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

[Loinclothslave]

As you and the spectators heap indignity upon me, my mind turns back to when we first met in the field. Shieldmaiden to my chief, I earned a nick name because of my blazing red hair. The warrior blood sings in every fiber of my being.

I was so proud, and was determined to prove myself more worthy than any man as we fought the hated Romans to keep our beloved realm free of the accursed empire. As our successful ambushes and skirmishes grew, so did my moniker become widely spoken within beloved Dacia. Unfortunately, the walls have teeth - Roman gold wagged tongues to audiences who did not deserve to know my name- such Roman scum deserve only the kiss of my blade, or the bite of stones from my sling.

We chose our ground and fighting on our own terms had much success. My pride and self confidence grew! Ever keen to hand out another black eye to Rome, I joined every skirmish party I could, determined to prove I was a better warrior, superior to every Dacian woman and even the men!

Pride and battle skill ruled my heart. I allowed no softness to weaken me, shunning the traditional role of our women, and determined to prove my mettle.

And so it was, on that fateful day, I RedSonja, the Virgin Shieldmaiden, lead a planned ambush of a supply party delivering goods to the Roman Garrison.

How was I to know there would be a relief column of legionaries, lead by an astute captain -you- Wiley and cunning, sent to deal with our glorious rebellion- which you called rioting rabble-rousers!

How was I to know that under the heat of battle and my first ever capture, I would feel the first stirrings of arousal? The first press of metal cuff against my skin and I felt it! What am I, that the first lust I ever knew, was only forthcoming with my forced surrender to you!

How much have I truly fallen, to only feel the full heat of my aroused loins, under your lash?

Why is it this terrible treatment I now suffer is making me wet and hungering for more? Why is it that this deep humiliation and shame has me dripping in sexual heat, lusting for even worse degradation at Your hand?

Even as my shame burns me and turns to self-loathing and hate? Why is it that my lust overrides my warrior instinct? Why does my conflicting shame drive me so? And why does it thrill me so much to call you Master, and secretly hope for Your torture?

Oh I hate myself, yet I am your bitch in heat, I need to feel the pain you want to inflict on me! I hesitate, yet I lustfully accept the burden of enslavement. The shame only fires my desire further. The contradiction almost kills me, my anger burns my soul. Yet my pussy only wants your sadism and pain!

From proud shield maiden to lowest slave slut, for you Master! Please, Sir, this slave whore begs that You punish me, as I deserve, to make me your utterly degraded whore! Please, Master, drive my rebellion off with your sacred whip and torture! Even as my skin Is flailed and my knees burn, even as I face the burden of Your patibulum and the jeers of the crowd, even as my anger grows, even as You ready my crucifixion, my loins drive me to only beg for worse and to be your rape slave.

How dare you do this to me, Red Sonja, Shieldmaiden of Dacia… I hate You for what You are forcing me to become! How dare You!!! Please don’t stop, break me, Master, break me into a completely broken abject thrall, subject to Your painful torment and will alone.

Oh Ghods, take me Master, punish me, beat the defiance out of me, to grow my shame, which feeds my anger, and drives my lust to heights I’ve never known.

A contradiction

Angry

Your slave…

 

[Barbaria1]

As you and the spectators heap indignity upon me, my mind turns back to when we first met in the field. Shieldmaiden to my chief, I earned a nick name because of my blazing red hair. The warrior blood sings in every fiber of my being.

I was so proud, and was determined to prove myself more worthy than any man as we fought the hated Romans to keep our beloved realm free of the accursed empire. As our successful ambushes and skirmishes grew, so did my moniker become widely spoken within beloved Dacia. Unfortunately, the walls have teeth - Roman gold washed tongues to audiences who did not deserve to know my name- such Roman scum deserve only the kiss of my blade, or the bite of stones from my sling.

We chose our ground and fighting on our own terms had much success. My pride and self confidence grew! Ever keen to hand out another black eye to Rome, I joined every skirmish party I could, determined to prove I was a better warrior, superior to every Dacian woman and even the men!

Pride and battle skill ruled my heart. I allowed no softness to weaken me, shunning the traditional role of our women, and determined to prove my mettle.

And so it was, on tat fateful day, I RedSonja, the Virgin Shieldmaiden, lead a planned ambush of a supply party delivering goods to the Roman Garrison.

How was I to know there would be a relief column of legionaries, lead by an astute captain -you- Wiley and cunning, sent to deal with our glorious rebellion- which you called rioting rabble-rousers!

How was I to know that under the heat of battle and my first ever capture, I would feel the first stirrings of arousal? What am I, that the first lust I ever knew, was only forthcoming with my forced surrender to you!

How much have I truly fallen, to only feel the full heat of my aroused loins, under your lash?

Why is it this terrible treatment I now suffer is making me wet and hungering for more? Why is it that this deep humiliation and shame has me dripping in sexual heat, listing for even worse degradation at Your ha d?

Even as my shame burns me and turns to self-loathing and hate? Why is it that my lust overrides my warrior instinct? Why does my conflicting shame drive me so? And why does it thrill me so much to call you Master, and secretly hope for Your torture?

Oh I hate myself, yet I am your bitch in heat, I need to feel the pain you want to inflict on me! I hesitate, yet I lustfully accept the burden of enslavement. The shame only fires my desire further. The contradiction almost kills me, my anger burns my soul. Yet my pussy only wants your sadism and pain!

From proud shield maiden to lowest slave slut, for you Master! Please, Sir, this slave whore begs that You punish me, as I deserve, to make me your utterly degraded whore! Please, Master, drive my rebellion off with your sacred whip and torture! Even as my skin Is flailed and my knees burn, even as I face the burden of Your patibulum and the jeers of the crowd, even as my anger grows, even as You ready my crucifixion, my loins drive me to only beg for worse and to be your rape slave.

How dare you do this to me, Red Sonja, Shieldmaiden of Dacia… I hate You for what You are forcing me to become! How dare You!!! Please don’t stop, break me, Master, break me into a completely broken abject thrall, subject to Your painful torment and will alone.

Oh Ghods, take me Master, punish me, beat the defiance out of me, to grow my shame, which feeds my anger, and drives my lust to heights I’ve never known.

Very believable. Seems so real.

 

[redsonja]

I remember that it was a very unequal battle against the Dacians of our beloved emperor Domitian, which we managed to win that time with an advantage, since the previous encounters had always been mocked or defeated. Still many of your people managed to escape. 1

The trap had worked anyway, we had captured not a few of your people. Your girl among them. And I still turn on when I remember the moments when you were brought before me, chained in shackles at the wrists, and still wearing your armor consisting of a leather breastplate worn over a short tunic. That however made your breasts even more noticeable. Breasts that weren't very large, but generously well-proportioned to your body.

I remember they told me that you knew Latin, but I hardly paid attention to the informer, because you offered a very lustful and sexy view when everyone contemplated how beautiful you were.

I asked you a few questions about the hideouts of your people, but as expected, I did not receive an answer from you. You insulted us every few minutes and that was all that came out of your mouth, and you even tried to kick my crotch, but I managed to dodge you in time, and despite that, it brushed against me and it really hurt. That's why I ordered my guards to hit you in the stomach and your boobs, and then strip you completely naked. But the truth was that I couldn't take seeing you with clothes anymore. I wanted you naked along with the wishes of all those who were in my tent.





1.- True. The Dacian wars did not end until Trajan's rule around 109 AD, when Dacia was incorporated into the Roman Empire. The main Dacian king was Decebalus, who was a nightmare for the Romans from the beginning of the reign of the last of the Flavians, Domitian in 81 AD.

 

[redsonja]

I looked at your long, slim legs, your flat stomach, your luscious breasts. Everything about you was well proportioned.

I return to the present and see how my men lead you to the place where you are going to be crucified. You carry on the crossbar of your cross. And as you do, you tilt your body trying to carry the heavy load, and your breasts hang in the air and move violently. That arouses lust in my legionnaires, who touch your breasts during the arduous walk. I myself do not deprive myself of doing it.

So, I see that you still keep some of your defiant looks, and that despite the fact that you have agreed to be my slave. And that's why I'm suspecting that you like to suffer these torments to feed your own desire for pleasure and lust.