitting beside it. Shampoo, conditioner and soap was already ready.

"I had this prepped as soon as they told me they had a special case for me. See...I wasn't leaving without you."

Jack sighed.

"Your blood still had a fire in it...you weren't a lost cause."

The Soldier smiled.

"I didn't want it to burn out."

Jack looked around the room-it was sparsely decorated otherwise...its previous inhabitant had left months ago and taken their belongings with them, leaving the skeleton of the room.

"I'll...ah, leave you to get settled. Dinner is at Five. So that gives you a few hours to settle in, get washed up...whatever you need. I'm going to be downstairs if you need me."

Jack waved and quietly exited, giving Yuri some space.

Maybe that's supposed to be comforting? It isn't. Not with what his blood's supposed to be for. Yuri knots his arms together again. Glaring Morrison out of the room.

Then he flops back on the bed, finally letting the exhaustion have its say. Not meaning to sleep, but when he lifts his head again the sun is in a different position. Casting the room in gold.

Yuri scrubs at his eyes. Running a hand through his hair, grimacing at the state of it. A bath does sound amazing. And Dracula down there can certainly afford the water bill...

Jack certainly can.

He can also wait.

It is much closer to seven when he hears the boy starting to move around.

Good. He's had time to rest.

Jack is a patient man. He's content to wait.

He supposes that he should have been more clear that he didn't intend to draw blood until the next day...stressed blood tasted like garbage. He'd been used to being familiar with his previous...assistant. Actual food dinner was at five, though everything was stored on heaters so it stayed warm for whenever the boy emerged.

He heard the water start running and Jack smiled.

Nice to see Yuri was settling in.

"Nice" is generous.

But being left alone for the first time in a week? Yeah. Maybe Yuri could agree. He cranks the shower up as high as he can stand. Scrubbing violently at the grime. Trying to wash away the feel of being pulled, shoved, his body going where he doesn't want it.

The filth vanishes easier then the memories.

When the worst of the dirt is gone, Yuri fills the tub and slides in. Biting back the groan of relief as heat soaks into cramping muscles. He doesn't want to enjoy any of this.

He's not sure what he's supposed to do about clothes. He'd sooner burn those rags then touch them again. Whatever. That's something to worry about after he gets his hair clean.

Should Yuri open any of the drawers in the bathroom, he would find a generic white guest robe, complete with matching white tank tops and pajama pants, so should he not want to wear his old clothes...well..at least there was an alternative.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Jack settled himself into an armchair with a tablet for some light reading. He'd showered off the grime of the city as well and had changed into something infinitely more comfortable. Black silk pants with a matching smoking jacket with red piping and red socks. It was certainly good to be home.

Eventually Yuri comes down. The robe is too large, skimming at his ankles, and he's had to roll up the pants. If possible, he looks even younger now.

The scowl makes up for some of that. Look. He can be glad about getting clean, but not this shitty situation. Yuri wants his clothes. Broken-in jeans and animal prints, not dressing like some heroine about to get devoured.

He takes in Morrison's outfit.

"Don't vampires wear tuxes?"

Jack looks up, amused.

Humor? Well, that was better than getting punched in the face.

The vampire set his tablet down on the table next to his armchair.

"On occasion, yes. State dinners, galas, that sort of thing. Sorry everything is a little big. I'm definitely taking you shopping soon. I've got some old things from when I was younger around. I mean...they don't fit me anymore but after dinner we'll have to see if there's anything more your style."

Speaking of which.

"Let's tuck in, shall we?"

Jack gestures for Yuri to follow him and he leads the boy into the dining room. It is well lit and there are shelves lining the room with tiny china children and animal figures on them.

"My mother is a collector...they aren't my taste...but she loves them...so I gave them a home here."

Jack explains, gesturing to them.

He pulls out a chair at one end of the table for Yuri and promptly moves to the other end where he seats himself and pours himself a glass of thick, warm synthetic blood. It isn't nearly as good as the real thing, but it'll do for the meantime until Yuri gets settled.

Jack swishes it around in his hand.

"Help yourself...there's a couple things to choose from. I wasn't sure what you liked."

In the covered bowls, there is macaroni and cheese, chicken noodle soup, and a kind of chili goulash Jack had thrown together.

Yuri half expects a bunch of dead animals, or whatever else monsters eat. Instead it's all... disturbingly normal.

He just grabs whatever's closest. Determined not to like it. He doesn't care about the creepy figures, stories about Morrison's childhood, none of it. This guy bought him. Who needs details.

"Hmph."

...Shit. The food tastes amazing, and genuine pleasure flashes across Yuri's face before he smothers it.

"So how does this work? You're huge. There's no way I have enough blood for you."

Jack raised his glass in Yuri's direction.

"Observant. I like that. You are correct. You do not have enough blood by yourself. That's what this stuff is for."

He swirls the contents of his glass .

"Neither is enough on its own, but together, both create a sustainable diet."

Of course...not every Soldier would take synthetic.

Jack hasn't touched anything on the plates. He could if he wanted to...but he didn't need to.

"Gross."

Yuri returns to shoveling food into his mouth. It disappears at an astonishing rate. As though he's used to grabbing what he can while he can, unsure of where the next meal is coming from. A habit clearly older then the last week of being a prisoner.

"And what if I say I'm not doing it? You just going to sell me back?"

He's pushing. It's what he does. Morrison's claiming to be upstanding, against slavery, but he's in this deal for something. The same as everybody else.

"To each their own."

Jack shrugs at the boy's assessment of his eating habits.

He swirled his glass again before taking a sip as Yuri questioned him. Jack sighed.

"No. I'm not going to send you back there. I wouldn't send my worst enemy there."

He paused, looking up, a questioning eyebrow arched.

"Why not do it? You got something better to do, Yuri?"

He pushed right back.

"Do I have something better to do then let somebody drink my blood?"

You could wring the sarcasm out of that one. In the classic fashion of teenagers, Yuri is just going to let Morrison sit with that idiocy. Goes back to eating in silence.

But honestly... would he trust this guy if Morrison claimed he was doing it only out of the goodness of his heart or some other bullshit?

Probably not.

Jack sipped his glass of synthetic.

He let a few minutes of silence pass between them.

"Well...do you?"

Jack asked, line faced and swirling his drink.

"Yeah. Like dancing."

Yuri stabs viciously at the last of the macaroni. He doesn't remember the last time he went so long without music, without moving, and it feels like having a limb removed. It's impossible to explain how uncomfortable it is.

This is the thing he feels allowed to miss - because if he starts thinking about the rest, Yuri will start screaming. Really screaming. And he's not sure it will ever stop.

Jack nodded.

"Good answer."

It was.

Clearly, that is where the boy's heart lay. His paperwork said he had trained for years as a dancer. It was nice to know it was a passion project and not something more sinister.

"What kind of music do you like for that?"

Jack was sure they could work out something mutually beneficial...perhaps this was the key.

Yuri's eyes flick up to meet Morrison's. Narrowed in suspicion. Clearly getting answers out of him is like pulling teeth, but he does finally volunteer some.

"Tchaikovsky. And Guns N' Roses."

It isn't a joke. Maybe confusing, since it says his schooling is in ballet, but he's dead serious.

"I think I have some of that on vinyl. Def Leppard, too. Some Starship....Tom Petty...Sex Pistols. Oh, and some classical, too. We'll have to see what we can dig up in the library."

Finally.

A small tidbit of information he can work with.

A tidbit that triggers a landmine, unfortunately. Because talking about vinyl just brings up Otabek, and Yuri's hands curl up. He'd go on about vinyl too. How music sounds the best that way, warmer, dark eyes lighting up -

Yuri pushes back from the table.

"So do you want the blood now or what?"

Because that's all Morrison can be waiting for, right? Then Yuri can go back to sleep?

Jack is a little startled at the question.

"Well, I hadn't planned on it tonight. I figured we would do the draw tomorrow after a good night's rest. You've been through a huge ordeal. I just wanted to make sure you were well fed and well rested before we did anything taxing....besides..."

He tapped his wine glass now empty of synthetic.

"I just ate."

"Great. Then I'm going to bed."

It's hard to stomp properly in bare feet.

Yuri manages anyway.

Rage is easier. A barrier against the memories trying to push forward. He's still not safe, they have to stay where they are. If he lets the faces come he's going to shatter. He can only do this by himself, because they aren't here. Aren't coming, can't, and he's alone again.

The door slams so hard it shakes the frame. Yuri collapses on the bed. Curling into a ball and pressing hands to his temples. Of all things, he misses the brush of fur, Potya purring and warm after a bad day. This is what finally breaks through. Brings tears burning down his face.

Yuri muffles the noise in a pillow. Refusing to let any escape.

Jack lets him go.

The boy needs to get this out if they are going to make any kind of progress. He winces as the door slams, but based on what door he hears slam, he knows where to find him in a bit. The vampire makes himself busy, cleaning up himself, putting leftovers in the fridge, washing dishes and putting them on the drying rack...he's a man like everyone else...but not really. His tongue runs over his fangs absently as he works.

God, what an absolute nightmare this must be for Yuri.

He was too old...to old to be introduced to this life in the first place. He obviously has known friends...passions...and freedom to pursue them-all suddenly taken away and sold to a literal monster.

The soldier sighs and looks around the library, managing to find the record player and a small collection of vinyl albums. Digging around in a linen closet , he also managed to at least find some of his old clothes his mother had saved from when he was younger...it isn't much but It'll do. A small black tank top and some tight black jeans. Jack doesn't ever remember being that thin but clearly he must have been. There is an old pair of skull print flip flops, too. He apparently had had a theme and went with it...and Jack supposed he was not so different now.

He carries his small pile of things up to Yuri's room and knocks on the door. He can hear quiet sniffling coming from inside.

"Yuri? I don't have to come in...I just wanted you to know I brought you some music. I'll leave it out here. Found something more your speed for clothes, too. We'll find something better tomorrow. I can come in if you want...but I don't have to."

He technically owned the boy and the law said he could do what he liked...but the same law held him to services he had never consented to...an ancestor had...someone he had never met had signed his life away...and any future Morrisons. While he was otherwise free...he knew what is was like to not be in control and he did not want to extend that feeling more than he had to.

Yuri catches his breath. Scrubbing at his face, furious at the weakness.

"No," he mumbles. Disgusted by the crack in his voice. He knows he's got nothing to stand on. Morrison bought him. This is Morrison's house, Morrison's bed, and now Morrison is offering his own clothes and record player. Trying to be kind again.

It doesn't matter that Morrison hasn't forced anything. He could. At any time. This is enough to bring up one last flare and Yuri's voice is stronger this time. Harsh and sharp, clawing back any scrap of autonomy he can by yelling in Russian.

"Go away!"

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