Princess Amalas of the house of the Silver Tree should be, like most ladies of her station, at home learning the ways of court and galactic politics. Instead she found herself in a dank, dark and generally unsavory prison cell. The walls, ceiling and floor were cold to the touch, condensation heavy along the smooth surfaces, at least where there wasn't grime. It was cold, but not deadly cold, just uncomfortable, almost worse than freezing to death would end this game.
Amalas was not on the cot, the cells only bit of furniture. She was not curled up, huddled for warmth and whimpering like a mewling kitten. No, she was doing push ups against the cold wet floor. The Elven woman's eyes regarded the door as she worked out, her sharp, slightly narrow face beading with sweat, despite the frigid air. Her blue, almost gray eyes had an odd, indescribable quality to them, just enough to mark her as inhuman... if the pointed ears poking through her long silver braids wasn't enough of a give away. Course in this galaxy, not being human was hardly unusual, even if the empire favored them.
After another dozen or so repetitions, Amalas stopped, rising to a sitting position. Her outfit a close fitting set of yoga pants and a tight sports top clung tight, the only clothes she had right now. It was hardly fair to be attacked in her own workout room, but she was winded and didn't have the strength to fight off five of them, though she was sure to give three of them broken noses at the very least. She smiled at that thought though winced slightly as she felt the bruise against her toned stomach ache, the only marring on her perfectly smooth abs.
The princess looked to the door again and cleared her throat loudly and obnoxiously with a couple of coughs. "Excuse me!" Her call was accented and rich, giving tell to her privileged upbringing. "Room service, if you'd be so kind. I'm quite peckish right now!" She seemed so polite, of course she would kick any guard that came in, but that's their fault for holding her hostage.<|im_end|>
She was a prize in more ways than one, and Kren, a ruthless Feeorin, knew it when he had her captured. He would demand a large ransom for her, after he had his fun with the little elf, and then perhaps keep her even after the ransom was paid, if it ever was.
The Feeorin criminal lord was a little-known criminal but had a large enough base on this planet to hold some power and have a following of men. He planned on making her his prized whore, and would get many warm nights with her.
He had already seen her once, after she had been bound, and had given her a good squeeze on her soft mounds. A luscious bounty indeed, he would let his men rough her up a little before he had his fun.
Her current guard was a Houk, a large beefy race of aliens, known for their brutality and lack of humor. He clomped his way over in heavy boots, clothed in dirty pants and a loose-fitting sleeveless shirt, he glared down at the elf girl who found herself amusing. "Oh, you think you're amusing do you? Well If you're so hungry then I got something you can choke on!" He said with a growl, glaring down at her, and opened the cell she was in, careful to not let her run past. "Boss said we could warm you up for him. I think I'll do just that. Been a while since I got my pole wet, a feisty little elf seems perfect." He said, closing the cell locked behind him as he moved in on her, reaching out for her petite throat and ready to slam her hard in the gut if she fought back too much.<|im_end|>