"You sure this bitch ain't gonna freeze us solid?" A gravelly, rat-like voice inquired. Its owner seemed anxious...excited; eager to work.
A second voice, much huskier and collected, responded, "Nah. Look at her neck, dumbass, that collar is supposed to dampen her abilities. With that on she's just another slab of meat, but an expensive one; useless cunt." The larger of the two, the masked man shot his sniveling counterpart a disapproving eyeroll. "Why do I put up with this shit...Hey, goat, wake the fuck up."
The masked figure cocked back his hand and gave their captive a firm slap across the cheek; she recoiled awake in response.
Ganyu's senses were set ablaze, a terrible biting sensation seizing her throat in a vice. The stagnant, cool air was uncharacteristically harsh on her skin; what was going on?
"Well, she's awake. Good nap?"
"W-What?" The sting of the slap began to settle and Ganyu's wrists pulled against the metallic shackles that bound them; the grimness of the situation becoming increasingly evident by the second. She'd been stripped, barring the mesh leotard she typically wore. For some reason she'd been allowed this singular courtesy.
"I'll take that as a yes. Listen up," the larger man resumed, circling Ganyu like a blood-drunk shark, "I wanna preface our session with a disclaimer: this shit ain't personal." He snapped his meaty fingers and his smaller compatriot retrieved a cart from the blackness; Ganyu noted the tinny clacking of some unseen instruments atop it.
Her calves burned, a consequence of being suspended by several chains and forced to balance on girly tippy toes. The she-goat was of celestial lineage, allowing for an unblemished form that mirrored on earthly perfection: smooth, full breasts, a tight waistline accompanied by a full rump. Despite the compromising situation, she did not scream or protest. The half-qilin blood that coursed through her veins belonged to a poised and elegant race; Ganyu just needed time to–
Another sharp hit to the cheek, now rosy and tender.
It was clear that the lager of the two thugs was in charge, or at least handled the physicality of the job. "What the fuck? Usually you whores scream by now – or at least beg." He leaned in to meet her gaze, Ganyu twisting her neck to deny his invasion of space.
She had many questions, and was indeed terrified, but that wouldn't serve her, now would it? She needed to remain composed and use her brain; what did these misguided souls want?
"Hmph." He glared at her with some burgeoning disgust. While this was indeed business, it would be a flat out lie to say that the masked bruiser didn't take a great deal of satisfaction in his work. "We'll see, we can get started, Scrap."
"Get started?" Ganyu asked, desperately attempting to manifest her magic all the while.
Scrap, the smaller, smarmier man approached with the surgical tray, "Look, Rocco, she does speak!"
"Funny that. Yeah, get started." In a flash, Rocco's hand seized one of Ganyu's short, scarlet-black horns, gripping the curved antler with unnecessary force.
Fireworks, as the roughness of his masculine grip nearly made Ganyu's knees buckle. Never had such force grazed her delicate antlers and the influx of sensation was almost mind-bending in its pleasure. It took all of Ganyu's will to stifle a ragged moan, lest she give these bastards all the ammunition they needed to break her. "I said this was business, bitch, we work on commission, and these horns of yours are worth a fucking fortune to some guy."
"Ka-Ching!" Scrap chortled.
The duo's callous, nonchalant attitude regarding the whole affair made Ganyu's stomach lurch; the true terror of the situation had been realized.
"This is wrong...w-wicked! Can't you see the evil in your d-deeds!"
Rocco could sense her panic and it affirmed his beliefs wholeheartedly, "See! There's what I was expecting. Don't worry, a crying slut makes this kinda shit sloppy; we got standards don't we, buddy?"
Scrap nodded, "Standards." The spindly weakling could barely contain his excitement, eager to blast a load of salty cream on that mortified face of Ganyu's.
Retrieving a syringe from the adjacent tray; the beefier man gave its needle a few flicks. "This shit will keep you still, but it ain't numbing shit. In fact, you're gonna feel like a million fucking bucks."
The idea of being - corrupted - filled her with dread; she needed to remain defiant.