He was aware of being rolled along on some form of wheeled rack, like clothes being moved around a shop. His hands were cuffed above him, his legs were spread out and cuffed to the sides of the rack. He was naked and feeling very vulnerable, his genitals hanging loose and swaying as the rack was puched along.

The hood had yet to be removed, all was dark for him, but he was aware of coming out of the drugged stupor and this allowed him to gain a greater awareness of his surroundings from the information his other senses gave him.

He got the sense of a large room, the echoes of the footsteps of those who pushed him told him that. The floor was hard stone and at least one of his captors was wearing high heels. He could hear voices - muffled talking, whispered conversations, the occasional parade ground shout like a sergeant disciplining a private or, more accurately, a Master disciplining his dog - using simple, short commands in a forceful and punctuated manner.

There were also sounds of screams and sobs and the occasional crack of a whip.

The hubbub of the large room, the talking and casual torture, seemed to be idle playing around - killing time while waiting for the main event. The room stank of anticipation. These slaves and Masters had been brought here for a reason and they were all waiting to find out what that was...