the slave auction meme

[rampantlion]

THE SLAVE AUCTION MEME


❧ 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 or set up the scene yourself in the comment.

❧ Respond to others with one of the scenarios below or feel free to make up your own.

❧ 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.


Originally taken from here.

Comments

[beworthy]

He could not help but grasp after his brother's attentions. To be kissed at last with passion instead of cruelty, to feel Loki press down atop him and answer his kisses and his caresses with hunger, his hands feverish upon his body as though he would rend him and consume him and have every part of him--where before Loki, king of Asgard, had held the chain around Thor's throat as though it were the leash of a dumb beast that was only useful for satisfying himself upon. Now he urged himself to Thor as though he wanted him, needed him, and awoke a hunger in return that threatened to bind him body and spirit.

That Loki writhed out of his grasp, turned on him again with eyes blackened and snapping with fury was like a slap to the face, too sudden and awful to be warranted, and Thor was reaching for him in bewilderment and beseeching before the words too struck across him like a lash. His hunger was a howling, hollowing thing, unrelieved and aching. It was an anguish that blackened and twisted his heart, heaped upon all the sore bruises and hurts that had been his to bear since Loki bade him kneel in his throne room and vow his life and whatever use Loki could wish to make of it, all for Asgard, nothing for the redemption of their brotherhood, nothing that Loki could ever want.

"I mock you!" His own fury rose brutal and burning, as Thor reared up towering over the wrathful tangle of limbs that Loki was, longing to strike him, throttle him, kiss him until he had no breath left with which to curse his wretched slave-- "What mockery could I put to you, Loki, my king, when I cannot disobey you in word or even heart? Do I mock you because I cannot understand what it is that you desire of me? You have made of me your slave," he added bitterly. "What offense then can a slave offer to a king?"

[abanishedking]

"You cannot understand!" Cried Loki. Thor in his splendor raged above him and he owned himself frightened and vulnerable in his nakedness, abruptly dispossessed. "What vanity, this!..."

His strange brother, naked and chained, erect and enraged, bright as day and as natural and fresh and lovely, too stupid to understand! This was the end of everything. There was no scheme to relieve this reprisal. Loki writhed aside and made for the edge of the bed, where he snatched his discarded cloak and held it over his absurd and fumbling bare body. His thin white steps made for the door.

"You think you have won, Thor! This is no victory... I shall put you in chains!..." Notwithstanding that Thor was already in chains. Loki's grin was terrible and false and his shoulders downturned in shame. "I shall humiliate you before everyone! You will weep..."

In the bright, warm Asgardian evening he trembled with unbearable anguish. He had never so trembled, nor hated so much each step upon the smooth black floor; in all of his life he had never loathed his brother so much nor smiled so brightly. What he wanted in this gilt room would not be given to the undeserving Loki, King of Asgard. Thor's pestilent stupidity... it was Thor's fault!

[beworthy]

He did not think. To disobey his king, to strike away with his own power the chain of submission he had worn all this night long: it was not an act of rebellion but of battle. For if Loki would deny him victory, then let his brother remember that he was no god of thunder only, but a god of war.

He rose from the bed, great and splendid in his fury, the chain swinging wild and loose about his throat. Loki had availed himself of a cloak before hastening in his retreat, but Thor did not trouble himself to recapture any of his garments, to clothe a inch of golden skin, erect phallus, bruised hips or slick thighs: what more shame could there be that he had not already that night suffered? In this way he was yet beautiful. In this way there was a wrathful splendor which cloaked him as he closed the distance between them in a few quick strides and caught Loki's arm to yank him pivoting around, his fingers sinking hard into his dark hair.

"No, my brother; I would claim no victory from you; you have won well what war you must wage against me, and I hope you take joy in it," Thor said bitterly, and dragged Loki into a brutal kiss.

Loki was fragile in his hands, made of sharp glass, brittle and breakable, this awful creature Thor's king, Thor's master and torment and love; he kissed him with anger and merciless passion in his hands, in the seal of his mouth, and Loki was a thing of bright hatred and fear and perhaps, too, a vivid and terrible longing. These splinters of him would drive themselves into Thor's heart and mind; they would drive him as mad as his brother was.

[abanishedking]

Astonished, Loki struggled to tear himself away. The cape fell from his hands as he heaved at the great bulk of Thor's body. He hissed and writhed to force his head from Thor's grip, and his eyes watered from the pain. His fingers twisted around Thor's chain; he hauled at it, hoping to choke him, but there was not enough room to yank.

Against the chill air of the chamber Thor was a furnace. His beautiful, familiar rage descended like fire and Loki burned in the center of the storm and loathed him completely. Thor's hateful might gripped him like a fist. Even to breathe, tightly, was to drink Thor's warlike scent. The savor of Thor's tongue touched his mouth. There was no escape. At last.

He would never hate, nor love, nor desire anything or anyone as much as this.

They would be at war forever. He clawed at Thor's bristly cheeks and dragged himself at last free of his vicious kiss and, panting, he dropped his brow against his brother's, his eyes closed. The chain still wrapped about his hand was warm with Thor's heat. Loki Silvertongue could not form any words for this moment.

He dragged himself against Thor. Belly to belly, he ground his entire body against his brother's, lifted against him and pushed into his grip. The intimate, heated slide of his smooth skin against his brother's, so like and unlike his own, struck him with a bitter pang. He longed for Thor's anger and embrace, both so close to him now that he at last pleaded helplessly, "Can you not touch me? Can you not... with your hands..." And to say it felt like a cup running over, relief and depair.

[beworthy]

Loki was like a cat in his arms, writhing, hissing, clawing, but Thor had him by the scruff of the neck now, Thor would not let him free. He bit at Loki's lips until they parted for him, thrust his tongue into his mouth, gripping him around the waist and by the nape of the neck with fingers tight woven into the strands of his hair to drag back his head. His brother's mouth was a cool sweet taste that he drank of with grim pleasure, imagining, briefly, himself the master and Loki the thrall: to his hands, to his mouth, to his golden body, seeking and being given all the warmth of him.

Loki at last wrenched away, yet he went no further than a breath between them, hitching himself back against Thor as though he could not bear to be apart. "Hush," Thor told him, and kissed him firmly, dragging him up nearly off his toes.

Kissing him, licking at his mouth, he wrestled Loki back into the bedroom, herded him into the space between the bed and the hearth where he had stripped himself before his brother's eyes, what felt like a lifetime ago. There on the thick rug he forced his king down to his knees, and knelt with him, pulling him roughly into his lap; he touched him, yes, he wanted to touch him, to caress him ceaselessly, to smooth his hands over and over pale limbs or to grasp and yank and hold him brutally tight.

[abanishedking]

A tangle of sensation: Thor's mouth and its hot, fragile inner texture; Thor's strength shoving at him and battling him to his knees; the same powerful hands drawn over his skin; naked Thor, densely, splendidly built, his body against Loki's bare thighs, his shoulders like mountains where Loki gripped, his weight an anchor, his arms a harbor. The fire licked at them and gilded Thor's profile.

Loki tugged restlessly at his roaming hands to say here, and here, here, above my heart, is where I longed for, here the line of his hips where none other dared to touch, here, the hollow between throat and collarbone, it is sensitive. But this was not out of irritation with some insufficiency, but out of a thin-ice trust. If he might truly have what he wished, if Thor would... and when not engaged in this he took Thor's head in his hands and gazed at him with frightened daring or urged him to kiss again, slow and tongue-glorious.

Was the clock still ticking. What sentiment was this that broke into the cold caverns of his heart. His toes curled in the dense pile of the rug. His two hands rested upon Thor's mighty chest, deeply gratified by the span of muscle and his small, tender nipples, and he thought--surprised by the idea--he could pleasure his brother the same as he did any lover he wished to seduce or ruin. He might use all his little tricks and skills and see Thor in his passion and it would not be... Troubled his brow, an anxious frown on his lips as he drew back to survey Thor's handsome, flushed face.

[beworthy]

Ah, he was glad for this. Glad to be shown the ways that Loki liked to be touched, to be given a lover's privilege rather than a thrall's commands: to be made to know the one he desired, and how best he might please him. Thor's hands followed those paths, rough and consuming, engulfing, stroking breast and hips and the hollow of his throat, where he nuzzled too with lips and beard; and when Loki cupped his face and sought kisses Thor gave them, taking his mouth with slow and greedy passion.

The way his brother looked at him reminded him of when they were young. There was a lost youth in his gaze, a boy standing on the cusp of uncertainty and fear, as though he were afraid still to ask if his elder brother might truly be his. Thor had no such compunction. When Loki looked at him thus he upended him impatiently and pushed him down to the thick rug, onto his back, and Thor now settled close, took his mouth again briefly, kissed from his jaw to his ear and murmured there, "Now I will have you."

[abanishedking]

To one floating in the lulling sensual sea that Thor had conjured up with his generous hands, this was an ice cube down the back of his shirt. He yelped, his limbs scattered, and he fell wide-eyed. Clutching for Thor's shoulders as his own sank into the deep pile of the rug, he snorted to find his brother already atop him--gloriously heavy, his tickly moustache at his cheek and his smooth mouth humming words that gripped Loki's guts like a fist in heated shock. Tenderness replaced surprise; he gentled beneath Thor, and opened his mouth to protest...

Any complaints he was in the process of forming got cut off. The golden doors burst open and four guards poured in to find the brothers so engaged.

"My lord! We heard you cry out!"

The situation must have become apparent to everyone involved very slowly; as it did, one or two guards shifted uncomfortably and another turned away, and only the captain, who had spoken, drew his cloak about himself more closely and stood firm. This was cunning, incestuous beauty: the broad golden form of Thor's back, a jewel set in the white clasp of his brother. Loki's soft, frustrated grunt preceded the arch of his neck, so that he looked upon his guards with a head nearly upside-down, and certainly at some disadvantage beneath Thor's mane.

"Leave us," he suggested mildly. His shoulders had lifted to Thor's in necessity; he felt his brother's heart pounding against his own ribs, felt the thickness of his brother's cock near the spread of his own thighs--curse distractions, and every moment he was kept from Thor was wretched to him now. As the guards turned in confusion to file out, Loki called to their captain: "And Ulfr..."

"Y...yes, my lord."

"There will be nothing said of this."

"...Yes, my lord Loki."

But Thor would feel him trembling even as he began to laugh and unkink his neck.

[beworthy]

The crashing of the door was as a bucket of cold water sluiced over his back; Thor jerked, pinned Loki to the floor with the weight of his body and an arm thrown across his collar, so that he could only lift his head to look at the intruders, and clutch at Thor with his pale hands. Thor was reaching for a weapon that was not there, readying himself against an attacker, an assassin...it was moments before he recognized Ulfr, his eyes burning upon the the Aesir guards. They stared at him, and Thor stared back with fury in his throat and his hands holding his king down.

But they went, again, after Loki spoke, and Thor let out his breath; he had quite forgotten that there were other Aesir here who kept loyalty to their king, if only out of a sense of duty towards the throne--that there was not everywhere the shadow of death at his back. He had forgotten, too, that he would throw himself between his brother and the killing blow, before he ever let harm touch him: that Loki's life was his, as much as his was Loki's.

He loosened his grasp as Loki laughed and shivered beneath him, moving his hands to brace against the rug. He was--bewildered. "What is it?" Thor said roughly as he felt his king trembling, lacing thick fingers into the black strands of his hair, holding him in a brutal grasp. "What is it, Loki--? Are you afraid?"