The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[GamesMaster]

"B-because I b-belong to Odette. M-mistress Odette. She-- she means for me to s-s-suffer, to t-teach m-me," manages the girl. 

"Interfering with the discipline of one's servants is an offense, and what the servant does, the master must answer for," recites Obi. 

[Zevran]

"Funny, I was under the impression that the Enclave had agreed to dispense with slavery," Zevran replies, voice as frigid as a certain magus's blade. "And don't bother trying to fob some bullshit off about her not being a slave. I was a slave, I know what they are, whatever name you try to paste over it."

[GamesMaster]

"it... it's just until I work off my d-debt..."

[Zevran]

"Of course, of course,"  Zevran replies blandly. "And of course, I'm sure you're paying things back faster than you accrue more debt? No surprise complications?"

[GamesMaster]

"I-- I don't know. The Mistress handles all that."

[Zevran]

Zevran stares at her for a long moment. "...she handles..." A deep sigh. "So the person that benefits most from you not paying your debts off is not only the one dictating how much and if it's paid off, she's the only one that even knows what the progress is?"

[GamesMaster]

"I don't... I don't do sums very well, or read," she admits. 

[Zevran]

"Of course," Zevran repeats with a soft sigh. "Brace yourself," he adds, pausing a moment before he peels her, well, her rags away from her partially dried whip wounds as gently as he can manage. 

[GamesMaster]

She winces, biting her lower lip to keep from making a sound. Her back is a raw, bloody mess, as he'd expected; she flinches when he begins applying the salve, but still avoids making a noise. 

[Zevran]

"Here," he murmurs, pausing his ministrations and dangling a strip of cloth near her face. "Bite down on this; much kinder on your teeth."

[GamesMaster]

She stuffs it in her mouth, biting it fiercely as he resumes. Around them, the marketplace bustles, people either not seeing them because of the stall of deliberately ignoring them. 

[Zevran]

"Just about done," Zevran murmurs after a few minutes. "And... there. How does that feel? Anywhere too tight? Still burning? It will still hurt, alas, but the burning sort of pain should be subsiding by now."

[GamesMaster]

"Thank you," she whispers, pulling her hair away from her back so it stops brushing against the bandages. She begins to braid it, sitting up, swallowing against the pain. "Thank you," she says again. "I don't-- I'm sorry. For whatever happens to you."

[Zevran]

A kind smile forms, one warmed and lifted by a deep well of love. "I am... not overly worried. My lady is not one to allow others to bring harm to her family," he replies, untying the last leather strap from his own hair to offer her. It's still secure, given the half dozen pins and two other ties still in his hair, so it's clearly not something he'll miss overly much.

[GamesMaster]

She takes it gratefully, tying off her hair at the bottom. "Thank you," she whispers again.