In a horrible, twisted sense, it was almost ironic. You spend most of your life running after being a slave, and now you were a slave again, this time to someone barely above you rather than someone who could really afford to get away with it. You found yourself bound in anti-psionic cuffs and a collar, unable to do much more than glower and bare your teeth at your would-be new owner.
You had a thousand different biting remarks. A million threats of what you would do if and when you got free, but for now you refused them the satisfaction of speaking. Only wordlessly glaring up at your captor, daring them to try you despite the obvious lack of power you had in this position.