-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
mark sessnatz's Deviated Artworks
- Thread starter mark sessnatz
- Start date
mark sessnatz
Tribune
The Runaway 1
Lídia rounded a corner and sank down into what she hoped was a sufficiently murky shadow. She was sweaty, her chest burned and her lungs gulped greedily at the cool, humid air. She had run as fast and as far through the winding alleys of Machaira as her naked feet and aching muscles would carry her, and still she heard the heavy bootsteps of the constabulary closing in on her. She closed her eyes, resigning herself. They were going to find her.
She was born a slave, the only daughter of the wetnurse and nanny for Prince Gavan. Raised as the Gavan's playmate and property, she suffered years of the spoiled princeling's spiteful and capricious bullying. At 12 years old, newly orphaned, Lídia shocked the household by becoming the only slave of the noble family to ever successfully escape the walls of the Keep. She disappeared into the winding and bustling city streets and had lived, hungry but free, as a scrappy urchin for a decade.
A dozen soldiers closed in on her, blocking every possible way out of the alley. She had no weapon, and had no chance of overpowering them. So she set her jaw in a steely grimace and didn't resist as they closed her slender wrists in cold heavy manacles. A languidly drizzle of cold and greasy rain started to fall as they prodded her along up the sloping streets of the mountainside city, toward the fortress where he waited for her.
Lídia rounded a corner and sank down into what she hoped was a sufficiently murky shadow. She was sweaty, her chest burned and her lungs gulped greedily at the cool, humid air. She had run as fast and as far through the winding alleys of Machaira as her naked feet and aching muscles would carry her, and still she heard the heavy bootsteps of the constabulary closing in on her. She closed her eyes, resigning herself. They were going to find her.
She was born a slave, the only daughter of the wetnurse and nanny for Prince Gavan. Raised as the Gavan's playmate and property, she suffered years of the spoiled princeling's spiteful and capricious bullying. At 12 years old, newly orphaned, Lídia shocked the household by becoming the only slave of the noble family to ever successfully escape the walls of the Keep. She disappeared into the winding and bustling city streets and had lived, hungry but free, as a scrappy urchin for a decade.
A dozen soldiers closed in on her, blocking every possible way out of the alley. She had no weapon, and had no chance of overpowering them. So she set her jaw in a steely grimace and didn't resist as they closed her slender wrists in cold heavy manacles. A languidly drizzle of cold and greasy rain started to fall as they prodded her along up the sloping streets of the mountainside city, toward the fortress where he waited for her.
mark sessnatz
Tribune
The Runaway 2
Prince Gavan had assumed command of the polity at the start of the previous season. Shortly thereafter, there was a devastating attack on the Keep. A gang of bandits blew a hole in a clandestine supply tunnel and raided the auxiliary armory. Every soldier and city constable on active duty had immediately set about turning the entirety of Machaira upside down in pursuit of the culprits, or any information about them.
Gavan, however, became convinced that the raiders had an informant, someone with acute knowledge of secret ways to access the lower levels of the Keep, and a grudge against the ruling elites. He ordered his enforcers to scour the city for his old runaway slave.
As the Keep loomed into view through the drizzly morning air, Lídia found herself suddenly overcome with the terror of it all. She shivered in her sodden shift and to her deep shame, felt the warmth of frightened tears spread across her cheeks.
Prince Gavan had assumed command of the polity at the start of the previous season. Shortly thereafter, there was a devastating attack on the Keep. A gang of bandits blew a hole in a clandestine supply tunnel and raided the auxiliary armory. Every soldier and city constable on active duty had immediately set about turning the entirety of Machaira upside down in pursuit of the culprits, or any information about them.
Gavan, however, became convinced that the raiders had an informant, someone with acute knowledge of secret ways to access the lower levels of the Keep, and a grudge against the ruling elites. He ordered his enforcers to scour the city for his old runaway slave.
As the Keep loomed into view through the drizzly morning air, Lídia found herself suddenly overcome with the terror of it all. She shivered in her sodden shift and to her deep shame, felt the warmth of frightened tears spread across her cheeks.
mark sessnatz
Tribune
The Runaway 3
She was back inside the walls for the first time in ten years. They pulled her along through two gates, up a narrow flight of winding steps, and into an enclosed courtyard near where the servants entered the larder. She remembered it well. A guard shoved her up against a wall, lifted her manacled hands and locked them with a length of chain to a heavy iron ring bolted into the stone at head height. He stepped back as a higher ranking officer approached to speak with him.
"His Excellency's orders: the prisoner is to be whipped, then brought to him for questioning."
The guard nodded. He was a wiry, tow-headed man with the look of a twitchy stray dog. He stood behind Lídia and with both hands, violently ripped apart the soaked fabric of her dress. Goosepimples blossomed over her skin as the cold rain showered her bare back. He came around and pinched her chin between his fingers, turning her head to face him.
"The Prince has a lot of questions for you, baby doll," he said slimily. "But I get to soften you up first." He uncoiled a long black snake whip from his belt.
Lídia jerked her head and sank her teeth into the man's finger. He yelped and recoiled, then snorted angrily.
"I'll make you sorry for that, you miserable little cockroach!"
The first bite of the whip across Lídia's back sent a searing shock of pain through her whole body, but with a muffled shriek and few seconds of helpless squirming, she rode it out. She could endure this.
But the next strike seemed to reignite the pain of the first, then double it. She gasped and writhed against the wall, her arms tangling in the heavy chains. And so it continued. Each lash sparked a new streak of flame across her skin, which then lingered, smoldering hot, until the next stroke set all the accumulated embers alight and blazing once more.
She screamed herself hoarse, a flood of tears mingling with the rain. She stamped her bare feet on the drenched pavement and clawed at the weathered stone wall until her fingertips were raw. Her entire back felt like an exposed nerve being skinned again and again.
She raised her head weakly toward the sky. The tower protruded into her blurry and waterlogged vision. In a tiny dark window near the top, she could just barely see him, a thin, pale shape looming in the narrow aperture. He was too far and she was took weak to make out his face, but her blood ran cold, and she knew that he was looking right at her. She knew that he was watching. And waiting.
She was back inside the walls for the first time in ten years. They pulled her along through two gates, up a narrow flight of winding steps, and into an enclosed courtyard near where the servants entered the larder. She remembered it well. A guard shoved her up against a wall, lifted her manacled hands and locked them with a length of chain to a heavy iron ring bolted into the stone at head height. He stepped back as a higher ranking officer approached to speak with him.
"His Excellency's orders: the prisoner is to be whipped, then brought to him for questioning."
The guard nodded. He was a wiry, tow-headed man with the look of a twitchy stray dog. He stood behind Lídia and with both hands, violently ripped apart the soaked fabric of her dress. Goosepimples blossomed over her skin as the cold rain showered her bare back. He came around and pinched her chin between his fingers, turning her head to face him.
"The Prince has a lot of questions for you, baby doll," he said slimily. "But I get to soften you up first." He uncoiled a long black snake whip from his belt.
Lídia jerked her head and sank her teeth into the man's finger. He yelped and recoiled, then snorted angrily.
"I'll make you sorry for that, you miserable little cockroach!"
The first bite of the whip across Lídia's back sent a searing shock of pain through her whole body, but with a muffled shriek and few seconds of helpless squirming, she rode it out. She could endure this.
But the next strike seemed to reignite the pain of the first, then double it. She gasped and writhed against the wall, her arms tangling in the heavy chains. And so it continued. Each lash sparked a new streak of flame across her skin, which then lingered, smoldering hot, until the next stroke set all the accumulated embers alight and blazing once more.
She screamed herself hoarse, a flood of tears mingling with the rain. She stamped her bare feet on the drenched pavement and clawed at the weathered stone wall until her fingertips were raw. Her entire back felt like an exposed nerve being skinned again and again.
She raised her head weakly toward the sky. The tower protruded into her blurry and waterlogged vision. In a tiny dark window near the top, she could just barely see him, a thin, pale shape looming in the narrow aperture. He was too far and she was took weak to make out his face, but her blood ran cold, and she knew that he was looking right at her. She knew that he was watching. And waiting.
mark sessnatz
Tribune
Judicial 5
Getting caught turning tricks these days earns you a one-way ticket to the dreaded Mount Beneficent Women's Correctional Institute. Not much is known about the secluded compound. Just the rumors that the place operates on a medieval program of fear and pain. What everyone knows is that girls who are sent there are never heard from again.
Getting caught turning tricks these days earns you a one-way ticket to the dreaded Mount Beneficent Women's Correctional Institute. Not much is known about the secluded compound. Just the rumors that the place operates on a medieval program of fear and pain. What everyone knows is that girls who are sent there are never heard from again.
mark sessnatz
Tribune
Prairie 2
Mary-Jo clung to the weathered fence post to keep herself from collapsing. She sniffled and hiccoughed, wincing from every slight movement. She could feel warm trickles of blood weeping down her back. She shuddered to imagine what it looked like.
"Now pull yourself together, little lady," growled Pa, coiling up his horsewhip. "I'm proud of you. You took it well,"
"Th-thanks, Pa," she whimpered.
"Now, you ain't to see Becky Wallis again, understand?"
Mary-Jo nodded tearfully.
"If she wants to take the life of her own God-given unborn child, that's on her soul. But I'll be damned if she's gonna get any more help with it from one of my daughters!"
Mary-Jo couldn't look at him. She gingerly tugged the hem of her ruined shirt up over her bare shoulder.
"You're of marryin' age now, Mary-Jo! Time to forget these feckless sluts and start thinkin' about a family."
Mary-Jo felt faint.
Mary-Jo clung to the weathered fence post to keep herself from collapsing. She sniffled and hiccoughed, wincing from every slight movement. She could feel warm trickles of blood weeping down her back. She shuddered to imagine what it looked like.
"Now pull yourself together, little lady," growled Pa, coiling up his horsewhip. "I'm proud of you. You took it well,"
"Th-thanks, Pa," she whimpered.
"Now, you ain't to see Becky Wallis again, understand?"
Mary-Jo nodded tearfully.
"If she wants to take the life of her own God-given unborn child, that's on her soul. But I'll be damned if she's gonna get any more help with it from one of my daughters!"
Mary-Jo couldn't look at him. She gingerly tugged the hem of her ruined shirt up over her bare shoulder.
"You're of marryin' age now, Mary-Jo! Time to forget these feckless sluts and start thinkin' about a family."
Mary-Jo felt faint.
mark sessnatz
Tribune
For Sale
Female, 21 yrs old; Fair health; Intelligent, quiet, fertile; Good house cleaner or bedroom companion; Also can work with engines; Asking price 550.00 - Negotiable within reason.
Female, 21 yrs old; Fair health; Intelligent, quiet, fertile; Good house cleaner or bedroom companion; Also can work with engines; Asking price 550.00 - Negotiable within reason.
mark sessnatz
Tribune
twonines
LIMERICUS
"I own you now girl, every square inch of you. In the day you will work, hard and well, and at night you`ll warm my bed and if you don`t cut the mustard you`ll get a taste of my bullwhip."
mark sessnatz
Tribune
Maritime 11
Callista had never hated herself more than in that moment, standing there on the deck while Saorise was stripped to the waist and tied by her wrists, unyieldingly, to the upright grating. Saorise didn't resist or struggle. She accepted the humiliating treatment with stoic dignity. Of course she did. Callista loved her for that.
Once she was sufficiently helpless and immobilized, Saorise turned her head as far as she could to look into Callista's eyes. Despite everything, the look of hurt and betrayal in Saorise's eyes was unmistakable.
I'm so sorry, my love, Callista wished she could say. I hate that I have to do this. I hate myself for doing this. But you crossed a line in front of the crew, and they're already uneasy. You know they are. If they were to see me giving you special treatment--
In truth, Callista didn't even feel that a dozen lashes of the cat was a fair trade for one slap in the face. But as the captain, her authority must be firm.
Saorise turned away and fixed her gaze somewhere in the distance beyond the grating. Callista shook out the tails of the loathsome whip in her hand and braced herself.
It's only a dozen! Please be brave for me. Please. I'm sorry!
Callista had never hated herself more than in that moment, standing there on the deck while Saorise was stripped to the waist and tied by her wrists, unyieldingly, to the upright grating. Saorise didn't resist or struggle. She accepted the humiliating treatment with stoic dignity. Of course she did. Callista loved her for that.
Once she was sufficiently helpless and immobilized, Saorise turned her head as far as she could to look into Callista's eyes. Despite everything, the look of hurt and betrayal in Saorise's eyes was unmistakable.
I'm so sorry, my love, Callista wished she could say. I hate that I have to do this. I hate myself for doing this. But you crossed a line in front of the crew, and they're already uneasy. You know they are. If they were to see me giving you special treatment--
In truth, Callista didn't even feel that a dozen lashes of the cat was a fair trade for one slap in the face. But as the captain, her authority must be firm.
Saorise turned away and fixed her gaze somewhere in the distance beyond the grating. Callista shook out the tails of the loathsome whip in her hand and braced herself.
It's only a dozen! Please be brave for me. Please. I'm sorry!
mark sessnatz
Tribune
Uh-oh. The ad didn't say anything about any mustard-cutting experience!
wulf
God-Emperor
Damn it.... missed another one.
I guess I need to get up earlier in the morning.
She really should have gone farther...
I suppose she knows it's the end for her soon, so no point in being cooperative...
Some might raise questions about it's corrective capabilities, then.
Yeah, me too... but looking at her eyes, maybe it's for the best. Seems like she might be a spot of trouble.Damn it.... missed another one.
I guess I need to get up earlier in the morning.
mark sessnatz
Tribune
Galley Slave 1
Hilde: the fastest individual rower in the fleet. Thanks to the numerous scars on her back, their ship is able to outpace neatly any other in the northern sea
Hilde: the fastest individual rower in the fleet. Thanks to the numerous scars on her back, their ship is able to outpace neatly any other in the northern sea
mark sessnatz
Tribune
POW 2
"MMMMMRRRGH!! -fuck!" Dani punched the dirt, her whole body tensing as the antiseptic solution sank its icy teeth into yet another raw streak of wounded flesh.
"I'm sorry!" said Zoe reflexively, withdrawing the blood-tinged rag. "I know, I know babygirl. I'm sorry! Do you need something to bite on?"
Dani composed herself, tears streaking her face, panting.
"No, it's alright. It's not your fault. Keep going." She squeezed her eyes shut and squeezed a tight fistful of the blanket.
___
The rescue raid had been a success, barely. The team made it in and out of the citadel walls, and they left with Dani. The wrench in the works that they hadn't anticipated was that Dani, as a rebel in custody of the Party, would become a target for all the officers' frustrations with the ongoing insurgency, which they would elect to sublimate via torture. Dani wasn't just a hostage. She was to be made an example.
So the raid team breached the walls only to see their dear comrade, hanging in chains atop a platform in front of an assemblage of party officers and troops. She was half-naked, emaciated, and screaming, as a soldier cut a gruesome pattern of bloody lash marks into her back with a whip. For Zoe, the whole world had slowed to a stop. She became a machine. She didn't know how many she had killed, only that when her heart-rate returned to normal they were back outside the citadel, and Dani was in her arms. Suffering, bleeding, but alive in her arms. She could unpack the details with the others later.
___
"How many more?" Dani whimpered, chewing her lower lip and flinching.
"It's...um...hard to count..." said Zoe, choking up as she admitted it. "But only a few I think."
"Okay," Dani breathed. "Can you hold my hand?"
"MMMMMRRRGH!! -fuck!" Dani punched the dirt, her whole body tensing as the antiseptic solution sank its icy teeth into yet another raw streak of wounded flesh.
"I'm sorry!" said Zoe reflexively, withdrawing the blood-tinged rag. "I know, I know babygirl. I'm sorry! Do you need something to bite on?"
Dani composed herself, tears streaking her face, panting.
"No, it's alright. It's not your fault. Keep going." She squeezed her eyes shut and squeezed a tight fistful of the blanket.
___
The rescue raid had been a success, barely. The team made it in and out of the citadel walls, and they left with Dani. The wrench in the works that they hadn't anticipated was that Dani, as a rebel in custody of the Party, would become a target for all the officers' frustrations with the ongoing insurgency, which they would elect to sublimate via torture. Dani wasn't just a hostage. She was to be made an example.
So the raid team breached the walls only to see their dear comrade, hanging in chains atop a platform in front of an assemblage of party officers and troops. She was half-naked, emaciated, and screaming, as a soldier cut a gruesome pattern of bloody lash marks into her back with a whip. For Zoe, the whole world had slowed to a stop. She became a machine. She didn't know how many she had killed, only that when her heart-rate returned to normal they were back outside the citadel, and Dani was in her arms. Suffering, bleeding, but alive in her arms. She could unpack the details with the others later.
___
"How many more?" Dani whimpered, chewing her lower lip and flinching.
"It's...um...hard to count..." said Zoe, choking up as she admitted it. "But only a few I think."
"Okay," Dani breathed. "Can you hold my hand?"
wulf
God-Emperor
That is one beautiful piece of work. The realism is off the charts. Thank you for sharing, my friend.
mark sessnatz
Tribune
Rome 1
"Paulus Lepidus! Get over here at once!"
The young man hastened across the plaza to find his father, frowning.
"Yes, father?"
"I've absolutely had it with your special favorite slave. She's embarrassed me again!"
Paulus Lepidus turned to look behind him. Sure enough, Tullia was there, pressed against a stone column, her tunic pulled down to expose the pale contours of her bare back to the midday sun. Another of his father's slaves busied himself with binding her wrists around the column. Paulus turned back to his father in alarm.
"Why? What's she done?"
"It's more about what you've done I'm afraid, my boy," said his father exasperatedly. "Your favoritism is getting to her head. Now she's all full of herself and won't let other men touch her!" He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, warding off a headache. "I was discussing the new portside land purchase with Porcius Aemilianus, and he was going to give me an excellent rate! Well, he just reached in for a casual grope while we looked over the contracts...and Tullia bit him on the hand!"
Paulus Lepidus scuffed his foot on the ground sheepishly.
"I see," he said.
"Do you?" demanded his father. He reached out his hand, and Paulus noticed he was holding a scourge made from stiff knotted ropes. "Take it, Paulus. I can't have anything like this happen again. She will learn if you're the one to discipline her!"
Paulus reached for the lash, then hesitated.
"Me? Right now?"
"Yes, now!" He shook the cords in Paulus' face. Gingerly, Paulus took the scourge in hand. It wasn't a maiming tool. There were no sharp bones or bits of metal woven in like some he had seen. Still it felt surprisingly and distressingly heavy in his hand. He turned toward Tullia, focusing on her back.
"Now, Paulus!"
"Paulus Lepidus! Get over here at once!"
The young man hastened across the plaza to find his father, frowning.
"Yes, father?"
"I've absolutely had it with your special favorite slave. She's embarrassed me again!"
Paulus Lepidus turned to look behind him. Sure enough, Tullia was there, pressed against a stone column, her tunic pulled down to expose the pale contours of her bare back to the midday sun. Another of his father's slaves busied himself with binding her wrists around the column. Paulus turned back to his father in alarm.
"Why? What's she done?"
"It's more about what you've done I'm afraid, my boy," said his father exasperatedly. "Your favoritism is getting to her head. Now she's all full of herself and won't let other men touch her!" He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, warding off a headache. "I was discussing the new portside land purchase with Porcius Aemilianus, and he was going to give me an excellent rate! Well, he just reached in for a casual grope while we looked over the contracts...and Tullia bit him on the hand!"
Paulus Lepidus scuffed his foot on the ground sheepishly.
"I see," he said.
"Do you?" demanded his father. He reached out his hand, and Paulus noticed he was holding a scourge made from stiff knotted ropes. "Take it, Paulus. I can't have anything like this happen again. She will learn if you're the one to discipline her!"
Paulus reached for the lash, then hesitated.
"Me? Right now?"
"Yes, now!" He shook the cords in Paulus' face. Gingerly, Paulus took the scourge in hand. It wasn't a maiming tool. There were no sharp bones or bits of metal woven in like some he had seen. Still it felt surprisingly and distressingly heavy in his hand. He turned toward Tullia, focusing on her back.
"Now, Paulus!"
mark sessnatz
Tribune
Rome 2
"Who's that over there?" she asked the stall keeper.
"Consul's slave," he answered grimly. "Tried to convert his son to that cult...the Critsans or whatever they're called."
"How awful!" She exclaimed, wincing in time with the cracks of the scourge.
"Well, you know," the stall keeper mused. "Those guys are obsessed with martyrs. Now he gets to be one!"
"Who's that over there?" she asked the stall keeper.
"Consul's slave," he answered grimly. "Tried to convert his son to that cult...the Critsans or whatever they're called."
"How awful!" She exclaimed, wincing in time with the cracks of the scourge.
"Well, you know," the stall keeper mused. "Those guys are obsessed with martyrs. Now he gets to be one!"
mark sessnatz
Tribune
Fortress 3
Her Ladyship's infant son contracted a terrible sickness, and the noble family became distraught with worry. Her Ladyship was quick to accuse the boy's nursemaid of trying to poison him. The woman was nearly two-score years of age and known to be barren. Her mistress had always suspected that she resented her. The nursemaid languished in the dungeons for over a fortnight, while they waited to see if the child would pull through.
Fortunately the sickness waned and the baby regained the color in his cheeks. The nursemaid was thus spared from execution. However, Her Ladyship, still seething, demanded the satisfaction of having the nursemaid cruelly flogged.
Her Ladyship's infant son contracted a terrible sickness, and the noble family became distraught with worry. Her Ladyship was quick to accuse the boy's nursemaid of trying to poison him. The woman was nearly two-score years of age and known to be barren. Her mistress had always suspected that she resented her. The nursemaid languished in the dungeons for over a fortnight, while they waited to see if the child would pull through.
Fortunately the sickness waned and the baby regained the color in his cheeks. The nursemaid was thus spared from execution. However, Her Ladyship, still seething, demanded the satisfaction of having the nursemaid cruelly flogged.