lit_gal | Broken Revenge 16

And we're still ripping through the story...

Broken Revenge
Rated: ADULT - Slavefic, bondage, submission, yadda, yadda, yadda
Previous parts using tags
Previous parts using memories

Xander followed behind the demon who had bought him as he tried reminding himself that the demon didn't actually own him since he was a person and had rights, not that his person-type rights meant much to a demon, but still.

Xander remembered when he had followed Spike that first day, wondering whether he was about to be tortured or rescued. He hadn't even dreamed of asking questions back then, and now he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from asking the questions that flashed across his mind so fast that he could barely even acknowledge one before another crowded it out. Oh, things like where they were going and what this Dareh planned to do to him. But just like before, with Spike, the answer didn't matter. Dareh held his leash and if Dareh announced that he planned to use Xander as a sacrificial victim for bugs to eat alive, Xander would still have to follow.

And okay, Xander really needed to find a way to turn his imagination off because that image was not of the good. Xander stumbled a little, losing his pace for a second as that fear suddenly turned into a three-dimensional daymare.

"Here we are," Dareh announced as they came to a part of the show hall Xander hadn't seen before. The crates were certainly familiar enough for him to figure it out though. Xander's eyes stung as he realized that once he got in that crate, he would have no options. Not that he had a lot of options now what with the chain, but he could scream or curse or break his own neck trying to run away. They weren't good options, but they were options. Once he was nicely caged, he wouldn't have those options.

"Fekell, need a size five crate for my new stallion," Dareh called and Xander slipped to his knees. He was too tired to try the breaking his own neck on the chain option. "Fekell!" Dareh yelled.

"Jes a minute!" a voice yelled back before muttering too softly for Xander to hear. Okay, big double doors for loading crates. The crossbeam looked way too heavy for him to lift. Nothing close enough to grab and use as a weapon, and he wasn't even sure what type of demon Dareh was. Of course decapitation worked with most demons, but Xander didn't have anything that would work to decapitate him. He thought about pulling a Princess Leia with the chain, but he thought Dareh would probably just knock him into the middle of next week. Then again, maybe the guy would accidentally kill him, and Xander couldn't decide if that was in the positive or negative column.

Before he could come to any decision, a short gnomish thing came pushing a fairly large crate. "Ya know, you guys could put yer orders in before the last day," it huffed unhappily.

"What would be the fun of that?" Dareh laughed as he grabbed the edge of the crate, yanking on it. Yep, gotta make sure the new stallion can't get away, Xander thought. Unfortunately the crate seemed pretty damn sturdy. If Dareh couldn't pull it apart, Xander wasn't giving himself much change of kicking his way free.

"Fun would be me gettin' home to the mate before she guts me," the gnome complained.

"Well, I had no idea I was going to get such a nice stallion today."

"Isn't he a little big for your usual stock?" the gnome asked in surprised voice, but Xander just kept his head bowed.

"Oh, it's the temperament that I like," Dareh rested a hand on Xander's head, and Xander chanted to himself about accepting even though he wanted nothing more than to push Dareh away. Really, he should feel some gratitude since the demon had kept him away from Leshar, but Xander just wasn't feeling it. He'd be damned if he'd feel gratitude. Actually, he thought with a start, if he started feeling gratitude he probably would be damned.

"Up and in, boy," Dareh ordered. Xander stood up before his brain had even processed the order. Since there really wasn't a choice, Xander climbed over the side of the crate and onto the firm gel-like material inside. Without waiting for an order, Xander got down onto his side, tucking his knees up against his chest so that he would fit. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't particularly uncomfortable either. He watched as Dareh locked his chain onto a ring near Xander's head.

"Be home soon enough, boy," the demon's large hand slapped Xander's naked thigh, and Xander had to push memories of Lirowaus away as a lid slid down over the top of the crate. Oh yeah, he wasn't going to have much room to move, but maybe he could brace his back against the wood and push a board out of place with his knees. Xander held onto that hope in the dark as he listened to an electric screwdriver seal him in.

Shafts of light from the slats between the boards at his head and feet kept the claustrophobia from closing in too much, so now he just had to wait for a private moment before trying to break free. Yep. He could do this. Xander felt his eyelids droop. Yep. Just wait for the right time, and then he would break free and go find his worthless master. Uh-huh, he was so going to kick Spike's ass, just as soon as he made sure it was in one piece, Xander told himself as he started to fade. He'd just rest for a while and then it would be time for the great escape. After a small nap.

Xander woke when Dareh opened the top of the padded crate. Oh shit—sleep spell. When the threads of panic started weaving through him, he threw himself back into Leshar's training. On his knees, back straight, head down, hands at the small of his back, knees spread, thoughts of slipping a knife between Dareh's beady eyes. Okay, he might have improvised the last part, but Xander also knew he couldn't do anything until he figured out where he was. With the sleep spell keeping him under, he could be on the other side of the planet or in another dimension. Until he knew more about where he was and how to get back to Sunnydale, he would play good pet.

A heavy hand ruffled his hair, and Xander recognized the gesture as affectionate even as he gritted his teeth. Only Spike touched his hair, and then he used long fingers to delicately tease individual curls.

"Shhh, boy. You're alright." The deep, soft voice startled Xander, and he realized he was leaking smells that probably included terror and fury. Xander let himself sink into the memory of Leshar's cage, into the memory of Leshar's lesson. A slave accepted. Pain or pleasure made no difference—a slave accepted. Struggling to find that center of nothingness, Xander almost missed the command.

Standing, he stepped over the edge of the crate and followed Dareh through a door into a wide open space. Okay, the leash was gone, so that was an improvement. The wood floor was warm under his feet, and shafts of light from either a skylight or really bright light bulbs divided this huge room into a checkerboard pattern. A large horned demon waited leaning against one wall and Dareh walked directly to him.

For his part, Xander tried to keep his mind on form and tried not thinking about ugly possibilities, and yet the harder he tried to focus on his form, the more the images of those ugly possibilities superimposed themselves over his vision, which really wasn't helping with the not thinking thing. He just wished his brain would cooperate with him for once, but the damn thing was quickly skittering over into the panic-level inspired by SAT testing or imminent rape.

"This your new boy?" the horned demon asked in a voice that clicked slightly. When Dareh stopped, Xander went to his knees exactly as trained. Dareh's large hand found his hair and rubbed it roughly.

"Yep. Not breedin' this one out, either. He's going to be private stock."

"He's taller than your usual."

"But with such a sweet disposition and such beautiful bone structure, I know we'll get champion pups out of him." Xander couldn't repress the shiver fast enough as he heard his future laid out for him. For most slaves, the life of a breeder was some sort of holy grail land, but Xander would rather be at Lirowaus' feet than give this man children to enslave.

The horned demon darted forward far faster than a creature of that size ought to be able to move, and Xander couldn't stop his instinctive reaction to jerk back.

"Looks a little skittish."

"If you jumped at me like that, I'd be skittish too," Dareh complained, and Xander felt that large hand move to the side of his head, pulling him toward Dareh's leg. A tiny part of Xander uncurled and practically begged for the protection that gesture offered, but Xander stomped down on that feeling even as he pressed the side of his face to Dareh's knee. It was an act. He would do what he had to, but he was only acting, he reminded himself firmly.

Dareh made small huffing noises that might have been comforting noise, and Xander turned his head so that he was nearly burying his face in Dareh's huge thigh. If Dareh wanted helpless, Xander could play helpless all the way up to the point that he shoved a stake through the demon's heart. Or cut off his head. Or took a knife and planted it in the middle of Dareh's neck. Xander stopped before he started leaking smells that had nothing to do with fear.

"Such a sweet little stallion," Dareh said as the hand rubbed the back of Xander's neck. "He smelled of terror when I took him out of the crate, but he's still obedient and sweet. I tell you, we can create a real demand here. We could bring this stable up to one of the premier facilities if we take some time to show him interdimensionally. He made quite a stir at the show this week.

"Considering how much you paid for him, he better bring in some revenue or we just may be out of business."

"I run the stables; that's the deal. I'm telling you that he could put us on easy street." Xander listened to Dareh's voice with snakes of revolt and disgust crawling through his belly.

When Leshar had beaten and whipped and terrorized him, the trainer had wanted to break Xander, to rip his humanity out of him, but that meant that they saw he had a humanity that needed to be ripped away. These demons talked about Xander as though he truly was an animal. Xander knew that he should be grateful he didn't fall into the hands of another sadist like Leshar or some biologically freaky demon like Lirowaus, but instead all he could think about was that he would rather have those demons trying to make him forget his humanity than Dareh with his soft words and absolutely belief that Xander had the intelligence of a coffee table. Usually he at least got compared to living creatures like geese… as in doesn't have the sense of.

"So, let's get him checked out," the horned demon said as he turned at walked to the far side of the large room. Dareh followed him, and Xander followed Dareh despite a growing and irrational desire to hit the demon upside the back of the head and run. He wasn't exactly going to prove his intelligence with that move, so instead he followed behind like the meek stallion they thought him.

"Hop up," the horned demon ordered with a slap to a bed shaped platform that was about twice as high as a bed. The hoses hanging over the platform told him exactly what the platform was, and Xander stood on shaky legs. Accept, he chanted to himself. He put his back to the platform so he could jump up and sit, but he missed on his first try and simply succeeded in scraping his back along the edge.

"Not exactly impressive," the horned demon clicked derisively, and Xander's legs trembled even more.

"He's terrified. New owners, new stable, new role. I watched him take on a male twice his size in competition, so don't worry about that." Dareh put hands on either side of Xander's waist and easily lifted him even as he spoke. Great, one more demon with super strength. Why couldn't he ever get kidnapped by the wimpy demon? Like Clem! Why couldn't Clem ever kidnap him? Xander flashed on an image of serving Clem which, from what he could tell, would involve making a lot of nachos. He could do nachos. He couldn't do good nachos, but if Clem was okay with him opening a couple of cans and stirring, he could so totally do nachos.

"On your back," the horned demon tersely ordered, and Xander felt an irrational need to have a name. Since no one had given him permission to speak, he just pulled his legs up and lay on his back with his legs open to the edges of the platform. He chanted his little "accept" chant as loud as he could in his head as his fear hijacked his body, making tremors run under the skin.

"Shh, boy. You're okay," Dareh soothed, and Xander felt another irrational desire to hit the demon as hard as he could. Right. Because being kidnapped and dragged away to make slave babies was terribly, terribly okay. The word 'wankers' floated to the top of his mind, but he shoved that down without mercy because there were some fears he just couldn't deal with right now.

A scaled hand ran across his chest, stopping over his heart, and Xander struggled to make that organ respond to his internal chant of accept. Instead it continued to race out of control until Xander could feel physical pain wrapping itself around his body. How many times had he lain on a table like this as the Pockla healed his torn flesh? He remembered the Kren demon whose semen had burned at his skin. He'd done as trained and ignored and accepted the agony until the demon had left and Leshar had come into the room. His trainer had been furious at the idea of Xander being damaged and had called for the Pockla before strapping Xander to the table.

He had waited for the healer as he'd gasped in agony. He'd finally given up the struggle to stay silent and started screaming by the time the healer had arrived. Instead of blocking the pain, the Pockla had moved directly to healing Xander's acid burned chest. The healer's chants had the effect of ripping the torn and damaged tissue from his body as Xander had screamed himself back into silence, able only to writhe and sob in mute agony as the magic knit his body back together, pulling and stretching and burning and tearing through him in order to make him attractive again.

"Master." The whisper slipped out, and Xander knew who he wanted to answer, who he trusted to pull him out of his memories, but the large warm hand that pushed the hair back out of his face wasn't his real Master.

"It's alright. He's just checking you over physically. We don't want any contagious diseases in the stable."

"We'd better do a sleep spell. He's going to give himself a heart attack at this rate." The horned demon moved away, and Xander felt like begging. He didn't want to sleep with these thoughts first in his mind. He wanted his Master to tell him that he was alright and safe and loved, and he didn't know whether he would ever get to hear that again. If he couldn't have that, he'd settle for feeling safe by cutting every demon who'd ever touched him into small pieces and walking over their blood-soaked remains. Xander felt the anger rise like a tidal wave to wash away the fear.

"I don't know why you want this kind of nervousness in the stock."

"He isn't normally a nervous animal. You have to understand that he was trained in that West Coast union and owned by a vampire. He has reason to be nervous about new owners." Dareh's words made Xander's mouth open as if to give an explanation, but he quickly closed it. These two might discuss his possible reasons for freaking, but that didn't mean they actually wanted to hear from him. Hell, they wouldn't listen to him any more than a vet would listen to a sick cat. Not that cats could talk, and Xander still wasn't sure how these demons could think of humans as animals what with the whole talking thing, and with that thought, Xander found himself sinking into a dreamless dark.

Xander rolled to his side groggily. The floor wasn't hard enough for a floor, but he certainly wasn't in a bed. Xander pushed himself up blinked several times to clear his vision. When he raised his hand to rub his eyes, he suddenly remembered.

Shaking his head to clear it of the obviously too strong sleeping spell, Xander considered his hands. They were in fists, and skin-tight, black material wrapped around the closed hand tightly enough that Xander couldn't even wiggle a finger. A slightly thicker cuff around the wrist had a tiny latch that Xander stared at hopelessly. Other than that, he was unrestrained. He didn't have anything on his body except for Spike's collar.

The floor crinkled under his feet as he stood, and Xander recognized the absorbent padding from the punishment rooms in Lirowaus' house. They would catch a slave's body fluids and prevent them from stinking. Great, so he was supposed to pee in the same eight by eight cell where he slept. Okay, that wasn't gross, not at all.

Looking around, Xander realized that he wasn't in a cell as much as a stall. The wood slats had the same sort of padding as the crate, only now he could see between the boards. Starting at waist high, two inch gaps allowed warm air to circulate through his cell. The front of the cell had a simple door latch. Xander could see that the only thing between him and freedom was a simple latch that a child could open. At least a child with a finger who could put the finger through the hole and trigger the latch on the other side. At the moment, Xander was short on fingers that would reach through that hole.

Climbing was obviously out despite the fact that the boards ran horizontally, providing a nice ladder. First, he hand no free fingers to grab and climb. More importantly, the top of his cell above the seven foot mark was chain link fence to the ceiling. Right, so that left escaping out of his stall impossible. At the realization that this was a stall and he had been reduced to the level of dumb animal, Xander shivered. Yep, he had found something that he actually liked less than rape and torture. Even worse, he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold out this time. A small part of him already whispered about acceptance.

Spotting a water bottle hanging from one wall, Xander went over and sucked on the hanging tube until he had satisfied his thirst. Of course that made other problem even worse. Xander considered holding out, but really there wasn't much point. The only thing he could do was pick a point in the opposite corner as his water bottle. Spreading his legs, Xander let go and watched his pee splash against the corner and then ran down onto the floor mat which soaked it up and swelled a little in the process. And now it was just time to wait.

Xander walked over to the wall with his water bottle and he sank down, letting his legs sprawl out in front of him. Xander wondered if Spike was still out there. He knew that if the vampire was in one piece all he had to do was wait and Spike would eventually find him. But if Spike was dust… Xander gave a gasp of pain as he tried to just focus on the logic and not feel the agony… if Spike was gone he would have to make some choices.

Gone. Xander felt his eyes burn, and he used his forearms to wipe away the tears that formed. He could still remember back to a time when he'd argued vehemently for staking the vampire; however, that had been a different lifetime and a different Xander. If Spike was gone, Xander really didn't have anything to go back to.

Joyce deserved a life without having to care for the resident nutcase who had flashbacks and nightmares enough to keep a staff of psychologists happy. And Willow. Xander knew that Willow couldn't even look at him without feeling guilt or pain or something that wasn't good for her. He could see it in the way her eyes slipped away from looking at him and the way her mouth would sometimes tighten into a tense line when she thought he wasn't looking. And Giles spent all his time around Xander biting his tongue and trying not to verbally strike out at Spike. Yeah, he didn't need to go back there. Maybe he'd find a nice city and tell some cop the whole story. That would probably get him a semi-private room with all the medication he could handle.

Xander pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them as he tried to contain his desire to punch the walls. Leshar had turned him into this creature whose only choices were bad or worse. If it weren't for the need to keep Dareh thinking that he was some meek and helpless animal, Xander would have screamed out his rage. Then again, he had to consider the possibility that he was actually a helpless animal because no matter what he did, he just ended up back in some slave pen.

Xander lowered his head to his knees as the tears came for real this time. Dareh was about as good as a slave got, and a small voice in Xander's head said to accept for real. If Spike came, he could have his real Master back, and if he didn't, then Xander would spend the rest of his life in a place where he wouldn't be beaten and abused. Xander took a deep shuddering breath and he looked at that thought from all sides.

He didn't know whether it was fortunate or unfortunate that Dareh had one expectation that Xander just couldn't give in to without fighting. Yeah, he had some serious suckage in terms of parenting, but his parents did care in their own dysfunctional, selfish, 'oh, I'm sorry but you aren't very convenient to have around' kind of way. But his parents would never have handed him over to a demon, and if he did what Dareh wanted, he would be turning dozens of his children over to demons. Not going to happen. Okay, it probably was going to happen, but he wasn't going along with the plan willingly.

Wiping his eyes Xander tried to get on top of the wave of emotions that threatened to drown him. Footsteps came down the corridor, and Xander quickly shoved all his emotions back into their box as he went into a position kneel with his back perfectly straight and his long curls hanging in front of his face.

The door to his stall slid open, and Xander recognized the legs as Dareh's.

"Ah, my precious boy is up. Come on then," Dareh waved a hand and Xander rose gracefully despite his internal struggle to keep his despair and anger firmly boxed. Dareh slid the door closed and started walking before Xander could go to his knees at the demon's side, and Xander followed even without a specific order.

The sunlight nearly blinded Xander, and he blinked rapidly and tried to focus on Dareh rather than the rising sun which had shone directly into his eyes the minute he had turned the corner to leave the stable. They walked across a grassy path with large chain link enclosures set up at regular intervals. In a couple Xander could see people watching as they sat under canopies or trees. Actual people type people.

Xander kept his eyes down as he tried to ignore the widely spaced enclosures. He couldn't do anything for these people, and considering how much trouble he was in himself, feeling some weird guilt really didn't make much sense.

"Eechon suggested 'Mudslide' as a name for you. I somehow don't think mud quite does your coloring justice." Dareh eventually started talking as their walk across the fields continued.

"I considered 'Tigereye' since your eyes to have a bit of that sparkle to them, but you really aren't much of a tiger." Dareh stopped next to one of the tall chain-link enclosures, and Xander went to his knees in the grass without a comment. He had a name, and this discussion made him want to snap out his name, but then again, he hadn't been asked.

"Your hair is nearly the same color as the brown bands in onyx, so that's a possibility as a name, and then you are so sweet I couldn't resist the idea of naming you after candy. So which do you like better my boy, 'Onyx' or "Chocolate'?" Xander froze as he realized that Dareh wanted him to choose his new name, and really, that upset him far more than it should. He was Xander, and he didn't want to answer to anything else. Somehow having to answer to 'Chocolate' or 'Onyx' seemed even worse than Leshar's calls for 'Slave' or 'Mouth', and really, those had been pretty humiliating.

"Onyx, master," Xander finally answered. If he was going to be named after something, he wasn't going to be named after something that got eaten and shit out. He'd been shit out by life often enough without tempting fate any farther.

"Good boy. Onyx it is. So, can you play nice with the girls? If you hurt then I will whip you to remind you to respect your owner's property."

Xander looked up in panic and saw three or four young women sitting under a tree at the far side of the fenced in pasture. "I won't hurt them, master," Xander answered quietly.

"Good boy, Onyx. Go on then," Dareh opened the gate and Xander rose and went in without complaint even though he wanted very badly to bite the hand that fed him. Actually, the hand that hadn't gotten around to feeding him, and he suddenly realized he was damn hungry.

Xander knelt inside the gate, waiting. "Go on, go meet your harem, Onyx. No kneeling in the pasture." Xander stood awkwardly as he suddenly realized what he was expected to do, and his balls made a run at becoming internal organs. Yeah, that wasn't happening. Xander wondered how much patience Dareh would have before he would resort to the breeding leash and drugs. The gate latched closed, and Xander could tell with one glance that he wasn't going to be able to open that without the use of his hands. A voice in the back of his mind wondered where the hell Spike was because he wasn't getting out of this on his own.