Your new life begins

Content-warning: d/s, ownership, noncon, slavery

You are a slave who just got bought, and in the process of meeting your new owner.

You hear a key fiddling with the lock, then the door of your cell opens up with a loud rumble, shaking you a bit.

You are not used to seeing the outside anymore. The last time you were brought out was to be exposed, like many others, in front of a myriad of high society members, the kind that understood how lawless could money make them.

You feel a bit apprehensive at this thought, the overflow of noise from this time still fresh in your mind, but still try to relax in front of the inevitable.

"Here we go", you think to yourself, "let's see what's in stock for me again today". Talking about days feel slightly weird to you, it's been so long since you lost track of time you would need a lot of work to piece your understanding of the concept.

Some rock-built guard grabs you by the arm and forcefully moves you in the corridor, making you trip as your restraints give you limited movements.

You are guided through the maze that is this facility, still unable to grasp its layout, before being thrown into a small van.

As you try to catch your balance again, the guard, getting impatient, tries to push you into the back, before being stopped by another, "Careful, you known she doesn't like to have broken toys", a statement which seems to hold enough power for him to restrain his behaviour.

You follow a trail, unable to look outside from where you sit, before coming to a stop.

The doors open before you, the guard who handled you before motions you to get out, not daring to show roughness.

You start to step out, failing to get down from it from the restraints, before hearing a voice, "what the hell is this attire? Do you want me to play unwrap or will you let it out of those chains already?". It must be this mysterious "she" they were talking about.

Unshackled, you get out of the van and stand in front of her, thinking wise to keep your head down, not bringing attentions to yourself.

"Good first impression here, my little new toy, you seem to know your place, something rare in your kind". You think that this should've been hurtful but somehow feel a bit prideful from the mixed praise you receive.

She slips her hand under your head, raising your chin by the press of her index, and looks into your deep purple eyes, "So, what's your name, toy? Speak."

"I don't have a name, uhm"


"I don't have a name, Miss"

"I'll have to find you one then. For now, let's get out of this shithole, I'll explain what is expected of you while going back. And don't think you're having it easy, because you'll learn how strict everything will be from now on."

You close your eyes in a small nod once she removes her hand, and follow her back. Your new life begins.