JD's bazaar

[doe.1971]

[wulf]

In the slave pen.jpg

A very interesting scene, please tell me it will continue.

[doe.1971]

A very interesting scene, please tell me it will continue.

Frankly, my lupine colleague, I have no idea. No coherent vision at all.

[wulf]

A very interesting scene, please tell me it will continue.

Frankly, my lupine colleague, I have no idea. No coherent vision at all.

Then my fertile.. and quite perverted.. imagination will have to suffice. Your scene provides a lot of inspiration, so thanks.

[doe.1971]

What will break her first? The stout knout or the ever increasing voltage in her sensitive points? The whipping alternates with the shocks.

In the end, they talk. They all do.

[wulf]

What will break her first? The stout knout or the ever increasing voltage in her sensitive points? The whipping alternates with the shocks.

In the end, they talk. They all do.


image (2).jpg

This one is really nice. It has the right mix of everything that makes it very erotic. Well done JD, and thanks for sharing.

[yyy02]

What will break her first? ...
image (2).jpg

download/file.php?id=87953&mode=view

JD, I absolutely love the position of her hands as depicted, manacled high above her head, stretched tight and helpless, in pain...
As always, thank you for sharing your work.

[frog]

What will break her first? The stout knout or the ever increasing voltage in her sensitive points? The whipping alternates with the shocks.

In the end, they talk. They all do.

download/file.php?id=87953&mode=view, great job, although the image is static you manage to impart a sense of direction and action. She will break, as you say, but the interrogators will surely have to take turns, as is well suggested by the one just stepping into the scene. Interrogation is tiring work, especially during the first 24 hours sessions.

[doe.1971]

The ambush came swiftly in the shadowed canyons west of the Sundom. Aloy, the Nora seeker with flame-red hair and unyielding spirit, had ventured too close to Shadow Carja territory while tracking corrupted machines. A patrol of Helis's loyalists, clad in dark armor emblazoned with the eclipsed sun, overpowered her with blaze traps and override spikes. Stripped of her bow, spear, and armor as a mark of utter defeat and humiliation, she was bound and marched into the blistering heart of the Forbidden West's arid fringes, a vast desert quarry under Shadow Carja control.

"Break the rocks for the Sun-King's glory," the captain sneered as they shoved her into the labor camp. "Naked as the day you were born, savage. Let the sun scour your defiance."

The days blurred into a merciless rhythm. Aloy swung a heavy pickaxe under the unrelenting glare of the sun, her pale skin burning red, then peeling, as she chipped away at massive boulders for building materials destined for Sunfall's fortifications. Dozens of other captives, Oseram forgers, Nora outcasts, even disgraced Carja, toiled alongside her, all stripped bare to strip them of dignity. Guards in shadowed helms patrolled with tripcasters and whips, barking orders. Water was rationed; shade was forbidden.

But Aloy was no ordinary prisoner. Even as sweat stung her eyes and her muscles screamed, her mind raced. She noted the guards' patrol patterns: the western watchtower changed shifts at dusk. Loose rocks near the northern fence could be sharpened into tools. A sandstorm was brewing on the horizon, perfect cover for a dash to freedom. At night, huddled in the meager pits they called shelters, she whispered plans to a few trusted captives, mapping escape routes in the dirt.

One afternoon, as Aloy subtly tested a chain link on the perimeter fence during a brief water break, a shadow fell over her. A burly supervisor, his face scarred from old machine battles, grabbed her arm roughly. "Plotting already, red-hair? Your eyes give you away."



He dragged her away from the quarry floor, up a winding path to the top of the tallest rock overlooking the labor camp. The ascent was grueling in the heat, her bare feet slipping on jagged stone. At the summit, he released her with a shove, forcing her to stand at the edge.



"Look," he commanded, gesturing with a sweep of his arm. The desert stretched infinitely in every direction, golden dunes rolling like waves to the horizon, broken only by distant ruined spires and the faint haze of corrupted machines prowling the wastes. No water, no cover, no mercy. "This is the Shadow's domain. Endless. Waterless. Run, and the sun claims you before the machines do. Or the patrols. Stay, break rocks, and live."



Aloy stood defiant, wind whipping her hair, the vast emptiness pressing in. For the first time, a flicker of doubt crept in, but only for a moment. Her escape would wait, refined by this new knowledge. The desert was vast, but so was her will.



With some literary help from Mistral, the uncensored version to make the text less cumbersome (English is not my first or second language as I keep stating)

[doe.1971]

I think I've posted this one, I'm not sure but here's a rework, reimagining if Flores instead of Rico would be subjected to the lashes in the cult Starship Trooper.