Subjugation

Rob moved through the halls with the ease of long acquaintance, taking in the familiar bustle without seeing it as he passed. Elvish whores plied their trade, bringing customers up to the little stone cells, made hospitable with sweet-grass packed mattresses on the floors and blankets hung from the walls, dyed in bright colors and sometimes woven in elvish patterns that seemed foreign to him and exotic to their customers. The higher-priced and more accomplished girls had nicer rooms, gracefully carved wooden furniture imported from the mainland, woven mats on the floors, and liquor cabinets the girls discretely charged more for. Everyone knew it was dangerous to let an elvish whore near a love-sick fool.

Passing further down the hallway, down the stairs, and out of sight of the customers, the elves clustered in twos the threes, grabbing a bite to eat, mending clothes, or fixing their hair. Now and then, he saw one of the other girls, humans, gnomes, and even their one dwarf, holding themselves proud. Not being indentured gave them status and freedom above their counterparts, reflected in better rooms and a more significant cut of their earnings. Others moved through the stone corridors as well, and Rob greeted Vahl and Rolf, the pair of craftsmen he'd brought on to fix things here and there, and they nodded to him as they brought tool bags and a few planks of wood up the stairs. Further along, he spotted Idel, a small, wizened figure of uncertain lineage as she made one of the elves twirl in a new outfit, silky and more transparent than not.

Finally, he arrived at the kitchens, setting the newly emptied cup down and accepting a freshly filled one from Varise. "Evening Var." Rob rumbled agreeably. "Thank you for sending the coffee with the girl."

Varise paused for a moment in the midst of rinsing out the cup and raised an eyebrow. "Her idea." He stated dryly. Rob watched Varise for a moment thoughtfully. As a free elf, having immigrated to Van almost a century ago, the elf surely had plenty of thoughts on the plight of his people, but the word-thrift elf had always kept them to himself. He wore the brothel's collar not because the Temptress had any claim to him but to save him from any trouble when he went down to the market or about the town.

Rob hadn't asked why he wanted to stay in a place like Spree, but he could guess that Varise had more freedom here than he would have anywhere else except the colonies, and the chef had no desire to try plying his trade on the frontier. "What's for dinner?" Rob questioned to break the awkward silence that had fallen.

"Breakfast, I should think, based on the time, will be mushroom omelets, bacon, my own recipe of pancakes, and a syrup based on those lovely berries I found on the cliffs." The elf preened, taking pride in his work. He paused his scrubbing to wipe his hands on his apron so he could sweep his long green hair back and pin it into place.

"Quite the spread, as ever." Rob rumbled, glancing into the bustling kitchen behind the elf. A half dozen teenagers and young men, mostly local, were bustling away. Rob knew that Varise could tell him what each one was doing and exactly how they were doing it wrong at any moment. "I heard Lothar came to speak with you again."

The elf visibly tensed. "He is very insistent. He said I was doing my people a disservice by not taking his offer." Varise shuddered. "I have no desire to risk whatever horrors would await me in Yvrrn. Nor do I have any desire to sire a series of bastards in what they call a "farm." I'd rather my people die out than be bred like some perverted, fuckable livestock."

Rob nodded, "Well, you know, I've known some folks that thought the regular livestock is fuckable. Like Lothar." Even Varise couldn't help sharing Rob's laughter.

"I'm trying to decide if he wants me so badly because he wouldn't have to pay full price or because he can't find another intact elf." Varise snorted.

Rob offered a shrug of his broad shoulders. "I'm sure there are plenty of you with a pair. Not my specialty, but I'm told caging is the more popular option for you lot, less chance of damage." He kept his tone matter of fact.

"Caging?" Varise raised an eyebrow, looking as if he didn't really want to know.

"Oh yes. It's what it sounds like. A metal cage that's bolted on and small enough so the elf can't get hard." Chuckling, Rob pantomimed by wrapping one of his fingers in the other hand.

Varise huffed. "Well. That seems uncomfortable."

Rob chuckled. "You said that about the collar too."

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Rob rarely got to see the slender man agitated, but he had succeeded this time, the elf's eyes wide and his delicate, feminine features showing his trepidation. "The collar was-is for my safety. You know that!"

"And the cage will be too. Just think how the soldiers at the fort might react if they found out there was an elf screwing around with all their wives?" Rob teased. "Besides, you know I'd send one of the girls to you at least once a month."

The elf whimpered, trying to form words.

"Alright, you got me. Maybe not once a month. I'm sure we can get you some relief every once in a while, though."