Chapter 3: The past
The elf’s slave outfit was little more than a scrap of black leather barely containing her full breasts, the fabric stretched obscenely tight across her golden skin as she knelt on the cold durasteel floor, scrubbing at the rusted metal with a greasy rag. The scent of burnt wiring and old grease clung to the air, thick enough to taste, mixing with the faint musk of her own sweat as she worked. Her bound wrists ached from the restraints, the marks still raw and angry from last night’s encounter with Scritch, but she forced herself to focus on the task—anything to avoid thinking about what might come next.
The shop was a labyrinth of stolen tech and forgotten horrors, the flickering holoscreens casting eerie blue light over stacks of broken droids, their lifeless eyes watching her pass.
She saw Scritch scurrying around a corner, his hunched form moving with the pathetic, jerky motions of a broken droid, his greasy robes dragging behind him like a tattered flag. The sight of him made her stomach clench—not just from disgust, but from the memory of his clawed fingers digging into her hips, the way his jagged teeth had bared in that grotesque grin as he forced himself inside her.
She turned away quickly, her golden skin flushing dark with humiliation, her bound wrists still aching from the restraints. The camera’s red light pulsed steadily from the corner, its lens trained on her as she moved, capturing every flicker of emotion that crossed her face.
The elf’s golden skin glistened with sweat under the flickering neon lights, her full breasts swaying with each motion as she scrubbed at the rusted metal floor. The greasy rag in her bound hands left dark streaks behind, the scent of burnt wiring and old grease thick in the air. Her body jiggled slightly with each movement, the weight of her heavy tits making the thin leather of her slave outfit strain obscenely against her golden skin.
The sound of Scritch’s jagged teeth grinding together made her flinch before she even saw him. His hunched form appeared in the doorway, his bulbous head lolling to one side as he watched her work, his yellowed eyes bulging with perverse delight. The elf’s bound wrists trembled against the restraints, her fingers curling tighter around the rag as she forced herself to keep scrubbing, her golden skin flushing darker under his gaze.
**"You’re a mess,"** Scritch croaked, his voice like rusted gears grinding together, his yellowed grin stretching wider as he leaned against the rusted metal doorframe. **"All sweaty and jiggly like a fresh-cut nerf steak. Makes me hungry."**
The elf’s lip curled in disgust, her golden eyes flicking over his hunched, tumorous form with naked revulsion. The stench of burnt wiring and sour meat rolled off him in waves, his greasy robes clinging to his stunted body like a second skin. **"You’re disgusting,"** she spat, her voice low and venomous. **"Like something that crawled out of a reactor core and forgot to die."**
Scritch’s jagged teeth clicked together in amusement, his clawed fingers tapping against the durasteel frame.