Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters are not mine.

Warning: Strong M, contains homoerotic contact (M/M, F/F)

A/N: This was written for the LiveJournal, S/U Community 2010 Halloween contest.

Thanks to Spocklovescats who beta'd parts of this story. All mistakes are mine.

Sacred Hunger

Chapter 1/7 – Auction Blocks and Mysterious Buyers

Slavery did not exist, at least not within the Federation. Outside, however, was a different matter altogether. Lieutenant Nyota Uhura had only to remember the stories of her Academy roommate's family if she wanted a recent history lesson on the topic. Unfortunately, she was in the midst of experiencing what it meant to be captured, owned, and sold. Her hands were manacled; the cuffs set to give an electrical discharge if she were to tamper with them. This she had learnt the hard way. Her other lessons came with fists and feet, which left her bruised and aching.

"Lovely colouring." A Naussicaan with sharp yellow teeth commented while dragging a finger along her bare arm. "Such a shame my captain won't let me keep you. I would have enjoyed fucking you."

Even weakened, Uhura flinched away from his touch, disgust threatened to overtake her drugged mind. Although, that rebellious part of her whispered, it might be nice to spew the meagre contents of my stomach onto his ugly face. Shot full of drugs, her blurred vision picked up details of a stage and frantic bidding on two blue-skinned women. The situation was deteriorating rapidly.

"You think you're too good for me?" her tormentor demanded, yanking on her hair.

Her throat felt too dry to speak, but she let loose the hysterical laughter bubbling underneath. He made as if to hit her, only to reconsider. Uhura supposed she would fetch a higher price with less damage.

"Strip her and her Vulcan friend," the Naussicaan bellowed to one of the underlings from the cargo ship. "The captain thinks we're going to make a good profit from them."

Spock? He was alive! In the hazy days since her capture, she had not seen or heard of him. She had feared the worst during her most lucid moments. If he really was here in this hellhole, then getting out of this ordeal was going to be easier. Assuming, they ended up together.

Rough hands grabbed her from behind and tore at the remnants of her Starfleet cold weather bodysuit and bra. Shame welled up in her. She was left standing almost naked, her body shivering from the damp chilly air. She brought her arms upward to cover her breasts, but the bastards would have none of that. They pushed her hands downward and then proceeded to march her towards the auctioning area.

Before a small rowdy crowd she could scarcely distinguish, the bidding began. Hate joined her shame as one person after another offered up their credits and latinum. To increase the bidding rates her handlers kicked her feet apart and then explained the possible sexual pleasures she could provide.

There was a marked boost in bids along with a few vulgar comments. Then stunned silence overtook the place as a hooded figure in the back row calmly shouted, "Twenty bars of latinum."

From the grumblings her sensitive ears picked up that was a small fortune for a slave. It in no way made her feel special.

"Twenty bars of latinum, going once, going twice, sold."

Her handlers took hold of her arms to pull her backstage and the final reality sank into her fuzzy mind. Uhura decided right that instant she would deliver a final bit of pain. Steeling herself, she her elbow slammed into the man behind her. She leaned forward and bit into the neck of the Naussicaan who had tormented her. The taste of blood and sweat bathed her mouth and made her gag. Amidst the shouts and grunting, agonising pain hit her back and flooded her entire body. Darkness began to eat at her vision and her stomach roiled. Just before she slipped into unconsciousness, she caught a glimpse of Spock, bowed, on his knees and blindfolded.

SUSUSUSUSU

Spock's mind rose to consciousness, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing unchanged. His sense of touch told him he lay on a padded bed with cotton like sheets. He allowed himself a moment to indulge in the small comfort, an improvement over the cold metal floor of the ship that held him captive for seven days, fourteen hours and eleven minutes. Warm air circulated throughout the room, brushing against his almost nude body. Vague memories of having his clothing forcibly removed just before his captors auctioned him off surfaced among his thoughts.

Spock, Nyota, Ensign Harris and Dr. McCoy were on their way back to the Enterprise. Having completed a three-week assignment on Tanos II, they were somewhat anxious to return to the ship. Halfway toward their rendezvous location, they picked up a distress signal from a barren icy planet. Immediately, Nyota had responded, offering reassurance that help was coming. Braving a fierce storm, they had taken the shuttle down to the surface. Leaving Harris behind, the three senior officers had ventured out into the frigid winds with their emergency supplies.

It had been a trap. Everything. The distress call, the scattered debris, and weakened life signs had all been staged in an elaborate plan to lure in victims. When the Starfleet officers discovered the deception, they found themselves under hostile fire. Harris had died instantly from a knife attack. Immediately after, Spock was stunned. He woke hours later, a prisoner aboard an illicit slave ship. The captain, an Orion female, had personally taunted him with the knowledge that McCoy, mortally wounded, could not survive to get off the planet. Nyota, she had refused to discuss; however, Spock could sense that his lover was alive. He reasoned that their numerous shared melds would allow him to perceive her demise. As his recollection poured forth, he realised he had been correct in his beliefs, because even though he was nearly unconscious from his drugging, he heard the commotion she had created at the auction.

Minutes more of continued silence and bitter memories convinced Spock that it was time he open his eyes. He blinked a few times and the room came into clear focus. It was dimly lit, tiny, and sparse. Not even a synthesizer or computer in sight. He sat up and felt a wash of dizziness that caused him to grasp at the sheets. The freedom of movement made him pause to look down at his hands and fingers. Interesting how much we take for granted throughout our daily lives. Before his capture he had never consider the freedom to use his hands. Nonetheless, even now, there was a snug metallic bracelet at his right wrist.

Rising to his feet, Spock noticed an open door that led to the facilities. He desperately wanted to cleanse his body, but the exit door was of utmost importance. With silent steps, he went to it and tried the lock. He sighed and rested his forehead against it. He was still a captive.

On entering the bathroom, he found a water shower and clean linen clothing. Deciding not to waste anymore time, he removed his underwear, turned on the shower and set the controls to hot. He welcomed the luxury of cleaning away more than a week's worth of grime. Yet, as he lathered the citrus-scented soap across his wet skin, he was wary of his surroundings. Who had bought him? What was their purpose? Where was Nyota? He wondered when he would once more see his shipmates. Because as soon as he was able, he would find his way back to the Enterprise and if he had to spend the rest of life searching for Nyota then so be it. For a second time he was struck by the things taken for granted. Nyota had become a constant necessary presence in his life. He was uncertain as to how he would endure without her.

Clean and dressed, Spock returned to the room, to find the sheets of his bed changed and that he was not alone. Leaning against the exit door was a tall muscular male, with pleasant angular features and garbed in cream robes. He looked human, except for the large solid silver eyes and the reddish tint to his skin. Spock found it disconcerting that he had not heard the arrival of this man.

"Who are you?"

His companion regarded him for a few more seconds then answered. "I am Ranu, Chief Priest of Arellus, and according to the file presented by your sellers, you are Spock formerly of Vulcan."

Spock was knowledgeable of each Federation member and so it was with certainty that he knew Arellus was not a member. "It seems sir, that you have me at a disadvantage."

Ranu laughed and stepped further into the room. "The instant I saw you on that stage, full of suppressed rage, I knew you would be the right one."

Spock remained motionless as Ranu circled him, his mind calculating the most efficient series of attack. "Right for what?" he demanded.

"Don't try it."

Puzzled, Spock looked at the man who now stood in front of him. "To what do you refer?"

"I am a much stronger telepath than you are. Attack me and that bracelet on your wrist will deliver pain directly into your nervous system."

Agony worse than he had experienced on the slave ship wracked Spock's body for a few seconds, robbing him of all other sensations.

"Tamper with it and the response will be the same. Do we understand each other?"

Spock nodded; speaking was difficult as he fought to stay upright on his feet.

Ranu stepped back and continued speaking, "Now as to your question, my gods insisted on something new, and you are that something."

Spock frowned and stared at the other man. Of all the bizarre things he had encountered throughout the eighteen months of Enterprise's mission, this was entirely new. "I am to be a plaything for your deities?"

"Think of it as the honour it is and you'll survive."

Bewildered, Spock watched the priest exit his glorified prison cell. He decided that his first priority was to meditate. His mind was in disarray, his emotions on the surface. To survive and escape he would need his discipline, especially while dealing with Ranu and the others of his species.

As usual, your comments are always welcomed.