In Which Mieve Considers Her New Purchase

First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: In Which Amrit is Amazingly Eloquent.
Fae Apoc, approx. now.

Content Warnings: This setting, although not this ficlet, contains rape, mind control, and dubious consent situations.

This particular story contains kidnapping and slavery, bondage, and will eventually contain violence & Stockholm Syndrome.


The man in Mieve's back seat - who she had nicknamed Fuck You, since that seemed to be the only words he knew - seemed to be having trouble with the hood. He was squirming, clearly trying to get out of the shackles and chains, and rubbing his head against the car seat like a cat, trying to dislodge the hood. It was buckled on; it wasn't going to go anywhere.

“You might as well relax.” She pitched her voice louder than normal; the hood was very thick, designed to muffle sounds as well as light. “You're not going anywhere.”

“Uh oo.”

“I begin to see why they gagged you. Do you know any other words?”

“Uh oo eye-ay.“

“You certainly are eloquent.” The auction house hadn't specifically said he'd been Kept already, Mieve knew - but the gall of them selling a fae slave they didn't Own was pretty appalling. Then again, she'd just technically bought a fae slave she didn't, by fae law at least, Own, so she couldn't exactly throw stones.
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