Timestamp: 50th of Summer 514 AV
Ssemet drew up her posture as the guards keyed the cell door. Mentally the viper reminded herself to buy different clothing for this job, it might very easily ruin her lovely orange robe. Still she stepped into the cell and beheld the captive chained to the back wall. Yesterday the tawny Myrian beast had lunged at her, today he watched her like a cornered animal. The fight wasn’t gone, far from it, but it was a start. Now he was defensive rather than offensive.
The viper had been expecting to seek information but perhaps for her first case it was appropriate not to trust an outsider with that sort of responsibility. It was here job this day and for the next few days to turn this warrior in a worker. Unlike the other souls who worked in this profession she didn’t have an entire tool kit for the process. She used nothing but a kris, her flute, and her religion. At the same time she had chosen this morning on a whim to invest in a whip, as of current she had no experience in the device but she imagined it would be beneficial and later points in the slave’s breaking.
“Yesssterday you had one rule, It. Recite that rule.” She had never asked his name and taken to calling him It in place as a way to remove his identity. A slave rarely needed identity.
The Myrian snarled at her, but she knew he understood at least some common. He was choosing not to answer. Instead of immediately striking him like some might she simply nodded, “That iss one againssst you. I did not explain the rulesss yesssterday. Today, I will. You will have a new rule every morning but all of the previousss ruless sstill apply. In thisss way you will learn. During our time together I will count your sstrikess and at the end you will be punisssshed accordingly.” Ssemet strode towards the Myrian. “Underssstood?” She ducked to the side to avoid the spittal he hocked.
“That sseemss like a yess. Two.” Nodding again she turned her back on the captive, a subtle insult. He could be of no harm to her so it was safe to put him behind her. In the corner was a small stool, a request she had made. Settled upon it she unwrapped the sash about her waist. Twisted within the cloth was not only her kris but her flute. One before the other she reminded herself not to be hasty, this was delicate work. “Your firsst rule wasss to call me Misstresss. Today, your sssecond rule is to never look me in the eye again.” Ssemet cast her gaze directly upon the victim and he failed to look at away. His hatred fumed out at her, almost tangibly. In return the viper grinned. “Three.”
Standing from her seat, she left the flute perched on the stool and took her kris up in her dominant hand. The slash along his right cheek from yesterday still burned angry and painful. The reminder of her own pain abated on his flesh. Today he would receive two regular cuts and one from Krysus. Surveying the product Ssemet sought out the perfect spot. The back was preferable but it was too early to have access to it and she couldn’t mar his flesh permanently where it could be seen, that might lower his value to she who bought him. Not too low to the ground she mused, that might too easily become infected given that he wasn’t allowed out of his shackles to defecate yet.
Oh perfect, she smiled to herself and brought herself up to his arms. He was chained too tightly to reach out and bite her though he certainly wished he could. Ssemet doubted his grin was amusement like hers. She made two gentle scores with her kris along his under arm near the pit. The cuts were tame like kittens compared to what followed. Using the tip of her kris she created a flap between the two parallel red lines in his flesh, with her left hand she grabbed the tab and ripped. The strip of skin pulled free shockingly easily and then Myrian yowled. Using her edge once more she severed the strip of flesh and tossed it at the wall. There the vital fluids made it stick so he could view it every day until it withered and fell. Still the viper felt certain it would haunt him and keep her ever present in his mind.
“That wass two.” She lifted the kris to his left cheek and sliced a twin to his right. With her left hand upon him she drew from Krysus, changing a small cut into a mind-consuming agony. She drew back leisurely and once again turned her back on him. The captive was trying to hold out, but even as her headache abated his true screams began. The shackles rattled against the wall as he writhed, his yowl before had been almost dramatic compared to the primal nature of true pain.
Sitting down upon her stool again, the Dhani picked up her flute and began to play a tune to his pain. She hoped he might associate this song with pain so she had to harm valuable flesh less often near the end of his training. That wasn’t the only reason she played though; the others would hear the vibrant flute accompany his screams every day until he was nothing, ready to be built into whatever his owner desired. And when Ssemet moved on from this training the others would see her enter their cell with her flute and know her.
The viper had been expecting to seek information but perhaps for her first case it was appropriate not to trust an outsider with that sort of responsibility. It was here job this day and for the next few days to turn this warrior in a worker. Unlike the other souls who worked in this profession she didn’t have an entire tool kit for the process. She used nothing but a kris, her flute, and her religion. At the same time she had chosen this morning on a whim to invest in a whip, as of current she had no experience in the device but she imagined it would be beneficial and later points in the slave’s breaking.
“Yesssterday you had one rule, It. Recite that rule.” She had never asked his name and taken to calling him It in place as a way to remove his identity. A slave rarely needed identity.
The Myrian snarled at her, but she knew he understood at least some common. He was choosing not to answer. Instead of immediately striking him like some might she simply nodded, “That iss one againssst you. I did not explain the rulesss yesssterday. Today, I will. You will have a new rule every morning but all of the previousss ruless sstill apply. In thisss way you will learn. During our time together I will count your sstrikess and at the end you will be punisssshed accordingly.” Ssemet strode towards the Myrian. “Underssstood?” She ducked to the side to avoid the spittal he hocked.
“That sseemss like a yess. Two.” Nodding again she turned her back on the captive, a subtle insult. He could be of no harm to her so it was safe to put him behind her. In the corner was a small stool, a request she had made. Settled upon it she unwrapped the sash about her waist. Twisted within the cloth was not only her kris but her flute. One before the other she reminded herself not to be hasty, this was delicate work. “Your firsst rule wasss to call me Misstresss. Today, your sssecond rule is to never look me in the eye again.” Ssemet cast her gaze directly upon the victim and he failed to look at away. His hatred fumed out at her, almost tangibly. In return the viper grinned. “Three.”
Standing from her seat, she left the flute perched on the stool and took her kris up in her dominant hand. The slash along his right cheek from yesterday still burned angry and painful. The reminder of her own pain abated on his flesh. Today he would receive two regular cuts and one from Krysus. Surveying the product Ssemet sought out the perfect spot. The back was preferable but it was too early to have access to it and she couldn’t mar his flesh permanently where it could be seen, that might lower his value to she who bought him. Not too low to the ground she mused, that might too easily become infected given that he wasn’t allowed out of his shackles to defecate yet.
Oh perfect, she smiled to herself and brought herself up to his arms. He was chained too tightly to reach out and bite her though he certainly wished he could. Ssemet doubted his grin was amusement like hers. She made two gentle scores with her kris along his under arm near the pit. The cuts were tame like kittens compared to what followed. Using the tip of her kris she created a flap between the two parallel red lines in his flesh, with her left hand she grabbed the tab and ripped. The strip of skin pulled free shockingly easily and then Myrian yowled. Using her edge once more she severed the strip of flesh and tossed it at the wall. There the vital fluids made it stick so he could view it every day until it withered and fell. Still the viper felt certain it would haunt him and keep her ever present in his mind.
“That wass two.” She lifted the kris to his left cheek and sliced a twin to his right. With her left hand upon him she drew from Krysus, changing a small cut into a mind-consuming agony. She drew back leisurely and once again turned her back on him. The captive was trying to hold out, but even as her headache abated his true screams began. The shackles rattled against the wall as he writhed, his yowl before had been almost dramatic compared to the primal nature of true pain.
Sitting down upon her stool again, the Dhani picked up her flute and began to play a tune to his pain. She hoped he might associate this song with pain so she had to harm valuable flesh less often near the end of his training. That wasn’t the only reason she played though; the others would hear the vibrant flute accompany his screams every day until he was nothing, ready to be built into whatever his owner desired. And when Ssemet moved on from this training the others would see her enter their cell with her flute and know her.
reciept :