[Episode 120735] [Episode 120735]Makoto drew on her limited knowledge of meditation to blank her mind and still her reactions as she waited for the doctor to finish her examination. This room was much like the rest of the compound for the auction house, sturdy, solid, and purely functional. Ropes knotted about each wrist and ankle led to pulleys hanging from the wooden ceiling beams. Currently her hands were held over her head by the ropes, but she had enough slack for her ankles to let her stand normally as the doctor examined her teeth. Along the far wall, the other slaves who had been delivered with her waited with their hands secured behind them to ringbolts in the wall. A couple of male guards leaned against the wall, by the winches for the ropes currently holding her.
As the exam moved down to her breasts, she thought about how she had come to this situation. When her parents had died years ago, they had left her unsupported and she became a ward of the state. Her food, clothes, and housing from then on had not been free, but had accumulated as debt in her name. As she started acquiring the debt so young, it had been likely she would eventually be sold to pay it off. Under normal circumstances she would have finished school and have been given a few years to try to pay it off or at least offer proof that she could pay it off in a reasonable amount of time.
Then she had started getting into fights, lots of fights. As she saw it she was trying to protect people in each case, or at least most cases, but the school managers and her caseworkers hadn’t seen it that way. She had enough fights be transferred to another area, and the cost of that was added to her debt. And it happed again and again. She knew the dangers, but when she started learning martial arts she had taken the codes to heart as well as the moves, and she would not stand by when she could defend others. She once had dreams of becoming a student or slave of a martial-arts master, but the little girl with no family hadn’t been able attract such attention, and her prospects were worse now.
So the debt had mounted and her record had gained black marks until someone had decided that Kino Makoto was a hopeless delinquent and the state would be better off selling her now. The injustice of being discarded as a burden for the crime of standing up for people made her hands tighten into fists now, but she quickly relaxed again. She was bound like this because these people were expecting her to give them trouble. Living down to their expectations would just make things worse for her.
The doctor, a woman wearing the white coat of her profession and very little under it, was taking quite a bit of time to examine her breasts. Makoto knew the woman didn’t have to lean her head against them to listen to her heart when she was also using a stethoscope. The guards had also taken some time to handle them a bit on the way here, though they didn’t go further, having already taken advantage of their “employee perqs” with the girls they had collected before her. She didn’t mind the way they played with her; those globes would help her fetch a better price. She wanted to bring a good price. She wanted someone to want her, to value her, and to keep her rather than shoving her off on another master as the schools had cast her aside whenever she became inconvenient.
The doctor gave Makoto’s hardened nubs a final tweak, and stepped back saying, “I’m ready for the cervical and anal exams, and bring the bucket over. I believe she needs and enema.”
The guards began turning cranks and Makoto offered no complains or resistance as her feet slid apart on the cold tiles and then were pulled from the floor. Resistance would have done her no good. Complaints would have earned her a spanking or switching. The guards, however, had a complaint of their own. “Doc, you give every girl you see an enema.”
“Well, the health of the digestive tract is very important.”
“Is that why you gave yourself one before we started?”
Makoto also wanted a master to keep her because she dreaded cycling through the system again. It was going to be bad enough this time. Most traders treated their merchandize relatively well, as content, well-fed, well-rested, slaves looked better on the block and brought in more money. Up-scale slave merchants pampered their products and gave them more training in skills to further increase their value. Makoto, however, had been labeled a problem case, and problem cases went to Moroboshi Ataru.
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(Posted Mon, 11 Oct 2004 23:52)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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