[ Fortunately or unfortunately, depending upon your point of view, Adrien had recently gotten himself into trouble and as such, was enjoying some ‘punishment’ in a cell. Rather than being trotted around to help those slaves prized for their skills.
He had finally dug his heels in about being forced to walk away from a murder sport arena participant who had been severely injured in a loss. The man was being left, literally in a ditch at the edges of the arena to slowly die of a compound fracture, which Adrien knew he could fix. He and his ‘handler’ had argued loudly and furiously about the situation, which had caught the attention of more than a few individuals.
In the end it had been a futile argument. Adrien had been dragged away from the dying individual, without being allowed to help. He’d been strung up in his cell, stripped to the waist and thoroughly strapped, in front of witnesses. It seemed his ‘mistress’ wouldn’t tolerate any open defiance to those she placed in charge of her slaves and she was utterly merciless about making sure everybody understood their place and her position above them.
He’d been left, still hanging from shackles that bound his arms up towards the ceiling, legs chained to the floor, so he was stretched out on tiptoes. He was still shirtless, which was a small mercy as the weight of the rough tunic would have been a discreet but inescapable torture on his sore back. Water would have been nice but he suspected he was getting a little deprivation on that front to further hammer home his ‘mistress’s’ point.
cw: physical violence/punishment for disobedience and talk of death
He had finally dug his heels in about being forced to walk away from a murder sport arena participant who had been severely injured in a loss. The man was being left, literally in a ditch at the edges of the arena to slowly die of a compound fracture, which Adrien knew he could fix. He and his ‘handler’ had argued loudly and furiously about the situation, which had caught the attention of more than a few individuals.
In the end it had been a futile argument. Adrien had been dragged away from the dying individual, without being allowed to help. He’d been strung up in his cell, stripped to the waist and thoroughly strapped, in front of witnesses. It seemed his ‘mistress’ wouldn’t tolerate any open defiance to those she placed in charge of her slaves and she was utterly merciless about making sure everybody understood their place and her position above them.
He’d been left, still hanging from shackles that bound his arms up towards the ceiling, legs chained to the floor, so he was stretched out on tiptoes. He was still shirtless, which was a small mercy as the weight of the rough tunic would have been a discreet but inescapable torture on his sore back. Water would have been nice but he suspected he was getting a little deprivation on that front to further hammer home his ‘mistress’s’ point.
Fun times. ]