“Maybe it is different in other territories but in Dusan I had a fine position. My skill would be wasted in a pursuit of freedom. I liked my life before all of this.” Did that make him ignorant? Altair didn't believe so. His role was something he understood and there was typically reward within it. Altair liked the lavish parties on the arms of a nobleman. He enjoyed the sex and the promiscuity involved. He enjoyed perfecting his art and dazzling those watching with intricate performances, and then perhaps a more personal dance towards the end of the evening. Where Altair was ignorant was knowing that slavery was not like that in a lot of places. Even in Ellania it the people there had been charmed by the tall Dusanian.<br/><br/>Snow was sitting back in his chair, pressing Altair for more information. His brows drew together as he thought how best to answer all of that. He reached a hand towards his cheek, where Cygnus had raked his.<br/><br/>“For this, I refused something of my quasi-master,” Altair said, filled with revulsion as he recalled that evening.<br/><br/>“Now, I only know so much about slavery in other countries. I mostly have my own experiences to call upon. Rape probably occurs to those unlucky souls in Dusan, but it had never been my fate, not even in Ellania. No, it had been the captain of that ship that broadened my experiences with force. He wielded his cock like a weapon, not a tool for pleasure. When I refused to beg I earned this mark on my face. Bruises probably came then too. I can hardly keep track of every mark on my body.” He didn't mention that he'd cursed the man and his ship. The refusal probably would have been enough.<br/><br/>“He was a sadist. I think it hardly would have mattered even if I'd been his idea of a model slave. This man had me count aloud every stroke of the whip. The ones I missed were not totaled, you see.” All of that was true, just as much as Altair wanted to give away. He didn't want to admit he'd been passed around to the crew. Altair figured he could guess at a lot of it and he wouldn't have to explain specifics. To him, some spoke of the evidence plainly. Bite marks around his shoulder and collarbone, and then finger-shaped bruises at his hips. They were not typical lover's marks. He hadn't wanted to admit what he already had, yet Snow was demanding more of the truth.<br/><br/>“You want to know every graphic detail or is that enough?” Altair asked, angry at not only what had happened to him but that he'd also been forced to tell of the horrors he'd been forced to endure.