Asgardian Twilight

Liberation?

Dean woke slowly, his head foggy from the intense shock he'd suffered in Grandmaster's arena lounge. As he gradually came into consciousness, he was suddenly aware that he was lying face down on a soft bed. He rose with a start, a terrifying fear gripping him.

"Don't worry, slave," Feragon said as he watched from a chair across the room. "I didn't ravish you in your sleep. I prefer my lovers to be conscious."

Dean sat up and backed to the headboard, his eyes scanning the suite for an exit. A large window was on the far wall, granting a view of Sakaar from a height too high to leap from without first dispensing with the obedience disc. And even then his more active powers seemed to have shorted out from the continued shocks he'd been receiving. A pair of closed doors stood across from the bed. He then looked at Feragon. "How polite of you."

"Oh, I am far from polite, slave," Feragon gloated as he leaned forward and stared at Dean's barely-clothed body. "I just like for my concubines to scream when I use them."

Dean met Feragon's gaze with a harsh glare. "I was trained to withstand torture. Which is what sex with you would be. I won't scream."

Feragon stood and began to pace before him, his orange robes trailing behind him. "Don't think that simply because I prefer you conscious that I won't subdue you with the obedience disc if you fight me. I prefer my concubines conscious, but I would have you either way."

Dean felt as if he were going to be sick as Feragon tore his robe away, revealing a bulbous, slimy body. The skin was translucent, granting him a view of every vessel and organ beneath it. It was like staring at a human-adjacent jellyfish.He smiled at Dean's expression, then nodded to the corner of the room. "Trakar will defend me should you try and overpower me," he explained.

Trakar, a large, mute thing covered head to toe in a cloak, raised a hand and Dean could see the remote perched in it. His ticket out of this was securing that thing, or destroying it if he could. He sighed as he took in his situation. This was not going to be easy.

"Now, I believe you said you could dance," Feragon said as he got onto the bed and slithered up beside Dean. He laid a hand on his bare thigh and Dean flinched. "Don't be so jumpy, slave," Feragon laughed. "I touched you plenty while you slept. A beautiful body such as yours needs to be felt." He paused and his long, forked tongue extended from his mouth and licked his lips. "I must say, you look even more desirable when you have nothing on. Such soft, pert flesh."

Dean wanted to vomit but he suppressed it. Just thinking about any man aside from Thor touching him was enough to unnerve him. The fact that a creature like Feragon did it while he was helpless only compounded this.

"Well? Will you dance?" Feragon asked.

Dean slowly nodded his head and moved to stand. "Please, I'm so weak. I haven't eaten or drank since I arrived. I can't remember the last time I did." He made sure to place just the right amount of submissive pleading in his voice.

Feragon smiled at the helplessness in Dean's voice. "Ah, why didn't you say so before? I can't have my concubine going hungry." He turned to Trakar. "Bring refreshments!"

Trakar turned and opened up what appeared to be some sort of refrigerator. From it he brought a large, circular platter of unknown fruits. He brought it over to the bed and laid it between Feragon and Dean.

Dean timidly reached for the plate and Feragon closed a hand around his wrist, the sticky, wet texture of his skin making Dean's stomach flip from the contact. "Ah, ah! You must let me feed you, slave." He reached for a long piece of green fruit and lifted it to Dean's lips. "Let's test that gag reflex, shall we?" he asked as he shoved the fruit forward, parting Dean's lips with it.