Finding someone to protect her was turning out to be more difficult than she had thought. Desiree had determined that many of the slaves had struck up friendships with one another (some even genuine; what foolishness). If she came to one for protection, doubtless, they would be wanting to share her with his friends. It was no surprise to her; also, that many of them would not be gentle with her. They didn't know how to be.... fighting was all most of them knew. Another issue was that boredom was a problem in the holding cells. On the occasions, slaves were allowed out and about, under supervision, they probably lived it up as best as they could.
But what whoring they managed to get in was obviously not enough. They wanted more. There were only three women in the holding cells now (there had been five; two of them had died in the Arena, and one of the two hadn't stood a chance due to injuries she had sustained from being ganged up on in the holding cell). The tough Orc woman that no one even so much as glanced at, a tough Dunmer woman, and herself. Despite the fact that the Dunmer woman was a warrior and never allowed a moment of weakness to show through, she was having difficulties. The male slaves in the holding cell were getting bolder, and she was only one woman. Desiree wasn't sure how much longer the Dunmer woman would last.
For herself, men were glancing at her nervously but longingly. She suspected the only reason they were not making any attempts at her were due to their fear of Adnirr'ach who had, in a word, "staked his claim on her." While Adnirr'ach had not been clever enough to inform no one of his escape plan, he had been clever enough not to inform everyone of his plan. No one had realized he was missing yet. But she knew that was not going to last long, and the moment the slaves realized he was gone, she was as good as dead. It was, of course, very unlikely that the slaves themselves would kill her in the holding cell when they ganged up on her. But there was no doubt that she would be damaged. She didn't have access to a healer until after the fights in the Arena. If she went into the Arena with injuries, her chances of survival would drop significantly.
This was not a hopeless situation, just difficult. She knew she had one chance: the Orc woman. Oh, how it infuriated her to have to turn to someone who looked down on her as insignificant, as absolutely pathetic, as of less worth than a diseased beggar. But putting personal revenge as her highest priority had never been in her nature. People who got too obsessed with personal revenge tended to be blinded by it and more prone to making mistakes, especially in planning. It was still a priority, of course, but a low one. Vengeance could wait. She was patient. Her survival was the most important thing right now.
She had been studying the Orc woman very intently, and it had not been difficult to come to the conclusion that seeking the Orc's protection would be the most ideal option. She had determined that the Orc woman had formerly been a mercenary. She had not struck up friendship with anyone, she was hardened and mistrustful, she was strong, and she could be bribed. It couldn't be more obvious that she had been hired muscle, loyal only to herself and gold. Desiree had managed to glean a lot about how the Orc woman thought.
The Orc had taken no pleasure in her work (a hired sword that did would not possess the constant, hard glare that she did), but she did not have any hang-ups about killing people, be they innocent or not (again, loyal to herself and coin. She had done nothing to help any of the other women in the cell, for instance, which demonstrated that she was not inclined to "honorable behaviors" and did not suffer from guilt). Her views were practical and narrow. It was just another job, and she was good at it, so why do anything else? She was not sadistic... Desiree suspected that the Orc never went for making someone's death painful and slow but quick and painless. Watching someone suffer was not something the Orc particularly relished, and Desiree had come to this conclusion based on the fact that the Orc woman had taken pity on her and helped relieve her, even if only a little bit (it probably also helped that her supernatural desirability had probably drawn the Orc woman in a bit; otherwise, Desiree imagined the Orc wouldn't have bothered at all).
Having gathered so much detail, Desiree had formed a plan, and now, she was going to set it in action. She approached the Orc woman who was leaning against a wall and glaring at nothing, in particular.
"What do you want, human? Come to throw yourself at me, again? What happened last time is not going to be a habit. I will not be your whore." The full effect of the Orc's glare bared down on her. Desiree could see the level of disgust and disdain the Orc had for her. But she could also see that the Orc was slightly intrigued by her, given that the Orc had not simply just up and walked away.
"Rest assured, that is not my intention. I seek your protection... and ONLY your protection."
The Orc bared her teeth a little. "Why would I protect you?"
"Gold," Desiree said, plainly, keeping her eyes on the Orc without a hint of fear or hesitation.
The Orc paused a moment and stopped baring her teeth. The glare remained present. "How much?"
"All of my winnings... ongoing. Everything I win from fights will be yours." Desiree didn't like it, but drastic times called for drastic measures.
The Orc's facial expression remain unchanged. "What's stopping me from taking the gold you earn after every fight and leaving you to the wolves?" She gestured to a group of male slaves who were sitting around and chatting for lack of better things to do.
"Several things, I'm afraid," Desiree said, in a voice smooth as silk, "You're a smart woman. You know I cannot fight these men off, and you know what kind of men are in here. They will surely injure me, weaken me... and as such, I would not last very long in the Arena at all. I would die, and there would be no extra gold for you. Furthermore, I won't be paying you in full after every fight. Half now, and half later before my next fight. I would not recommend trying to shake me down for it. You will not find all of the gold on me. I have hidden half of it, and I will only reveal the next half to you upon receiving your full protection."
"You are bold, human. Bold but stupid. I care nothing for you, and my protection will last only as long as the gold lasts. Should these men make a better offer, I will stand aside and let them have you. I pity how desperate you've become and how weak you are."
Desiree's expression remained neutral, but she was seething on the inside.
Patience, she thought, the Orc will die. Just not now. She is needed.
"Not as stupid as you think. These men live every day like it's their last because it very well could be. Every septim they win burns holes in their pockets as they spend it on drink and whores. I know that you won't be getting a better offer. The thought of saving their money and pooling their resources together to pay you to stand down won't even occur to them." Desiree noticed that the Orc's glare was still ever-present, and she was beginning to wonder if the Orc even knew how to express anything else. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a small bag which carried half of her winnings. "Your job begins now."
She headed back to her tiny room, and the Orc followed. When Desiree entered the room, the Orc remained outside leaning against the wall next to the door and focused her glare on anyone who ventured near it, even if they were just passing by. Desiree shut the door and went to her bed to think. She was trying to determine how much longer she would last if her life continued on the course it was, unchanged. She noted, without fear or sadness but in a logical, detached manner, that it wasn't a matter of how long she would last. She simply would not last. She gave herself another day; two days if she was lucky.
It wasn't that her plan with the Orc wasn't absolutely excellent. It was that she was unable to deal with the one variable that would ruin everything: her uncontrollably high libido. There was no one that she could use to satiate her lust safely. Once her desires completely clouded her judgement, she would throw herself onto the nearest male, begging and pleading to be taken, and if there were more present, which there would be, she would beg them, too. There was something immensely appealing about being pleasured by so many men, after all. And they would take her. They would give her a lot of satisfaction, but they would break her. And she would enter the Arena and very likely die.
She could delay that outcome through pleasuring herself as thoroughly as possible, but it would not prevent it entirely. Being overtaken by her desires was inevitable, thanks to the accursed Clavicus Vile.
It is best not to dwell on a grim future. Perhaps some insight, something I've missed will come later. Perhaps something will change, too. One can never tell, she thought.
She gave a little sigh and stripped off her clothes. And then, she played with herself.
I will only change the way Dreven handles his composure. You'll see.))