Content warning: implied possible rape
“If you want to fight so much,” Lady Glenora had clearly used up the last of her patience, “then by The Lady, you are going to fight.”
Tobias was uncertain of exactly what had happened next. It had involved at least three burly guards, four painful injections, five-point restraints, and possibly a partridge in a pear tree.
He was absolutely certain where he was now, though. He was naked – again, these Californians and nudity – and he was in a cage, maybe 10 feet on a side, with a guy a foot taller than him and a short girl wearing a terrifying strap-on.
All three of them were collared – he checked, yep, still wearing the damn thing – and slicked in oil.
“The object of the game,” the announcer called, “is not to get penetrated. Begin!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tobias began… and quickly thought better of that curse.
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I will get to it tomorrow. Bottle of Mogen David, remember?
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“Should we stop him?”
Anya was new to the guarding business, just out of the Academy and still shiny around the edges.
Tobin, on the other hand, had been guarding Miss Anna’s Establishment for forty years.
“Darlin’.” Only someone like Tobin could call someone like Anya darlin’ and survive it. “It’s Miss Anna. And that’s her private audience chamber.“
“Oh?” It didn’t take her all THAT long for it to click. “Oh!”
“I’m pretty sure the last burglar to try to break in there is still ‘working off his debt.'”
“When was that?”
“Oh? Mmm… four, five years ago.” He grinned. “Let the guy get in. My boots need shining.”
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It was practically biblical. Torque had entered into a procurement deal for the younger of two sister, only to find, upon taking possession of the wrapped and bound and gagged girl, that the father had sent the older sister.
“What am I going to do with you?” Torque stared with dismay at this Leah. She was gorgeous, of course, but she was tall where Rachel was short, slim where Rachel was round.
In response, the girl grinned, and dropped to her knees, her hair brushing the floor, brushing Torque’s feet. “Rachel is a virgin,” she purred. “But I…”
Her mouth was occupied, but Torque saw her point immediately.
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Ce’rilla showed her daughter how to plant the acorn, carefully mounding the soil over it.
“The old world?” Sweetbriar had less patience for greenery than ‘Rilla’s older kids, but she was trying, anyway. “That cracked and turned.”
“The acorn does, too. So that an oak can be born.”
“Are we the oak?”
“That’s the idea. And from us…”
Sweetbriar patted the earth carefully. “Then there’s another acorn?”
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Happy New Year!
If you leave me a prompt on the topic of Bondage, Slavery, Dubcon, Noncon between now and 12:00 EST, I will write a few (20-150) words on that prompt!
I reserve the right to write as few or as many as I want to in that time. Also, I have a bottle of Mogen David & am a happy camper.
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Aster couldn’t remember the last time she had been awake.
There had been that misunderstanding with the – oh, whoever they’d been – and there had been a stake and a crossroads and far too much stone, and so she’d slept. They’d dig her up again. They always did.
The Eperu Working shook her coffin out of the ground, and the Kwxe Working broke the coffin into bits, and it was only then that the team of fae workers, tearing up the roads for new construction, noticed Aster standing there.
She stretched. It was good to be standing in the air again. “Hello, boys.” She waved, although none of their faces were familiar. “Miss me?”
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By the time the Earth ships found the Caschitari, it was too late. The Puradoon had already been through, and had wiped out everything; every building bigger than a shack had been knocked down, every lifeform they could find had been destroyed; the libraries, the data centers, the cultural spots had all been ashed.
From the readings, the human scientists estimated the Puradoon had come through about a decade past. They did that, the Puradoon, washed through star systems like locusts. Earth was close to stopping them – but too late for the Caschitari.
Or so they thought. Until the sensors picked up strange readings, deep in the basement of what had been the great museum of the Caschitari. A seed? A seed, the scientists agreed. A seed of…
They brushed dirt off of an ancient drinking vessel, and noises began. Talking noises, whispers, at first, and then louder. Building noises, all at once.
From the tiny seed deep in a drinking vessel, the Caschitari civilization was rebuilding itself.
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Fire kills everything.
Fire ruins everything.
Fire engulfs everything, consumes everything, destroys everything.
And yet, after a fire, a forest begins to emerge again. After a fire, a community emerges again. After a fire, a phoenix rises again.
I thought I’d lost everything. No, I knew I’d lost everything. But after the fire, only after that horrible fire, did my wings emerge.
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There was a kitten in the road, no, three kittens. And Garnia had to get back to the farm before the sun set, or she’d be in trouble. But there was a wagon rolling down the road, clip-clop and the clouds had been really pretty today but the kittens rarely saw wagons and the thing was clippity-clopping awfully fast and focus, Garnia!
It didn’t work for long, it never worked for long; her mind was like a field of butterflies and there was still a tiny pile of kittens in the road and the wagon clippity-clopping ever closer and kittens she had to get them even if she wasn’t really allowed in the road and…
The wagon-driver slave-raider was never sure quite what happened. One moment he was reaching for the girl, maybe twelve, thirteen years old and the next moment there was a field of butterflies wooshing out of his hand, pushing three tiny kittens ahead of them in an impossible maelstrom.
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