Thanks a lot! I've tried to write unconsensual stuff in the past, but I just have a hard time to intentionally hurt my characters. Bree is indeed strong, but most of that is derived from her independent, wary nature.Boundcurious wrote: ↑3 years ago I’ve enjoyed the generally consensual nature and unique idea. I love the strong women in this too. Go Bree!
Thank you very much! The wrestling scene was fun to write, but I feared it was too monotone and complicated. And I doubt Bree needs your advice. She's smart enough to run far away from such men.
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“Hi, I’m back,” I greeted Dax and Ginny as I returned to the arena. Dax had untied his wife and given her a shirt. Both sipped from their red wines.
“Hey, sit down. We got you water. Sorry, we did not know what you usually drink.”
“No problem. Thanks!”
“I can’t tie you anymore because I’ve had three glasses of alcohol. I hope you don’t mind.”
I sat down and picked up my water, avoiding eye contact. “No, no problem.” The arena appeared different to me than ten minutes ago. Most minded their own business, but some marked me and judged, deliberating whether to include me in their perverted games. James and his female companion returned too, and I gazed away. He disgusted me, preying on vulnerable girls.
The Green Viper opened the show again and won a long match by sheer force. Her opponent was out of energy after 2 minutes of wrestling with few ties involved. Then the Viper proved, rope by rope and winding by winding, that her opponent could not rival her bearlike strength, catlike reflexes, and snakelike agility. She left without celebrating, telling the audience without words her win was not unexpected. It was business. The referees had to untie her opponent.
I could not concentrate on the other matches, feeling unsafe. Every so often, James glimpsed at me while holding the girl half his age. Maybe, he had meant well, and I was new in this depraved inn, but he was an immense creep. At least, he had not forced me to scream. For an hour, I was locked in this unpleasant situation before Miriam announced the break before the finals.
“I’m going to bed,” I told Dax and Ginny. “Thank you for everything. It was a wonderful night.”
“You aren’t staying for the finals?” Ginny spoke for the first time.
I smiled. “Nah, the third-place matches have to finish first, and I have zero doubt that the Green Viper will win. It’s already long past my usual bedtime.”
I thanked them once more and left, glad James had not yet risen from his seat. Without further thought, I hurried up the stairs to the third floor and opened the triangular door of my tiny room. I flipped the light switch before I locked the door and shut the barrel bolt. My clothes had not yet arrived, and I could not walk an hour alone in a skirt at night. So, I had to spend the night here.
On my pillow lay a basic navy blue pajama shirt and shorts. I had recently gone to the bathroom, and brushing my teeth could wait a night. Thus, I could lock myself in for the night. I turned off the light to awake well-rested at six, my usual time. Early in the morning, few crazy people inhabit the streets, and the sun is weak. Someone had shoved a napkin with a note hastily written on it under the door. I folded it open.
Dear Bree, I’m sorry if I scared you. My offer still stands. James
I did not react and shredded the napkin. No way. Underneath was a crimson business card with golden lettering: James Coldwater, Inescapable Studios. The enormous S of studios was in the shape of a gagged girl whose arms were fastened behind her back. I had already concluded I would pass the proposal when I noticed a website URL on the back. Curiosity got the better of me, and I connected to the inn’s Wi-Fi, opened the site, and confirmed I was an adult.
“Yikes,” I shrieked as the next page loaded. The animated banner featured a girl bending forward on her knees while two dildos rammed back and forth in her mouth and ass. She cried from the pain, but her body was trapped in a steel structure. I scrolled further down, and the first video featured a tiny girl with long, curly red locks. Its description stated she had to ride the pony. A triangular wooden beam that pointed upwards split her legs, forcing her weight onto her private parts. Her ankles were forced downward, her wrists upward, and weights were attached to her nipples. She also did not enjoy it.
I closed the page and put my phone away, attempting to erase the images from my memory. I had dodged a bullet. This place was gross. Only, this was not Dax’s fault. Nor Ginny’s. Nor Marlon’s. Or even Miriam’s. They had been helpful and kind, given me a meal and a bed without demanding anything in return. I snatched my sketchbook out of my backpack and wrote a thank-you note that also detailed why I had decided to flee. I did not name James but described what he had suggested and why I felt threatened.
On a new sheet, I traced the diamond shape of Miriam’s face with my pencil and continued to sketch her from memory. I choose her shiny black outfit and the friendly, assertive smile she had shown while inviting me in. Her neck-long black hair, spotless face, and emerald green eyes were not difficult; I had done so a hundred times. At night, I often sketched random people I had seen that day to pass the time. And having nothing of value to offer, a semi-decent portrait gladdened most generous strangers. Miriam’s bright suit caused me difficulties. It had played strangely with the light while every curve of Miriam’s body had been visible.
“Bree, your clothes lay outside the door,” an unfamiliar female voice spoke, letting me jump. A minute later, I opened the door and peeked into the hallway was empty. My jacket smelled of spring blossom, and my boots were cleansed and made waterproof. I folded the pajama and clothes I had lend on a neat pile, placed my note and drawing on top, and crawled out of the tiny room with a full backpack.
Marlon and Miriam were nowhere to be seen in the deserted restaurant. I left the key to my room on the bar and rushed through the door onto the streets. I was out.