Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Restraints and Liberations ❯ Remembrence ( Chapter 4 )

Warnings: slavery, abuse, rape, mpregs, kawaiiness, LEMON, angst...

Rating: NC17

Disclaimers: *whines* AGAIN??? DO I LOOK like I own DBZ? I own Sage, (well he owns me, but same difference, right?) and I own this universe. And all that is bishiful and yaoiful in it, and everywhere!!!!!! *cough*

Always for my brat-koi who keeps Herself from flaying me alive with a kendo stick for doing this to "her BABY!!!"

And to bakayaro onna for her selfless beta'ing in the constant pursuit for good grammar, spelling and punctuation, as well as making certain there are enough synonyms to go around.

Restraints and Liberations

By Talon

Chapter 4

Remembrance

Turles was amazed at how quickly the days passed when someone else was there to share them with. Normally this part of the trip was dull and dragged on forever. There were no stops save the single refueling stop because of the instability of the raw gel. No diversions. Just himself and the ship, for the four days it took to get from Trandau to Station Du'chvle, a brief pause at the station, his customary trade and luncheon with the Lady of the station, then on for another week and a half before he reached Vegeta-sei space. The pay was excellent because gel runs were considered a hazardous duty, but the utter and complete dullness of the trip almost wasn't enough to make up for it.

He didn't REALLY mind, he had known what he was getting into when he began accepting gel runs, and skin-calibrated gel had saved Radditz's life after his cousin had been trapped in the burning wreckage of a hover-craft. He flinched as he always did at the memory of `Ditsu's charred body being lowered into a vat of gel, all the fur on his tail having been totally singed off and his glorious mane, burned to less than half it's original length…but `Ditsu had been fine after all that. It took a couple of weeks, and he had looked damned funny encased completely in gel, but he had been entirely restored, down to his mane and the fur on his tail..., which, reminded Turles, his eyes turning to Sage who was drawing industriously on a sketchpad Turles had unearthed from somewhere in his personal storage...he was heartily glad he kept some processed gel on hand. The boy's tail was healing nicely, though it would be another few days before the gel started loosening. You could see rich blue-black fur already starting to grow in some places.

Sage, of course, was another problem all together. He seemed better, but he obeyed everything Turles said, to the letter, except to answer any questions about the past three years, or why he didn't want to return to his family. It was confusing. He was a walking contradiction. If Turles hadn't known better, and he was certain he did, he would have said the boy turned the slave mindset on and off at will. But he knew that wasn't the case, the child's scent was very clear about that...

And the ki control lessons weren't going well at all. Turles knew some of the fault was his own; he was only a high-level first class warrior at best, and while his ki control was adequate, it was nothing special. One of the many reasons he had become a trader, after all. He didn't really know what to do with a super-elite, especially one who had been renowned by the age of four as having superb control over a ki that broke nearly all existing records for power at such a young age. Though, when you considered the child's parents and their ki levels when he was conceived, it really wasn't that surprising. However, Sage was...fumbling. That was the best word for it, Turles decided. It was as though he didn't recognize his own power, and while he remembered the mechanics of the exercises readily enough, he couldn't seem to incorporate them into practice. Turles had lost his temper with the boy's mistakes at one point, ending in Sage cowering on the floor at his feet, clearly wanting to flee, but determined to take his punishment. His anger had instantly deflated, to be replaced by the burning sensation of shame. How could he treat the boy so? Knowing what he had been through?

It had taken most of the rest of that day to get Sage to stop flinching whenever Turles touched him or spoke to him. The boy hadn't eaten much after that either. He had been afraid the child would be too scared to sleep in the same bed with him that night, but the opposite had been true. He had gotten into bed immediately, disrobing completely and lying naked between the sheets, trembling slightly, but steadfast. Turles had chosen to ignore the boy's state of undress, and had calmly gotten into bed himself, nudging the child closer to the wall, biding him good night and closing his eyes. Sage's confusion had been evident, and though he refrained from tossing and turning, another result of his conditioning, Turles had no doubt, his breathing and scent were clear markers of his apprehension.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Mas…sir?" A wavery voice in the dark.

"Hmm?"

Pause. "Won't...won't you please punish me and get it over with? I…I...just can't stand it anymore!" A quickly stifled sob, and Turles sat bolt upright in bed.

"What in the world makes you think I'm going to punish you???"

"You...you were angry with me, really angry with me earlier, and...I kept messing up, I never got it right. I didn't do what you said."

Turles' eyes adjusted to the dark, and he could see the small, quivering form sharing his bed plainly. "Sage, I thought you understood. I thought I explained and apologized to you, was I not clear enough?"

A soft wail reached his ears. "N...now I've done it again!!!" His scent was that, surely. His ki was all over the place again. "I'm so confused," he wept. "I don't know what I'm supposed to DO!!!"

Without thinking, Turles hauled the crying child into his lap and held him, purring softly, and stroking his bare back with his tail.

"Shh, Sage, you're not supposed to do anything except rest, and heal and do your best to get your ki under your control again. I am not going to punish you, I would never punish you, could never punish you. Why," and here he tilted Sage's head back so the child would look at him. "If I were to lay a hand on you in such a manner it would be considered a treasonable offense and I could be executed for it!!"

Sage sniffled. "That's silly," he said. "I've been beaten and stuff by lots of people, and nothing ever happened to them."

Turles forced himself to remain calm. This was the closest he had ever come to finding out anything about the child's three years as a slave. So he thought for a moment, then answered, "If one of your parents or grandparents had found out about it, those beings who hurt you would beg for death. In fact, I've no doubt once you're home and settled in a bit, your father will want to take a trip out to visit your former masters, and show them the error of their ways."

Instead of relaxing the chibi as Turles had hoped, Sage stiffened in his arms, and a tickling under Turles' chin confirmed the child was shaking his back and forth.

"No, no no," he heard.

"What is it, Sage? I would have thought you'd want your former owners punished?" Turles was mightily confused. This was...odd. A Saiyjin who didn't want his rightful blood vengeance?

"Most of them, yes," Sage whispered. "but there was one, she was good to me, and kind, and she trusted me...I don't want her hurt..."

"I'm sure your sebba and papa wouldn't hurt her if you didn't want them to...would you tell me about her?"

And, still trembling slightly, Sage had.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was always a bit chilly in the law enforcement station, considering the vast variety of species that came and went through there on a regular basis, and the Octdrubojin [1] female called tss'vis was used to it. She sighed as her left dominant forelimb held down the scroll she was filling out in reference to her husband's death. It had been completely accidental, a farming equipment malfunction, however as with all deaths connected to non-sentient robotics, the proper forms had to be completed, the necessary precautions dealt with.

She missed him, and not only that, they had a very new hatchling, and who was to care for him now? The Octdrubojin species was a female-dominated race, meaning even though they bore the young in armored protuberances on their bodies, it was the smaller males who cared for them after hatching and dealt with the domestic responsibilities. tss'vis and her mate btt'dan had four hatchlings, two females and two males. Her cousin had come to look after the hatchlings while tss'vis took care of the problems caused by her mate's untimely death, but who would watch the children when he had gone back to his family? tss'vis had a farm to look after, workers to supervise, crops to bring to fruition, and shipments to see to. She simply could not do all that was required to support the family and take care of the hatchlings as well.

She finished the form and looked around for the officer assigned to her case, and her eyes fell upon a small figure sitting quite still on a bench along the wall. He was humanoid and warm-blooded she could see, switching her vision to include heat signatures. VERY warm-blooded. She noted the tail coiled around one of his hands and identified his species. Saiyjin. A warrior race, highly intelligent, very powerful, and merciless in combat.

This was a very small representative of that race, she thought, and noted the absence of clothing, and the large collar around his neck. Various welts and bruises decorated his thin body. Upon closer inspection, his hands were restrained together with standard issue law enforcement cuffs, and one of his ankles was cuffed to the bench leg.

Sss. A slave then. Very unusual to see a Saiyjin slave, especially one so young. And what was he doing here?

Her case officer popped up before her, startling her slightly, and her lesser limbs made a confused gesture before she got them under control.

"Forgive me, Mistress tss'vis, for your wait," said the officer, a Tridann [2], respectfully. "I will process your forms at once."

"A moment, officer," she said calmly. "I am curious, what is the story with the little slave over there?"

"Oh, he was brought in with his master. His master was caught just after he killed another in a drunken fight and has been assigned to a penal colony. As soon as his transfer papers are completed, I assume the slave's bond will be put up for auction." She smiled, showing her hollow incisors. "I wouldn't mind putting in a bid for him myself. A Saiyjin slave, and intact at that!!! Wouldn't he be something to show off!"

tss'vis hadn't a chance to answer as there was a disturbance at the back of the station. The boy's head jerked up as a rough, medium pitched voice roared from the back of the station, "WHERE IS MY SLAVE??? BOY, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!!"

He tried, she noted. Leaping to his feet and falling on his face as the ankle cuff prevented him from following his Master's orders. His tail lashed in a combination of frustration, and fear, she thought, as the voice roared again. "HE'S MY PROPERTY!!! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO KEEP MY PROPERTY FROM ME!!!"

The little slave was trying to tug the cuff from the metal leg of the bench it was attached to, but to no avail. tss'vis frowned. The metal alloy in both the cuffs and the bench was similar, and should pose no problem for a Saiyjin, even one so small as...ah...she adjusted her vision again, and saw the clear power signature of the cub, centered around his neck, and at the base of his tail. They were ki restraints then. It was no wonder then, the cub was as weak as a little vudre. [3]

Her antennae twitched slightly as the disturbance came boiling up to the front of the station. Several officers were trying to hold back the irate owner of the slave, and the slave gave up trying to free himself, instead assuming a standard subservient posture, on his knees, his head lowered, his tail coiled around his bare feet.

The owner was a massive Inndruds, humanoid, warm-blooded, somewhat scaly with bristly hair, usually in shades of yellow and mauve. The scalish skin was a distinct greenish color, reminiscent of the ooze that flowed from wetland mud. He reached the cowering slave, and with no warning, backhanded the boy so the back of the child's head hit the edge of the bench. The slave did not flinch, nor cry out, but his gaze was dazed and unfocused as the Inndruds yelled at him.

"Why did you not come when I called you, boy?"

"M…M...Master, I tried," the boy began, but was cut off by another blow, this time a closed fist to the boy's chest. The sound of breaking bone was audible to everyone present, and the officers redoubled their efforts to bring the convicted murderer down.

"When I call you, I expect you at my feet!!! NO EXCUSES!!!"

A breathless, pain-filled reply. "Y…yes, Master."

"Fucking pathetic worthless piece of shit, you're not even worth the bother to beat you, you're so useless. Scrawny Saiyjin slut, only good for fucking, aren't you?"

No immediate response, only pained gasps filled the suddenly silent room.

A black-clad boot drew back and made contact with the boy's unprotected abdomen. "ANSWER ME, BOY!!! You're only good for FUCKING!!! Isn't that RIGHT!!!"

The boy coughed up some dark red blood, then answered, swallowing his sobs, "Yes, Master."

At that moment, a medic approached from behind the group clustered around and actually on the convict. As the Inndruds reached down and grasped the quietly sobbing boy by the tail, the medic plunged a thick needle into the scaly skin of the convict's thigh. As the slave screamed in abject agony, the convict made a surprised sound, then thudded to his knees, collapsing on top of the slave, who made no attempt to move from his Master's crash trajectory.

tss'vis sighed. For the most part, the Inndruds as a race were a respectable enough, not especially intelligent, but noted for their hard work and their utter devotion to whatever their chosen trade turned out to be. But when one went rogue, it was nearly impossible to rehabilitate them, as their biology was against it. Their brain chemistry shifted to make their "chosen" lifestyle their "trade" and they ended up being as unswervingly loyal to being "bad" as their counterparts were to their legitimate trades. She watched somewhat dispassionately as the officers lugged the unconscious Inndruds back to Processing, and turned herself to see if her own forms were finished. A slight movement caught the attention of her left multi-faceted eye as the little slave dragged himself to his knees, ran shaking fingers through his tail, presumably checking for damage, then attempted to haul his bloody and broken form back up onto the bench. He couldn't manage it, and tss'vis was suddenly disturbed no one was paying any attention to the little slave. It wasn't unusual, for the most part slaves were beneath notice, but something about this one caught tss'vis' interest. Besides the fact he had been injured in front of practically everybody in the station and no one saw fit to even check if he were still alive, something in his electromagnetic body aura intrigued her, and also something...something peered out from the blackest, reflecting eyes she had ever seen.

The boy glanced up, noticed her assessing gaze, and quickly dropped his eyes, though not in fear, she noted. Normally warm-bloods, (though her race was also warm-blooded, they did not think of themselves as such having decidedly insecetoid origins), and especially children of warm-bloods, looked upon her eight-foot high, orange, slightly armored self with more than apprehension, often outright terror if they hadn't been brought up around her species. But the slave dropped his eyes out of training, she suspected, she detected none of the rush of heat that would signal his fear. His breathing was harsh, ragged and wet, and she remembered the *crack* of what must have been his ribs breaking. The child could have a punctured lung, and with his ki suppressed, the normal rapid healing his race was noted for would be all but nonexistent. He coughed into his still-cuffed hands, and she caught the distinct flash of fiery scarlet blood in his hands. She narrowed her vision, concentrating on sharpening her distance/fine tuned sight, and noted dual slave marks. Beside the standard scarlet double udre that denoted him a bought slave, there was also the hexagonal shape with the vertical bar and the open circle midway along the bar. The mark of a trained pleasure slave.

That decided her, then and there. She had no use for a pleasure slave, her species could not inter-breed, even for pleasure. The parts just weren't compatible. But she would not, could not simply stand by as this child was auctioned off to be abused and treated just as badly, if not worse than what she had just witnessed. Certainly no one else seemed to think anything of it.

She tapped the digits of her right-dominant limb on the counter, getting the attention of her assigned officer.

"Yes, Mistress tss'vis, your paperwork is nearly completed," said the girl promptly, but tss'vis interrupted her.

"I wish to buy that slave," she said, her breathy voice pleasant. "To whom would I speak about this?"

The Tridann looked stunned. "But…but Mistress, he is a pleasure slave..."

"I am aware of that officer, to whom do I speak to about purchasing his bond?"

"Er...the station manager is holding the bond until the transfer papers are completed."

"Then I wish to speak with him. Now."

The Tridann blinked her large silver eyes at tss'vis and nodded, scurrying away to grant her request.

tss'vis turned to the boy who was kneeling motionless on the floor beside the bench. Making a resigned motion with her lesser limbs, she unfolded her second set of legs from their sheathes in her sides, bringing her height down from near eight feet, to closer to five and a half. She approached the boy cautiously, watching his heat signature carefully, and noted the presence of slight internal bleeding. She stopped in front of him, and used her left dominant limb to raise his head to meet her multi-faceted eyes. He did not flinch at her touch, but he did not meet her eyes either. She had expected that, he was a slave after all.

"I am going to buy your bond, child," she said in the Common tongue. "Do you have any objections?"

She registered his surprise in his aura. "My objections would hold no meaning, Mistress," he replied, but in her own, native tongue. True, his accent was atrocious, owing to his more flexible larynx and palate, but he was intelligible, easily so.

He must have detected her astonishment, because in the next moment, he was on his hands and knees, asking her forgiveness for his transgression, this time in the common tongue she had first addressed him in.

"Tsuvo, I am not angry, merely surprised. I had not thought a child slave would speak my language with such ease. Were you perhaps owned by one of my kind before?"

"No, Mistress," he replied, still face to the floor.

"Ssss." She filed that away for future contemplation. "Well, get up off the floor, boy," and she helped him, lifting him easily onto the bench. "The office manager will be here shortly, and we'll take care of this." She straightened, folding her lesser legs back into their sheathes, as the manager approached the front of the station.

"Mistress tss'vis," he said, nodding his head. "I understand you wish to purchase this slave? Is that correct?"

"Yes, manager, it is."

He frowned. "There is a problem with that. Of course, you realize he is a branded pleasure slave, and forgive me, Mistress tss'vis, but do you have any use for a pleasure slave?"

She gazed at him for a moment, then half-turned to address the slave on the bench.

"Boy," she cringed as she realized she had forgotten to ask his name, "boy, you are a pleasure slave?"

He coughed briefly, and she caught the flash of hot crimson again. "Yes, Mistress, I am a pleasure slave," he said, choking slightly.

"Is that all you are good for?"

"Mistress?" His small voice was confused. Behind her, the manager was sputtering indignantly, probably he had wanted a go at the boy before the bond was put up for auction. She ignored him.

"Is fucking the only thing you can do? Is that the only skill you have?"

He stared at her, unobtrusively, to be sure, through long, smoky lashes, beneath short spiky bangs that came midway down his forehead. "N…no, Mistress, it is not the only skill I have," he said finally.

Her lesser forelimbs made a pleased gesture as she turned back to the manager. "You see?" she said. "That is not his sole skill, and once I purchase him, what I do with him is my own business. I am certain there is no law saying a pleasure slave must only be used for sex." Her voice took on a harder edge, losing some of it's pleasant breathiness, becoming her business voice, the one that didn't take no for an answer, the one who ran a huge farm with hundreds of workers and dealt with obnoxious, thieving businesspersons. "Have the former owner's transfer papers been processed?"

The Tridann officer answered, with a somewhat awed voice, her hollow incisors whistling slightly as she spoke, "Yes, Mistress, he is set to go on the next shuttle."

"Then I see no reason for this to be discussed any more. Bring out his papers, and we will conclude this deal."

Still scowling slightly, the manager did as he was bid, and in a short amount of time, tss'vis had purchased her first pleasure slave.

As she led the limping boy out of the station, she wondered what had possessed her. She helped him into her vehicle, making sure the wrap the Tridann officer had dug up for the child stayed around his naked body.

"First stop, the medical centre," she said as she climbed in herself. "Strap yourself in, boy, I don't want any more injuries to befall you before you can see a healer." He obeyed, fastening the seat restraints as she navigated the streets with easy familiarity. As they pulled into a large lot, a short distance away, she turned to the slave beside her and asked, "Do you have a name, boy? Your papers didn't give one."

He bit his lip, and shook his head.

"No name? But surely your mother would have given you one when you were born."

Again the head shake.

"Ssss," she made a thoughtful noise as her limbs were currently employed in parking the vehicle. "Well, what did your other masters call you?"

"L...lots of things."

"Like what, for instance?"

"Brat, slave, boy, whelp, bastard, slut, whore, monkey brat, fucking worthless piece of..."

"I get the picture," she said, cutting him off. She turned off the engine and faced him. "Well, you need a name, and since you don't seem to have one, how about, `tsuvo'?"

His eyes on the floor, he replied, "Mistress may call me as she wishes."

She gestured resignedly, knowing she would get no more from the boy. "Come along then, tsuvo," she said. "Can you manage the walk, do you think?" She switched from Common, to her native tongue, and was delighted when he answered in the same.

"Yes, Mistress."

And she led him into the medical centre to have his injuries seen to.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"She had me healed, and took me home to be a sort of a nanny for her hatchings. She trusted me to look after them, and keep them safe, clean and fed. They had just had a new hatchling, brr'gon, before her mate was killed, and he was so cute, all orange, with the wings all of their young have, and his little lesser forelimbs had a kawaii way of folding together when he was mad." Sage's voice was somewhat wistful.

"What happened? Why didn't she keep you?" Turles was confused. From what Sage was saying, the Octdrubojin female had bought him out of pity, and to keep him from coming to more harm. Then to have him prove useful, as he would undoubtedly have done, he couldn't imagine her selling him, not if she trusted him with the care of her hatchlings...

Sage sighed sadly, and wrapped his tail tip around his left hand. "A few months after she bought me, the farm was raided by thieves. Two of her workers assisted them by shutting the alarm system down. They took everything of value...including me. But at least I made sure the hatchlings were safe…"

Turles caught the scent of salt as hot tears splashed onto Sage's hands, wetting his tail tip where it curled around his fingers.

"I could have stopped them, if I hadn't beenki restrained," he said, thickly. "I could have saved her farm, and kept her from being hurt, and..." He buried his face in Turles' chest, not sobbing, though tears still trickled down his cheeks, just...tired. And sad, for the one being who had shown him kindness and compassion during his years as a slave, who hadn't given him a degrading name had been attacked, and he had been unable to do anything to assist her.

"Saa, I'm sure she was more than glad you managed to keep her hatchlings safe, Sage. That was your job, after all."

"I wish I knew what happened to her, I wish I knew how she was, if she was ok," mumbled Sage. "I know you probably think I'm stupid for wanting that..."

"Of course I don't," said Turles fiercely. "I understand. And I think your sebba and your papa will too."

Sage's voice was low as he answered, "Sebba probably would, but not Papa."

Turles blinked. "Sage," he said finally. "I think you underestimate your father."

There was no answer, and Turles realized why. The boy had fallen asleep.

Turles sighed, and settled down, cradling the child close to his warmth. He was no closer to figuring out why Sage was so reluctant to return home, but he was too tired to continue his musings. He yawned, wrapping his tail around the boy's waist, and fell into slumber himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Turles jumped slightly as one of the watchers quietly beeped, then announced, "Approaching Space Station Du'chvle, please initiate docking sequence."

"Sage, could you please come up here and give me a hand with this?" The boy obeyed instantly, putting down his sketchpad, and Turles sighed. He could handle it himself easily, but he had been trying to involve the child in the running of the ship, knowing the boy was no stranger to space craft and space travel. Indeed, he was deft, catching on quickly to the subtle nuances built into Turles' ship for gel transport. He was double-checking the engagement thrusters when he heard Sage's gasp of surprise. He glanced up, and noted with a smile the station had come into view.

"Pretty impressive, isn't it, chukra?"

Sage's voice was awed as he answered, "It's beautiful!!!"

To be continued...

[1] Octdrubojin: a matriarchical race, warm-blooded, eight-limbed, with insect roots. Though they have four hind legs, they are most often seen as a bi-pedal people, using their lesser hind legs to get closer to the ground as their chitionous armor makes bending at the midsection difficult. Most often a bright orange, though the males lean more towards brown, and one sub-species has a distinct reddish hue, owing to the main source of food on their continent.

[2] Tridann: humanoid, warm-blooded, most notable distinction are their eyes, which are typically large and silver, enabling them to see a broader spectrum of light. Hollow incisors, used to suck up their nutrient, which is always taken in liquid form.

[3] vudre: A small, carnivorous mammal, kept in Octdrubojin families and farms as both a means of pest control (rodent and insect) and as pets. They are lightly furred, with large, pointed ears, slit-pupiled eyes and long tails.

[4] Inndruds: A working race, warm-blooded with bristly hair in varying shades of yellow and/or mauve. Slightly scaly greenish skin. Highly devoted, once deciding on a trade, they are unswervingly loyal to that trade until they die.

[5] double udre: Universal mark of a bought slave. Sort of a double wavy line, always branded in red, with the exception of slaves with red skin, in which case, it is branded in silver.

[6] Tsuvo: small or little one, most often used as an endearment. Octdrubojin.

[7] chukra: rough translation, "fire child" Saiyjin-o. (Also used in BOAP)