Slave

Rick arrived at an unknown place. Unfamiliar ceiling, something around her neck. He moved and there was a clink of chains as he realized his wrists and feet were manacled. His body was under a soft, thin sheet in a room. 

Sitting up was awkward in the manacles, his leg irons connected to his wrist irons by a length of chain. His eyes were crusty and blurred. He probed the thing around his neck with fingers. A thick metal band, padded just enough to not strangle her neck, but not enough to be comfortable. It felt enervating to the touch as if it was restricting him, somehow.

“Slave suppression collar,” a male voice said. It was heavy, casual, and friendly, which seemed sinister in the circumstances. He rubbed his eyes and looked around.

Where am I? what

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