Solo Slaves without chains

Wikus' encounter with a Rujaro.

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This lazy agricultural settlement rests on the swampy shores of the Middle Suvan at the delta of The Kenash River. The River's slow moving bayou waters have bred a different sort of people - rugged, cultured, and somewhat violent. Sprawling plantations of tobacco and cotton grow on the outskirts of the swamp in the rich Cyphrus soils, while the city itself curls around the bayou and spawns decadence and sins of all sorts. Life is slower in Kenash, but the lack of pace is made up for in the excesses of food and flesh in a city where drinking, debauchery, gambling, slavery, and overbearing plantation families dominate the landscape.

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Slaves without chains

Postby Wikus on April 16th, 2016, 4:50 pm

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50th Spring
Ghalash Swamp
11th Bell


Wikus tried to control his breathing as much as he could, yet he felt the fear manifest within him with an intensity he couldn’t deny. Trapped like a rat, a bird sitting in the Granidile’s open mouth, unaware of how close it was to meeting Dira. What had begun as a morning in which he tried to get some knowledge about the swamp had turned into, perhaps, the day he’d perish. It was scary to think that it was to be this sudden, this unexpected. Was death always so sudden? You wake in the morning and you put on your shoes, not knowing that you perhaps you wouldn’t make it through the door without dying. The thought terrified him, shook his very bones, and so he was paralyzed. The dagger that pressed against his neck, damp due to the humidity of the swamp, made sure of it. His body trembled in the hold of the female, whom despite being of inferior height completely controlled him. Why didn’t he see her coming? Why had he been so naïve as to think all he had to worry about were the animals, when the biggest danger for him was humanity itself? A whine escaped his throat as he rose his head, trying to escape the edge of the dagger.

“Shhh, don’t struggle, pretty boy.” Said the female voice behind him, mocking him. Her free hand immediately came forward, sliding through his shirtless torso and moving to the front of his body, pressing her palm against his thin frame. “What is a handsome man like yourself doing in a swamp like this?” Unable to do anything but remain still, it seemed like the only way the female would find a reason not to claim his life. Suddenly, he felt her tongue on his back, relishing on his unnatural beauty as it scraped and tasted his flesh. Beauty had never been such a curse thought Wikus, unable to do anything about it. Furthermore, the female was not dissuaded, as instead her hand slid down his chest, moving past his waist and entering the limits of his pants. He felt her touch on his manhood, yet there was nothing pleasant about it – it was violent, harsh, and unwanted, even if her touch was menacingly gentle. Wikus didn’t enjoy sexual pleasure, and he liked it even less when it was unwanted. “Oh, a big boy, are we? I don’t know if I should eat it, or if I should… Cut it!”

The moment her last words left her, she jerked Wikus backwards, as one of her feet stood behind his and tripped him into the damp soil beneath them. A bit shocked by the sudden motion, he found himself laying on the ground, and before he could react, the female had already jumped on top of him, straddling him into the ground as her dagger’s tip was once again scraping his neck. Wikus’ arms tried to move, yet the female raised her elbow, clearly ready to impale his neck if it was necessary. “Uh-uh. Don’t even try it, pretty boy. You’ve got no idea how easy you’ll make it for me.” Wikus showed his teeth, as that was the only thing he could do to express his frustration. The female, with tanned skin, extensive tattoos across her face, and jewelry decorating her entire body certainly seemed like a scary rival. Even so, her wide grin and dead eyes made it easy to figure out how easy it would be for her to slash his neck. She was enjoying this situation, even if Wikus certainly did not.

She extended an arm and took a hold of his right palm, running her fingers through the freeborn mark burnt into his flesh. “A Freeborn, huh? Licked any Dynasts lately?” Without warning, her hand returned to smack him across the face. Despite not being as painful as it looked, his ego was certainly wounded. Defeated and incapacitated by a woman. “I bet you enjoy petching a slave or two a day, don’t you?” She smacked him again, this once with the hand that held her dagger. The hit was harder, and the pain was added to the humiliation. “Yeah… you sure do. You look like the type that enjoys pulling on a chain. You enjoy feeling superior in other’s misery. Answer me!” She hit him again, his jaw already aching greatly, Wikus groaning and wiggling in pain. At last, Wikus’ words were unlocked. “N-No…” He couldn’t help but to stutter, intimidated enough to even wonder if he was to wet his pants. Wikus’ struggle with insecurity was constant, and in dire situations like these, he had no other choice but to drop the act.

Shaking her head, she smacked him across the face thrice, harsh slaps that at least were delivered with her unarmed hand. The damage to his cheeks was minimal, yet the damage to his self-esteem was grave. “D-don’t kill me…!” He moaned, unable to do anything but to beg. Wikus felt his eyes wetting, at the brink of crying, head looking around to see something, anything that could help him escape. His hands began shaking, moved by the fear and helplessness felt in that moment, not even able to stand and fight in his last moments. “Why shouldn’t I!?” She yelled, as she took him by his top-knot and pulled him closer to her face. “Why wouldn’t I tie you to a pole and whip you until you lost every last drop of your blood screamed in pain!? Why wouldn’t I take the handle of a whip and shatter your knuckles so that you felt what she felt!?” Wikus’ tears broke free, closing his eyes to avoid looking up onto the face of the woman, to avoid confronting her. She knew about him and Konrad, about what they had done that that chained animal. She knew how his whip broke that man like an animal, how that female slave tried to protest and ended up with a shattered hand…. She knew, and he did too.

“Look at me!” She yelled in his face, to which Wikus could do nothing but to obey. He was at her mercy, just like that tied slave was at the mercy of his whip days ago. His scared blue eyes met her burning brown, locked in place and unable to do anything but witness the extent of her rage. She saw that in him, the fear and the helplessness, and so her attitude changed. Her rage waned, and instead mockery was awoken within her gaze. She was going to break him, he thought, torture him before she ended his life. Just as he thought, the wildling leaned closer and ran her warm tongue through his forehead, giggling afterwards with a wickedness he had never seen before. Afterwards, she pressed her forehead against his, eyes meeting in close proximity as her dagger pressed against his throat. “Your friend in the hat is not here to save you, is he? I’ve got you all for me, it seems… You are now my slave.”



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Slaves without chains

Postby Wikus on April 16th, 2016, 10:14 pm

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Wikus crawled away, crawling through the damp soil the worm he was, not giving up on his life. He couldn’t fight his fear, nor could he match the female’s confidence. The battle was lost before he had raised a fist, defeated by her presence. His mind was defeated and thus he was cursed with trying to escape her. In a way, it reminded him of his childhood, full of similar helplessness, which only made him feel weaker and insignificant. The tears of terror flowed down his cheeks, eyes wide open as if they were to spot an exit from this situation. He didn’t get before far, as the female simply walked beside him and kicked him in the kidney. Wikus screamed and writhed in pain, yet the swamp was not listening to him. She kicked him again on the same spot, Wikus immediately wrapping his arms around his body in vain attempts of protecting himself. Her boot came forth once again, stomping him on the side of the ribs, which made him lose his breath. He was panting already, his endurance being tested by pure brutality, yet still clinging to the silver lining of a possible victory.

Curling into a ball, he went on his fours in attempts of covering one side of his body, yet exposing another in consequence. There was truly no defense against her. “I bet you like this, don’t you?” Said Artaomora, whom was clearly enjoying her victory over the male. Moving before his head, she’d press his face against the soil with the sole of her boot. “Tastes good, right?” Wikus’ relentlessness shined once more, as he immediately figured out how weak she was once her leg was in his possession. In wrestling, whenever the leg was captured, there was almost no escape. In a risky move, Wikus raised his arms and wrapped them around the female’s ankle, which she obviously did not like. Due to his bad stance, it took her only a harsh wiggle to free said foot, and in return she launched two swift kicks on Wikus’ left shoulder. Again, he could only writhe in pain as he was once again defenseless, and even less motivated to keep fighting her. “Don’t make me hit you in that pretty face of yours. At least thank me for hitting you in the body. The worst you can expect is bruises.”

Wikus wondered how she could be as indifferent as to what she was doing. He couldn’t do anything similar, it took a toll on him whenever he inflicted pain onto another being. When he took that slave’s life with the help of his whip, he felt the damage reflect back on his very being, yet he remained quiet and he suffered for himself. This woman didn’t suffer, but instead relished on the pain. She leeched from his joy and used it for her own amusement. It was something he wanted to learn to do and use, despite how it terrible it felt being the victim of an apparent upcoming murder. “Please…!” His begs were useless here, as the female only laughed. “Oh, beg all you want. Beg like they begged, and I’ll listen as you two animals did.” Wikus could barely catch his breath by now, trying his best to breathe as deeply as he could and avoid falling into hyperventilation, a condition that had appeared in his youth and that often manifested itself when he was in trouble. The female did not strike just yet, but instead waited a few ticks before delivering another kick. That moment of tension was devastating, the moment in which a victim awaits for something it doesn’t come.

It only made it more terrible when the blow actually came, which for the female meant taking him by his hair and forcing him to roll to one of his sides, to face up and reveal just how much damage he had taken. His face was immaculate in itself, salve perhaps for the mud that had tainted his beard and flesh, the barely opened eyes that teared still, and the mouth that tried to inhale its last breaths, apparently. It was almost comical how quickly a man got tired while receiving blows, how quickly their apparent strengths was shattered after a couple of hits. Wikus had forgotten that lesson, yet now he was learning it first handedly. The female watched him with indifference, almost as if doubting how to torture him further. “Get on your feet and fight back. Be a man for once in your life.”

She said so and stepped back a few steps, crossing his arms over her breasts, which were generously visible due to the pronounced cleavage. Wikus just groaned in pain, squirming from side to side in attempts of dealing with the pain, almost certain that she’d leave him alone, just like a predator left alone a pray that no longer amused it. Artaomora didn’t get tired, however, and instead she squatted down and took a few balls of soil, which she tossed towards Wikus’ face, as if reminding him of her orders. “Come on, now. Don’t make me come over there to wake you up, pretty boy.” Wikus fought through the pain, and tried to recover at least part of his breath as he rolled sideways, his arms shaking eagerly as he slowly pushed himself up. The female’s teases with the balls of soil did not stop, becoming harsher and harsher upon his torso’s flesh. “You seem like a strong man. You’ve got that look in your body that tells me you’ve got a fight within you. I want to see that strength of yours, so stand up and fight."

Wikus managed to stand, his panting in full volume, loud and deep breaths trying to flood him with some last strengths. He wanted to believe that he was going to be given a chance to survive, when in fact he knew deep down that she was just going to break him the most she could before he disposed of him. This wild world did not left room for hope, a lesson he had learned long ago yet forgotten. He had become too comfortable, too bold and too stupid to live, and thus these were to be his final moments. He couldn’t help but to weep like a child, so afraid of closing his eyes and never opening them again that he left aside his pride as a man. Even with his height, he had never felt so small. The female stood up and smiled to him, beckoning to him to try and attack her. And so Wikus, beaten and in pain, obeyed, for he was her slave.



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Slaves without chains

Postby Wikus on April 17th, 2016, 4:41 am

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There was no strength in him to perform with at least a bit of grace. His motions were slow, his hits were wide and tired, and his legs threatened to collapse at any tick now. He felt so tired already, and his breathing did not seem to catch on. Every once in a while he rushed forward in a senseless rush to end up nowhere, trapped in the invisible spider web that was this swamp. He couldn’t even gather enough energy to cry, focusing all he had in panting and trying to stay on his feet, and whenever his energy permitted he’d attempt to do as he was told and attack the female. Artaomora was certainly not pleased, and her mockery and joy had faded away as she watched with her plainness the sloppy motions of the male, whom looked as if he was intoxicated. She was truly disappointed, for she had given him a chance to save himself, and all she had to do was take a side way step whenever the clumsy giant approached her. Hoping for a challenge, she was truly wasting her time with him. She just watched as the bruised Wikus went on and on with his futile attempts.

“How long are you going to keep trying? You’ve done nothing so far. You’ve not even touched me. Just go to your knees and give up. I’ll be merciful and give you a quick death. Not that you’ve earned it…” Her words were as cold as the sweat on Wikus’ hair, sweating like a beast by his efforts. He wouldn’t fall, not when he still had his legs below him. She’d have to take them away from him before he was to fall down. With a shriek, Wikus ran as fast as he could towards her, straight on and without a plan, as an extremely wide attempt of a punch headed towards the female. She had to do nothing but bend her body sideways as she hopped sideways, steering clear from the man’s trajectory. After his yet another failure, he had to place the palms of his hands on his knees and pant for another dozen of ticks before he gathered more strength. In that period of time, he heard the female’s loud sigh, which only made him fear for his safety even further.

“Don’t bend over. Keep your torso erect and breathe in through your nose, then you exhale through your mouth. Even a newborn would do better than you, pretty boy.” Wikus refused to take her advice – at first. Of course, he quickly changed his mind as otherwise it would like an insult to her, whom at least was trying to advise him in his last moments. Wikus did as she said, standing straight, head bending back and inhaling deeply through his nose before exhaling the air through his mouth. He tried to calm his breathing by holding the air inside his lungs for a longer period of time, and exhaling slowly afterwards. Surprisingly, it worked, yet it also cause him to feel a bit light headed, and his vision was clouded for a couple of ticks. When it cleared, he saw her there, with her features as unamused as he remember her. “That pretty face of yours is all you’ve got. If that’s all you can do, I’m surprised you work for the Magistrate, pretty boy.” Wikus glanced over at her, and showed her his teeth.

Artaomora smiled, yet that smile quickly faded when she realized the man wouldn’t do anything. He was an act in her eyes, instead of a victim of a beating she herself had given him. Rolling her eyes, she stretched her arms above her. “Fine. Let’s change it up, since you’ll never hit me. Now I attack and you dodge.” Before Wikus could even gasp, the female began rushing towards him. While she was certainly no expert in unarmed combat, a target as big and as clumsy as Wikus was no challenge. The hit landed directly on his stomach, which immediately crushed Wikus’ insides and forced him to bend forward and squirm in pain. He fell to his knees, despite his promise to himself. He coughed, feeling as if he was to vomit whatever it was he held within his stomach. The saliva fell from his mouth in tendrils, even they holding on to Wikus as if afraid of falling into the soil and dying out.

He wouldn’t give up, and so he gathered strengths from that seemingly infinite pool of his, which no matter how empty it looked, it always surprised him. It wasn’t stubbornness, but simple will to not bend for anyone. “Don’t stay so stiff. Move your feet, bend your hips. Look at my arms, at my motions, and predict where they are going. Don’t let me hit you. At least try… Gods, you are no fun at all, do you know that? Stand up!” Wikus obeyed, already fantasizing with the soil, with laying down and not waking up. He was drained, truly, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do much more than just be this woman’s punching bag. “No… No more…” Wikus rose his arms in futile attempts of defending himself, signaling just how weak he felt, yet Artaomora was only angered by such gesture. “I dictate if there’s more or if there’s less, you understand!?” And with that, she kicked his already weakened leg, which sent Wikus into the soil without much issue. Planting her foot on his stomach, she pressed. “Tell me about Konrad. Say something useful before you die.”



Thanks to Gossamer for this amazing template!
User avatar
Wikus
It burns when I pee!
 
Posts: 278
Words: 377704
Joined roleplay: August 26th, 2015, 9:48 pm
Location: Syka.
Race: Human, Drykas
Character sheet
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Medals: 1
Riverfall Seasonal Challenge (1)


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