Dragon Slave (Xellos/Filia version)

Dragon Slave
by Zanne Chaos

Chapter Two


Filia wasn't liking this one little bit. She paced the entire area of the cell, not enjoying being locked up. If only those guards would just stop looking at her, escape would be a simple matter of transforming.

But they were looking at her!

Maybe she could have broken the bars if she had Mace-sama, but someone had grabbed it when they arrested her, and it was now leaning in the corner outside, far out of her reach.

There wasn't anything in the cell which she could hide behind for modesty, as if her soaking wet dress and cloak weren't bad enough. She kept pacing, wonng hng how long it would take for Lina and the others to realize she was missing. At least they had removed her shackles once they shoved her in the cell; Filia rubbed her hands up her arms briskly for warmth. Growing bored with simple back and forth, Filia began walking around, absently tracing the strange patterns inlaid in the stone floor.

Probably not until it comes time to pay the food bill, she thought uncharitably, grumbling to herself.

It was easier to be annoyed than frightened. No, she wouldn't be afraid. This was just a misunderstanding, a bit of confusion. She'd asked to speak to someone in charge, and they assured her that someone in charge would come. Once she had a chance to clear things up, she could be on her way. She was sure of it.

Her ears caught the sound of new footsteps and the door creaking open. Maybe they did notice! She turned to the door, hurrying to the bars, watching hopefully.

She was dejected, and more than a bit embarrassed when it wasn't anyone she knew, but a long-haired brunette woman wearing a very scant black leather outfit, rigged with various chains that ran from her cuffs to the collar around her neck. She carried a large wooden case, and behind her was a man holding a leash that was hooked to her collar.

They stopped outside the cell, where the girl immediately lowered herself to her knees. The man paid no attention to anyone, but studied Filia. She backed away, feeling a cold knot of dread settling low in her stomach. His eyes roamed over her, sizing her up. "You're the Dragon?" he asked.

She hesitated, then nodded. "I am."

He crossed his arms, standing back. "Good. Remove your clothes."

Filia blinked. "What?!" she shrieked, backing away, crossing her arms defensively. Her gaze flickered down to the slave girl, who never raised her eyes from the case she carried. "You pervert! I will not!"

"I think you will." The man snapped his fingers and pointed to her. Immediately, both guards raised their spears, aiming them in the cell at her.

They wouldn't really... Scared, Filia backed away against the wall, watching.

"Now, take off your clothes and hand them out to me," he ordered.

She looked between him and the guards nervously. "What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice growing shrill.

"Waiting for you to remove your clothes," he replied, his tone testy. "Don't make me order them to stab you."

Filia refused to move. This wasn't happening. "No, wait! Listen to me! This is just a mis--"

"You have until the count of three," he snapped, cutting her off. "I will not provide you with a four. You will learn tolow low orders, or suffer the consequences."

His tone made her skin crawl. Following orders or paying the price. She knew that lesson far too well.

"One."

Filia closed her eyes, feeling nauseated.

"Two."

With trembling s, ss, she unclasped her cloak and pulled it off, letting it fall to the floor, and quickly shed her gloves. There was no third count as she moved her hands behind herself, under her hair, unbuttoning her pink traveling dress. She folded her arms over her dress, keeping it front of her, covering her bare breasts.

"Good. That's a start. Give me your dress and cloak. Now."

Filia hesitated.

"Now!"

She flinched, and tossed the dress aside, toward the bars, and kicked the cloak over. Her hair still covered her chest, and she still wore her undergarments, as well as her boots, garter, and headdress.

"Take off the rest!" he snapped.

"What are you doing?" Filia cried, looking up in alarm, her cheeks flaming.

He ied hed her, and looked over to the guards. "Ready?"

"Yessir!" came the reply. They held their spears up in preparation.

"This is your last chance," the man snapped.

Filia closed her eyes tightly, feeling the stinging bite of tears, and blushed in shame. She bit the inside of her lip hard, tasting blood as she struggled not to cry in front of them. Feeling bile rising up in her throat, she removed her remaining garments, casting them aside, refusing to look up. She stood there naked, trying to shield herself with her arms and hair, pressing her side to the wall.

"Get those," she heard him order, and the door clanged open. "That's good. At ease."

She heard heavy footsteps approachher,her, and a soft clatter. Under her breath, she began to murmur a spell, attempting to transform. It couldn't possibly get any worse. She was already naked.

A cold chill flooded her veins when she realized she couldn't feel the magic coursing through her. She couldn't transform.

She couldn't escape.

"Stand up straighter." His voice was near her now, beside her.

She hunched her shoulders, turning her face away, hating the hot trails of tears burning her cheeks. She felt a hand gently move her hair away, then she gasped in pain as he gripped a fistful tightly at the nape. He pulled her head back, forcing her to straighten her back.

"Raise your hands out to your sides."

Filia refused to move, thinking that death would be better than this. Where were Lina and the others? She held her breath, trying to control the tears.

"Slave, open the case."

At a soft sound, Filia dared a quick glance out of the corner of her eye. The slave girl was kneeling beside them, unbuckling the clasps to the case, opening it, presenting the contents. A sickening shudder of revulsion ripped through her when she saw him withdraw a flogger. She was familiar with its bite, and the memory alone was enough incentive to raise her arms out to her sides as instructed.

"Good." She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Slave, prepare the shackles."

Chains rattled as they were fasted into bolts on the floor, and Filia felt the met metal enclose her wrists. She kept biting her lip, hating the tears, the hot flush of shame burning her face.

Then the shackles began to grow warm, almost to the point of pain, and the warmth flooded into her veins and nerves. Filia opened her eyes, and saw that the strange patterns she noticed on the floor earlier were now glowing with a blinding whiteness, and so were engravings on the shackles.

Runic magic. Oh gods, what are they doing to me?

"Slave, sit back."

"Master?" she enquired softly. "Should this slave sit with her legs spread, or crossed?"

"Spread."

Filia cracked her eyes open, watching as the girl moved away and knelt. Her feet were together, her knees wide apart. In such a position, her scant garments provided no covering for what lay between her legs. Filia closed her eyes, trying to subtly test the strength of the chains.

Several moments passed before he spoke again. "Now, Dragon, you are to forget your old name. It is no longer of consequence. You have a new name now. Would you care to hear it?"

Filia swallowed hard against the queasiness, and did not answer.

"Your new name is 'slut'."

She couldn't suppress a flinch at his sharp intonation of the word. Anger boiled up inside and she raised her head then, glaring furiously at the human. "What?" she snapped indignantly. "It most certainly is--"

She was cut off as the flogger cracked viciously against her backside, but the shriek of pain was smothered under a startled gasp at the intensity of a voice pounding in her head.

OBEY!

She froze, feeling disoriented.

"Your name is slut," he repeated firmly. She parted her lips to protest again, but only gasped, unable to form words, to make a sound. The Voice still throbbed in her mind.

"Do you understand, slut?" he asked, moving in front of her, smirking.

She shuddered in horror, barely able to manage a nod as she closed her eyes.

The flogger cracked against her side, and again the Voice pounded.

OBEY!

She cried out in pain, gasping, her eyes flying wide, trying to gain purchase in reality. The Voice overwhelmed her senses, and the room spun.

"Now, do you understand, slut?"

"Y-yes," she stammered, scarcely able to breathe.

"Good." His smirk deepened. "Now, slut, your first task shall be to get to your knees and bow to my slave, and lick her cunt."

Filia's gaze snapped back to his, horrified and disgusted. She parted her lips to protest, and the flogger snapped over her back, sending her reeling as the Voice pounded in her brain once more.

OBEY!

She fell heavily, panting, barely noticing the rock abrading her knees.

"Bow before my slave," he ordered again, raising the flogger once more, "and lick her cunt, slut."

Filia was beginning to fear the Voice even more than the flogger. It drowned her, crashed over her, suffocated her until she couldn't think. She fell back upon her old tricks, the things she would do when she has committed an infraction, the things she would do to keep her mind off what was happening when the Supreme Elder would strike her with a cane. To keep her mind off where she was when he would touch her.

She crawled forward, trembling, lowering her face between the slave's legs, desperately trying to run through all the poetry she had memorized in her mind, anything to ignore what was happening, what she was doing. She tried not to recoil as she flicked her tongue against the slave, tasting her wetness.

"Keep going until I tell you to stop, slut," he ordered.

Everything felt disjointed and surreal as Filia continued to delve her tongue into the slave's pussy, feeling the girl shift position, pressing against her mouth. The flogger struer ber back once again, but the Voice did not return.

It was a new voice, and the flogger did not sting. Her nerves trembled as a sensation like molten metal surged through them, and it was not unpleasant. The new voice was softer, and didn't throb in her mind.

Reward comes with obedience. Pleasure comes with reward. Please others, and reward shall be yours. You live to please, to pleasure, and pleasure is yours.

It lulled her, like a hypnotic chant, thrumming over her nerves. She pre her her mouth against the slave, and the flogger returned. It was dizzying and terrifying, and filled her nerves with a fire.

The softer voice continued the chant, soothing, melodious, a siren song promising relief.

Again and again the flogger struck her, over her back, over her exposed ass, between her legs, and the fire in her nerves intensified until she wanted to scream. She licked the slave in earnest, craving the touch of the flogger, for the promised release fthe the fire. A deep ache formed between her own legs, and she licked the slave passionately, as if doing so would satisfy the growing need for contact.

"That's good, slut." The flogger struck her along with his words, and pleasure surged through her. "Keep it up until my slave cums."

Until..? The arousal skittered away from the confusion, and she looked up. "But I thought she was already here."

Outside the cell, the guards facevaulted.

The slaver just eyed her for a moment, then shook his head. "Just keep licking her, slut." The flogger -- Filia thought the straps looked shorter now -- cracked against her back, and she gasped. The softer voice soothed her, coaxed her, and she quickly returned her mouth to the slave's pussy, burying her tongue deep inside, flicking it against her.

"Master," the girl purred, "permission to touch the slut?"

"Denied. This is part of her training."

Her skin burned, dis disappointment flooded her. The thought of being touched felt so alluring, so appealing. The voice soothed her, teased her, making her want more, need more.

The flogger snapped over her ass, and whiteness flashed in her brain with visuals which stoked the hunger. Hands touching her, caressing her, mouths exploring her, chained up, tied up, bound.

Pleasure, purred the gentle voice.

Filia moaned, burning with need and desire, licking hungrily at the slave as the girl ground her body up against Filia's mouth. The girl suddenly cried out, shoving against Filia's mouth, convulsing. She jerked back slightly in surprise, but did not cease what she was doing.

"That's enough, slut," the slaver ordered. Filia drew back onto her knees, panting. The soothing voice was gone, and although the burning remained in her nerves, her head felt clear once more. "Now, what's your name?"

She tried to move her lips. Filia. But what came out was "slut."

He smirked, lightly slapping the handle of the flogger against his hand. Was it just her imagination earlier, or was this flogger longer again? "You're learning very quickly, slut. That's good. What are you?"

She hesitated. "A priestess."

"That's wrong." He held the flogger strangely, and cracked it over her back. Filia cried out in pain as the straps bit into her skin, but the Voice did not return as she feared. "Do you need to know what you are?"

"I'm..." She felt panicked. "I'm a Dragon."

"Wrong again." The flogger struck her across her chest. "Are you going to continue with this guessing game until you get it right," he asked his tone condescending, "or do you need to be told?"

She whimpered, feeling humiliated. "What?" she whispered.

"You are a slave."

This was going too far. Filia raised her eyes to his, his face blurring behind her tears.

"Tell me. What are you?"

"I'm..." She flinched, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm not a slave!" she cried out, and he shifted his grip on the flogger, sending it cracking over her backside.

OBEY!

She yelped, trying to move her hands to her head, trying to claw out the Voice. Yes, the Voice. The Voice was bad. Do what he said. Do what he wanted. Just make the Voice stop.

"I'm a slave," she whimpered.

"What is your name?"

Filia eyed the flogger fearfully. "Slut."

"And what are you?"

"A slave."

"One of you, get in here," the man said, looking over to the guards.

The two men eyed each other, then stuck out their hands, looking at them. One guard's hand was held flat, fingers together. The other's hand just had two fingers extended, spread apart.

The guard with the two fingers apart smirked broadly, and patted the other guard on the back. "I'll let you know if she's any good." The winner swaggered toward the entrance.

"Tell her what you want her to do," the slaver instructed.

Filia averted her eyes, feeling the guard's lewd smirk. His spear clanged against the bars, and she heard the sound of material falling. "Slut, suck my cock."

Blushing furiously, she glanced toward the guard, feeling both shock at his exposed state, and revulsion at his apparent lack of hygiene. Filia was about to protest when the flogger bit her flesh again.

OBEY!

She cried out, trying to get the Voice to go away, leave her alone, out of her head. Gods, but it hurt, and the room kept reeling. It drowned out everything, all her thoughts, her name, her memory, and just kept pounding until she moved to comply.

She tentatively drew her tongue along the stiff length, the Voice still thrumming in the background, threatening. Nothing mattered anymore as long as the Voice went away. She wanted it to go away. She wanted the nice voice back. It was a good voice, it felt nice. Not like the Voice.

"You can do better than that, slut," the guard said.

The Voice threatened.

She began licking him more enthusiastically, trying to make the Voice go, to bring the other good voice back.

"Do I look like a damn woman? Take it into your mouth!" he snapped.

Crack.
EY! EY!

Filia sobbed, crying out, quickly taking the length of his cock into her mouth, sucking and licking at it, barely able to breathe. The Voice thrummed and died down, threatening, lingering.

She kept sucking, and the guard grabbed her hair. Finally, the Voice went away, and she sighed inwardly in relief.

Crack.

Pleasure and reward, obedience and pleasure, you live to please, to serve.

She almost whimpered in joy as the nice voice trickled over her nerves like cool water, but it was water that burned. The nice voice was back. She liked the nice voice. Doing what they told her to do, that brought the nice voice.

Not doing what they said brought the Voice. And the Voice was very, very bad.

She kept running her tongue over his cock, keeping him deep in her mouth, sucking slightly as she would reflexively swallow, and his grip in her hair tightened.

"Suck harder, slut," the guard snapped. "That's all you Dragons are good for."

She tried to comply and the good voices soothed her. He began shoving his cock deeper into her mouth, drawing back to slam it in again, and she almost choked. The flogger snapped down her back and against her ass, stroking her, flooding her nerves with the fire she was growing to like so much.

"You can do better than that!"

Filia whimpered, trying to comply, unsure of what she was doing. The good voice stopped whispering, and she quivered, licking and sucking urgently.

The flogger struck her ass solidly, lancing her with pain.

OBEY!

"You will put more effort into it," the slaver's voice said, blending with the Voice. She shuddered, crying out, wincing away from the feel inside, the cold, the way it bit and cut through her mind. "Your mouth is for the pleasure of whoever wisho uso use it. You will follow your orders."

OBEY!

There was a tongue, something about a tongue, using a tongue. She licked and sucked, shuddering, cringing from the Voice, sucking, moving her head, trying to figure out what to do, to please him, to bring pleasure, to bring reward, bring the good voice back.

"Use your hands, slut."

OBEY!

She snapped her hands upward, stroking him in tandem with her mouth, fondling his balls, burying his cock deep in her throat, his hair tickling her nose.

The Voice still thrummed ominously, and she almost winced when the flogger hit her again. But now the good voice was there too, and the flogger soothed. She arched her back, wanting it again, wanting the feel of it hitting her skin, craving, needing the fire to intensify.

But the Voice lingered, threatening.

The good voice was louder now, though, soothing, guiding, rewarding. She eagerly embraced what she was doing, sucking and fondling him, stroking and licking. The good flogger kept stroking her, and the guard gripped her head, pumping into her mouth harder, faster.

Pictures flooded her mind, pictures of mating, pictures of being chained, used, surrounded. The good voice kept murmuring, promising release, promising pleasure, promising reward. It lulled her, lured her, and her arousal increased. The flogger stroked her flesh and she arched her back, craving it, needing it.

"Get ready, slut," the slaver said, and the Voice hummed louder, threatening. "He's going to fill your mouth. Do not spill a drop."

The good voice kept purring, soothing, stroking her while the Voice thrummed. Fear and pleasure drove her on, urging her into obedience, submission, hunger. All she noticed when a hot liquid filled her mouth and ran down her throat was the lull of the good voice, the promise of reward if she obeyed.

Then he pulled away and the voices stopped. Her brain felt fuzzed, but her name started returning. Her memories. Her awareness. But it was all so confusing, so jumbled.

"How do you feel, slut?" The slaver moved in front of her, two floggers -- one short, one long -- dangling by their handle loops from his fingertips.

"I don't know," she whispered, stammering.

"Sit back. Brace your hands behind you, feet on the floor. Spread your legs."

She hesitated, and slowly moved into position. This was wrong, these humans were vulgar, she had to get out, but it was muddled. Her thoughts were thick, slow. Slower than her movements.

Slower than his wrist as he flicked it, bringing the short flogger up into his hand. The floor began to glow again, and so did the shackles.

The good voice purred in her mind.

"Get back to your duty," she heard him order the guard. Then the flogger cracked over her breasts, and she arched her back, letting her head fall back, exposing her chest, crying out in pleasure. It struck over her breasts several more times, then it hit between her legs, and she shuddered, falling back onto her elbows.

"Do you like that, slut?"

Filia whimpered and nodded, parting her legs more, the good voice purring loudly, coaxing her, murmuring approval. Fire kept building, and an aching need craved contact, any contact.

"Say it." The flogger stroked over her pussy sharply again, and her hips twitched on reflex, trying to meet the quick blow.

"Yes!" she yelped.

The flogger hit her breasts hard, but it didn't hurt. It hurt, but it felt delicious in the pain.

Yes, this is what you want, this is what you crave, this is what you need. Obey, and it will be yours.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

Filia tried to clear her thoughts, to sort out what was in her head, in her mind. A dim, distant impression formed, something murmuring at her to resist, to fight, that this was wrong, they were vile, to run.

The good voice drowned it, soothed it.

Thoughts, so many thoughts, so muddled. "I...I think...I don't know..."

"You don't see anything?"

"Yes, yes, I...it's just..." She trailed off, lost in the pleasure, then her eyes snapped open in fear.

Crack.

OBEY!

Filia cried out, falling onto her back, clutching her head.

"Tell me! What do you see?"

The thrum lingered. "People! I see them. Men, women."

"What are they doing?"

"Around me, surrounding me, touching me." Crack.

Good voice. Good voice was back. The thrum of the Voice was gone. Obey, and there will be reward. Good voice.

"How are they touching you?"

"Like...like in here, and, and more."

"What 'more'?" Crack.

She moaned, drawing her legs up, exposing herself, craving the flogger, craving anything, just something to make the aching burn stop. "Mating."

"How?" the slaver said, his voice stern. The thrum returned.

"Like in here!" Filia cried quickly, trying to make the threat of the Voice go away. "My...my mouth on them, they touch me, touch inside me, like...like in mating."

The flogger struck her cunt, and the good voice purred loudly, rewarding, soothing, urging. She couldn't take it anymore, and rubbed her palms against her breasts, trying to soothe the burning, the need to be touched.

"What are you?"

The answer came readily, craving the good voice. "Slave."

The flogger touched again, stroking her quickly between her legs, far too quickly to satisfy the need for touch.

"What's your name?"

"Slut." Unable to bear it, her hands traveled lower, between her legs, burying against the wetness there. A white fire began to build in her nerves, suffocating her. She didn't hear it.

Suddenly she felt two lashes. A flogger snapped over her hands, over her pussy, harder than ever before, flooding her with fire, with pleasure, and another one bit viciously against her breasts.

The Voice mingled with the slaver's as two orders pounded through her brain, pain mixing with pleasure.

OBEY!

"Cum!" he shouted at her.

Up reversed from down, inside became out. Nothing became everything and all was nothing. Filia screamed, drowning, burying her hands against her pussy, the fire flooding, drowning her, overwhelming her into a white void.

Both voices, the good and the Voice, thrummed all the while.

"Put your hands on your breasts."

Quickly, fearfully, she moved them, cupping them, touching them, soothing the sting of the lash. She panted, trying to breathe, trying to think.

"Who are you?"

"Slave. Slut."

"Very good, slave. Why do you exist?"

"Pleasure."

"Pleasure for whom?"

"All. Any. Master."

"Pinch your nipples."

She rey diy did so, moaning, breathing heavily, flushed.

"You exist to bring pleasure to humans."

"Yes."

"You are a slave."

"Yes."

"Say it!"

"I am a slave."

"Why do you exist?" Crack. He struck her between the legs. The fire hadn't died. It was still there, the need, a craving for more.

"To serve."

"Serve whom?"

"To pleasure people."

"Good slave. Who am I?"

"Who are you?"

"I am your master. Say--"

Another roar overwhelmed her nerves as a darkness flashed before her eyes. Before her dazed mind could make out what was happening, the slaver was gone. The floggers dropped to the floor, lifeless. The voices disappeared. The runes dimmed into dormancy.

A guard shouted, but the sound was cut short with a scream of pain. Even that was not long-lived. Her thoughts began to try to reorganize, muddled, thick with confusion.

Relief. She knew him. She was getting out, getting away from the Voice. There wouldn't be any more Voice. Yes, this is what she wanted. No more Voice. She...she was... She closed her eyes, struggling for her name. It was there. She had to fid it.

"Stay silent, girl, and you will live."

Filia opened her eyes, but he was looking away, looking past her. Then his familiar closed-eye gaze returned to her, his expression that familiar, annoying smile.

More thoughts returned. Less relief now. He would tell, he would shame her, he would mock. She closed her eyes, turning her face away.

"My, my. This is quite the position you've gotten yourself into," he said cheerfully, and she looked back to see him picking up the floggers by their loops.

"Help me," she whispered, looking at him, begging, imploring. "Please!"

Xellos smirked, tossing the floggers into the case. "Yyes,yes, of course." He crouched beside her, and humiliation flooded her as he gripped the shackles, shattering them under his touch. "You just seemed to be enjoying this."

Filia turned her head away, choking on sob. It hurt to breathe, to even think. She just wanted to stop existing altogether.

"There, there now." His hand touched her cheentlently, stroking her hair back, petting her. Soothing. "There's no need for that. You have nothing to be ashamed about. There is nothing you could have done to change a thing. This place, these tools, they were designed for this purpose alone: to fill a Dragon with lust."

She looked back to him, feeling consoled, reassured. His lips were still curved into a smirk, but his hand continued petting her hair. Then Xellos cupped her chin, kissing her firmly. She closed her eyes, responding, eager for approval, reassurance.

"You couldn't have fought it," he said softly. She curled up against him, resting her head on his thigh, breathing shallowly, relaxing.

Safe. She was safe now. It would be okay. The humiliation was buried under relief, under the soothing feel of his hand stroking her head.

"But still, this is quite the situation. Where would you be without me? Perhaps next time, you should listen when I say we ought to avoid a city."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

to be continued...