Finding Home by Raicara [Reviews - 246]
Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Category: Slash Pairings > McKay/Sheppard
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: NC-17
Genres: AU - Alternate Universe
Warnings: Adult themes, Non-consensual, May squick
Series: None
Word count: 50992; Completed: Yes
Summary: John is a Slave who ends up the property of one Dr Rodney Mckay
Warnings: Non Con, abuse, rape, bondage and all sorts of possible other things. Some good, some not so good. Acknowledgments: Thanks to Laura for the beta. Any mistakes left are mine.
The bright lights going on without warning was just one more bit of pain that John Sheppard, former Air Force Major, had learned to live with the last, he didn't know how long; the days had blended one into the other long ago. All it meant to him was that he was alive one more day and that meant one more day of fighting for food, then struggling to work, then fighting for a safe place to sleep at night again. If he made it through this day, there would be another following and another following. For just a second he thought maybe it was time to just give in and end it all. Then the klaxon went off and John found himself trying to get up before the guards came around to kick and whip the slow ones. His groan of pain was just one of hundreds that sounded around the room as the others pulled themselves up to face another day. He was too slow this morning, the first kick caught him in the stomach, sending him to the floor. He didn't try to pull away from the blows or protect himself from them, that would just lead to a longer, harder beating. Finally the guard got bored and moved on to the next slave. John made it to his feet.
John took his place in line, shuffled forward with the others as they moved out of the large cell into the corridor toward what passed for a mess in this place. It was just another large room, with a long table at one end that held bowls,pots of gruel and stale bread. Getting the bowl with the gruel and the bread was not the hard part, keeping it was the trick.
It had taken a few days, but John had gotten the message across that he was not an easy target. So now he only had to watch out when there were new slaves. Which it seemed there were today. John sighed as the shadow passed over him as he gulped down his food. He had only gotten a mouthful before it was knocked out of his hands. The idiot didn't even know enough not to waste food.
"Hear you are a tough one." John looked up at the new slave. He was a large man, almost four inches taller than John. He still had the look of someone who got to eat three real meals a day, and worked out. Instead of answering, John just sweep out his leg, catching the other man off guard, bringing him to the ground. John dropped on top of him, digging his thumbs into the man's throat, holding them there until he passed out. If one of the guards had not pulled him off the man he would have killed him, without a second thought.
At the first blow, John curled into himself and just let the pain of the blows flow over him. He had no idea how long the beating lasted, when it ended he found himself being lifted off the floor, thrown against a wall. John felt his hands being cuffed behind his back. Then a gag was placed over his mouth; in the past he would have fought it, but he had learned that if you fought, they just made it tighter and left it in longer. In fact, he had learned how to stretch his mouth muscles so that when he relaxed the gag was loose enough that, if needed, he could at least get some water past it.
"Looks like someone wants to spend the day restrained," the guard said as he led John out into the early morning sun. It was not too bad now, but in a few hours it would be hotter than hell and with his mouth gagged it was unlikely he would be able to get enough water to avoid a problem.
John groaned as he was led to the large wheel. He didn't really understand just what it did, but it had something to with grinding the rocks that were dug up at this quarry, as well as filling the power batteries for the prison. If he had a choice he would be in the mine where it was cool and, if you knew how, you could make it look like you were working but not really work all that hard. He had learned all the tricks. He didn't have a choice anymore, he'd had a chance to be one of the first in line, to be taken into the mine- those jobs being filled before the outdoor ones were assigned- but the beating kept him away until there was only the wheel to fill. It was hard enough to move it when you were not cuffed and gagged, but to have to pull his part while bound would just be that much harder. Then he noticed the idiot who attacked him being put into the harness next to him. He stared at the ground, not looking anywhere else. He didn't want to catch the guard's eye; he was in enough trouble as it was. Odds were he would end up in the guards barracks tonight, at least, if not for several nights. He really didn't want their attention during the day as well. He glared at the man beside him, it was all his fault, the first chance he got he was going to make the bastard pay.
John staggered a couple of steps before he realized the wheel had stopped moving. Collapsing to the ground he tried to breath around the gag. He could hear the other slaves being fed and watered. He waited his turn. He ignored the man beside him as he yelled at the slave to bring the water to him now. John groaned; if he could he would tell the idiot that he just guaranteed they would be done last, if at all. There was only so much go around and if there were more slaves than food then some got none.
John flinched when a full bucket of water was put down in front of him. "Rules say you have to have water. Nothing about how you get it." Before he could react, John felt a hand on the back of his head, seconds before it was shoved into the bucket and under the water. This was not the first time this had happened,the trick was to judge how long they were going to keep you under. You pulled the water in to soon and you lost your air, you waited too long and you didn't get enough water. Five minutes later, if John could've gasped for air he would have. This time he was more wrong than right. He was sure a couple of times he would drown.
He didn't have to look to know what was happening; the same thing happened to him every day for the first couple of weeks he was there. There was no way one could fight back when chained up to the wheel and since everyone fell to their knees from exhaustion after only a couple of hours, it left a slave in the perfect position to be raped by any guard who wanted to, or in truth, paid off the head guard for the privilege. He closed his eyes at the first sound of begging and pleading. He tried to ignore the screams and cries of pain. After the first few, he didn't hear the new slave, he heard his own voice from those first few days, before he learned that no matter what you did or said, or how loud you screamed, or how long you cried, nothing would stop it from happening.
By the time the slave with the gruel bucket got to them, John had counted four guards using the new slave, he now knew for sure that he would be in the guards barracks tonight along with the new guy, he had heard them talking. John didn't react when the slave was told to ignore him, that he wouldn't be fed until the gag came out, and when that happened depended on how good he was that night. After what he heard next, he was glad he was not getting fed this time. The guards decided the gruel needed something more, so they all pissed in it, one even shit in it, before forcing the new slave's mouth open and making him drink it.
The sun was just starting to set when they were stopped again. This was not a usual stop, they should've been kept walking for another two hours at least; not let go until the sun had fully set and it was full dark out. John heard the voices, but was too tired, hungry and thirsty to really pay attention until they were closer to him. He was aware of a scanner being run down his back, then being released from the harness.
A chain was attached to the collar around his neck and he was being led away. He had no idea where and knew better than to ask, even if he could. He was aware that they were headed back into the slave pen, but still he kept his head down. Even with his eyes down he was able to see they were headed toward the medical wing of the slave pen. It took all his control not to let the guards know he is upset by this, let them see a weakness. John learned the first few days here that any weakness would be pounced on and used against you. Like anyone who survived more than a few days, he'd learned to bury and hide any emotion or feeling he had. He just let things happen when he couldn't stop them and stopped them when he could, though as a slave there were not a lot of things he could stop happening. They finally reached a room John had never seen before. The chain was attached to a ring in a wall and he was left standing there, waiting for what ever was going to happen.
He had no idea how long he stood there, his eyes on the floor, hearing people come and go, ignoring him as if he were nothing more than another piece of furniture to move around. He was almost sure it was hours. He would have done anything to be able to sit, lie on the floor or even go to his knees, which he hated most of all, but the chain was too short, all he could do was stand there after spending all day in the sun, pulling the wheel around and around.
"Great, he is not even ready to be transferred. Why the hell was he left like this? We are on a tight schedule." John felt hands at the waist of the light cotton pants he was allowed to wear, as long as he could keep them. They tugged on them until they were past his hips, then let them fall. "Step." The order was accompanied by a slap on the ass. John moved out of the puddle of fabric at his feet. The chain was detached from the wall and he was led down more corridors, further into the wing than he had ever been before.
It was only the change in the floor that told John where he was. The linoleum became tile as he was led into a locker room type area. He could smell the soap and hot water. For just a moment his heart leapt at the idea he would be clean again; washing or being washed in something more than cold water. That moment of joy was crushed when the reasons they would do this rushed into his head. None of them are good from his point of view.
Orderly Thompson was pissed. The slave should have been ready for transport. It was not his job to prep them, just move them about between areas. But he also knew if he brought the slave to the base in this condition he would end up on the wrong side of a beating. So he had no choice. He had been warned enough about how dangerous this one was, that he couldn't even let the man do it himself. So that meant he would have to do it. Then again, as he looked over the long lean body, he could get something out of this. From the looks of him, only the guards would have gotten to his ass, and after the first month or so he would have been replaced by other new slaves, so odds were he would be a good tight fuck. Smiling to himself, Thompson set about securing the slave.
First, the chain attached to his collar was looped through a ring in the wall so the slave was facing the shower head and the wall. The chain was pulled tight so that John's head was under the shower head, almost touching the wall. A second chain was put on the back of the collar, stretched to the back wall, pulled tight, keeping him from moving his head. Then cuffs were put around his ankles, the chains attached to them were pulled tight so that his legs were more than shoulder length apart. A second set of cuffs were put on his wrists and pulled tight, so that the small chain of the handcuffs he already wore, was stretched as far as it could be. John felt the cuffs come off his wrists, but before he could do anything his arms were stretched out as far as they could be, then stretched a bit more. John could feel how over-extended his body was; if not for the chains at his neck,he would have fallen over.
The first spray of water was a shock, it was cold, but it soon warmed up. John was left alone as this happened. He was shocked and sickened as he watched the dirty water spiral down the drain. The amount just from water running over him was sickening. He struggled to recall the last time he had been anywhere near clean. The image was of the last day of his court martial. He cut that memory off as soon as he could.
John's body tried to jump when he felt hands touch him. He was slapped for it. "Take it easy, bitch. I'll clean you up before I do anything. Really, when was the last time you bathed."
If he could have, John would have laughed. Like it was his choice to let layer after layer of dirt, sweat and God knows what else build up on his body. Once he knew what was happening, at least for the foreseeable future, John relaxed and enjoyed the hot water and feeling clean. He was even able, for the most part, to ignore the feel of the orderly's hands as he was washed from head to toe, over and over until the last of the dirt and grime was gone.
All too soon the water was shut off and John watched the last of the now clear water go down the drain. Only moments later he was shivering as the cool air touched his still wet skin. That was what he told himself, it was the cold not the knowledge of what was coming next. John knew he was being watched by the orderly as he put the saw horse in front of John. So he kept his face calm and neutral, even as the chains used to tie his hands were used to lower his upper body over the saw horse, even as his hands and arms were pulled further back and to the side.
Since he had lost track of time, John had no idea how long it had been since he was last raped. He had been a favorite of the guards when he first arrived at the quarry. But they had moved on to fresher meat soon enough and that left him only his fellow slaves to fight off. Which he did, so they left him alone as long as he kept his guard up. Again, his body tried to pull away when he felt a finger being pushed into his ass.
"Normally, bitch, I just push in. That is what a slave is for- besides work- to take it when a free man wants to do it, but I can't take the chance of doing any noticeable damage. At least not until we see how useful you are. If you come back this way, all bets are off."
As the man had been talking, he had worked his way up to three fingers. That only lasted a few seconds before John felt the blunt head of a cock push into him. Once the head was past the ring of muscles, the man pushed his way home with one hard thrust. Before John could even try to relax to lessen the pain, the man was thrusting in and out of his body. Each thrust caused him to be pushed forward, jamming the saw horse into his stomach and causing the chains to pull his arms and shoulders back. John could feel tears of pain run down his face, and was glad of the gag that keep him from crying out. After a forever that was only a few moments, he felt the man inside him come. The man then collapsed onto John, causing him even more pain. He finally pulled out, then John felt hands on his ass.
"Good, no blood. Now we will just rinse you off and we can go."
John was washed down once again, dried off, re-cuffed, clean pants were put on him, then he was chained down in the back of a truck before he knew it. He was alone, which was not good, as it left him free to let his mind wander onto why this was happening. As before, nothing he thought of was good for him.
Antarctic base a month or so earlier.
Dr Rodney Mckay was not happy. His work was interesting, fascinating even, and if he could ever publish he could win every award out there. But it was who he was working for that bothered him. He thought at first he could work for the US Military even though he was a known abolitionist. While Canada had some of the most strict laws regarding who could be made a slave, and even stricter laws as to what could and couldn't be done to them, he still fought against the whole concept of slavery. For some reason, he thought he could ignore the issue in a country with a lot less control over what happened to the poor souls who ended up on the auction block. Considering where he worked, it had not been that bad for the most part. He was able to focus on his work and ignore most of what went on around him. But things were changing. They had gotten the go ahead to try and open a wormhole to another galaxy and possibly the lost city of Atlantis. To help make the expedition work, as many qualified people with the gene as possible were being found. Then someone got the brilliant idea to test the slave population. Which was why Rodney was not happy. He was standing outside the room that had been set aside for the auction. Members of the expedition were bidding on slaves with the gene. He himself was banned from the room as the last two he had bought he had set free and sent off elsewhere. If their gene had been stronger, he would have offered them jobs of some kind, but really, their use of the gene was very limited so there was no point risking their lives as it was looking to be a one way trip.
He had argued against this, saying that anyone who possessed the gene and was unhappy, as he believed most slaves were, might not be such a good person to have around technology they had no idea how to control or even what it did. This was countered by the military saying that extra controls would be put on any slaves brought to Atlantis. Elizabeth Weir had also made it clear that there would be very strict rules in place as to the treatment of those slaves who went through the gate. It was not enough for Rodney, but he was, it seemed, the lone voice. He stopped outside the room a moment more until some woman was sold, not wanting to watch anymore, he went to his lab.
A few weeks later. SGC Base at Cheyenne Mountain
The SGC was in chaos. It was the last few moments before they tried the gate and would find out if they even had a mission. Everyone seemed to have a hundred last minute things that needed to be done. So no one really noticed when one more slave was brought in and chained to a set of equipment to be taken through the gate.
Earlier that day.
John was confused. The truck ride had ended here at a military base. He had been dragged off, then left in a room once again for hours. He was thirsty and hungry. There was no way to tell anyone this, as he was still gagged. Not that it would have mattered, he doubted anyone would have brought him food or drink anyway. He just hoped that whenever the other slaves here were fed, he would be as well. Not that he held out much hope of that. So he got as comfortable as he could and waited.
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing John knew, his head was jerking up as the door to the room was opened. Four men walked in, all air force personnel. One was a General. John stood up as best he could. While he was aware of the others, it was the General he keep his eyes on.
General Jack O'Neill looked over the slave before him. He had read his file and, while he understood why they had done what they did, he also understood what Sheppard did. Yes, something had to be done, but he didn't agree with the hard labor part of the sentence. So when the report came across his desk that this man had the gene, he had him brought here to see how strong it was. It would have to be strong to override the hard labor sentence. He pointed to one of the men behind him.
"This airman is going to uncuff you." He pointed to another who was holding something in his hand, "This one is going to hand you something. Be a good boy and you might just get out of that quarry. If not, you can be back there by morning, just in time to start a new day." Jack waited a moment. "You understand?"
John nodded. He resisted the urge to rub his wrists once they were set free for the first time since he was cuffed this morning... Was it just this morning, or had more time passed? For all he knew it had been a day or more since he was pulled out of the quarry. When the other airman held out whatever it was, he took it, while still watching the General. He almost dropped it when it started to light up and make noise. After a quick look at it, John looked back at the General, who just smiled at him.
"Get him processed." Then he was gone, leaving John alone with three guards. One guard pulled a gun, aiming it at John, while another pulled out a set of ankle cuffs attached to a waist chain.
"Hands out front." John looked at the gun then held his hands out to be cuffed, in front of him this time, at least. The object was taken from his hand as the ankle cuffs and waist chain were put on. Then his wrist cuffs were attatched to the waist chain. He was led out of the room, down another set of corridors to the infirmary.
"Listen up, slave." John was strapped face down on a bed. "This implant is a control device, as well as a tracking one. It is connected to the device that will be attached to your right ankle. Should you leave the designated areas as stated to you by your owner, or if you try to escape or harm a free person, the device will be set off."
Then John felt a sharp stinging pain flow through his body. He felt his muscles tense in pain. Again, if not for the gag he would have screamed in pain. This was done a couple more times, before the pain stopped.
"Just behave yourself, and you won't ever have to feel that again."
Which is how John found himself chained to a stretcher that was being loaded with boxes, filled with he had no idea what. He looked around the room he was in. This looked like any expedition getting ready to leave, what he didn't know was where they were going or how they were getting there. There was only one door out of the room and he knew they were miles below the surface. Besides the people, there was only a large round something at the top of a ramp. The people were confusing as well. The vast majority seemed to be civilian, with a fair number of slaves mixed in. There was also what looked like a contingent of marines milling around as well. The babble of languages was the most odd thing about this place. John was hearing languages he hand no idea where they were from. He was seeing flag patches on jackets that he was not sure what country they were from.
The weirdest thing was when the large round circle at the end of the room started to move and light up. John could hear a voice coming from above and behind him. He turned as far as he could, craning his neck to see a group of people in what looked like a control room.
"Chevron two locked." The voice went on like that until there was a flash of something coming out of the circle, then a flat, water-like field filled the center of the circle. A MALP was started up and sent up the ramp. To John's surprise it went through and disappeared.
Suddenly there was cheering and a voice saying they had a go. Then more people came into the room, some woman was telling the marine colonel they were going through together. Then they disappeared through the circle. Slowly the rest of the people started moving toward the circle. Someone came up to John, told him to pick up his end of the stretcher and start forward. There was no way John was going to do that. He would rather be back at the quarry than do that. The man must have seen the look on his face, as in the next second he felt pain rip through his body. He was kicked and beaten, but still he refused to carry anything through the ring. He was shocked so many times he passed out.
"Can't we leave him?"
"No, the gene is too strong. He has to come." Paterson knelt down, undoing the chains that held John to the stretcher, "Besides, he is listed as personal property for Dr McKay."
Fredricks laughed, "You're kidding?"
"Nope. I heard from some of the personnel here; it is the brass's way of letting the good doctor know just how much they valued his input in setting up the expedition."
"I hope I am around when he finds out about this." Fredricks moved another slave in to take John's place and started the last few pieces of equipment through the gate.
Two large men grabbed John's collar and he was dragged across the floor, up the steps over the ramp and through the Stargate.
Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Category: Slash Pairings > McKay/Sheppard
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: NC-17
Genres: AU - Alternate Universe
Warnings: Adult themes, Non-consensual, May squick
Series: None
Word count: 50992; Completed: Yes
Summary: John is a Slave who ends up the property of one Dr Rodney Mckay
Warnings: Non Con, abuse, rape, bondage and all sorts of possible other things. Some good, some not so good. Acknowledgments: Thanks to Laura for the beta. Any mistakes left are mine.
The bright lights going on without warning was just one more bit of pain that John Sheppard, former Air Force Major, had learned to live with the last, he didn't know how long; the days had blended one into the other long ago. All it meant to him was that he was alive one more day and that meant one more day of fighting for food, then struggling to work, then fighting for a safe place to sleep at night again. If he made it through this day, there would be another following and another following. For just a second he thought maybe it was time to just give in and end it all. Then the klaxon went off and John found himself trying to get up before the guards came around to kick and whip the slow ones. His groan of pain was just one of hundreds that sounded around the room as the others pulled themselves up to face another day. He was too slow this morning, the first kick caught him in the stomach, sending him to the floor. He didn't try to pull away from the blows or protect himself from them, that would just lead to a longer, harder beating. Finally the guard got bored and moved on to the next slave. John made it to his feet.
John took his place in line, shuffled forward with the others as they moved out of the large cell into the corridor toward what passed for a mess in this place. It was just another large room, with a long table at one end that held bowls,pots of gruel and stale bread. Getting the bowl with the gruel and the bread was not the hard part, keeping it was the trick.
It had taken a few days, but John had gotten the message across that he was not an easy target. So now he only had to watch out when there were new slaves. Which it seemed there were today. John sighed as the shadow passed over him as he gulped down his food. He had only gotten a mouthful before it was knocked out of his hands. The idiot didn't even know enough not to waste food.
"Hear you are a tough one." John looked up at the new slave. He was a large man, almost four inches taller than John. He still had the look of someone who got to eat three real meals a day, and worked out. Instead of answering, John just sweep out his leg, catching the other man off guard, bringing him to the ground. John dropped on top of him, digging his thumbs into the man's throat, holding them there until he passed out. If one of the guards had not pulled him off the man he would have killed him, without a second thought.
At the first blow, John curled into himself and just let the pain of the blows flow over him. He had no idea how long the beating lasted, when it ended he found himself being lifted off the floor, thrown against a wall. John felt his hands being cuffed behind his back. Then a gag was placed over his mouth; in the past he would have fought it, but he had learned that if you fought, they just made it tighter and left it in longer. In fact, he had learned how to stretch his mouth muscles so that when he relaxed the gag was loose enough that, if needed, he could at least get some water past it.
"Looks like someone wants to spend the day restrained," the guard said as he led John out into the early morning sun. It was not too bad now, but in a few hours it would be hotter than hell and with his mouth gagged it was unlikely he would be able to get enough water to avoid a problem.
John groaned as he was led to the large wheel. He didn't really understand just what it did, but it had something to with grinding the rocks that were dug up at this quarry, as well as filling the power batteries for the prison. If he had a choice he would be in the mine where it was cool and, if you knew how, you could make it look like you were working but not really work all that hard. He had learned all the tricks. He didn't have a choice anymore, he'd had a chance to be one of the first in line, to be taken into the mine- those jobs being filled before the outdoor ones were assigned- but the beating kept him away until there was only the wheel to fill. It was hard enough to move it when you were not cuffed and gagged, but to have to pull his part while bound would just be that much harder. Then he noticed the idiot who attacked him being put into the harness next to him. He stared at the ground, not looking anywhere else. He didn't want to catch the guard's eye; he was in enough trouble as it was. Odds were he would end up in the guards barracks tonight, at least, if not for several nights. He really didn't want their attention during the day as well. He glared at the man beside him, it was all his fault, the first chance he got he was going to make the bastard pay.
John staggered a couple of steps before he realized the wheel had stopped moving. Collapsing to the ground he tried to breath around the gag. He could hear the other slaves being fed and watered. He waited his turn. He ignored the man beside him as he yelled at the slave to bring the water to him now. John groaned; if he could he would tell the idiot that he just guaranteed they would be done last, if at all. There was only so much go around and if there were more slaves than food then some got none.
John flinched when a full bucket of water was put down in front of him. "Rules say you have to have water. Nothing about how you get it." Before he could react, John felt a hand on the back of his head, seconds before it was shoved into the bucket and under the water. This was not the first time this had happened,the trick was to judge how long they were going to keep you under. You pulled the water in to soon and you lost your air, you waited too long and you didn't get enough water. Five minutes later, if John could've gasped for air he would have. This time he was more wrong than right. He was sure a couple of times he would drown.
He didn't have to look to know what was happening; the same thing happened to him every day for the first couple of weeks he was there. There was no way one could fight back when chained up to the wheel and since everyone fell to their knees from exhaustion after only a couple of hours, it left a slave in the perfect position to be raped by any guard who wanted to, or in truth, paid off the head guard for the privilege. He closed his eyes at the first sound of begging and pleading. He tried to ignore the screams and cries of pain. After the first few, he didn't hear the new slave, he heard his own voice from those first few days, before he learned that no matter what you did or said, or how loud you screamed, or how long you cried, nothing would stop it from happening.
By the time the slave with the gruel bucket got to them, John had counted four guards using the new slave, he now knew for sure that he would be in the guards barracks tonight along with the new guy, he had heard them talking. John didn't react when the slave was told to ignore him, that he wouldn't be fed until the gag came out, and when that happened depended on how good he was that night. After what he heard next, he was glad he was not getting fed this time. The guards decided the gruel needed something more, so they all pissed in it, one even shit in it, before forcing the new slave's mouth open and making him drink it.
The sun was just starting to set when they were stopped again. This was not a usual stop, they should've been kept walking for another two hours at least; not let go until the sun had fully set and it was full dark out. John heard the voices, but was too tired, hungry and thirsty to really pay attention until they were closer to him. He was aware of a scanner being run down his back, then being released from the harness.
A chain was attached to the collar around his neck and he was being led away. He had no idea where and knew better than to ask, even if he could. He was aware that they were headed back into the slave pen, but still he kept his head down. Even with his eyes down he was able to see they were headed toward the medical wing of the slave pen. It took all his control not to let the guards know he is upset by this, let them see a weakness. John learned the first few days here that any weakness would be pounced on and used against you. Like anyone who survived more than a few days, he'd learned to bury and hide any emotion or feeling he had. He just let things happen when he couldn't stop them and stopped them when he could, though as a slave there were not a lot of things he could stop happening. They finally reached a room John had never seen before. The chain was attached to a ring in a wall and he was left standing there, waiting for what ever was going to happen.
He had no idea how long he stood there, his eyes on the floor, hearing people come and go, ignoring him as if he were nothing more than another piece of furniture to move around. He was almost sure it was hours. He would have done anything to be able to sit, lie on the floor or even go to his knees, which he hated most of all, but the chain was too short, all he could do was stand there after spending all day in the sun, pulling the wheel around and around.
"Great, he is not even ready to be transferred. Why the hell was he left like this? We are on a tight schedule." John felt hands at the waist of the light cotton pants he was allowed to wear, as long as he could keep them. They tugged on them until they were past his hips, then let them fall. "Step." The order was accompanied by a slap on the ass. John moved out of the puddle of fabric at his feet. The chain was detached from the wall and he was led down more corridors, further into the wing than he had ever been before.
It was only the change in the floor that told John where he was. The linoleum became tile as he was led into a locker room type area. He could smell the soap and hot water. For just a moment his heart leapt at the idea he would be clean again; washing or being washed in something more than cold water. That moment of joy was crushed when the reasons they would do this rushed into his head. None of them are good from his point of view.
Orderly Thompson was pissed. The slave should have been ready for transport. It was not his job to prep them, just move them about between areas. But he also knew if he brought the slave to the base in this condition he would end up on the wrong side of a beating. So he had no choice. He had been warned enough about how dangerous this one was, that he couldn't even let the man do it himself. So that meant he would have to do it. Then again, as he looked over the long lean body, he could get something out of this. From the looks of him, only the guards would have gotten to his ass, and after the first month or so he would have been replaced by other new slaves, so odds were he would be a good tight fuck. Smiling to himself, Thompson set about securing the slave.
First, the chain attached to his collar was looped through a ring in the wall so the slave was facing the shower head and the wall. The chain was pulled tight so that John's head was under the shower head, almost touching the wall. A second chain was put on the back of the collar, stretched to the back wall, pulled tight, keeping him from moving his head. Then cuffs were put around his ankles, the chains attached to them were pulled tight so that his legs were more than shoulder length apart. A second set of cuffs were put on his wrists and pulled tight, so that the small chain of the handcuffs he already wore, was stretched as far as it could be. John felt the cuffs come off his wrists, but before he could do anything his arms were stretched out as far as they could be, then stretched a bit more. John could feel how over-extended his body was; if not for the chains at his neck,he would have fallen over.
The first spray of water was a shock, it was cold, but it soon warmed up. John was left alone as this happened. He was shocked and sickened as he watched the dirty water spiral down the drain. The amount just from water running over him was sickening. He struggled to recall the last time he had been anywhere near clean. The image was of the last day of his court martial. He cut that memory off as soon as he could.
John's body tried to jump when he felt hands touch him. He was slapped for it. "Take it easy, bitch. I'll clean you up before I do anything. Really, when was the last time you bathed."
If he could have, John would have laughed. Like it was his choice to let layer after layer of dirt, sweat and God knows what else build up on his body. Once he knew what was happening, at least for the foreseeable future, John relaxed and enjoyed the hot water and feeling clean. He was even able, for the most part, to ignore the feel of the orderly's hands as he was washed from head to toe, over and over until the last of the dirt and grime was gone.
All too soon the water was shut off and John watched the last of the now clear water go down the drain. Only moments later he was shivering as the cool air touched his still wet skin. That was what he told himself, it was the cold not the knowledge of what was coming next. John knew he was being watched by the orderly as he put the saw horse in front of John. So he kept his face calm and neutral, even as the chains used to tie his hands were used to lower his upper body over the saw horse, even as his hands and arms were pulled further back and to the side.
Since he had lost track of time, John had no idea how long it had been since he was last raped. He had been a favorite of the guards when he first arrived at the quarry. But they had moved on to fresher meat soon enough and that left him only his fellow slaves to fight off. Which he did, so they left him alone as long as he kept his guard up. Again, his body tried to pull away when he felt a finger being pushed into his ass.
"Normally, bitch, I just push in. That is what a slave is for- besides work- to take it when a free man wants to do it, but I can't take the chance of doing any noticeable damage. At least not until we see how useful you are. If you come back this way, all bets are off."
As the man had been talking, he had worked his way up to three fingers. That only lasted a few seconds before John felt the blunt head of a cock push into him. Once the head was past the ring of muscles, the man pushed his way home with one hard thrust. Before John could even try to relax to lessen the pain, the man was thrusting in and out of his body. Each thrust caused him to be pushed forward, jamming the saw horse into his stomach and causing the chains to pull his arms and shoulders back. John could feel tears of pain run down his face, and was glad of the gag that keep him from crying out. After a forever that was only a few moments, he felt the man inside him come. The man then collapsed onto John, causing him even more pain. He finally pulled out, then John felt hands on his ass.
"Good, no blood. Now we will just rinse you off and we can go."
John was washed down once again, dried off, re-cuffed, clean pants were put on him, then he was chained down in the back of a truck before he knew it. He was alone, which was not good, as it left him free to let his mind wander onto why this was happening. As before, nothing he thought of was good for him.
Antarctic base a month or so earlier.
Dr Rodney Mckay was not happy. His work was interesting, fascinating even, and if he could ever publish he could win every award out there. But it was who he was working for that bothered him. He thought at first he could work for the US Military even though he was a known abolitionist. While Canada had some of the most strict laws regarding who could be made a slave, and even stricter laws as to what could and couldn't be done to them, he still fought against the whole concept of slavery. For some reason, he thought he could ignore the issue in a country with a lot less control over what happened to the poor souls who ended up on the auction block. Considering where he worked, it had not been that bad for the most part. He was able to focus on his work and ignore most of what went on around him. But things were changing. They had gotten the go ahead to try and open a wormhole to another galaxy and possibly the lost city of Atlantis. To help make the expedition work, as many qualified people with the gene as possible were being found. Then someone got the brilliant idea to test the slave population. Which was why Rodney was not happy. He was standing outside the room that had been set aside for the auction. Members of the expedition were bidding on slaves with the gene. He himself was banned from the room as the last two he had bought he had set free and sent off elsewhere. If their gene had been stronger, he would have offered them jobs of some kind, but really, their use of the gene was very limited so there was no point risking their lives as it was looking to be a one way trip.
He had argued against this, saying that anyone who possessed the gene and was unhappy, as he believed most slaves were, might not be such a good person to have around technology they had no idea how to control or even what it did. This was countered by the military saying that extra controls would be put on any slaves brought to Atlantis. Elizabeth Weir had also made it clear that there would be very strict rules in place as to the treatment of those slaves who went through the gate. It was not enough for Rodney, but he was, it seemed, the lone voice. He stopped outside the room a moment more until some woman was sold, not wanting to watch anymore, he went to his lab.
A few weeks later. SGC Base at Cheyenne Mountain
The SGC was in chaos. It was the last few moments before they tried the gate and would find out if they even had a mission. Everyone seemed to have a hundred last minute things that needed to be done. So no one really noticed when one more slave was brought in and chained to a set of equipment to be taken through the gate.
Earlier that day.
John was confused. The truck ride had ended here at a military base. He had been dragged off, then left in a room once again for hours. He was thirsty and hungry. There was no way to tell anyone this, as he was still gagged. Not that it would have mattered, he doubted anyone would have brought him food or drink anyway. He just hoped that whenever the other slaves here were fed, he would be as well. Not that he held out much hope of that. So he got as comfortable as he could and waited.
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing John knew, his head was jerking up as the door to the room was opened. Four men walked in, all air force personnel. One was a General. John stood up as best he could. While he was aware of the others, it was the General he keep his eyes on.
General Jack O'Neill looked over the slave before him. He had read his file and, while he understood why they had done what they did, he also understood what Sheppard did. Yes, something had to be done, but he didn't agree with the hard labor part of the sentence. So when the report came across his desk that this man had the gene, he had him brought here to see how strong it was. It would have to be strong to override the hard labor sentence. He pointed to one of the men behind him.
"This airman is going to uncuff you." He pointed to another who was holding something in his hand, "This one is going to hand you something. Be a good boy and you might just get out of that quarry. If not, you can be back there by morning, just in time to start a new day." Jack waited a moment. "You understand?"
John nodded. He resisted the urge to rub his wrists once they were set free for the first time since he was cuffed this morning... Was it just this morning, or had more time passed? For all he knew it had been a day or more since he was pulled out of the quarry. When the other airman held out whatever it was, he took it, while still watching the General. He almost dropped it when it started to light up and make noise. After a quick look at it, John looked back at the General, who just smiled at him.
"Get him processed." Then he was gone, leaving John alone with three guards. One guard pulled a gun, aiming it at John, while another pulled out a set of ankle cuffs attached to a waist chain.
"Hands out front." John looked at the gun then held his hands out to be cuffed, in front of him this time, at least. The object was taken from his hand as the ankle cuffs and waist chain were put on. Then his wrist cuffs were attatched to the waist chain. He was led out of the room, down another set of corridors to the infirmary.
"Listen up, slave." John was strapped face down on a bed. "This implant is a control device, as well as a tracking one. It is connected to the device that will be attached to your right ankle. Should you leave the designated areas as stated to you by your owner, or if you try to escape or harm a free person, the device will be set off."
Then John felt a sharp stinging pain flow through his body. He felt his muscles tense in pain. Again, if not for the gag he would have screamed in pain. This was done a couple more times, before the pain stopped.
"Just behave yourself, and you won't ever have to feel that again."
Which is how John found himself chained to a stretcher that was being loaded with boxes, filled with he had no idea what. He looked around the room he was in. This looked like any expedition getting ready to leave, what he didn't know was where they were going or how they were getting there. There was only one door out of the room and he knew they were miles below the surface. Besides the people, there was only a large round something at the top of a ramp. The people were confusing as well. The vast majority seemed to be civilian, with a fair number of slaves mixed in. There was also what looked like a contingent of marines milling around as well. The babble of languages was the most odd thing about this place. John was hearing languages he hand no idea where they were from. He was seeing flag patches on jackets that he was not sure what country they were from.
The weirdest thing was when the large round circle at the end of the room started to move and light up. John could hear a voice coming from above and behind him. He turned as far as he could, craning his neck to see a group of people in what looked like a control room.
"Chevron two locked." The voice went on like that until there was a flash of something coming out of the circle, then a flat, water-like field filled the center of the circle. A MALP was started up and sent up the ramp. To John's surprise it went through and disappeared.
Suddenly there was cheering and a voice saying they had a go. Then more people came into the room, some woman was telling the marine colonel they were going through together. Then they disappeared through the circle. Slowly the rest of the people started moving toward the circle. Someone came up to John, told him to pick up his end of the stretcher and start forward. There was no way John was going to do that. He would rather be back at the quarry than do that. The man must have seen the look on his face, as in the next second he felt pain rip through his body. He was kicked and beaten, but still he refused to carry anything through the ring. He was shocked so many times he passed out.
"Can't we leave him?"
"No, the gene is too strong. He has to come." Paterson knelt down, undoing the chains that held John to the stretcher, "Besides, he is listed as personal property for Dr McKay."
Fredricks laughed, "You're kidding?"
"Nope. I heard from some of the personnel here; it is the brass's way of letting the good doctor know just how much they valued his input in setting up the expedition."
"I hope I am around when he finds out about this." Fredricks moved another slave in to take John's place and started the last few pieces of equipment through the gate.
Two large men grabbed John's collar and he was dragged across the floor, up the steps over the ramp and through the Stargate.