#paststuck

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This was the sort of place you would have done anything to avoid. The most back breaking labor, the most soul crushing humiliation. Starvation, beatings... Nothing would have been an unfair trade no to be left here.

But in your condition, there was no choice.

You feared that even an establishment such as this might turn you away now....

You were filthy. But they'd probably cleaned up worse.

Finding the brothel in the first place was a haze of agony, considerably more severe that what you endured now.

You barely qualify as conscious. A pittiful little ragdoll of a troll laid out on an examining table with a gaping wound that ran the length of your spine.

In places, the chord was exposed to the open air, but those patches had been growing steadily smaller for the last few hours as muscle fiber wove together over the expanse of missing bone.

That you are alive must be a cruel joke of hateful Fate.

You hiss sharply as the troll tending you touches the raw gash. More muscle moves like thin tendrils of sentient gore to weave itself together like something from a hideous LSD nightmare.

There is little the healer can actually do but keep the wound flushed out and clean until enough muscle had reattached itself to make the skin easier to suture.

No one wastes pain killers on a mutant.

Though you can't help but hiss and snarl in agony, you don't move. Don't tense. Don't flinch. Just clench your jaws and endure until its over.

They could have culled you...

Any one else would have.

Their Master still might...

This was just the safest bet.

Pailslaves need to not only look their best, but be in the peak of health to turn the best profit for their Master.