“Feel that?”, Forty asked in a low voice. “That’s what we do to slaves to take the fight out of them.” Shrapnel felt as if he was about to throw up. Or faint. He wanted to faint. His whole body was awash with pain and his belly filled with ice-cold horror. A whimper escaped his mangled throat that even to his own ears didn’t sound like something a human should be able to make when the shears suddenly snapped shut with a deadly, horrible, metallic click. The scream stuck in his throat and escaped as a suffocated whine, a hot liquid spread under his lower belly, but first after a few seconds did Shrapnel realise that he couldn’t feel any pain. The slavers sitting on him began to laugh, and only then did he realise that the shears had snapped shut in the empty air, that they hadn’t done anything to him and he had succeeded to piss himself in his terror.
The two slavers, still chuckling in evil glee, now got off him and told him to get up. Forty switched the collar off for now and Shrapnel, his limbs weak and trembling, somehow managed to get up onto his feet and dress himself again. After a few moments, when he was slowly getting his breath back, he dimly wondered what Flak might have thought of him making such an ass of himself, but he didn’t want to look at his face right now. “Remember how that felt”, Forty said to him. “Because that’ll be the first thing Tenpenny’ll do to you when you fail to obey. Then he’ll return the goods to us because they were faulty, and we deal with what is left of you by then. Understood?” “Yes.” His throat hurt worse than ever, and he still hadn’t had a single drop of water. “What was that?” “Yes, master.” “Good. And now get in line.”
Without looking up Shrapnel walked over to where the other slaves were standing with unmoving faces and silently watching the proceedings. He wondered for a second if any of them had been subjected to the same treatment, if, in fact, some of them really had been castrated for their attempts at resistance, but he knew he’d never have the balls to ask even had they been allowed to talk. They left Falls a little later, after the slaves had been fed a bowl of thin and bitter gruel each, and headed south, for Tenpenny Tower. x-x-x-x-x-x
Friends will be Friends 3c/8
Shrapnel felt as if he was about to throw up. Or faint. He wanted to faint. His whole body was awash with pain and his belly filled with ice-cold horror. A whimper escaped his mangled throat that even to his own ears didn’t sound like something a human should be able to make when the shears suddenly snapped shut with a deadly, horrible, metallic click. The scream stuck in his throat and escaped as a suffocated whine, a hot liquid spread under his lower belly, but first after a few seconds did Shrapnel realise that he couldn’t feel any pain. The slavers sitting on him began to laugh, and only then did he realise that the shears had snapped shut in the empty air, that they hadn’t done anything to him and he had succeeded to piss himself in his terror.
The two slavers, still chuckling in evil glee, now got off him and told him to get up. Forty switched the collar off for now and Shrapnel, his limbs weak and trembling, somehow managed to get up onto his feet and dress himself again. After a few moments, when he was slowly getting his breath back, he dimly wondered what Flak might have thought of him making such an ass of himself, but he didn’t want to look at his face right now.
“Remember how that felt”, Forty said to him. “Because that’ll be the first thing Tenpenny’ll do to you when you fail to obey. Then he’ll return the goods to us because they were faulty, and we deal with what is left of you by then. Understood?”
“Yes.” His throat hurt worse than ever, and he still hadn’t had a single drop of water.
“What was that?”
“Yes, master.”
“Good. And now get in line.”
Without looking up Shrapnel walked over to where the other slaves were standing with unmoving faces and silently watching the proceedings. He wondered for a second if any of them had been subjected to the same treatment, if, in fact, some of them really had been castrated for their attempts at resistance, but he knew he’d never have the balls to ask even had they been allowed to talk. They left Falls a little later, after the slaves had been fed a bowl of thin and bitter gruel each, and headed south, for Tenpenny Tower.
x-x-x-x-x-x