Lost

((Author’s Note: the term ‘bitch’ here isn’t referring to an insult against women but rather it’s a more accurate description in their society. Women are not recognized as full people and are servants to men. It is their job to be the vessel (child bearing) and to please who they belong to either through work or other means. The story, although intended for erotic purposes, doesn’t contain heavy bondage or anything where ‘bitch’ would pertain to a foul woman, whore-like behavior, or anything like that. Like all cultures, there are a select few who do not feel that way, but in this area it would be very, very unlikely.))


Mixie let out a soft moan as she felt something hard pressing onto the back of her head or, more accurately, her head pressing against it. She lifted her head and felt it fall forward until her chin rested on her chest. Wincing, she felt her lips so easily slip into a frown and her small chin wrinkle. Oh, her head hurt so badly. She tried to move an arm to touch her head, but found that she was restrained to something…no someone else. It was Dukat, they had tied them together, their backs facing each other. Mixie could feel the edges of the back of his uniform on her own back.

“Mixie?” Through the chaos of pain bursting behind her eyes and emanating from the side of her head, she heard Dukat’s whisper. So she was Mixie again, hmm. Mixie turned her head and made an attempt at saying ‘what’ but it came out a mumbled whimper. It seemed to be enough for Dukat though and she felt him gently rock her by pressing his back to her ever so slightly. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you too bad?” Mixie opened her eyes and stared across the room at the dingy room they were in. It was a cell really with hard stone floors covered in dirt and cracks, not big enough for her to even squeeze a finger through. She looked to her right slowly and saw their captures on the other side of thick steel that stretched from one wall to another. There was no way either of them could fit between the bars.

“They…hit me in the head.” She replied thickly, finding that she could sound more coherent, although it still felt like each word was a beat on her head like a drum. She let out a breath slowly and rested her head back, her skull resting more on his neck than his head. It hurt so bad, she just wanted a nap in a soft, warm bed. That, she thought tiredly, would probably be the worst thing to do though; she may never wake up.

“How long have you been awake?” Mixie asked quietly so not to draw attention to them. One of those brutes could have been standing guard just out of sight and the last thing she wanted was another hit to the head. “About ten minutes before you. We’re being held prisoners, obviously. From what I can tell they do this to all ‘outsiders.” He said and turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder at her. “They do not like outsiders very much Mixie, and they don’t like women much either. Be prepared to be treated very differently than you were on Terok Nor.” Mixie nodded slightly that she understood although she couldn’t be sure if he saw it. It was then that one of them approached the bars and, with a malicious grin on his pale, peach colored face, he ran a metal pipe across the bars. The sound echoed through the stone cell and made her squeeze her eyes shut and a soft, pained whimper come from her lips.

This had apparently been his objective, although she could not see Dukat’s reaction. The soldier laughed before glancing around and pulling a chair from the same unseen area he had walked out of.

“You’re an outsider, from the light zone yeah? You come exploring like the others, right? Well, look at where it got you.” He laughed again and sat in the chair backwards, looking at his two miserable captives.

“You look different. What are you? Why does your bitch have smooth skin?” Mixie bowed up where she sat, unable to help herself. It was Dukat’s hand, which had found its way to her own while he talked, touched her hand. It was unseen by the wretched man since he was on the other side, but it made her keep her mouth shut. Dukat, apparently, caught on quickly.

“I bought her from her family. All of them are the same way, I got her very cheap too.” Mixie felt her lips grow thin and dug a fingernail into the flesh of his hand. He hit her hand hard, the action a clear unsaid ‘stop’. How was it that she went from the daughter of a well respected late admiral the day before to someone’s property the next? She looked up as the footfalls of another one came. He held the phaser her and Dukat were using. Suddenly quite alert, she looked at the phaser before glancing in Dukat’s direction.

“I can’t figure out how the damn thing works. I guess it’s one of those new things from Com Corp.” The man paused and looked in at them.
“You think he works for Com Corp? We haven’t gotten anyone from that high up in years.”

“You know if you let me out of here I can show you how to work it. Not too many people know, it’s a rather new product you see. I’m one of the designers.” If they hadn’t been in such a dire situation, Mixie would have rolled her eyes. Leave it to a man like Dukat to glorify himself at every given opportunity.

The two men seemed to consider it before they used metal keys to open the door, which also was made up of bars. With one of them holding a rifle on the two of them, the other walked in and used a knife to cut the bonds holding them together. Mixie didn’t move until Dukat was escorted out and the bars were again securely shut. Once they were, though, she got to her feet and wiped herself off. On the other side of the bars Dukat took the phaser from the one man and examined it. She watched as he changed the settings on it and pointed it to the chair the man with the rifle had been sitting in. Mixie approached the bars and wrapped her hands around them as she watched the chair turn to ash under the fire of the phaser. The one man snatched the phaser back from Dukat and examined it in surprise. Dukat, acting oblivious to Mixie, smirked at them and breathed in.

“Gentlemen, I can show you how to operate everything in my transport as well if you’ll just allow me a better place to stay, and perhaps some food.” He said and glanced towards Mixie. She, meanwhile, looked at him with wide eyes. He wasn’t going to leave her there was he?! It was cold in there and who knew what lived around there to come take a bite or two of her.

Much to Mixie’s misfortune the two soldiers seemed to agree that this would be beneficial. Still with their rifles and now a very dangerous phaser on him, they escorted him from the area. Mixie pressed her head as close as she could to the steel bars to watch, but with them so thin she was greatly limited.

“You can’t just leave me here Dukat, don’t you dare leave me here!”

~
It was hard to tell at this point if these people just didn’t care or if they were expert torturers. Mixie had been sitting in the same curled up position against the wall for the past four hours and the same damn drip had been happening for the past three hours and forty-five minutes. Drip, drip, drip, it was constant, never ending, and it never varied in the rhythm of the drips. At first she tried to figure out exactly what it was dripping in, but it was hard to tell without experience at such things. It wasn’t a cup, she knew that much, there was no hollow sound. Perhaps it was a puddle. Later on after figuring that out became thoroughly uninteresting, she theorized that it was blood from some former ‘outsider’ that was dripping down from a detached limb. Charming really, she was being morbid.

She was just about to start looking for glass or some sharp object to cut herself, anything to get the attention off the drip, when she again heard someone. At that point she didn’t care much who it was exactly, she just wanted someone to be around. An insult at her blonde hair or that she was a woman would be welcomed and savored right now.

“Up, get up bitch.” Mixie reluctantly obeyed the new face and brushed herself off. She approached the bars, slightly unsteady from sitting so long, and glanced around. No Dukat, what had they done with him?

“Where are we-“
“You do not speak!” The man seemed offended that she even spoke to him and Mixie blinked slightly. She licked her lips and looked off before looking at the floor at his feet. The sad part was that even at home and even at Deep Space 9, she never felt like she got that much respect, no matter what anyone knew about her.

When the new man opened the bars she obediently walked out and found five women standing some short ways from the cell she had been in. She looked the women over for a moment before trying to flatten her hair a little bit. Apparently they treated their ‘property’ well enough. Each woman didn’t look any older than her and had their heads completely covered in a black scarf. Their clothing mirrored similar styles and covered everything but their hands and faces. The clothing, much to her surprise, had no shape what so ever. It looked more like someone had taken a large piece of material and cut holes in the center for their heads to go through and had them wear them around. One woman lifted her arm-- Mixie noted that it wasn’t a seamless cloth but that the sleeves just blended in remarkably well with the rest of the dress-- and directed her down one of the stone halls. Lights lined the stone ceiling as these other servants arranged themselves around her to guide her to wherever.

Finally, after walking for a good ten minutes and making countless turns, they arrived at a doorway, covered by a thick rug type hanging. Inside it was quite clearly a dressing room designed for women and, much to her delight, was her clothing. She realized, with a reluctant appreciation, that Dukat must have had them get her clothing for her. The women didn’t say anything as they began pulling her clothing from the cases and arranging what she assumed would be a suitable. She watched them look at her clothing curiously, as if things like bras and pants were not something they normally wore. Mixie sighed inwardly, dressing would be a long chore if they were going to be there to look at everything she had.

~
The hour it took to get dressed had gone by painfully slow, much to Mixie’s dislike. She was allowed to bathe, which she was extremely thankful for, but the fun part had come afterwards when it came time to dress. She found herself wrapped in but a towel, chilled to the bone, and snatching her various pieces from annoyingly curious women. The one time she had simply asked for them to give her a particular article they looked at her in a mixture of shock and something else, she couldn’t quite tell. Apparently they were not allowed to talk either.

After bathing and the task of getting dressed, Mixie found herself wearing one of her long dresses, her more conservative clothing, and standing in rather nice set of quarters. They locked from the outside so she doubted they had much freedom. But still, she thought with a smile, this was much more habitable. They had architecture, which by this room was evident, was beyond the charming dungeon setting she had seen so far. The floor, although not entirely hidden, was covered by several plush and warm carpets. The walls too were stone, although not naturally formed as the floor obviously was. The architects had used small colorful stones and some sort of cement to build walls and, to her delight when she arrived, a fireplace. There were windows as well but she had made the mistake of moving the thick curtains aside at one point. A rush of cold hit her from the poorly installed windows and that ended her desire to peer out.

She surveyed the rest of the room and looked at the furniture in the room. There was a table with an oil lamp burning to aide the light filtering around the curtains. Arraigned beside the table was a chair, simple and wooden and not comfortable, or so it looked. A bed, of course, but it was not like the federation beds she was used to. This one sat lower to the ground with a wooden frame. It made sense that there would be trees, Mixie thought as she sat down, all the resources were there. She sank down into the bed and laughed a bit, caught off guard by it. It was…comfortable, different and something to get used to certainly, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She pressed her palm into the squishy bed and thought more about it. In all likelihood, she could find herself on her back in it and she wouldn’t be alone. Dukat would insist on certain things and, it seemed that according to this culture, they were his for the taking. She looked at the bed for a few long moments. They were not part of this culture and she, up until this, used men. They did not use her and yesterday would not happen again. Sighing Mixie got to her feet and went to the fire. They had wood there for burning and matches to light it. Taking advantage of that, Mixie got a fire started before sitting in the chair and tapping her thighs idly.

It wasn’t but a few moments that Dukat made his entrance as he lazily walked into the room. The door, also wooden, was shut behind him and she heard the lock she had noted on the way in slide into place. Dukat looked to her and gave her that charming grin that she wasn’t totally immune to. “There is no need to thank me. I thought these accommodations would be much more comfortable, wouldn’t you agree?” Dukat turned and looked around when she didn’t answer immediately. He walked to the fireplace idly before backtracking to the bed.

“Not much to do in the way of entertainment, but well enough.” Dukat sat down on the bed, watching her. She could tell by the way he watched her and the nonchalant tone that had been in his voice what he was insinuating for later, but she was determined not to allow it.

“You got to see the shuttle, was the beacon on? What is happening exactly?” Mixie turned and looked up at Dukat, trying to watch his facial expressions to judge if he lied to her or not. This seemed to confirm for Dukat that he wasn’t going to receive the same obedience as the other men. “Yes the beacon was on, but I managed to get a little more power out of the shuttle before it died all together. It seems that this whole area is covered by an upper atmosphere ionic storm. There is no possible way for us to send out a distress signal from this point.” He told her with a sigh and got to his feet.

Mixie snorted at what he said and roughly got up before walking to the fireplace. Of course it worked out well for him, yes it did. Now he wouldn’t be executed, or at least he had a better chance not to. “Your lying. It works out well for you, this crash, us being stuck here. You don’t have to go to trial now. Of course nothing works anymore.” She replied and shot him a hateful look before looking back into the fire. Before she even had time to completely exhale Mixie felt herself being spun around, her back pressed against the cold stone and Dukat’s face even with her own. Immediately she regretted what she said although it wasn’t due to any sympathy. She had managed to anger a much larger man. Whatever thought process she had employed that allowed her to speak so freely, it obviously hadn’t incorporated the physical factor.

“I would suggest you get used to the idea of being here for a very long time Mixie. I made every effort to get us help, but I couldn’t. You should accept that.” Although Dukat’s tone didn’t loose it’s charming suaveness, there was a very distinct, chilling warning in his cool blue eyes.

“Besides,” Dukat stepped back ever so slightly and ran two of his fingertips along her jaw. “They are rather awe struck by me and will treat me better.” He ran his thumb along her lower lip before letting the same two he ran along her jaw lightly trace down her neck and the front of her chest. “If I am treated better, do you not think that that which belongs to me will not be as well?” He whispered in her ear before kissing her ear lobe and backing from her completely. “I am tired and am going to sleep for a while. Could you ensure that no one wakes me?” It was stated as a question but at the same time it was clearly an order.

Mixie watched Dukat remove the hard outer casing of his uniform and his boots before crawling into the bed and using the thick covers piled up at the foot of the bed, previously unnoticed by her, to cover up. She watched him get comfortable before letting out a soft sigh. This was it, she was an object, to be owned and used any way he wished. Well this, she thought in the back of her mind, this simply will not do. At that moment, Mixie slowly began forming a plan.