Not too many! thank you @starnight-whump !
CW: implied forced labor, slavery, fear, restraints, kicking
Whumpee let themself be dragged forward from the rope around their wrists. They didn’t want to be here, they /really didn’t want to be here. It had been a mistake! It was all a mistake! Now they were taken to the Pit to work.
The other slaves looked on with either disgust or mild disinterest. They had their own tasks, controlled by their own taskmasters. The Pit was filthy, dirt, dust, and grime covering every surface and person. Whumpee cringed down, trying not to trip and fall in the mud that sunk their feet up to their ankles. The Overseer pulled them along, uncaring and hateful. Their foot got stuck, and when they paused to drag it out, the Overseer yanked their lead and they fell.
Whumpee curled into the mud, not wanting to look up. A harsh kick in the side made them cry out.
“Close enough,” the Overseer said as they ripped the rope away from Whumpee’s wrists. Whumpee bit their lip, trying to keep from crying out /again/ at the burn against the thin skin of their wrists. The Overseer kicked them down again before leaving them.
Alone.
Alone, weak, and surrounded by men that looked resentful and angry. Whumpee whimpered, sitting on their knees with forehead almost still touching the ground. The other slaves, the older, rougher, angerier ones /always/ used the fresh ones as stress relief. As something they could finally have power over, something they could dominate. Whumpee could barely handle it was when it was other house slaves, but here? With hardened, strong workers? How would they survive.
There was a hand on their shoulder and they keened.
“Stop. Kid, get up.”
They looked up, seeing another slave. They were younger than a majority of the men, but still years older than Whumpee. Their light hair was pulled back and tied in a scrap of fabric, another scrap tied around their face as a mask. The figure pulled it down, and Whumpee saw that it was to keep the dust from going into their mouth and nose.
“P-p-p-please, i, I-” voice was breaking, eyes searching this stranger’s face for any bastion of hope or compassion.
They sighed. “Welcome to the Pit.”