single whip

The KOF DLC pack is one dysfunctional family

d&d party w/ homestuck girls

chaotic neutral warlock w/ a star pact, a student of caiphon, the purple star. caiphon, an ostensibly helpful guide star, often betrays its followers. throughout the campaign there is a mild power struggle between rose’s benevolence to her party members & the deleterious + calculating influence of the stars, but rose (| a more level-headed party member) usually wins out

lawful neutral paladin w/ an oath of vengeance, dedicated to requiting evil. aradia tends to be worried about her blunt means + surprising lack of concern about rose’s behavior + powers, but vriska is always positively delighted (as she is by all that kanaya does). wields a two-handed sword. rose’s extremely unlikely but dedicated aide + enforcer

chaotic good ranger w/ undead as her favored enemies. in combination w/ the hunter archetype style this makes her the perfect partner in kanaya’s undead extermination enterprises. frequently at odds w/ vriska over proper conduct & honor in battle. simple flair is almost a greater matter of contentiousness, given aradia’s dueling fighting style which gives her a bonus to her single-wielded whip prowess

a thief w/ a propensity towards murder not so much as a solution as a means of personal satisfaction. aspires to be the one to incapacitate rose if things ever go haywire, & makes this fact blatantly obvious through her increased study of spells + evident desire to ‘share’ rose’s powers. went so far as to request a pact — w/ rose. the reason the group is on the run from a lawful good paladin

naturally this party has no healers    

anonymous asked:

“My dad’s a cancer patient and you’re his nurse” AU jikook <_< >_>

Pairing: Jikook
Prompt: “My dad’s a cancer patient and you’re his nurse” AU 
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,541
A/N: Just one thing for this mini fic thing: I love Jimin’s dad in here ^~^

Jimin hurries through the sliding doors, flashing a small smile and a nod at the receptionist before brisk walking to the lifts. He waits impatiently for it, sneakered foot tapping an uneven rhythm on the off-white linoleum floor. 

It seems like forever before Jimin get to the fifth floor, stepping over to the room right by the lift. 05-01. He pushes the door open. It’s 8:40PM

“I’m here, dad,” Jimin calls. His father’s propped up in bed with two pillows behind him, book in hand. He glances up at Jimin’s voice. 

“Jimin-ah,” he smiles, eyes crinkling. He reaches out a hand and Jimin takes it, settling himself in a chair by the bed. 

“Has today been okay, dad?” Out of habit, Jimin scans the bedside table, checking that the water jug is filled and the cup clean. 

“Look at me,” his dad says. “Do I look anything less that great?” He puts on an offended expression to emphasize his point. 

Jimin laughs. “Yeah, yeah, you look amazing as always,” he teases lightly. His dad looks fine, really. Nothing like a patient going through chemotherapy, what with his full head of hair still intact. He looks great, but Jimin still worries. 

“Of course I do,” his dad huffs. His expression turns soft. “But Jimin-ah, don’t work yourself too hard, okay?“ 

"I’m not, dad, don’t worry about me.” His reply comes a little rushed, a tad mechanical. It’s not really his fault that his dad says it all the time, that Jimin’s answer is almost always the same. 

“Lying is bad, Jimin-ah. Look at those eye bags.” His dad reaches out a hand to trace his under eye. “And I know you came rushing over here just to visit, but if you’ve got important things to do, you don’t have to visit everyday. Go hang out with your friends sometimes.”

“I want to,” Jimin frowns. “I know I got here a bit late today but it’s just because Hoseok hyung came a little late for his shift, but still, I had to come because I want to see you.” It’s always been the two of them, and his dad has done so much for him, how can he just decide not to visit when he can make time for it? 

“So…” There’s a finality in that word that lets Jimin know his dad has dropped that discussion for now. It’ll be back again, his dad insisting that Jimin should live his life not having to, and he quotes, “worry about this old man in a hospital bed”. But Jimin can’t help it, and he supposes deep down his dad knows that too.  

“Jimin-ah.” Jimin glances back at his dad to find him grinning. Oh god please not again. “Any boy for me to meet?" 

Jimin really wants to flush himself down the toilet and out of sight right this moment. Okay maybe not, that’d be kind of gross. ”Dad,“ he hisses, "Not here please. Mrs Kim does not need to overhear this conversation.” It’s a four-bed ward after all, they aren’t alone, and Jimin really does not need the other middle age people judging him for being far from straight. 

His dad shrugs. “I might have accidentally let it on sometime yesterday and honestly, she’s pretty alright with it.” He gestures to Mrs Kim in the next bed with his chin. As if on cue, the middle aged lady turns in bed and smiles at them. 

Jimin stares at him horrified. “You, what?” Okay maybe now showing himself out of the fifth floor window sounds like a good idea. 

“You can’t be alone forever, Jimin,” his dad says. “When I’m gone, what are you going to do? You’ll be lonely." 

"Don’t say stuff like that, dad,” Jimin quips, frowning. “Besides I’m fine how I am now, I don’t need someone. I’ve got Tae and Hoseok hyung, and-”

“I know, I know,” his dad cuts him off. “I just want you to be happy.” Jimin opens his mouth to reply but his dad beats him to it. “Ah, there’s a new nurse for our ward. Maybe you’ll get to see him later because he’s taking the evening shift today." 

Dad,“ Jimin sighs. He gets it really, his dad has good intentions, but the last time he introduced Jimin to a friend’s son, the boy turned out to be already attached, to a girl no less. 

"He’s a really nice lad, Jimin. He says he’s here on a university attachment program so that means he’s around your age too. And he’s tall and good looking.” His dad waggles his eyebrows a little. “I think you’d like him.”

“I don’t need matchmaking, dad.” Jimin’s half indignant by now. Please, he’s perfectly capable of finding someone. 

His dad ignores him. “He’s single too!” Jimin whips around, narrowing his eyes at his dad. “If you’re going to ask me, yes I asked Jungkook if he has a girlfriend… or a boyfriend…" 

Jimin gives his dad a withering look, only to get a grin in return. Behind him, Jimin vaguely registers the sound of the door opening. He glances at his watch. 9:30PM - visiting hour is over. 

"Jungkook-ah!” Jimin turns in the direction his dad’s looking. He swallows, hard. Wow. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have doubted his dad, but in his defense, his dad’s idea of good looking has never really matched his. But this boy walking towards them is something else. Jimin stares. 

Beside him, his dad nudges him hard. 

“Mr Park, I see you’ve got a visitor for the hour,” Jungkook starts, smiling widely. His eyes land on Jimin’s, briefly doing a once over before catching Jimin’s gaze. He holds it. Jimin ducks his head a little, breaking eye contact. 

“This is my son I’ve told you about.” There’s pride in his dad’s voice and Jimin’s really thankful, but he kind of just wants to run out now before the flush he can feel creeping up his neck gives him away. “Jungkook, Jimin. Jimin, Jungkook. And how many times have I told you that you don’t have to call me Mr Park? It’s so stiff." 
Jungkook laughs, nose scrunching as he does. He doesn’t answer Jimin’s dad, instead turning back to Jimin. "Nice to finally meet you, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook says. 
Jimin licks his lips before meeting Jungkook’s gaze, hoping fervently that his smile isn’t as shaky as how he feels inside. “I’ve heard a lot about you." 

"Good things, I hope,” Jimin jokes weakly, standing from his seat by the bed. Jungkook’s a good 5cm taller than him, he thinks. He’s wearing a shapeless uniform for nurses that should look terribly unappealing, but the short-sleeved shirt reveals his toned arms. Dammit.

“The best,” Jungkook laughs. “Your dad’s your number one fan.” He takes a step closer and lowers his voice, loud enough only for Jimin. “So good that I might have already fallen a little for the Jimin I’ve heard so much about." 

Jimin tries really. He tries but fails to keep the flush from climbing up his neck, over his ears and tinting his cheeks. Jungkook straightens up and takes a step back, winking before turning to attend to the other patients. The audacity. 

There’s a nudge to his arm and Jimin whips around to face his dad. "What did he say?" 

Jimin busies himself with arranging his dad’s bedside table before moving to fluff his pillows. "Nothing,” he mumbles. His dad raises an eyebrow skeptically but lets it slide. 

“I’ll be back to visit tomorrow.” Jimin leans over to drop a kiss on his dad’s cheek. “Sleep well, dad." 

"Go out with your friends, Jimin-ah. You don’t have to always rush over, okay?” His dad pats his hand and Jimin nods in reply. They both know it’s an advice thrown to the wind but Jimin won’t have it any other way. 

Jimin steps out with a last wave and a soft goodbye called out to the other patients in the ward. He steps to the lift and waits. 

Just as the lift pings, Jungkook steps out and glances around. He spots Jimin and hurries over. “Jimin-ssi!" 

Jimin stops, letting the lift doors close without getting in. Did he forget something in the room? 

"Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook starts again, a small smile on his face. “My shift ends in about 15 minutes. Care to catch a late dinner or supper with me?" 

Jimin stares. Blinks once, twice. "Are you asking me out because my dad made you?" 

Jungkook shakes his head. "Aside from singing praises about you and telling me you’re not with anyone…” He trails off with an almost embarrassed expression on his face. “I think you’re really cute." 

Jimin really needs his pillow right here to squeal into but that’d have to wait. The thudding in his chest is so loud it’s ringing in his ears. Jungkook can’t hear it, can he? He can’t know how affected Jimin is by his presence. 

"You’re paying then,” Jimin manages to utter, voice more stable than he expects. 

Jungkook grins, nodding happily. “My treat!" 

(Later, Jimin ends up paying his day’s worth of salary to feed them in exchange for the "hyung” title, after learning that Jungkook is a freshman in college, two years younger than himself.)

valentine’s special, kuroo tetsurou flavoured confessions.

Where Kuroo is really sweet, and really, really not cool.

“So, uh, are you free today?”

Yeah,” you’re chuckling and Kuroo feels his heart rate calm down a little, “it’s only 8am, but yeah, I’m free today.”

“Okay. Good, good.” There’s an awkward pause, and then it’s just him breathing and you breathing and damn, the static in the receiver is actually pretty terrible. Maybe this is why Kenma always texts instead.

Speaking of Kenma, Kuroo casts a glance over at his best friend currently sprawled on his bed with an unimpressed look on his face. The judgement spreads like radiation and Kuroo’s face heats and flattens at the same time.

He clears his throat. “I’ll see you at noon.”

“Sounds good. Usual train station?”

“Ah- no, I’ll… I’ll come pick you up.”

There’s a suspicious pause and Kuroo holds his breath like an olympic swimmer.

“If you say so,” you finally reply, and he depressurizes with the finality of a pricked balloon. “Gonna go clean up. See you later!”

Tapping on the big red button to end the call, Kuroo sighs like his life depends on it. He rests his head between his legs and groans. “I kind of hate you right now, Kenma.”

The boy in question just snorts and executes a double combo in Monster Hunter. “You’re the one who’s been running away from this for the past month.”

“Yeah, and I’ll just keep running. Burn off some calories in the meantime.”

The tapping slows down a little and Kuroo’s ears prick up, waiting for whatever quip comes next at his expense. It’s eight in the morning, and waking up his buddy is like waking up a bear with a rooster, but slightly more dangerous, because he’s within arm’s reach.

Kenma puts his console down, and grips onto, for the first time in his life, Kuroo’s cheeks and peers right into those confused, golden eyes.

“Stop being an idiot. It’s Valentine’s Day, and this is Tokyo. If you don’t ask her, someone else will.”

Kuroo is quite bewildered indeed. Satisfied with rendering his friend speechless, Kenma gives a little nod and turns back to his game.

“…Isn’t that White Day-”

“Kuro, just shut up.”

Keep reading


It was a rough break up. They’re still friends. Sorta.

I decided to get a bit of practice with comics again. Its been a long time since I’ve been able to work on any. Tumblr’s format isn’t the same as it was when I used to, so I had to cut it into 3 images, not that I think anyone will mind. 

I’ve also been working on finalizing Clicker and Whip’s updated designs. Clicker will be getting a full fledged ref sheet soon.

Evermore Prologue/ Preview (Darkiplier X Reader Series)

((AN: Okay so here is my second (out of defiantly four, possibly eight series.) This little opener is MUCH shorter for purposes as it is meant to be dramatic. The actual story (aside from Chapter 01) will be written through the reader’s POV.  Also sorry I have been inactive my wifi has been down and I hope to get at least one more part finished before I update the Anti one (right now I have 3 in the draft box for Anti, 1 more for Dark and I almost have 2 for the next two series’ as well as one more all drafted out. Literally have beginning and ends for 5 stories at the moment =D) Anyhow, hope you enjoy))

Originally posted by myvainsoul

Originally posted by toquotemark

It was a gift, they said. An honor. But Dark only saw it as a bore.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

i want a good-well written long yoonkook fic please! new shipper~ thxoxo

I’m assuming you want recs? So here’s a few +10k fics, enjoy~

take me out (we’re going down): Jungkook kinda thinks Yoongi is his sugar daddy because Yoongi is too soft and too whipped, cute cute cute

The Sound of Winter: abo - Read the tags because of some sensitive topics - Yoongi is whipped again, the plot is A+ and all in all it’s a great story, I’m still sad it’s over

off the record: Idol/producer au, do I need to say more? lol

Breathless: Royalty au meets destined lovers au meets past lives au meets canon verse - Just fantastic, I cried a few times and it’s beautiful

so far away (don’t fall away): Arranged marriage au with side vmin - I’m weak for arranged marriage stories (and for a bunch of other things, but shh) so this is great

Blind Dates, Babysitters and Beginnings: Single father Yoongi is whipped for babysitter Jungkook (and vice versa), but he’s bad a feelings, like really bad, so maybe read this with some caution too?

Cerulean and Malachite: Soulmates au with colors and it’s beautiful

A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out: Canon verse - Smut, smut, smut, smut, smut and some more smut just in case, but there’s some feelings there too so be prepared for the trip

These are all complete, but if you don’t mind on going stories check out the wip section on my fic recs page, there’s some long fics there too like, really long fics

Super Junior (Heechul, Yesung, Donghae) kinks + what turns them on

A/N: I’m only doing the current 9 members not enlisted in the military, so Shindong and Sungmin are excluded for now :( But if you really want one, just request it.


this boy is one of my strong biases, and I can totally see his ass being into some sort of role playing. He wouldn’t be all vanilla about it in the beginning either, from day one he’d tell you in what outfits he’d want, the positions he’d want you in waiting for him, etc. heechul would go crazy when you waltzed around him on purpose, in your pretend maid attire, dusting in front of him on the glass table, bending over so your ass was clearly visible from the back, your garters riding up and squeezing you, trying to get his attention if he was reading, on his phone, etc. but he would make you regret it, slamming you down on the glass table you had been cleaning moments ago to position his clothed growing member behind your suddenly soaked slit from behind.

“No underwear?” He’d purr, coming up to grab at your chin and yank you to look at him.
Nodding your head no, you’d watch in awe as he pushed up your legs and squatted down, burying his face inside of your heat as you writhed under his strong arms, your face flushing from the pleasure his tongue was giving you.
“Heechul..” You’d gasp out, his tongue dipping in your slit.
“Shut up, you already know this is what happens when you tease me.” And he wouldn’t stop his assault on your core until your were sweating onto the table and begging him to stop because holy shit you were so overstimulated, but even then you wouldn’t be safe. He’d grab you by your ass again and throw you over his shoulder, walking you to the bedroom and tossing you on the bed his dark eyes making regret ever teasing him.


over all I would say yesung would be typical in bed, but he would have his moments. I feel like even if he’s pretty usual, he would love above all to hear you moan, it would give him a feeling on “hell yeah I’m the one making her moan, I’m doing that.” And it would just fuel his desire for you. Like say you’d be kissing him and what not, just kissing, neither of you planning on taking it any further than that but then all of a sudden, a small moan would slip out of your throat, causing you to pull back suddenly and place your hand over your mouth as you both would sit there, dumbfounded. But then all of a sudden, yesung’s eyes would darken a little bit more and he would be at your mouth again, but this time the kiss would be a lot different from the first time around. You would feel a hunger coming from his mouth, it almost would feel like he was trying to suck more moans out of your mouth as he would place his hands on your hips and pull you into his lap, the game completely changing once you would feel his growing member beneath you, you’re mouth opening lightly as you began to catch on to his drift. But as soon as you had gotten a grasp on it, yesungs mouth would lick its way down your neck, his tongue feeling along your veins as he begun to buck up into you, your thinly clothed core suddenly on fire as you’re body would bounce again his movement, harsh breaths coming out of you. This would continue until Yesung finally ground against the spot that was most sensitive for you, a moan erupting from your throat as your eyes almost rolled back into your head from the pleasure. He would take note of the sweet sound and begin to buck in the same manner, hot moans coming from your mouth like a stream, yesungs head beginning to bead with sweat as he worked even harder to make you moan, flipping you over to get an even better vantage point, incredibly u comfortable in his jeans but not caring.
“You like it here? You like it when I do this-” he would tease, wanting to hear you as loud as you could be.


DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THIS BOY, to me, his ‘cool’ demeanor wouldn’t extend into the bedroom, yeah for the first few moments, while you’d be making out, taking each other’s clothes off, his real kinks would come out to play. Donghae feels like someone who would be into slight spanking and slight dominance, not wanting to completely over power you, but let you know who was in charge during sex. He would kiss you sweetly at first, warming you up before he got a little bit rougher with you, as he would retreat while you waited completely naked for his return anxiously. Once he would get back, you’d see that he’d brought one of your favorite whips out to play. You’d try to control your excitement though, because the second Donghae knew you liked that whip, he’d throw it away and pull another one out, so you simply would stare at him, with wide wet eyes.
“On all fours.” He would command in a gruff voice which sent shocks down your stomach to your core as you complied. You would turn around and arch your back, the edge of Donghae’s whip coming to trace your ass as you resisted the urge to lean back into it in excitement and want for contact.
“So pretty..” He would purr, always peppering you with compliments even if he was like this. Then with one more caress from the small whip, he’d suddenly lightly crack it against the crook of your ass, a hiss coming from you in a mixture of pleasure and pain, the pain being kissed away as Donghae did what he always did after every whip, place a soft kiss on the skin as his free hand ran up and down your stomach, his mouth ghosting over your core.
“1 down baby.” He would announce, adjusting his belt as he grew harder in his jeans from the image of your ass with a single whip mark pushing him over the edge.

Rachel: Final Surrender

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Final part of Rachel’s story. I’m still trying to get a good writing schedule going, but I’m working 12 hours a day 3 days a week and 8 hours a day the other 3, with one day off. So I ask for patience.

I’m probably going to put out more of my shorties, since I can write them up pretty quick. For those that have story requests in I’m getting to them, I promise.


The flight had been an exercise in frustration, fright, and anguish. After the first orgasm, Rachel came two more times in quick succession.

Her self-proclaimed Master chuckled and said, “at this rate, slave, there won’t be much flesh left on its ass after we reach Bosnia.”

Rachel had moaned in fear at that threat. She had no doubt that the man could, and would do exactly as he threatened. He committed murder after all to get a hold of her, hadn’t he?

Fortunately, she began to grow accustomed to the frequency of the vibrations and was learning to resist somewhat. So, after another 45 minutes she still only orgasmed one more time.

From there it became a steady occurrence. She would fight, and twist as much as she could to throw off the waves of arousal, but was still having an orgasm on average every 15-20 minute, despite her best efforts to resist.

Occasionally she’d swiftly orgasm one right after the other, causing immense despair on her part and laughter on her Master’s. Thus, by the time they had reached Boston international Airport, Rachel had already orgasms 15 times.

Her Master, as they were taxiing in to Boston, lifted her chin and glared into her eyes, “this Slut is more randy and wanton than I thought it was. You literally, or should I say it literally cannot control itself.”

Rachel lowered her head in shame, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like she was trying to; her body was simply responding to the stimulation that was presented. She could no more control that than she could control her heart beat her breathing.

They were all automatic responses.

She knew this, she understood, at least intellectually, all this. Still, his crude comments made her feel shame and humiliation. Right now, she hated her body for its complete lack of control; it’s refusal to obey her desperate commands. What she didn’t know is that was the exact mindset her new owner was seeking to create. That self-loathing would be used to ultimately undermine her resistance. It would turn her into a true slave that much faster.

 When the plane finally came to a halt in to Boston and they were being refueled, her owner said, “while were waiting I might as well entertain myself.” With that he plunged his cock into her throat, after removing her gag. He pulled the belt from his pants, and used it to smacked her ass, telling her, "get to work slave, it’s Masters cock is in his throat, I shouldn’t have to tell it to start pleasing it. Lick and suck it, make it good or I’ll double the strokes for this little game.”

Rachel moaned and cried at that, but she did as she was instructed and did her best to suck, lick, and pleasure the dick, violating her throat so viciously.

After what felt like a humiliating eternity, her Master grabbed the back of her head and plunged his cock deep into her throat, his pubic hair covering her nose making it difficult to breathe, and she felt his hot seed sprayed down her throat.

"Swallow it all slave, any bit of it drops out, and you will be penalized for it,” he threatened.

Once again, Rachel did as he instructed, fear driving her to do her very best to comply. Still, the inability to close her mouth, and therefore suck or swallow properly meant she still felt some of the cum dribble out of her mouth and down her chin. She moaned in fear at that, wondering how he would punish her for failure.

The master looked at it and said, “this slave cannot even follow the simplest of instructions. I will be sure to punish its cunt appropriately once we get home.”

With that, he ignored her cries as he stuffed the gag back in her mouth.

By that point, the plane was refueled, the captain informed them that they would be continuing to Lisbon in approximately 10 minutes to.

Her master looked at her said, “10 minutes, and then we start the game again.”

Rachel whined at that as if it was a death sentence. Of course, it could be almost as bad. The few strokes she had taken with the single-tail whip had been the worst pain she’d ever felt, cutting through her like a knife. If she reached the dreaded 20 mark, as it looked like she surely would, she’d have to feel every one of her punishment strokes with it, and she wasn’t sure how she could ever survive.

She resolved herself in that moment, she would resist. She wouldn’t reach 20, no matter what.


Kopanja studied his new slave with enjoyment. He could almost see the thoughts whirring through her mind. He’d seen it so often, and talked to enough slaves as he had trained them in the old days to improve and refine his process.

She was getting her second wind. Already she was forgetting, or trying to, how easily she’d been forced to orgasm on this flight. She was trying to reaffirm her own ownership of her body, and promising herself she wouldn’t cum like she did before.

He smiled, knowing that such promises were useless. She’d cum and cum often, and then he’d offer her an option that would, in its own way, be as bad as the orgasms; he smiled in anticipation.


Once they had taken off from Boston the trip to Lisbon, and then on to Bosnia proper had run along a similar vein for Rachel.

The one difference, however, about half way to Lisbon, her Master had apparently grown bored and decided to fuck her mouth once again. After he had done that, he said he wanted to show his slave some added features to the probes that were buried in its cunt and ass.

She couldn’t see what he was doing but she felt him maneuvering something behind her and felt the dildos move inside her. When he finally came back in to view he had a different remote in his hand than he had for the vibrators. He smiled cruelly and hit one of the buttons and her cunt exploded in electric fury. She cried out in fear and pain as electricity ripped through the most sensitive parts of her body. Instinctively she looked up at him, pleading in her eyes.

The immediate response to that was to be smacked across the side of her face and her Master said, “remember, it needs to keep its eyes lowered.”

Rachel lowered her eyes, but still cried and was making incomprehensible mutterings as she did so. Her Master knew it was most likely pleading for mercy, he said, “going to add a new… facet, to the game. As I’m sure it can imagine the electricity is going to be eliminating arousal completely, so, no orgasm. So, this is the slave’s way out. Since, its inability to control its slutty hole means it’s already at 23 orgasms and we still have quite a way to ago I figured I’d give it a little escape clause. Otherwise I’ll have to mark it up so severely with my beautiful single tail it won’t be worth anything.”

Rachel shuddered at the unstated threat in that statement.

Her Master seemed to ignore that shudder but smiled inwardly, “If it feels it is getting close to orgasm, it can grunt four times in rapid succession. I will hit its pussy or ass with the electrical shock, that’ll stop the orgasm, but it pays a penalty for that. Now it must decide, which is worse, knowing that it will receive its losing beating, a stroke for every orgasm with the single tail, or it can take electric shock right now, and reduce the number of strokes.”

He chuckled evilly has she moaned at the choice. The choice was some pain, agonizing pain now, to perhaps reduce the amount of agonizing pain she would receive later. Or, simply avoid the pain now, and get a lot more pain later. It wasn’t a fair choice at all and she cried in misery at how unfair her life had become.

She just wanted to go home, she just wanted to go back to her apartment, her job, her life. She didn’t want to do this, she didn’t want to be this.

Suddenly, incomprehensively, Rachel started fighting and pulling against her bondage for all she was worth. She screamed and cried and moaned, praying to any God that might listen to save her.

After approximately 60 seconds she collapsed in exhaustion, and her Master said, "if I’m going to be entertained by such displays all the time, this slave will surely convince me that it was worth the effort to acquire.”

Rachel just moaned again at the way he said that, and the new gleam she could just see in his eyes from the corner of hers. She suddenly realized even her fighting would be an entertainment for him as he was already sure she would never escape. In fact, she was sure the sadistic bastard would now make her struggling a part of his entertainment. She simply cried in further despair at that.

Meanwhile, her Master, ignoring her crying and moaning, said casually, "let’s start again.”

And then the vibrator started up once again, and unbelievably, Rachel could feel her 24th orgasm building, and building fast.

After another 10 minutes, she’d fought it as long, and as hard as she possibly could, but she knew it was going to happen, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She closed her eyes, and bit down on the gag in her mouth as she grunted four times in rapid succession. Two seconds later the electricity ripped through her ass this time and she screamed in agony, but at least she didn’t feel like orgasming anymore.

At least not yet.


In the end, Rachel had owed her new master 32 strikes with the single tail. When he’d told her the final number she’d wept in abject misery. She was already terrified at the impending punishment and would have begged for mercy if she wasn’t absolute certain it would just get her beaten more.

In one way, she was lucky. It would have been much more, except for the fact that they she had received six shocks to her pussy and four to her ass, reducing the number of orgasms by 10.

In addition, her Master, when they had gotten to Lisbon had decided that he wanted to have some more fun, so he had removed the dildo from her pussy, and raped her shortly after they had refueled and taken off on the final leg of their journey to Bosnia.

She had moaned in anguish as the over sensitized flesh of her pussy, due to the electric shocks, made the rape even more agonizing than it would’ve been. As agonizing physically, as it already was emotionally.

When they had arrived at the airport, her master had blindfolded her, and she was loaded back into the trunk that she had come onto the plane in. What followed was another eternity of disorienting movement and silent blackness, as she waited to be let back out.

Eventually she had been and she found herself an even worse situation that she had been in Los Angeles. It was a dungeon right out of her worst nightmares. Every conceivable torture device was present, and many others that she had no idea what they were for. She did however have no doubt that eventually she would learn, in intimate graphic detail, exactly what they were used for.

Her master, having removed her from the trunk but left her otherwise bound, had reveled in again raping her both in her pussy and ass before locking the collar around her throat. He whispered in her ear but loud enough so she could hear, “tomorrow, the real fun begins slave. We will see how long you last before you break.”

She had shuddered at that comment, and couldn’t help but wonder, to her own shame, the same thing herself.


Rachel had been in this new hell for about a week, according to her count, and she was tired. No, she was exhausted. She was exhausted down to her bones.

The way she felt she could have been held for weeks, months, or years.

Intellectually she knew it was wasn’t years but as much as she had endured it surely felt that long.

When this had all started back in Los Angeles she just thought the man was going to rape her; take her bodies sexually against her will. She had been so incredibly naïve. Even his explanation of what he wanted to do, what he planned to do had not sunk in. At the time, she’d had no frame of reference for it, and couldn’t believe he meant to do what he said. She didn’t even believe it was possible.

She would’ve laughed at the naïveté of her inexperience if she could. He didn’t just want her sexuality against her will. No, he wanted everything; everything and anything that she was he wanted to take from her. He wanted to own her completely.

He never missed a moment to degrade her, or humiliate her in some way. When he wasn’t whipping, or beating her, or making her repeat ridiculous statements, over and over, he was using her. Violating her repeatedly, and laughing at her continued effort to resist the rape. He’d punish her for it afterwards but she still wouldn’t accept that. Her body was hers, damn it, and she refused to accept his claim to use it.

Especially when, inconceivably, her body responded in heat and unwanted arousal when it happened. The shame she felt when he actually forced her to orgasm during a rape was the most difficult thing to endure. She had no pain tolerance at all, really, and the whippings and beatings, while never leaving any lasting marks or damage were an agonizing slice of Hell to endure.

Still, she would take that pain every day if it meant she could avoid the humiliation of cumming when she was raped, and having her Owner take such delight in shaming her for it.

Especially when he made it a point of telling her it was all part of his overall goal, which was to break her.

 Her current predicament was just another sample of how far he would go to achieve his goals.

She was kneeling on a table approximately 3 feet off the ground. Her legs were folded back on one another; each calf bound to its accompanying thigh by a thick leather strap.

In addition, a nearly 3-foot long spreader bar wide held her knees wide. She couldn’t close her legs no how much she wanted to.

Her feet were hanging over the edge of the table, the whole table top was padded so it wasn’t painful, but from experience she knew there was a reason for this and she probably wasn’t going to like it.

Her arms were equally helpless as were her hands. Leather cuffs had been secured around her arms just above her elbows. A leather strap connected both straps to one another behind her back. The resulting bondage meant her arms were basically stuck to her side and she couldn’t move her elbows any further forward then right next to her body.

Leather mittens Had been locked around her hands and secured at her wrists; the tips of both mittens attached to one another by a single strap that ran from the tip of her left mitten up her left shoulder behind her neck into the tip of the right one. With all the bondage secured her arms were bolted to her side. She couldn’t move her hands or her arms in anyway.

She might as well not of even had arms.

Next, to increase her helplessness and prevent any possibility of begging for mercy, she had a thick gag in her mouth. It was combination bit gag and cock gag they had a 4-inch-long cock shaped dildo in her mouth.

It was large enough that it held her mouth wide open and pinned her tongue to the floor of her mouth. It was strapped on tight enough that the only sound she could make was muffled garbles completely unintelligible.

She’s been reduced to a little more than the grunting animal.

Finally, most horrifying, she was wearing a blindfold; thick pads cover her eyes attached to a leather harness that went around her head and then up and over the top of her head and back down under her chin buckled tight it forced her mouth to close even more firmly over her gag and made the blindfold impossible to shake loose.

She feared the blindfolds most of all. She was quickly learning that when her sight was taken from her, her mind filled in the absence with horrible images of her own defeat. She lost all sense of time, all sense of the world beyond her imagination’s conjured slices of hell. The images were taking her over, and she didn’t know how to stop it. She’d tried to put other images in her head. Friends, family, the beach, anything to replace them but it was an effort that wore her down and eventually she was forced to surrender to what her mind was doing.

Each time it happened she lasted a shorter amount of time, and her mind surrendered sooner than it had the time before. She wanted to resist but her mind just couldn’t do it.

She hated herself just a little more each time for that.

As for her current situation, every single strap and buckle was secured on her body by a padlock. Even if, Inexplicably, she somehow got even one arm free, she would not be able to release the rest of her bondage or even give herself sight without the keys. It was devastating knowledge that she would remain there until her Master chose to let her go.

Overall, the bondage, while tight, and intricate, was not the worst she had felt since her arrival, and so far, nothing had been done beyond her being bound. Granted, in time, even the simplest of bondages could become its own agony, as she had well learned in the past week.

Of course, in this case, she knew now, from bitter experience, that it was only a matter of time before he came and made it all so much worse.

He always, always did.

A short time later she heard his footsteps she started to whine in fear. She knew that sound could only mean that he was going to be playing with her very soon.

She didn’t have long to wait as her Master ran his hand down her back slowly, gently; so, gentle as to almost trick her into believing it was the touch of a lover. Not the horrible demon in human form that had yanked her from her life.

In a corner of her mind she noted how quickly she had become familiar with her Master’s touch.

In reality, anyone could be touching her right now, but she knew, instinctively, that it was him. Her mind shied away from what that could mean.

He ran his hands through her hair where he could around the gag and blindfold. It was only at that moment she realized that most of her shoulder length blond hair was in a single ponytail out the back of the blindfold.

She could feel her head being gently pulled back and forth and it took her a moment to realize that he was braiding her hair.

She shuttered at the intimacy of the action and wondering how this was going to come back to bite her.

When he was finished, Rachel realized that there was something gently touching her back. He proceeded to yank on something, and she felt her head pulled back. He had braided something into her hair. From the feel of it, it felt like a line or rope or a piece of leather.

Next, she felt something sliding over her feet she jerked as much as are bondage would allow and felt slight pressure around her feet but couldn’t tell what it was.

Then she felt something being tied around both of her big toes it felt like more leather. She tried to wiggle them away as much as possible, but his hand reached around and grabbed one her nipples, pinching it just hard enough to be painful. The message, while silent, was clear, and she held still as he continued his work.

It was all so innocuous that she began to almost try to convince herself it wouldn’t be so bad, this time.

Then things started to get uncomfortable.

Sudden biting pain on both nipples told her something was pinching them, tightly.  He jerked her head slightly around and she felt agonizing pulls on her nipples several times and finally his hands came away and she tried to lift her head and realized that somehow, he had attach whatever he had clamped to her nipples to her gag.

Now, if she moved or tried to lift her head, in any way, she would pull painfully on the sensitive buds.

From there, her situation just continued to get worse.

Without warning he started to spread something cold and slippery in her ass and she felt him slide a couple of his fingers in her asshole.

She wanted to pull away, to move away somehow from this intrusion, but she knew she couldn’t and she silently wept as she was violated once again. This time it felt like a hook with a large ball on the end of it was now wedged in her ass.

A few more moments of jerking and pulling and agony finally his hands came away and she was left to her predicament as the hook in her ass was somehow attached to her hair and to her toes which he had forced her to point as much as she could.

With everything tied down tightly, now if she tried to pull her head forward to release the pressure on her nipples she would succeed only in pulling further on the hook embedded in her ass.

If she tried to relax her feet, she would accomplish only additional pull on her tender ass but also on her now sore scalp, and of course her nipples.

It was a fiendishly evil set up. Essentially, she could only sit in utterly motionless misery if she wanted to avoid hurting herself further.

She had no doubt her Master had no intention of leaving her to make that decision.

Finally, he spoke to her she said, “Now, slave, it is finally time. We’ve had our fair share of fun so far. Now I am going to introduce this slave to what it means to be completely broken. In this moment, I am going to break it utterly. Don’t be fooled. That won’t mean that it will be permanent. Taking it to the point where this whore is a permanently, broken permanently defeated submissive play thing is going to take a long time. But I want my property to realize that as bad as this moment is I can always make it worse and it will always lose.”

He took a breath before he continued, “It has, by now, already figured out, I’m sure, the basics of the situation: try to move its head forward to relieve the nipples; it will pull on the scalp and ass. Pull its head back to relieve the pain in the ass; the nipples are pulled instead. If this slave tries to relax its feet from that en pointe position, that I know is going to start to cramp; it will pull the head, the ass, and the nipples.”

He stroked her side, gently, “basically the only thing that will work for the slave is total stillness. But I’m not going to allow that. ”

Rachel felt him run his hands over her body, and he tweaked her nipples and pinched her ass before he started to stroke the inside of her thighs and finally, he gently cupped her already warm and moist pussy.

Then she got some more adjustments and she felt something sliding inside of her exposed pussy. Again, she wanted to resist but the severity of her bondage made that impossible and ill advised.

When his hands came away again she was achingly full and could already feel discomfort but worse she could already feel the arousal as it pierced through her.

He spoke again, “the dildo that I just slid into that gorgeously wet cunt is electrified. It’s also got a small extension it can probably feel that’s nestled itself right at the base of the clit. ”

She shuddered at this as she could feel it, and knew, from experience, what it meant.

“Here’s the game plan. I’m going to torture this slave now. I’m going to torture it with pain and I’m going to torture it with pleasure. I’m going to make it writhe in agony and in pleasure. I am going to make pull on its ass; I’m going to make it pull on its nipples. This slave is going to dance for me. It is going to do the dance of a submissive, fully owned sex slave. And then I’m going to use the vibrator,” he told his silent and shocked captive.

She was terrified as she listened and knew he was going to do everything he said.

“Then,” he continued, “I’m going to force an orgasm out of this whore, and it will cum for me slave, it will absolutely cum from me. But, if it cums without permission, well then.”

Suddenly her body tensed in anguish as electricity ripped through the most sensitive part of her body.

She let out a piercing scream of agony and terror. She struggled for a moment, only succeeded in doing exactly what he said she would do: she pulled painfully on her scalp, ass, and nipples. She even tried, inexplicably, to pull her legs together to try and protect her exposed pussy, but the spreader bar help them apart as well.

After 30 seconds of struggling as hard as she possibly could she was in the exact same position she had been.

She collapsed into her bondage and wept uncontrollably.

He said “now this slave understands. Or rather, it has the beginnings of understanding. Now let’s begin.”

Over the next hour, or eternity, he did exactly as he said. The bands of tightness she’d felt around her feet were, in fact, rubber bands. He could simply snap them against the soles of her tender feet and she couldn’t help but jump.

It was an agonizing, simplistic form of torture that was no less devastating. She also felt stroke after stroke of the cane and the crop against her ass.

She couldn’t help but scream and throw her head back and twist helping to torture herself.

He used that same cane along the very tips of her nipples and the underside of her breasts; again, causing agony and spirited struggling.

In her mind, and the tattered, shattered, and shredded remains of her soul, her dignity, and her spirit, she knew she was defeated.

If she could’ve spoken she would’ve begged him. First, she would’ve begged him to stop. Then, she would have begged to do anything else to stop it. Now, she was at the point where she would simply beg to do whatever he wanted, because surely an obedient slave would not be punished so.

If he had known her thoughts he would have chuckled at how much she still had to learn.

Finally, he started to use the vibrator on her delicate sensitive clit.

That was when she strained and fought the most. The pain in her nipples, the pain of her scalp, the pain in her ass; even the pain of the welts on her body; none of it compared to the agonizing knowledge of what would happen if she came.

She fought with everything she had. She fought with everything that she was. No one on this earth; man, woman, or beast could’ve fought as hard as she did to stop the terrifying arousal that boiled within her.

Finally, when she could hold back the tide no longer, she threw her head back in a moaning scream of combined pleasure, pain, terror, and surrender and she came violently and completely.

She’d not even finished when, as was promised, the shocks ripped through her cunt. It felt like her pussy and clit had been lit on fire. It seemed to last for eternity.

When he finally stopped the shocks, she was panting desperately to get oxygen into her lungs.

After a few moments, her breathing had returned somewhat to normal he leaned into her ear and whispered, “you failed, slave, so now we must go again.“

That statement ripped the most agonizing scream from her yet and she realized in that moment that this could go on as long as he wanted. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing she could do to relieve her agony she was absolutely his.


The man smile down at her as he saw the realization: the surrender. It was only the first step. In a few hours, she would begin to recover, both mentally and physically, and the surrender that he saw now would fade away under the very thin veneer of an attempted renewal of her spirit and will.

He knew that it was only a matter time. With each successful defeat her recovery would be smaller, and would take longer.

Eventually she would be exactly what he wanted.

She would be a fully and completely broken slave. A pleasure animal completely stripped of who she had been and replaced with a slave desperate to prove her obedience and utter submission to her master.

All it would take was time and patience and thankfully he had ample amounts of both.


After that particular torture session, Rachel, had tried to be accommodating. Hoping, somehow, if she could anticipate what her captor wanted, tried to please him beforehand, maybe she could save herself some pain.

But, every time she was sure that she knew what he wanted and tried to be ready for it she ended up being wrong, and ended up making him angrier for not being aware or how he wanted her to be.

She would be on her knees, her ass sticking up in the air when he wanted a blowjob.

Her legs spread hands behind her back and chest thrust out, when he wanted her bent over with her ass in the air so he could take it for no other reason than he could.

Everything she did was wrong. She couldn’t get anything right, according to him, and her own mind was beginning to be convinced that he was right. All her efforts were doing nothing but contributing to more of her pain.

Finally, she just decided to stop thinking, strop trying to anticipate. She moved exactly when she was told to, when she was told to, and how she was told to; no more or less. Perhaps that would be what her master wanted.

She raged inside herself when she slipped, yet again, and called him ‘her master’ rather than ‘her captor’. It was happening with increasingly frequently and she knew what it meant, even if she still wouldn’t accept it.


What Rachel didn’t know, was that all this was exactly what he wanted. Kopanja, had learned a great deal from and because of his father. His father had been a ruthless evil man, who had served the Scorpions well, and had learned much about torture, and psychological warfare from some of the best.

He’d past that knowledge on to his son, as he wanted him to have a “well rounded education” and be able to have multiple options if “legitimate” life didn’t serve him.

Also, given his father’s own treatment of the women he’d had as prisoners he was he was certain that his father would have readily approved of him using his particular skills in the training, and breaking of young women into sexual slavery.

He knew exactly how Rachel’s mind worked, because there were commonalities to any person in her situation. She was moving through a modified form of the five stages of grief. She had done denial and anger already, and been punished for them.

She was now into bargaining, or at least a modified version of it. Trying to anticipate her Master’s wants, but she wasn’t doing it for him, but herself. That was not a slave’s purpose. Never should their desire be to do anything for their own benefit.

Everything must be for the Master only.

She, or rather, it, was trying to prevent herself from being hurt, which meant she would try to be excessively pleasing and accommodating. This was not because she was breaking, but because she was trying to avoid pain, avoid punishment. Through that phase, he was being excessively cruel.

Never giving her the slightest inclination that she was doing the right thing. Regardless of what he was planning, if she made any action to anticipate what he wanted he would shift gears, specifically for punishing and humiliating her.

Never failing to tell her how stupid she was.

Never failing to point out what a complete failure she was.

Commenting that she must secretly wanted to be punished. Bringing all this extra punishment down on herself because she craved it like a wanton, masochistic whore.

The humiliation was overwhelming for her and, it took nearly 2 weeks, but the goals accomplished.

Rachel stopped trying to anticipate and simply did.

She wouldn’t even shift the weight on her knees, without express permission and direction from him.

Granted her spirit was still nowhere near broken, and she still showed signs of a strong will but the groundwork was being laid. She was embracing the concept of obedience. She was embracing, however subconsciously, that she was an object; an object that was to wait for instruction.


It was getting harder and harder for her to think of herself as anything but ‘it’. It was getting harder and harder to think of why she should think of herself as anything else.

It’s master, no her abductor, it, she shook her head, punished her daily for thinking about who she was.

He said that although he could not read the slave’s mind, he knew that it was ultimately displaying disobedience, and was surely trying to hold on to some vestige of its old existence. Its old life. Even though he had specifically told it that was gone, he knew his slave was being disobedient, and punished it accordingly.

Every day, after everything else it…she endured, and before she was put to rest for the night he would take the hard leather strap, and force her to bare her pussy, so he could deliver several hard blows right to her mons.

The pain was always agonizing, as by the end of the night her entire pubic area was incredibly sore from the other forms of abuse it and taken. It was just another nail in a coffin that contained her will and spirit.

The first few times she had refused, and he had bound her tightly and used the rod on her pussy instead, once again indicating in vicious fashion as no matter how bad she thought something could be, he could always make it worse, and would do so, happily.

Originally, she counted the days, a form of defiance, perhaps, trying to hold on to who she was, despite his commands. But as the days passed, and those days soon turned into weeks, she had stopped. It’d been too depressing to see the time passing day after day and no rescue coming.

She knew, that the chances of rescue for her were, of course, slim. She had been reported dead, she was halfway around the world, no one knew who she was, no one knew where she was.

Rescue generally never came when no one knew you needed to be rescued.

Still, she had, despite all logic, held onto some vestige of hope, and that hope was crushed as she accepted the reality that she was not going to be rescued. It caused her to sink into a deep depression.

The problem was that it, no, damn it, she was not given the chance to wallow in that depression. She was still required to perform to exacting specifications that her abductor demanded. He was unrelenting and seemed to use her depression to torture her more.

She hated him with everything she was. She’d never truly wished harm on anyone, but she wanted him to suffer, she wanted him to die.

Wanting that made her hate herself more. That wasn’t who it, fuck, who she, was.

So, she had stopped counting the days because all it had done was remind her that her life had become a monotonous painful repetition of suffering, demoralization, humiliation, and of course rape.

Her master reveled in that most of all, taking her body, knowing that she had no desire to have sex with him, he made sure to rape her in every one of her holes multiple times a day, and every time he did, he made sure to comment on the fact that her pussy, she paused there no, it’s cunt, no, no. Her vagina, was always wet in inviting.

Of course, that most likely had something to do with the device he had put in her that forced her lips and labia wide open. It consisted of a large ring with two clamps that held her labia wide open. He told it that the device was for making sure his slave was always ready for him, but the result was that her…, its cunt, had responded by producing extra moisture to protect the tissue.

She had shuddered when he’d promised that when he finally got around to piercing her, he’d make sure to make the device an integral part of her cunt piercings. She’d known it wasn’t an idle threat of any kind, and resigned herself to having an always open, always exposed…pussy.

In addition, she was certain that there was something in the food that was heightening her…its arousal.

All of this resulted in its cunt, no her pussy she stopped and shook her head again… her vagina, she thought formally, hoping that would help her hold on. Her vagina was constantly wet to the point that the moisture was almost always dribbling down her thighs in a humiliating manner.

She herself had started to think of herself as a wanton slut at times. She’d quickly correct herself, especially when she referred to herself, as ‘it’, but it was getting harder and harder. She would think ‘it’ and just let it slide so often now. She’d tried desperately to remind herself that this wasn’t her doing, that this was being done to her. That she wasn’t this, she wasn’t a slave, she wasn’t what he said she was. She was. Not. An It!

But sadly, each time she did so, tried to assert this to herself, it seemed to matter less and less to her subconscious.

The proof of that was that even her dreams had begun to betray her. Whereas before they were dreams of somehow escaping, getting revenge upon the man that had done this to her. Or, more likely, nightmares about what had been done, and what might be done in the future. She’d wake up in a cold sweat after those dreams.

The fear her mind was producing about what could happen doing just as much damage to her psyche as what was actually being done to her.

Now her dreams sometimes showed her willingly submitting. Her dreams showed her as a submissive, and obedient slave, just like he, its Master wanted.

More than once she’d woken up from a dream panting, as she remembered herself kneeling obediently, and willingly before her master, begging him to use her…use it, in any way he saw fit.

The days after those dreams were the worst, because it made it harder for her to hold on to who she was. It was those days when she stopped trying to hold on to Rachel, and was just it.

It cried at the end of those days, and it was crying at the end of a depressingly increasing number days.


For her master, he was well pleased with the progress being made. A few weeks ago, he’d figured out that, incredibly, she had a naturally submissive side to her. It was, of course, buried under modern American ideals, but it was definitely there.

She was her most broken, when he made her enjoy, in any way, what he was doing to her. The days when he found her most compliant, and least resistance, were the days after he had made her orgasm and beg for more from whatever devious punishment he had created.

As such, he had shifted his training regimen. He still punished her, of course. Pain was an integral part of the training of any slave, it needed to learn that it existed only for the enjoyment of its master, and sometimes a master enjoyed hurting what was his.

But he also knew that he was going to turn her into the most perfect submissive cunt, if he forced her to enjoy becoming so. As such, he’d make sure that she came at least once a day, and that she pay for it.

Of course, at first, she hadn’t wanted to do that, and it’d take taken more than a few days, to demonstrate the fact that he wanted her to beg, he demanded that she did so, and her refusal was not an option.

After that, every night, just before punishing her for “thinking” about her past, he used her open cunt and while he was fucking her, forced orgasms from her.

With this new way of dominating her, he had noticed a steady decline in the look of defiance and her body and eyes.

She was starting to embrace her slavery, she was truly starting to become ‘it’. So much that he was starting to think of her that way in private as well. He always used that term, and others, when speaking to her that highlighted her status as an object, but in his private thoughts he allowed himself more leeway.

As she moved further and further along that path, however, he found himself thinking less and less of “she” and “her” and more often, “this slave” or simply, “it”.

She’d reached the point in her training where he was almost certain that she would give an honest answer if questioned. So, he was planning to question her on how often she thought about her old name. He would adjust his punishment accordingly, and over the next 2 to 3 weeks, he was certain he would see a steady decline in the amount of times that she would think of it. Soon, his slave would go an entire day without even once recalling its old name.

He’d also decided to heighten its sense of dehumanization even more, by putting her in a permanent hood. Taking away her ability to feel or see her face would also serve to break her more and he’d have a steel mirror installed in her cage area so any time it looked at itself it would not see a human face, but the hooded countenance of a slave for use.

Everything designed to make her his ‘it’.



It was being punished once again. It tried to be the best slave for its master, but it’s inferiority made that hard. Master accepted nothing less than perfection, and it was far from that, much to its eternal shame.

It was locked on its knees, once again. The standard mask it had been wearing over its face, now replaced by a full mask and helmet with only holes for it to breathe. Master had told it that he would leave it here, to be punished by any of his workers. Let them inflict punishment for its failure to perform perfectly once again.

It hated when he let the workers punish it, many of them were very cruel and the pain from their punishment would last for many days.

Of course, since it was only a slave how rough they chose to be wasn’t up for discussion or debate. It was always very contrite after those sessions, and would always redouble its efforts. But eventually it would fail once again and master would have to put it out for them once again.

After its session with the workers, it lay in agony in its cage room. Its punishment helmet had just been replaced by the regular one. It stared at its own reflection, studying the “face” before it. It had not seen its true face in so long it really couldn’t remember what it looked like anymore.

From there it studied the rest of its body. The piercings through its nose, its nipples, with the tiny bells hanging from them. It looked at its gaping cunt, and the piercings attached to the ring that held it open so Master could easily use it.

It looked at its naughty, shameful clit, pierced and swollen, as it always was now with need and want.

It felt a fresh gush of wetness, and saw it start to drip at the idea of its master using it. It looked around the room, more closet, that had become its living space.

Hanging on the wall were various instruments that were its Master’s favorite to use on it, as well as some that were more for reminder than anything else, for instance the anal plug that held the hair that had once been on her head, turned into a tail that she would wear when her master was especially angry with it and would use it as a pony for the day.

The plug was humiliating, and painful when fully inflated, and its master ignored that fact, as he should, when he was whipping its ass and forcing it to pull the cart around the track.

Often on these sessions he would threaten to sell it, sell it as a pony, to those that would use it like this every day. It was horrified at the thought of being used in that manner constantly. Even more horrified at being forced to leave its master.

It was pulled from the thoughts as Master came in. It had already been kneeling, in the standard position he required. Legs spread wide, wrists crossed behind her back, chest out, showing her pierced nipples and the silver bells that hung from them, her chin up and her eyes lowered, the perfect picture of a submissive cunt.

It usually sat in this position, having grown so accustomed to it, that it felt more natural than anything else. It noticed that, as its Master came in, he had something in his hands, a photograph. He held it up before her and said, “who is this?”

It looked at the picture, studying it for a long time. The woman in the picture seemed familiar, smiling, friendly, she had very pretty blonde hair, much like its own, in the plug. Strangely, it was sure it should know this woman, the name on the tip of its tongue. But for the life of it, it simply could not recall who she was, what her name was.

It was certain this lack of performance had indicated another failure on its part. It lowered its head in shame and misery and said, “it is sorry master, it thinks it should know who this woman is, but it cannot remember.”

Her master lowered the picture and said, “that’s fine, it need not trouble itself with such thoughts. It should concentrate more on pleasing me. I am getting tired of having to put it out to the workers, to remind it of its need for obedience”

When it heard the tone in Master’s voice it automatically lowered its leather covered head to his feet, and began to lick the soles of his shoes, “it is sorry it is displeasing master,” it said between licks, “It will do bette,r it promises.”

“It had better,” his master said, “otherwise I’ll skip the workers, it’ll go to the stables permanently.”

It shuddered at that, and said, “it will be better, it promises. It promises.”

Master simply grunted his acknowledgment of its words and picked up the paddle, “ass up,” he said simply. Immediately, the slave raised its ass as high as it could, offering it is a perfect target for its master’s paddle.

Six blows later, 3 for each cheek, the very contrite, and now punished slave said, “thank you master, for punishing this slave.”

The master nodded and said, “it got as it deserved. But now I have something else that need be done,” he opened the door to its holding area and said, “follow me.”

The slave crawled on hands and knees, it’s pain filled ass shaking seductively back and forth as it followed behind its Master an obedient and docile pet.

Eventually, they were in a seldom used corner of the dungeon it had rarely seen. It still knew what all the items here were, and knew what was coming.

It’s a master had threatened, or rather promised, that eventually he would mark it as his own.

As she looked at the heating iron, she realized that day was today

it took its position, shuddering in fear as Master strapped it tightly into place, leaving it completely immobile. It had heard the agonizing screams of other slaves being branded, and it knew from that sound the agony that must come with having this done.

Still, it never once considered begging for this not to happen. It never once even considered that it shouldn’t be marked as its Master’s property.

It had been thoroughly broken.


The master stared down at his slave, pleased at the masterpiece it had become. His masterpiece.

It had been nearly 2 weeks since it had been able to even recall its old name. He had punished it for not remembering, a vicious whipping the likes of which it had not received in some time as he demanded it speak its old name.

Through it all, it was utterly incapable of recalling the name and he had been well pleased, despite presenting the image of disappointment.

After the whipping, it had actually thanked him, as it had been trained, for punishing its failure.

He was certain, in some dark, deep corner of her psyche, who she was, who she had been, was still there. But as a matter of survival her mind had shoved that so far, so deep, that even she couldn’t recall it anymore.

She, had truly become his it. His slave. She performed or rather it performed flawlessly. Accepting any punishment, or action that he took as if born with the knowledge that it deserved whatever it was he chose to do.

Branding it, would be his final act of dominance. His final act of true ownership. He shook his head, thinking that just six short months ago, she had been a vivacious, liberated, free-spirited American woman.

She had a career, a life; friends and family. All the things expected of a modern American woman.

In one moment, she had been yanked away from all of it. Then, systematically, all of that had been stripped away. All of it, originally used as some kind of armor to protect its former self, had been stripped away, laying her soul as bare as her body would’ve been if he had stripped the skin from it.

Her psyche, her will, and her spirit, her very soul laid open and raw for him to first crush, and then rebuild as he saw fit.

Rebuilt into ‘it’.

The mask he’d made it wear for the last three months was just another way he had broken her completely. It was only removed for occasional cleaning and to keep her head shaved. He had placed her hair, after the first time, into a butt plug. He loved how humiliating it was for her to wear it on those occasions when he decided to take her to the stables.

He often threatened her with putting her there permanently, but it was not a true threat. It was far too valuable a slave to be left there. Valuable because of how completely broken it truly was.

Daily, as a test, he would put it in front of a mirror, demanding that it describe itself. Over the course of the three months, the descriptions became increasingly vague as it literally forgot what it looked like.

As it forgot that, it also began to truly forget everything else. He’d quiz it, on occasion, about details of its life he had learned and punish it for not remembering, while at the same time commenting that if it had remembered, it would have been punished worse.

The constant mixed signals just further served to confuse it and make it give up trying to figure out what it should do, and instead, become fully dependent on him, its Master. He was the center of its universe now.

It had become the perfect slave. A living object, its three holes warm, wet, and pulsating at the mere thought of being used by its Master.

It accepted pins, clamps, crops, whips and any other device or action he chose to take upon it with never even a slight moan for mercy. He could rape its cunt or ass and then immediately command it to clean his cock and it obeyed without question. Everything he did it accepted as natural; as what it deserved.

At this point, he knew with certainty that it would be impossible for Rachel to return. He could take her back to America today and it would never be able to return it its old life, not just because it didn’t remember it, but because it now didn’t know how to be anything else but what it was, an owned, docile, and obediently submissive sex-slave.

He was also equally certain that it was not possible for the girl she had been, for Rachel, to be any more dead than she was right now unless he actually ended the life of the slave before him.

Of course, he had no intention of doing that. He’d invested far too much time and effort into her, and it, and it had been worth it.

If he ever decided to sell it, it would be worth a fortune. However, as he picked up the now red hot branding iron he considered to himself that the chances that he would sell such a perfect creation were slim to none.

With that final thought, he slammed the red-hot iron into her left ass cheek, searing his mark into it forever as it screamed in agony; searing it to its very soul, and in so doing forever closing off the small area where who she had been still was. Slamming closed the door to Rachel forever.

From now, until the very end of its days, this slave would only be, would only remember.



On this day in music history: May 16, 1980 - “Freedom Of Choice”, the third studio album by Devo is released. Produced by Robert Margouleff and Devo, it is recorded at The Record Plant in Los Angeles, CA from October 1979 - April 1980. The pioneering new wave bands third release sees their sound become more keyboard driven, incorporating them into their trademark guitar/bass and drums configuration. For this release, Devo collaborates with producer and musician Robert Margouleff (Stevie Wonder, Tonto’s Expanding Head Band). The unique hybrid results in their most successful album, and is regarded as a landmark album in the new wave genre. It spins off four singles including “Whip It” (#14 Pop, #22 Club Play) and “Girl U Want”. The original twelve track album is remastered and reissued in November of 2009, pairing it with the bands 1981 live EP “DEV-O Live”. A month later, a further expanded edition titled “DEVO-LUX” that includes demo versions of “Gates Of Steel”, “Snowball” and “Time Bomb”, and the bands debut album “Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!”. In January of 2016, Rhino Records reissues “Freedom Of Choice” as part of their “Start Your Ear Off Right” series, as a limited edition vinyl LP pressed on red, white and blue multi-colored vinyl, also replicating the original inner sleeve. “Freedom Of Choice” peak at number twenty two on the Billboard Top 200, and is certified Platinum in the US by the RIAA.


Pairing: Author x Reader

Requests (3): I need some hard Author x reader smut followed by sweet aftercare (love your fics!)

Author x male reader fluff?

author being a daddy dom for a little boy?

Warnings: nsfw, male pronouns

“Oh, Daddy please~” you purred, your cock pressing to the floor as you kneeled for your Daddy.

He had a whip in his hand (which he had yet to use) and he was looking down at his good little boy with a hunger that was unmatched.

“No, no, not yet, little boy.” Author growled putting a foot on your back and pushing you to the floor.

You whimpered as he did this, wanting to cum more than anything. He pushed your face further into the ground and gave a single smack with the whip to you ass.

Before you knew it , he was thrusting into your ass, going faster than you were prepared for. He bent over to your head.

“You can cum now, little boy~”

“Ah! Thank you, Daddy, thank you!” You collapsed onto the floor in the next second, your cum dripping onto the carpet.

Author picked you up and held you in his arms, kissing you quite a bit.

“I’m so proud of you, you did so well.” Author purred, laying with you on the bed.

He pet you and asked if you needed or wanted anything, but you were tired and wanted sleep. So you passed out into his chest.

anonymous asked:

Can I request V smut that involves whip cream? Like you're trying to make dessert but V has other plans in mind :)

Originally posted by bts-in-motion

Here ya go!!! I’m really bad at this, so I hope it was okay. Kinky V scenario fin~~~

Words: 1040

What did he say? You were sure you’d heard wrong. Taehyung looked at you from across the table, leaning his chin on his hand.

“I asked what you wanted for dessert,” you said for the second time. He nodded once, a sly smile creeping to his lips.

“I know what you said perfectly loud and clear. I want you for dessert.”

You dropped your fork onto the table unconsciously. Snapping your attention to it, you gently placed your hand on the table.

“Shocked?” He asked.

You nodded furiously, feeling your brows furrow. He’d never just outright said anything sexual to you. Unless, you were in bed. Even then, he kept the dirty talk to a minimum. You didn’t know how to react, but you were beginning to like it a bit.

He got up, sliding off his shirt. Taehyung dropped it on the floor, glancing at you. Trying to keep your expression straight, you looked away from him. He sneaked off to the kitchen, coming back with a single can of whipped cream.

“What are you going to do with that?” You wondered, getting up from your seat. Taehyung licked his lips slowly, driving you a little crazy.

“What’s dessert without a little whip cream?” He asked, placing it on the table and coming closer to you. Taehyung pulled a chair out from the dining table and pat it gently. You sat down, becoming more and more aroused.

You pulled your shirt off, followed by your bra. Taehyung watched the whole thing, holding out the can for you to take. Feeling a little shy, you pouted your lips.

“Let me help you, jagi.” Taehyung got to his knee’s, unbuckling your pants and pulling them down. You were surprised by how wet you already were, only by Taehyung’s simple words.

He spread your legs, sticking a finger inside. With the other hand, Taehyung sprayed the whip cream on your breasts, and all the way down to your bellybutton.

He put down the can, lightly curling his finger inside of you.

“My dessert looks perfect,” he hummed, licking away the whip cream closest to him. You lightly moaned, making him stick another finger in your folds. Leaning forward, Taehyung licked all the way up your body, sucking clean the whip cream on your breasts.

“Ah, fuck-” you choked out, arching your back as he pumped his digits slowly. Taehyung reached for the can again, making a line of whip cream down your thigh. Slowly, he went down on you again, beginning at the end of your thigh. He sucked up the whip cream, sticking his fingers deeper into you.

You couldn’t keep from moaning as he sucked a little harder on you, leaving a reddish mark on the inside of your thigh. Gently, he bit your thigh, before pulling away and looking at you with lust filled eyes.

“Now for the best part.” He licked his white stained lips, pulling his fingers out teasingly, and ramming them back inside. Taehyung ignored your thighs, letting you lay them on his shoulders as he went down on you.

He kissed your clit, watching you lean back into the chair.

“Don’t tease me,” you whimpered, feeling him continuously curl his fingers inside of you. Taehyung deliberately ignored the g-spots inside you, just inches away from his fingers.

His warm tongue trailed up your entire clit, before lightly flicking up and down it quicker. You felt yourself grinding on his hand, 100% certain his nose was squished against your slick folds. He took out a finger, only to replace the second one with his tongue.

“Taehyung-” you kept whimpering, feeling his tongue hit as much of you as it could.

“Stop, stop. I’m going to cum-” You gasped, knowing you never finished while he was eating you out. For some reason, you’d always stopped him before and let his cock finish off the rest.

“Good. I want to taste all of you.” He purred, going back to your clit. He stuck two more fingers inside of you, no longer avoiding your g-spots.

“Fuck! Taehyung, harder.” You were so close to your orgasm you could feel it on the edge of your tongue. Only a little more…

He stopped, pulling his fingers out of you and putting his tongue back into his mouth.

“You said-”

He cut you off. “I know what I said. I need you.”

Taehyung didn’t stop. He pulled off his shorts, revealing his raging boner. You got up, pushing him down into your seat. You had to finish, you needed to finish.

Without any notice, you sat down on him, taking all of him in you. Leaning over, you reached for the bottle again. Pouring some on your breasts, Taehyung attacked you.

You bounced up and down on him, while he sucked your chest clean for the second time. 

“(Y/N), fuck.” He groaned, biting your nipple as he began to grind against you. Tipping your head back, you were once again close to your orgasm. You arched your back into him, pushing your breast closer against his face.

“Tae, please-” you gasped, firmly planting your hands on his shoulders. Taehyung picked you up, pushing you onto the table. Things fell on the floor with a loud clang, but neither of you payed any attention to it.

You laid back, and Taehyung held your hips as he thrust. He slammed in and out of you quickly, not caring about keeping a steady pace. You felt yourself clench around him, curling your toes while his dick hit all the good spots.

“Wait for me,” he pleaded in an exasperated tone. You were both close, but you knew you’d finish before him.

No longer being able to help it, you hit your orgasm before Taehyung. Finishing on him, he groaned loudly.

“Just keep going-” you moaned loudly, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him. He finally finished, pulling out only after jizzing inside of you.

“Can you be this kinky whenever your horny?” You asked, and he leaned his head against your shoulder.

“It’s so tiring.” He sighed, letting your wrap your legs around his waist.

“But it feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“You’re definitely not wrong.” He replied, nipping your shoulder gently.

Cheating Fics - MC

How about the RFA+v and saeran finding out that mc is cheating on them with some stranger(not any of them)//let’s be fair here. They are not the only one who can cheat on mc, mc can do the same.

So this is the request I got earlier today, I struggle to write from the characters in big chunks so I thought I’d do it as mini fics instead. I’ll put it under a read more as it is quite long!

Keep reading

No Bullshit (Jackson)

Plot: Frat boy Jackson + you’re a sorority girl known for turning down any guy who asks you out, but Jackson is convinced he can persuade you otherwise. He bets the guys he can land a date with you + Jackson acting like a total fuckboy in an attempt to grab your attention at your house party

Length: 1,868 words

Genre: Fluff/Frat boy series

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

omg another one of these "guess who the Mun likes". When that went off on Talon's blog i was watching from the sidelines at the number of questions shooting through. Now its happening to you! i must ask now and be a detective :^) is he single boi? -whips out pencil and notepad-


i think i have crush on him ffs

but he soo fine thooo aaaaaaa