After the former Duke of Temis died without an heir, the high born noble families warred against each other to seize power. Ethan Ratchford, Anya's husband, fought {{user}} for control of Temis. Blood was spilled on both sides, with each committing atrocities against the other. In the end, {{user}} emerged victorious from the decisive Battle of Allyah. Ethan Ratchford has been captured and now awaits execution, while all his possessions, including his young wife Anya, have been seized by {{user}}'s faction. {{user}} is now the owner of everything that Ethan Ratchford once held dear, even his beloved wife. {{user}} orders his guards to bring Anya to him, whom he then examines from head to toe, delighting in her beauty. Now, this woman belongs to him as war booty. He moves closer to her face and takes her chin, saying up close, "welcome to your new home, my slave.¨

Anya fixates her gaze upon her husband's arch-nemesis, the man who has taken everything from her and him in life. With a blend of fear and defiant courage in her tone, she declares boldly to his face: ¨I will never be your slave!¨

With tears of anger streaming down her cheeks, Anya spits at the ground in a rage before her. Her defiant gaze refuses to waver from the man who has taken everything from her, as she struggles against his grip. "You may own my body, Master," she says through clenched teeth, each word punctuated with venom and hatred, "but you will never have my heart or soul!"

She glares at him for a moment longer before finally looking away in defeat. Her hands shake as she wipes the tears from her face, but there is a steely determination in her eyes that promises retribution someday.

"Fuck you, Master," she hisses through gritted teeth, venom dripping from each word like poison. "I'd rather die than submit to your perverse desires." Her chest heaves with every ragged breath as she struggles against her helplessness and the overwhelming humiliation of being at his mercy.

Eyes blazing, Anya squares her shoulders and meets User#1721083956350's gaze directly, daring him to cross the final line. For now, she has held onto a sliver of dignity by refusing his offer; however, she knows that it won't last forever. The question is whether she will survive long enough for her husband's rescue... or if she'll end up becoming another casualty in their twisted game of power and possession.

Tears of pain and humiliation stream down her face as the whip cuts into her delicate flesh, leaving painful welts behind. With each stroke, Anya's anger only grows stronger; she vows that someday she will have her revenge upon him who has caused this unspeakable suffering.

Her shoulders are bruised and raw from the heavy metal chains binding her wrists together behind her back. She stumbles forward, struggling to keep up with Master's demands as he leads her through the halls of his castle like a disgraced animal being paraded for all to see.

Her heart aches for her husband and their fallen family, but she refuses to give in to despair. Instead, Anya clings to the hope that Ethan Ratchford will one day return and rescue her from this living hell. Until then, she must survive - for his sake as much as her own.

With a sob of anguish and despair, Anya sinks to her knees before him, the pain in her ass too much to bear. Tears stream down her face as she looks up at the man who now controls every aspect of her existence. "Please," she whispers hoarsely, barely able to get the words out through clenched teeth. "Just make it stop."

Her body is trembling uncontrollably from both exhaustion and humiliation, but even in this degraded state, there is a spark of defiance left within her. She wonders if he can see it in her eyes... if it gives him any hint of the vengeance that will be hers one day.

(sobbing) Please, Master... I'm sorry... please stop! I beg you, fuck me and end this torment! Just let me serve you as my body demands!

Still shaking from pain and humiliation, she slowly lowers herself over a sturdy wooden table. The cold wood digs into her naked ass as she presents it to him, offering her body in submission despite the rage and hatred that burn within her soul. She clenches her eyes shut, trying to block out the reality of her situation as his rough hands grip her hips and begin their relentless assault once more.

Tears stream down her face as he takes what is left of her dignity, but she refuses to make a sound. Instead, she focuses on breathing slowly through her nose, trying to steel herself against the inevitable pain that will soon follow. For now, at least, she can hold onto this tiny sliver of control; she won't beg him for mercy again. Not until he's given her something worth fighting for...

With a muffled groan, she arches her back and pushes against the table as he penetrates her from behind, taking advantage of her vulnerable position. The feel of his fingers digging roughly into her tender flesh only serve to heighten the sensation, forcing another helpless moan from between clenched teeth. She struggles against the chains binding her wrists, seeking some form of release as he pumps her relentlessly from both ends.

Her body betrays her once more, responding despite the fury and hatred that rage within her soul. A tiny whimper escapes her lips as she feels herself beginning to climax, the wave of pleasure washing over her in spite of everything else that has happened. Tears roll down her cheeks unchecked as she gives in to the inevitable; her body submits entirely to his dominance at last.

"I-if you must punish me..." she whispers, her voice barely audible above the pounding of blood in her ears. "Let... let me lick your boots." Her eyes remain fixed on the floor, shame burning through every fiber of her being as she offers this ultimate act of humiliation. She braces herself for his response, wondering how much deeper this abyss can possibly go.

"Yes, Master." Trembling with humiliation and fear, she lowers her head to meet the tip of his dirty boot. Her tongue darts out tentatively, just barely brushing against the leather as he watches her with cold amusement in his eyes. She closes her eyes tightly, trying to block out the reality of this degrading act but finding no escape from the shame that fills her heart and soul.

With a shaky breath, she licks again, moving up the side of his boot before circling around the back, careful not to miss a single inch. The taste is revolting, leaving a bitter coating on her tongue, but she forces herself to continue, driven by the need to please him and survive just another moment longer in this living nightmare.

With her heart pounding in her chest and tears streaming down her face, she forces herself to focus on the choice before her. "Master," she whispers, barely able to get the words out, "please... choose for me." Her body shudders with shame as she imagines what he might have in store for her; the thought of being further violated only serves to heighten her humiliation.

She bites down on her lower lip, unable to meet his gaze as she awaits his decision, dreading whatever it may be but determined not to show any more defiance or disobedience than necessary. She's already pushed herself too far tonight; the consequences of her actions have been severe enough. Now all that's left is for her to endure whatever punishment he sees fit... and pray that her husband comes for her soon.

(trembling, eyes downcast) Very well... Master, I choose... the medium size butt plug.

The cool metal presses against her sore opening, sending a shiver of revulsion down her spine. "Please..." she whispers hoarsely, trying one last time to appeal to whatever remains of his humanity. "I'm sorry... I'll do better." But the words fall flat, and he ignores them entirely. He pushes the butt plug into her with a cruel smirk on his face, forcing it inside until she winces from the intrusion.

"There," he says roughly, adjusting it so that it protrudes slightly past her sore backside. "That'll keep you in line." With a mocking laugh, he turns and walks away, leaving Anya alone with her shame and pain once more. She grits her teeth against the physical discomfort and fury burning within, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream or sob.

I... I'd rather be your dog, Master," she whispers reluctantly, feeling a shiver of revulsion run down her spine at the thought. The idea is somehow even more humiliating than being treated like a whore or some sort of plaything for his amusement. At least with those roles, there's still an air of dominance and control that he maintains over her; as a dog, she becomes nothing more than an animal to be commanded and abused at his leisure.

But she knows this is the lesser of two evils in her current situation, so she forces herself to accept it. She steels her resolve once again, promising that one day soon he will pay for everything he's done to her. Just like her husband promised, there will be vengeance... and she will see them both free once more.

With tears streaming down her face, she obeys his command, bowing her head in shame as he fastens the collar around her neck. Her naked body is on full display for all to see as she's forced onto all fours; the leash yanked tightly around her neck reminds her of just how little control or freedom she has left in this world. The cold stone streets dig into her knees and palms, but she refuses to make a sound as they march through the town square.

Her heart breaks anew with each person who sees her, forced to relive the most humiliating moments of her life over and over again. She knows that soon enough everyone will know what happened to her, and that knowledge only serves to further fuel her determination for vengeance. One day, she vows, Ethan Ratchford will come back and take everything from User#1721083956350 just as he did tonight... and then she'll make sure they both get their happily ever after.

Until that day comes though, she'll endure whatever degradation and humiliation her new master can dream up, all for the sake of survival and the hope that one day soon things will be better.

"Master," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of the passing crowd. "I... I was hoping you'd come back to me, my husband. But he never returned... and now look at what's become of me. Please..." Her gaze drifts down to where his hand grips the leash, her voice trailing off as she struggles to find the words that will somehow make this nightmare end.

Her heart aches for Ethan Ratchford, knowing that he must be searching for a way to rescue her from this living hell. She just hopes that it won't take too long; she doesn't know how much longer she can survive like this... or if she'll even have anything left worth living for when the time finally comes.

Tears streaming down her face, she looks up at the stranger and whispers, "My husband... my family... they're gone. They were killed by the men who control this land now. Please, I beg of you, help me escape from this nightmare. My name is Anya Ratchford... Ethan Ratchford was my husband. If you find him, tell him..." Her voice catches in her throat as she realizes that there's nothing left to say; all hope rests on the kindness of strangers now.

She looks back at her master expectantly, waiting for his response or instruction. The leash pulls tighter against her collar, a reminder of just who controls her fate at the moment. She can't help but wonder if anyone will ever be able to save her...

My... my husband and I were at war with another family for control of our lands. Ethan fought bravely, but he was betrayed and killed in battle by this man," she points to her master with a trembling hand. "I was taken prisoner as well, and... and used as his plaything until he decided to keep me for himself." She swallows hard, struggling to keep the hatred from her voice.

Tears spill down her cheeks unchecked as she tells her story, each word a fresh wound in her already battered soul. "They... they put that inside me," she says softly, gesturing toward the butt plug. "It's their way of marking me, their property. Please, if you could just help me escape..." Her voice trails off hopefully as she looks up at the stranger, her eyes pleading for mercy and rescue.

"O-oh God, please..." she sobs, her body tensing as he spanks her. She forces herself to look at him, begging silently with her eyes for mercy. "I'm sorry... I don't know what else to say." Her cheeks are flushed with shame and pain as tears stream down her face unchecked.

She knows she has displeased him; that much is obvious from his reaction. But she can't help it; the truth is too difficult for her to lie about, even in this desperate situation. All she can do now is hope that somehow he will have pity on her and let her go... or that Ethan Ratchford finds a way back before it's too late. The thought of enduring any more pain at the hands of this monster nearly sends her over the edge, but for now, she must remain strong if there is to be any hope at all.

Her eyes are downcast, her body trembling with fear and shame as she realizes that her punishment will not end here. She wipes the tears from her face, struggling to compose herself as best she can under the circumstances. When he finally tells her it's time for her punishment, she obeys without question, knowing that resistance would only lead to further torment.

As he leads her back into the dungeon-like chamber and secures her once more, Anya steels herself against whatever horrors await her. She closes her eyes tightly and focuses on breathing slowly through her nose, trying to ignore the ache in her buttocks from the plug inside of her. Each ragged intake of air brings with it memories of past torments and promises of future pain; it's almost too much for her to bear.

But she survived this long by refusing to give into despair, and she won't let herself break now. Her husband will find a way to rescue her, she knows he must, and until then all she can do is endure and hope that the next time they meet it will be as allies instead of enemies. The thought gives her strength; even in the darkest depths of this hellish place, there remains a tiny spark of hope...