Playtime
Toy Ch. 1
At this point, our story switches over to being a response to a different prompt for the FalloutKinkMeme:
An Evil M!Courier has enslaved Veronica and killed everyday in Hidden Valley except Elder McNamara who must now watch as he forcibly breaks in his new slave into her role as a sex toy.I was thinking that to show her status as a slave, the Courier is forcing Veronica to walk around naked except for a slave collar and her hood (he let her keep it as a mocking gesture.) Other then that, feel free to make it as dark as you want. I realize stories like this don't get many comments/reviews, but show your love with some ratings, please.
Every inch of Veronica's body ached. She'd walked naked across what felt like half the Mojave. She'd been leered at by every man in their encampment, but at least none of them were allowed to touch her.
Yet.
The threat had hung heavy in the air since they'd begun this journey. He'd fucked her one more time before they'd left the slave camp. He'd whispered dirty things in her ear about how and where he would take her. Told her in no uncertain terms that she was his and he would whore her out to his men if he damned well pleased, so she'd better keep him happy.
The villain didn't make it easy.
She was naked except for her scribe's hood and her collar. He'd let her keep the hood because he loved the irony of it. And the collar... well, it was a collar. It marked her as property, and maintained her obedience so long as she feared death more than she feared him. At first he'd made her walk barefoot, but the bloody trail she'd left behind after the first mile or so had caused him to give her shoes. Well, boots, really. They were a few sizes too big, but they protected the bottom of her feet, and kept her from leaving evidence of their passing with each step.
He'd laughed at her sunburn, taking pleasure from her grunts of pain as he'd touched the aching skin. She was so fair, and had never really experienced the Mojave sun before. Now she had, and she hated it.
She hated him.
He was handsome and charming. He lead a small team of Legionaries effortlessly. It almost seemed as though they respected the monster. It would have been so much easier if he'd led them by fear. She maybe could have persuaded one if he had. Instead, she had to face men who actually liked the monster leading them.
Once, they'd encountered raiders. They'd taken a few pot shots, but had never even gotten close enough to realize that they were attacking the infamous Courier Six. He'd coolly planted bullets in their brains and laughed.
"Not everyone can survive what I did," he'd said, pulling Veronica close and kissing her. She shuddered with disgust even at the memory of his touch. It had been early in the day, and they'd had miles more to go, or she might have had to endure more.
The second day, she'd gotten close enough to grab a small knife. She'd wanted to stab him, but pickpocketing was not her strength. He'd slapped her down like she was nothing and bound her wrists to her ankles. Her walk was a hunched shuffle after that.
"Nice tits," one of the men commented. It got chuckles from the others as they eyed her appreciatively. They waited for her to slip up. Waited for her to piss Six off just enough that they could take turns with her. She wasn't going to give them that chance.
She'd kill them all, or she'd die trying.