Warrior rebirth in the world of Quoom (inspired by Jolanda’s Ordeal)

[redsonja]

From Quoom: Jolanda' Ordeal
And remember: too much salt is not good for your health !

I love the image of her with the suffering on her face, and that brutal whip mark on her cheeks! It's wild and brutal!

I wouldn't spank a girl in the face during bdsm, for me that part should remain intact , and only when the semen covers her, heh, heh, heh! And if you want to achieve that effect, perhaps a makeup session that simulates blood or a cut on her face would suffice.

 

[Loinclothslave]

I love the image of her with the suffering on her face, and that brutal whip mark on her cheeks! It's wild and brutal!

I wouldn't spank a girl in the face during bdsm, for me that part should remain intact , and only when the semen covers her, heh, heh, heh! And if you want to achieve that effect, perhaps a makeup session that simulates blood or a cut on her face would suffice.

Mmmmm, I think Jolanda’s Ordeal is possibly my favourite Quoom, the way she is made to crawl in that thin dress, then it is slowly reduced to a skirt by the harsh bullwhipping… Mmmmm the crescendo when he whips her face is glorious… the skirt reducing to almost nothing as her ordeal continues!

All those naysayers who tell me I should be naked should offer to remove my loincloth in similar fashion - I’d be much more compliant with such a plan! Then after you can crucify me naked. See, I’m reasonable, willing to compromise!

@dfg42 , I’m thinking of you, for one, who always tells me to be naked without loincloth- just treat me like Jolanda, please?

 

[redsonja]

Mmmmm, I think Jolanda’s Ordeal is possibly my favourite Quoom, the way she is made to crawl in that thin dress, then it is slowly reduced to a skirt by the harsh bullwhipping… Mmmmm the crescendo when he whips her face is glorious… the skirt reducing to almost nothing as her ordeal continues!

All those naysayers who tell me I should be naked should offer to remove my loincloth in similar fashion - I’d be much more compliant with such a plan! Then after you can crucify me naked. See, I’m reasonable, willing to compromise!

@dfg42 , I’m thinking of you, for one, who always tells me to be naked without loincloth- just treat me like Jolanda, please?

Okay, okay. But don't give in so easily, be reticent, defiant, and so I'll play longer to break your rebellious spirit, totally naked before me, being flogged again, but this time with the Roman scourge, and the wounds of Quoom's drawings will be little thing compared to the news that the Roman scourge will do to you, and both will come together in your naked body that will ooze blood from all the pores of your skin, and if you survive you will be crucified on a hill until your last breath bids you farewell to life .

 

[Loinclothslave]

Okay, okay. But don't give in so easily, be reticent, defiant, and so I'll play longer to break your rebellious spirit, totally naked before me, being flogged again, but this time with the Roman scourge, and the wounds of Quoom's drawings will be little thing compared to the news that the Roman scourge will do to you, and both will come together in your naked body that will ooze blood from all the pores of your skin, and if you survive you will be crucified on a hill until your last breath bids you farewell to life .

Ok, I’ll fight your injustice with my warrior blood, defying you every step of the way, refusing to submit!

 

[redsonja]

Your barbaric practices prove just how uncivilized your society is. I will give no satisfaction, determined not to utter a sound under your ghastly torment.

Still, inside I am trembling when you have me chained and swaying as you show me the terrible weapon you wish to inflict upon my innocent flesh. The multi stranded whip with shards of ceramic, glass, and metal tired into the knots will tend my flesh with every stroke. The metal shards at each tip will tear me to the bone. I fear the pain, but I am determined to prove your injustice by remaining stoic.

But you test my resolve early. There is no warm up as you let fly with full force and strike my back from shoulder blade to my ribs, tearing great rents into my back with the first blow, and causing me to sway to my right.

This allows your second blow access to my flank and the cruel tips reach the front of my chest, ripping into my breast and tearing the sling on my flank…

Already I am struggling to keep my resolve and by just the fifth stroke I can’t help but gasp at the cruelly deep scourge. By the 15th, tears begin to roll down my cheeks, and a whimper can be heard passing my lips.

Yet my resolve is such that even as you aim at various positions, the 25th striking the insides of my left thigh as you tear off another strip of loincloth that I continue to refuse to scream.

How long must I suffer this? Will you only cease if I elicit a scream or lose control of my bladder. Are you angry because I refuse to submit? Good, barbarian! Ha!!

I want you to finally break before the Roman scourge, and I order your legs to be spread open and chained to the ground at the ankles, and so having them wide open the executioner will whip your crotch, and we'll see if you can not scream! But at the same time I admire your bravery, and even allow myself to feel some pity at seeing your once magnificent body turned into a bleeding lump of meat!

Surrender and beg, please! Can't you see we're beating you to pieces, isn't the blood dripping onto the ground at your feet enough?

 

[redsonja]

I want you to finally break before the Roman scourge, and I order your legs to be spread open and chained to the ground at the ankles, and so having them wide open the executioner will whip your crotch, and we'll see if you can not scream! But at the same time I admire your bravery, and even allow myself to feel some pity at seeing your once magnificent body turned into a bleeding lump of meat!

Surrender and beg, please! Can't you see we're beating you to pieces, isn't the blood dripping onto the ground at your feet enough?

Your barbaric practices prove just how uncivilized your society is. I will give no satisfaction, determined not to utter a sound under your ghastly torment.

Still, inside I am trembling when you have me chained and swaying as you show me the terrible weapon you wish to inflict upon my innocent flesh. The multi stranded whip with shards of ceramic, glass, and metal tired into the knots will tend my flesh with every stroke. The metal shards at each tip will tear me to the bone. I fear the pain, but I am determined to prove your injustice by remaining stoic.

But you test my resolve early. There is no warm up as you let fly with full force and strike my back from shoulder blade to my ribs, tearing great rents into my back with the first blow, and causing me to sway to my right.

This allows your second blow access to my flank and the cruel tips reach the front of my chest, ripping into my breast and tearing the sling on my flank…

Already I am struggling to keep my resolve and by just the fifth stroke I can’t help but gasp at the cruelly deep scourge. By the 15th, tears begin to roll down my cheeks, and a whimper can be heard passing my lips.

Yet my resolve is such that even as you aim at various positions, the 25th striking the insides of my left thigh as you tear off another strip of loincloth that I continue to refuse to scream.

How long must I suffer this? Will you only cease if I elicit a scream or lose control of my bladder. Are you angry because I refuse to submit? Good, barbarian! Ha!!

I order one of the executioners to withdraw. You could die under the scourge girl, and I want you to survive to be crucified. I'm not going to order them to be whipped to death.
Your screams give us pleasure to our ears, although I must admit that you have endured the first blows like the warrior you are, but now you scream and scream... I stop the whipping, and ask you if you would rather be my slave than die a horrible death for your people.

So I ask you: - Do you want to be my slave forever and save your life, or die slowly tortured and your body turned into bloody pulp and exposed on a cross? Answer, the decision is yours.

P.D: Sorry, I love to play.

 

[Aluafaen et Rimmon Ra]

I order one of the executioners to withdraw. You could die under the scourge girl, and I want you to survive to be crucified. I'm not going to order them to be whipped to death.
Your screams give us pleasure to our ears, although I must admit that you have endured the first blows like the warrior you are, but now you scream and scream... I stop the whipping, and ask you if you would rather be my slave than die a horrible death for your people.

So I ask you: - Do you want to be my slave forever and save your life, or die slowly tortured and your body turned into bloody pulp and exposed on a cross? Answer, the decision is yours.

P.D: Sorry, I love to play.

Crucifixion! Death!

 

[Loinclothslave]

I order one of the executioners to withdraw. You could die under the scourge girl, and I want you to survive to be crucified. I'm not going to order them to be whipped to death.
Your screams give us pleasure to our ears, although I must admit that you have endured the first blows like the warrior you are, but now you scream and scream... I stop the whipping, and ask you if you would rather be my slave than die a horrible death for your people.

So I ask you: - Do you want to be my slave forever and save your life, or die slowly tortured and your body turned into bloody pulp and exposed on a cross? Answer, the decision is yours.

P.D: Sorry, I love to play.

At last the scourge breaks me as I scream under the bloody lash! Despite the pain being very strong, I don’t only feel pain, and am surprised by my keen lust! My pussy begins to tingle and as you scourge me harshly it is not only blood that sprays…

What is this feeling? I want to rub my thighs together right now!

My warrior pride is fierce, but as I am broken under the lash another fiercer animal takes over, my wanton lust!

I rage against the Roman injustices but my new self discovery is filling me only with lustful thoughts of agony…. What is this strange feeling?

And then you give me a choice? Of course I should choose to die to honour my warrior creed and spit at you as I do it!

Yet I croak the words “please, master, can I become your slave if only I can suffer your sadism and become your pain/sex toy to brutalize and rape? Oh master, please….”

Tears of shame roll down my cheeks, I am a dishonorable slut to beg for such brutal enslavement to one such as you. But I am here, broken by the gift of your pain, and now only desire more to satisfy a need I never knew I had.

“Please, Master, make me your painslut sex slave?”

My tears are hot on my cheeks but my pussy has never been wetter, the juices flowing onto my inner thighs…

 

[redsonja]

At last the scourge breaks me as I scream under the bloody lash! Despite the pain being very strong, I don’t only feel pain, and am surprised by my keen lust! My pussy begins to tingle and as you scourge me harshly it is not only blood that sprays…

What is this feeling? I want to rub my thighs together right now!

My warrior pride is fierce, but as I am broken under the lash another fiercer animal takes over, my wanton lust!

I rage against the Roman injustices but my new self discovery is filling me only with lustful thoughts of agony…. What is this strange feeling?

And then you give me a choice? Of course I should choose to die to honour my warrior creed and spit at you as I do it!

Yet I croak the words “please, master, can I become your slave if only I can suffer your sadism and become your pain/sex toy to brutalize and rape? Oh master, please….”

Tears of shame roll down my cheeks, I am a dishonorable slut to beg for such brutal enslavement to one such as you. But I am here, broken by the gift of your pain, and now only desire more to satisfy a need I never knew I had.

“Please, Master, make me your painslut sex slave?”

My tears are hot on my cheeks but my pussy has never been wetter, the juices flowing onto my inner thighs…

You accept my conditions, during a pause I make in your terrible punishment, but after thinking about it for a few moments I decide that you will not get rid of the cross! You will be crucified only to watch as your fantastic body writhes in pain and "dances" to the terrible rhythm in order to breathe; but since you have decided to be my slave, you will be freed from the cross after a few hours of awakening my lust and my pleasure to see you crucified, and your wrists and feet will not be pierced by the terrible nails, but will be secured with strong ropes!

Tonight you will be dragged with a chain around your thin neck to my house where you will be my slave forever, and with the tortures to which you have been subjected your proud and brave spirit will have been banished from your thoughts, but if it is not so He assured you that you will pay them handsomely!

P.D : Very good! I really liked your text! I hope to play interactive stories again in the future!

 

[redsonja]

I order again that the scourging continue until 25 lashes have fallen on your body, and that not only your back be punished, but also your breasts and the front of your body. And at least two blows you will receive between your crotch! Don't worry about the bleeding wounds, since since you have decided to be my slave you will be well cared for until you recover, but the wounds will be the ones that will mark that you are my slave!

 

[Loinclothslave]

After my choice you raise the scourge again and as it falls upon my newly enslaved flesh I feel my mind as if falling into a pit of depravity and lust. Each lash tears my flesh and I feel my inner self drift as if on a new plane of consciousness… I am in a dream, a very hot, painful, erotic dream! I’ve never been so turned on as the scourge rips my breast flesh…

When you tell me I must still be crucified during the final strokes, I am confused yet driven deeper into my reverie of lust. “Yes, Master!” I stammer in between my animal screams as you drive the scourge deeply into my very womanhood. In such a state, I not only scream and whimper but cum, the hardest orgasm I’d ever had, to my shame squirting as each scourge stroke hammer-blows into my tortured and soaking cunt.

My scream is loud, but it is a mixture of pain and ecstasy- in that moment I surrender completely…

“Oh, Master, this is Your slave, use it as You Will, SIR!”

Your grin seems maniacal, and I sense my crucifixion awaits…

As You tie me to the patibulum, an intense wave of shame overwhelms me… in my head I hear “treacherous traitorous whore!!!”

What have I just done?

 

[redsonja]

When I see my men put the patibulum on you, I suddenly feel that I have forgotten a small detail, and so, kneeling on the ground with the wood already on my shoulders, I order them to throw a bucket of salt water over you.

I get excited just thinking about the reactions of your body when the salt runs through your bleeding wounds. I notice how my penis gives in to excitement beforehand. I also remember, that back in the province of Judea, the founder of those who call themselves Christians was crucified with a crown of thorns on his head. But that won't be for you. You deserve another refinement.

Before starting the walk to the place where you are going to be crucified, I order several legionnaires to cut and prepare several small branches of rose bushes, and to form two intertwined circles with them, but first they have to measure the width with leather strips. circumference of your pretty boobs.

You can imagine what will happen now. The legionnaires "crown" each of your breasts with circles of rosebushes, squeeze them and tie them. I look at your pain and am aroused by your cries as your breasts, already scarred by whiplash, turn purple under the pressure, and the thorns pierce cruelly into the soft flesh, drawing trickles of blood.

That's how you're going to walk to the crucifixion site.
I look at your face to see what expression your face has, and I make sure that you see me to see if I notice in you any sign or remnant of your former pride and contempt towards the Romans that you have shown until the whip has fallen on your skin

 

[cynthia the inocent]

I love his art

 

[redsonja]

I love his art

Thanks Cynthia

 

[redsonja]

After my choice you raise the scourge again and as it falls upon my newly enslaved flesh I feel my mind as if falling into a pit of depravity and lust. Each lash tears my flesh and I feel my inner self drift as if on a new plane of consciousness… I am in a dream, a very hot, painful, erotic dream! I’ve never been so turned on as the scourge rips my breast flesh…

When you tell me I must still be crucified during the final strokes, I am confused yet driven deeper into my reverie of lust. “Yes, Master!” I stammer in between my animal screams as you drive the scourge deeply into my very womanhood. In such a state, I not only scream and whimper but cum, the hardest orgasm I’d ever had, to my shame squirting as each scourge stroke hammer-blows into my tortured and soaking cunt.

My scream is loud, but it is a mixture of pain and ecstasy- in that moment I surrender completely…

“Oh, Master, this is Your slave, use it as You Will, SIR!”

Your grin seems maniacal, and I sense my crucifixion awaits…

As You tie me to the patibulum, an intense wave of shame overwhelms me… in my head I hear “treacherous traitorous whore!!!”

What have I just done?

While I try to guess if despite what you suffer, you still have a tiny remnant of your determination and courage reflected on your face, my men encourage your walk towards your particular Golgotha with leather straps.

 

[Loinclothslave]

The saltwater burns into me like wasp stings in every lash mark on my wounded body… yet the lust continues to consume me- I still don’t understand- but the flash of pain also bears the fruit of anger from my warrior blood!

I was a proud fighter - so different to the other girls in the village- I only ever wanted to be a shield maiden for our chief. Our ancestors blood courses through my veins and words like honour, vengeance, and duty were more important than the prosaic domestic focus of my friends.

So I played sports, participating with the boys, who used to laugh and tease at me but their attempts at shaming me only steeled my resolve.

Thus the stinging salt enraged me and I looked at you with fire in my eyes, my hatred was yet to be extinguished…

Honour. I must honour the fallen, and so I remain determined, even after my surrender, to carry myself as a proud shieldmaiden, even as you try to cow me further with the chest plate of rose thorns.

I dare you to make it worse, even as the thorns prick my already tortured breasts… even a slave can hold onto pride if it defies only in subtle ways.

So I stick my chest out proudly, even as I take the first steps of the Via Crucis with patibulum on my shoulders, I refuse to become a weakened coward- I am a captive, a prisoner of war… and so I shall be stoic, holding my hate deep, beneath the raging hormones which stir my loins under your brutality…

When you notice the flash of my eyes, you order my ankles to be shackled in chains.

“Your new jewelry! Now move it, slave! To your crucifixion!” As you crack a flagellum across my tortured back to dominate me once more!

I am a contradiction, deeply aroused to be so subjugated, yet an inner defiance still ripples through my soul like a terrible portentous your doom. Only my lust, pain, and your lash seems to keep it at bay.

I am a contradiction. slave and rebel- all in one!

 

[redsonja]

The saltwater burns into me like wasp stings in every lash mark on my wounded body… yet the lust continues to consume me- I still don’t understand- but the flash of pain also bears the fruit of anger from my warrior blood!

I was a proud fighter - so different to the other girls in the village- I only ever wanted to be a shield maiden for our chief. Our ancestors blood courses through my veins and words like honour, vengeance, and duty were more important than the prosaic domestic focus of my friends.

So I played sports, participating with the boys, who used to laugh and tease at me but their attempts at shaming me only steeled my resolve.

Thus the stinging salt enraged me and I looked at you with fire in my eyes, my hatred was yet to be extinguished…

Honour. I must honour the fallen, and so I remain determined, even after my surrender, to carry myself as a proud shieldmaiden, even as you try to cow me further with the chest plate of rose thorns.

I dare you to make it worse, even as the thorns prick my already tortured breasts… even a slave can hold onto pride if it defies only in subtle ways.

So I stick my chest out proudly, even as I take the first steps of the Via Crucis with patibulum on my shoulders, I refuse to become a weakened coward- I am a captive, a prisoner of war… and so I shall be stoic, holding my hate deep, beneath the raging hormones which stir my loins under your brutality…

When you notice the flash of my eyes, you order my ankles to be shackled in chains.

“Your new jewelry! Now move it, slave! To your crucifixion!” As you crack a flagellum across my tortured back to dominate me once more!

I am a contradiction, deeply aroused to be so subjugated, yet an inner defiance still ripples through my soul like a terrible portentous your doom. Only my lust, pain, and your lash seems to keep it at bay.

I am a contradiction. slave and rebel- all in one!

Your erratic walk begins towards your destination and I notice your challenge in your eyes, and that makes me turn on even more. I have to break your last shreds of pride and bravery, although I admire all of that in you. She asked me if I liked you already being my slave and totally submissive to me, and maybe I should keep some trace of that determination of yours; Well, because I like you better that way.

I order you to be whipped all the way with leather straps, which leave reddish welts on your skin. A skin sewn to lashes mainly on the back, but also on the front of your body. All this turns me on and also gives pleasure to the legionnaires who escort you to your Calvary.

You stumble from time to time along the way, barefoot, naked, beaten, cruelly flogged, and when you reach the place where you will be crucified, I am going to order four legionnaires to rape you as a mockery before the crucifixion.

 

[redsonja]

Red Sonja's blood dripped onto the blackened bowl. The sorcerer Zoran picked up a scroll of sinister letters and incantations, and began to recite a few words in a language she had never heard before.

Red Sonja's blood dripped onto the blackened bowl. The sorcerer Zoran picked up a scroll of sinister letters and incantations, and began to recite a few words in a language she had never heard before.

Red Sonja, while screaming like hell, wondered where her patron goddess was now. She cursed to herself through the sea of pain they were inflicting on her.

One of the whips with the scourge of bones damaged the girl's right chest, leaving an ugly bleeding wound and noticing the young woman as part of the meat took away the cruel instrument of torture. That was horrible. They were skinning her alive, and there was nothing she could do. She was helpless.

 

[redsonja]

The saltwater burns into me like wasp stings in every lash mark on my wounded body… yet the lust continues to consume me- I still don’t understand- but the flash of pain also bears the fruit of anger from my warrior blood!

I was a proud fighter - so different to the other girls in the village- I only ever wanted to be a shield maiden for our chief. Our ancestors blood courses through my veins and words like honour, vengeance, and duty were more important than the prosaic domestic focus of my friends.

So I played sports, participating with the boys, who used to laugh and tease at me but their attempts at shaming me only steeled my resolve.

Thus the stinging salt enraged me and I looked at you with fire in my eyes, my hatred was yet to be extinguished…

Honour. I must honour the fallen, and so I remain determined, even after my surrender, to carry myself as a proud shieldmaiden, even as you try to cow me further with the chest plate of rose thorns.

I dare you to make it worse, even as the thorns prick my already tortured breasts… even a slave can hold onto pride if it defies only in subtle ways.

So I stick my chest out proudly, even as I take the first steps of the Via Crucis with patibulum on my shoulders, I refuse to become a weakened coward- I am a captive, a prisoner of war… and so I shall be stoic, holding my hate deep, beneath the raging hormones which stir my loins under your brutality…

When you notice the flash of my eyes, you order my ankles to be shackled in chains.

“Your new jewelry! Now move it, slave! To your crucifixion!” As you crack a flagellum across my tortured back to dominate me once more!

I am a contradiction, deeply aroused to be so subjugated, yet an inner defiance still ripples through my soul like a terrible portentous your doom. Only my lust, pain, and your lash seems to keep it at bay.

I am a contradiction. slave and rebel- all in one!

While I see how you walk bent over under the weight of the wood, I notice how the populace also insults you and throws some filth on your battered body. I order the soldiers to kill whoever throws a stone at you, because I want you to live to see you writhing on the cross. And when I finished doing it, he mockingly realized that I just had a deference to you, and that is that you are going to enchant me as a slave of erotic torture.

 

[redsonja]

You stumble and fall several times. Your knees now bleed when you fall on the ground full of stones, sand and gravel that make up the path to your particular Golgotha. Yes, like that Messiah of Galilee that I have heard of. People don't throw stones at you, but they don't miss the opportunity to throw rotten fruit and other niceties at you. Many do not hit you, but others hit your naked, aching and bleeding body. Soon you're covered in dirt, and I tell myself it's going to be very erotic to be washed by the soldiers before you begin your crucifixion.

And indeed it is very erotic and lewd to wash off the dirt with which you are now covered. And by doing so, the wounds on your sexy, naked body stand out more.

I myself am amazed at the cruelty with which you have been flogged. The skin of your memorable back is now nothing more than blood and there is barely a space where the scourges have not impacted. And in the front they had also whipped you well, but there weren't so many marks there; because I had prevented that part from being destroyed. Also there are the lungs that have to help you breathe when you are already crucified.

Standing tall before me and the whole world. We admire your naked and tortured body. I look at your eyes and I am amazed to see in your long-suffering gaze a certain trace of anger and pride still. It seems incredible after what you have suffered girl, and what you still have left.

This reminds me of when my legionnaires captured you after a short but bloody battle. My memories come to mind....

--------------