Jronia

Written by SaiyanWarrior-Vegeta

Vegeta: Well the story is well underway. Some people though may get a bit weak hearted though in later chapters. I'm certainly looking forward to seeing how you get me out of this.

Author: All in due time Vegeta, but to let others know, the ride only gets rougher. And what's this? Is this a new person about to enter? We both know it won't be Bulma, so lets keep in tune and we'll find out who this mystery person is.

Vegeta: Smirks his famous smirk and then looks ahead to the story Let the readers find out for themselves. We've got another chapter to plot out. He takes the Author aside and then moves to another room out of hearing and sight of the readers, there starting to work on the next Chapter.

Chapter 7

Bitter Realities

Cirrento walked in upon the Saiyan confidently, his hands gripped the leash had been clipped to Vegeta's collar once by Tojar. Silently the Prince backed away from him, unable to say anything with the muzzle clamped firmly in place upon him. Vegeta eyed the man who dared to near him in such a fashion as to degrade him further. His stare though was only met with a look of malicious intent upon his features.

Prince Vegeta looked to the leash upon his collar and growled as he was led out. His pride was being severely cut into as he set his feet and again tested this new Jronian. He leaned back against the back of the collar his head being held high, his eyes showing a deep anger locked within. There was only one thing showing when Cirrento looked back to him, and that was a fury in the coal eyes that burned deeper than any other he had ever come across. This fire didn't smolder, it raged and the owner was taken by a slight fear of this supposedly broken slave at the end of a leash.

Cirrento reached for the club and then held him up closer to the Saiyan he had purchased and gave one smack to the Prince's jaw that made Vegeta stagger back a couple of steps and turn away from the person at the other end. He shook his head and then unwillingly silent, he followed Cirrento out to the waiting cart and his brow furrowed once more in disgust. Cirrento soon had him fastened in to the cart and he finally gave a deep sigh. The Jronian master put a hand upon Vegeta's shoulder and then gripped the collar giving a light twist to it.

As Vegeta felt his air cut off by three-quarters, Cirrento looked to him and the dark brown eyes narrowed against the solid black. Finally in a low, yet threatening tone the master finally spoke in a harsh, baritone voice. "You act up slave, you'll be wishing you were back with Tojar and his whip. You're mine now and you're not going to get away with half the things you did there. You're going to pull this cart until I tell you to stop. You will pull at a jog at all times, no matter the distance, weather, or temperature."

Vegeta glared at him unable to protest under his muzzle. His stomach growled from lack of food and if he wasn't being held by the collar, he would have doubled from hunger pains. The Saiyan's hands were bound to the cart not allowing him to ease his pain either. This was quickly putting him in a very foul mood and his temper was about to burst. Still unable to open his mouth, he started to act up on his protest instead. Making the cart lurch forward and back, at one point making the cart rest on Cirrento's foot. However, the only thing it rewarded, was a lashing and a couple heavy blows with the club.

The Saiyan lowered his head and shook it a bit, trying to shake off the beating. His brow was furrowed deeply with anger, disgust, and frustration. There was nothing at the moment that he could do to get this man to leave him alone. The more he acted up, the more often he found Cirrento beside him only happy to give the Warrior Prince a beating. Finally in a hope to get the master away from him, he stood quietly. His breathing was a bit heavy when his owner finally released the grip from the collar and only then did Cirrento let him be.

As the man sat back up on the cart seat, he took up the whip and lashed it down with a loud crack upon Vegeta's back, rending the shirt open and drawing blood. The Prince looked back at him in a gaze of hateful disgust, the pain upon his back bit into his every thought. Unable to do anything though about the man behind him, he began to pull in the stillness of the night, every hour making him weaker through hunger. With the rise of the morning sun, it came to be nine days without food or water, and it was severely taking its toll upon him.

Cirrento watched the Saiyan's every move and the slightest of mis-steps was greeted only with a whiplash upon the back. Each crack drew blood and he forced Vegeta to keep at the jog in spite of the starvation and thirst of his new cart slave. A grin of cruel pleasure crossed his face as he watched the Prince of Saiyans knuckle down and work harder, though he was unknowing of the reason why. He then took out the whip again and laid it harshly upon the warrior's back ever harder. "Pick it up slave, I want a good run now."

Vegeta only growled his protest under the muzzle he wore. Bastard, I'll kill you for this. Just wait, your time is coming and when I strike, the entire City will know of it. His coal eyes flickered in angry rage as he moved to the faster pace of the run. His sides aching, his back hurting, and his breathing already heavy, he leaned in further to the harness and pulled straight out. Quietly he began to plot his next move against this Master of his. Far from even being broken, he found himself in another fight and this was one fight he would either win or die trying.

When they finally pulled back into the drive, the Saiyan turned and parked the cart, only to wait for Cirrento to release him of the weight and burden. If nothing else, he wanted sleep to maintain some of his energy, but he found himself denied just that. Instead of leading him to a stall, Cirrento took the leash and clipped it to the collar then tied it to a post, too high for the Prince to reach. He was left standing outside, harnessed to the cart and with his hands chained to the cart shafts, he had no way of getting it off of himself. The silent rage began to burn viciously in his black eyes as lightning ripped through the gray overhead reflecting in the coal depths.