Subjugation - To bring under dominion; subdue

-December 1999-

What day is it?

"You have to eat sometime, Satada."

There is nothing worse than man's own inhumanity against man. No device of torture that the Goa'uld could invent that man himself hadn't already accomplished through lesser means. The heat, the cold, the environment itself, they were all used. Men beaten until there was nothing left of their skin. Men bled, whipped, crushed, bodies mutilated beyond belief. I wouldn't be surprised if the Goa'uld had shown those poor saps in Egypt just how to start things off. There's just one thing…torture doesn't always work.

But, as they say, the way to man's heart is his stomach. Or in the case of a Goa'uld bitch trying to bring her slave to heel, through his mind. The mind is what breaks. If you can break the mind, you'll have a devoted servant for life. Cram any piece of flesh into the mould you want. This is the part I really hate because there isn't any defense they can teach you. You just have to wing it.

This is the fourth time in as many days that I've been forced to eat.  Who wants to live like this? Where is SG-1? Where is Daniel?

There is no one and nothing that can save me now. I don't even know where I am. I want to die. Please anyone, I want to go home.

I just forgot to eat.  I don't do it on purpose.  Kneeling between Niirti and Apophis' feet like a dog begging for scraps.  If I want food, I have to say it.  It's a ritual. 

It's like being back in basic where I have to beg to piss, only worse.  This is hell, a prisoner in a prison of my own choosing.

"Say the words."

Give me food, Bitch. 

Somehow I don't think that will go over well with Niirti.  How much is my pride worth?  How much of myself am I willing to give up?  I've given up my name, I crawl like a dog, call these scum Master.  How much further am I willing to go to just stay alive?

"You will obey me mufta'ah, or…" She grabbed ahold of what was left of my manhood.  "To prove your obedience, you will lose this as well."

No!  Quickly, I spit the hateful words out.  "Please, Mistress.  I, your most worthless slave, beg to be fed."

Ever stood in front of a crowd and felt totally naked?  As if every flaw, every thought was on display?  That's me.  That's my reality.  Naked except for a chain wrapped around my neck.  Which at the moment is Niirti's favourite method of punishment.

There's this stuff on my neck, it's like lube.  Hell, lets call a spade a spade - super lube under the chain and I can't get a grip.  Suffocating.  The chain slides easily and I choke, gasping for air, clawing at the collar, mouth open, food being shoved in and I'm forced to swallow it dry.

And I'd better chew it damn carefully, because I don't have permission to die.  My Mistress won't let me. 

~~~

"Christ, Daniel!  You're getting crumbs everywhere!"

"You planning to throw me out of bed, Jack?" Devious look.

"No.  Just," I waved my hand.  "Quit getting food all in the sheets."

"You're just jealous because I took the last piece."

"You could have at least left me a tiny slice."

"Jack?"

"What?"

"Shut up." About damn time.

Heaven. There's nothing else like it in the universe.  It's a rich blend of coffee, chocolate, and Daniel all mixed together.  I could live off of this taste alone.

~~~

"Satada Minuh."  I crash to the floor, yanked out my memories with a vicious jerk and a bloody nose. "Now that I have your attention."

I hate that name.  I hate that look.  I really, really hate that look.  I just know, whatever is going to happen next, I'm not going to like it.

"Follow E'tzikel.  He will take you to the bathing chambers.  You will wash and remove all hair from your body."

What the fuck?  My confusion must have shown on my face.

"You are to be clean-shaven from head to toe."  Niirti caressed my cheek.  "Do not disappoint me. The penalty for disobedience is high."

E'tzikel grabbed my chain and pulled me from the room like a dog.  Which, when you think about it, I was little more than an animal to these people.  I wonder when I'm going to get the old snake to the brain? 

Hathor certainly didn't waste any time.  She started waving one of those serpents in my face before our first kiss.  Technically.  That turning me into a Jaffa thing doesn't count. 

I was thrown on the floor yet again when we reached the bath and watched by the leering guard as I was washed and shaved by other slaves.  In some ways, this is worse than prison.  At least in prison, you have some rights. 

Privacy is a foreign concept around here.

It's invasive, personal, everything in your face.  Like the slave about to shave around my cock.  Oh…Christ.  Don't. Fucking. Breathe. Jack.

"I'd hold really still if I were you, Odalisque.  You don’t want to lose…" The creep was going to touch me.

"Touch me and I'll take your fucking head off." I grabbed his wrist and in the process, knocked one of the bottles of perfume into the bathwater.  Hell, I'm going to smell like a three dollar whore.

E'tzikel threw something at the tub with a smirk, which I barely caught before the bundle ended up in the now rank bathwater.

You think this is funny, asshole?  I'm going to find a way to make sure you know what it feels like to be castrated.  I'm going to personally cut your cock off myself.

Clothes!  I've earned the right to wear clothes.  I struggled to remember what I did to earn the privilege.  It certainly wasn't anything I said. Gauntlets, shoes, shin guards, and a leather kirtle. 

I'm going to look like some weird-assed gladiator but what the hell.  I sigh as I pick up the last item and slip it on.  A silver collar with some script I can't read, but I'm sure Daniel could have given me a dissertation on the language.  It's probably nothing more elegant than, 'Property of Apophis.  If found, your God demands that you place this escaped pond scum on the next inter-galactic transport.'

And what the fuck does Odalisque mean?  I'll be damned if I ask this jerk.

Clean and dressed, I feel almost human.  But still a…a slave.  What the hell have I gotten myself into?  There's nothing heroic about surrender.  Stories aren't written about the men who survive, only those who die.  Long epic tales about men and women who threw themselves on live mines or took hundreds of the enemy down with them.  I'm a soldier, damn it. 

A soldier.

With a collar on his neck being prodded down yet another hall by an over-grown ape the size of Wisconsin with a staff weapon and a hard on for my ass.

To the private apartments of Niirti and Apophis.

I balk at the door.  "No fucking way in hell."  If I step inside, I may as well kiss Jack O'Neill goodbye forever.  Even in my pitiful time as a slave, I've heard about what goes on in there.  And. I. Am. Not. Going. Inside.

"There is no choice in this matter, Satada.  You are Et'Sabit Odalisque."  Niirti nodded to E'tzikel and I was picked up and thrown yet again on the floor.  I'm going to be one big bruise tomorrow morning. 

"I see you have to be reminded of your place."

Of course, bruises are the least of my worries at the moment.  "No.  I'm good.  I'm getting in the bed, see?"  I scramble as quickly as I can into the fucking bed.

Eyes glowing, Niirti stalks across the room, aiming a ribbon device at my head. "Who is your god?" 

"Apophis," I gasp out as the pain begins.  I am damned. 

"What are you?"

"I am his…his…slave."

"Say it. Et'Sabit Odalisque.  Concubine. Bodyguard. To Apophis."

"I am…Et'Sabit Odalisque."

"Good boy."

"Yes, Mistress."  Bitterness replaces the pain.

"Serve me well, Satada Minuh and eventually I will let you die."

If I'm really lucky, it'll be a short life.

~~~