The Amoral Island (Open to any number of M or F)

[Razor7826]

Grandfather always told me there was more to this island than the scenic view and gallery of servants. I didn’t know until he passed away the reason for his knowing smirks.

How could those fools have gone and croaked without naming me the unequivocal successor? What sins have I committed for them to condemn me to this brutal game? It’s only been a week since his death, and already the island is starting to slip from my reigns. The maids and servants have been getting restless, all fully aware that my word no longer means what it once did. Without my grandfather’s orders to bow to my power, I am nothing to them except one that they can never outright harm.

It’s been many centuries since our traditions were written in place, that fateful contract signed by the seventeen sons and daughters of Roland Witherborn. The contract still resides in the central hall for all to read, the text faded, the scroll yellowed and cracked. Ten of those offspring left the island with a relatively tiny pittance, unwilling to risk it all for the great reward. Six more stayed behind and lost everything, joining the already large stock of slaves to form the basis of the island’s servant class. Of those seventeen children, only one stood as the proud heir of Roland Witherborn, but all of those who fled bound themselves and their descendents to the rules of this island. I grew up reading the rules, over and over through those plates of glass, never even thinking that I would be forced to fight for my inheritance. Though written in a long unused dialect, I know their meaning.

1) All slaves must follow the Master’s every command, and he or she may use any force necessary to bring the slaves in line.

2) Murder or life-threatening force against any heir of Witherborn is strictly forbidden, and is grounds for immediate banishment from the island and forfeiture of all its wealth.

3) A Master may name his successor to take over the island and its wealth. If no successor has been named at the time of his passing, then the title will become open to all living descendents of Roland Witherborn.

4) The Ritual of Domination may strip any heir of all rights and brand them a slave for life. The ritual may only be performed by another heir, and is as simple as adorning the target with a slave’s collar. If the collar remains in place for seventeen consecutive hours, the ritual is complete, removing all protections granted upon them by these sacred laws.

5) During a time of contested inheritance, an heir may claim the title of Master by presenting the Chalice of Witherborn, hidden somewhere on the island.

6) All rules concerning Briar Island and its relationship to the mainland shall be administered by the family of Frederick Louis.

The rules are many centuries old and have not accounted for the way the world around us has developed. Mainland slavery was abolished long-ago, and sovereign territories are no longer determined by mere squatting. According the attorneys, we are located just ten miles beyond France’s territorial waters, and have made good with all local governments. Were any regional visitors to… disappear, let’s say, I have the word of the local governors that the issues will be handled discretely.

Who will arrive to challenge my birthright? Who will have answered the lawyers’ call to come to his forsaken island, unaware of the sad fates that will befall almost all who dare? Our family’s blood has spread so much over the countless generations that I’m certain the arrivals will be from every continent and class.

My blood is beginning to boil. How could my family do this to me, pitting me against posers for what should be rightfully mine? For Christ’s sake, I could end up a slave for the rest of my life. What did I do to deserve this?

----

OOC: You can be anyone you want, be it an island-born servant, or one of the distant family members vying for control of the island. The characters’ are really, really distant; like, sixth cousins or beyond that have never even heard the names of the others, so it isn’t really incestuous.

Somewhere on the island, carefully hidden, is a vault. Each arrival at the island has been given a key alongside their invitation by the mainland administrators, and only by filling each of those keyholes can the vault be opened. Inside rests the chalice that symbolizes one victory, meaning there are two routes to victory—perform the Ritual of Domination until only one heir remains, or steal each of the players’ keys. (When somebody finds the vault, it just so happens to have a number of keyholes corresponding to the number of ‘players’.)

If you choose to play this game, please state your preferences for scenes, be they MM, FF, or MF. Note that you cannot choose to be dominant position only; most people will end up losers, so you must be willing to play the role of a slave-- if you are captured/enslaved by an incompatible person, the captor will just happen to decide not to claim his spoils. And for those that are roughed up in captivity, how willing they grow to be is up to you, and if you don’t want to be in a dominant position, you can basically play a bait role, one of the hapless men or women that has arrived at the island with no hope of victory. Or one of the maids, currently in a state of semi-rebellion until a victor is crowned.

How will you play the game? Will you kidnap and collar your rivals, drug them into a stupor, steal their keys, make alliances, befriend the servants and convince them to fight for your side? How thorough of a trap must one lay in order to have a rival pinned? It is all up to you, but remember that you can’t decide actions for other people. You can swing a candelabra at somebody, but it is up to the victim to come up with a way out.

It goes without saying the content will veer towards heavy non-consensual themes, and the emotional responses to forced slavery. If a person is going too far with a scene, go ahead and PM them, but there will be rape in this story.

Always keep in mind the passage of time, especially if there are many participants. The seventeen hour limit for the slavery ritual should be minded at all times.

I understand I am asking for a lot in this Role-play, but I truly believe it has the potential to be something great. And, if it works out very well, I am interested in adapting it for the library, though I’ll utilize the premise on my own if there aren’t at least three other people interested in playing. Always present material for the other person to play with, and keep it in first person perspective. I’m a stickler for characterization, so please, be descriptive of your actions and motivations. If you have any questions about the lore, ask me in-character (or in a PM).

[Razor7826]

The invitation sent by the lawyers of Fredrick & Sons to the potential heirs.

2-10-XX
To ___________________

I regret to inform you of the passing of Gregory Witherborn, Marquis of Briar Island. As he did not specify a proper heir in his will, you, as a fellow descendent of Marquis Roland Witherborn, have been determined an eligible candidate to be his successor. Enclosed is a four-thousand euro travel fund and a pendant bearing the family crest; should you decide to vie for your inheritance, make sure you carry that pendant with you at all times.

Briar Island is located fifty miles off the coast of Southern France. At the port city of Saint Correns, you may charter a vessel to ferry you to the island. While guests are allowed, they are not encouraged due to the nature of the island traditions.

We hope you make the right decision and accept your responsibilities. The inheritance process will start on the 22nd, so it is strongly advised that you arrive before that date.

Signed,
Frederick & Sons

[Razor7826]

The sound of a distant horn notifies me of the first arrival. The game will begin in earnest soon, but the exact specifications of it all need not be revealed until the memorial banquet, to be held tomorrow evening. There are hints at what is to come all over the island, though, and it would take a fool undeserving of the Witherborn blood to remain oblivious until I reveal the rules of the island’s game. Collared servants, locked dungeons, and chains everywhere, incorporated into the original villa as it expanded and grew to support the growing slave population. It is family custom to only allow mating to occur between islanders and mainlanders, and that applies to both servants and family. Some of the recruits understood their purpose before coming here, but most did not. Unprotected by our codes, the servants don’t have the normal restrictions against violence.

Those recruits never stand a chance, enslaved before they have any idea what is happening. I only wish the new arrivals will be every bit as easy the prey.

I look into the mirror and wonder what I’ve done to upset my family. Five-eleven, thirty years old, slightly tan skin, and perfectly managed-black hair, I’m the spitting image of my grandfather when he was my age. I’m fit, too, something that our ruling bloodline was most certainly not known for.

I’m wearing a tailored grey suit that I’ve left unbuttoned, as usual. Just outside my bedroom is Mary, my favorite maid. She nods in acknowledgment then follows without word; though she knows I have no power over her anymore, I’ve been brutal enough to both her body and soul that she wouldn’t dare think of crossing me. She was my first capture, claimed while she was spending a summer in Saint Correns studying marine biology. I wooed her through charm and booze, and by the time she realized the nature of the island, there was nothing she could do to escape my grasp. She’s short and appears to be frail, her long blond curls descending down to her shoulders and glasses covering her gentle blue eyes. However, she packs quite the punch when she tries.

Together, we exit the manor to find a car waiting. Mary opens the door for me and I climb in, a bit shocked to see one of the other maids driving the car. It’s only a thousand feet or so down to the pier, but I appearances are everything when you’re trying to make a first impression.

The boat is in the distance, and on it comes the first of my competitors… or perhaps more.

OOC:
Name: Micheal Witherborn.
Hard Limits: No M/m, trampling, mutilation.

[Chuckdom19]

The breeze tossed my red mane hither and yon, forcing me to sweep it aside from my green eyes. This small craft was called a delivery boat for the surrounding islands by the captain; from the smell, it spent too much time hauling raw fish. It was dirty and uncomfortable below; I chose to spend my time sitting on my travel-trunk before the wheelhouse. Submission to the wind and spray was a small price to pay to avoid the other passenger and the rarely-bathed crew.

Returning here to the island of my family's heritage was no pleasure. The harrowing journey from my adopted home in Christchurch seemed to have taken forever, and I was getting tired of sleeping in a different bed every night. Just two more hours and I would be in the ancestral mansion, hopefully for a long time. The 4000-Euro travel fund would NOT extend to getting me back to beautiful New Zealand.

I had been told of the family's methods by my parents; they had coached me about conditions on the island and the means necessary to win the inheritance. Mother had the courage to leave the place when she was young; she wished me to be victorious over those who had tormented her when she was a child. I had inherited her curves and coloration, but Father's height; at 6'4", my 42D chest just looked average rather than too much of a good thing as it would on most women. I had hardened myself over the years, my service in the Defense Forces having taught me several of the martial arts and the discipline to keep myself fit.

I admit freely that I looked forward to having a slave-class of servants on the island. The urge to dominate ran strong in my soul, and having the opportunity to 'play with' someone who would not be able to argue was the final lure that brought me back from half-a-world away.

The pier was in sight, and several people waited near a classic black Rolls-Royce. The Laundelet body, not available for more than 40 years, reflected the few roads and short distances on the island. One man approached the ship as we docked and smiled in recognition. My hackles rose as I saw him; we would soon be vying for dominance. May the best woman win!

OOC:
Name; Marigay Smythe
Hard limits: Extreme mutilation, scat

[Razor7826]

Things have been pretty lax over the last century or so, with numerous barely-related families of heirs occupying the manor, but things are going to change soon. Normally we are forbidden from collaring fellow free-born heirs, but those rules no longer apply. A period of contested inheritance is like pruning the family tree cutting off the undeserving and ensuring that their useless blood never gets another shot at Witherborn’s legacy. Though I am the only free heir on the island, it wasn’t always this way before. In my early childhood, there were other families here, several distant-off shot from what I believe was my great-great-grandfather. Since an heir has always been named, those men and women were protected from the ritual.

The boat comes into view, and I see her standing on its deck. She’s tall and wears decent clothes—nothing that would reveal her as an heir of Witherborn except for the longing look in her eyes. She wants this island’s wealth for her own, but she can’t have it.

She looks like she could break my arms, but no matter. I know the island in ways none of my rivals will. The secret passages, maze-like halls, everything else that comes from growing up on the sprawling family estate, all tools to be used to my advantage. It wouldn’t be hard to drug her and drag her into some forgotten corner of the dungeons, leaving her to rot as the ritual slowly ticks towards completion.

The woman isn’t packing much but a nice rack, it seems. There’s no chance she has anywhere near the number of weapons and poisons that I have in my stash. And what can I say? From her looks, I think I shall rather enjoy using them on her. I can see it now, this poser to my wealth kneeling beside my bed, stripped completely naked except for the collar around her neck and chains that bind her body.

I am there waiting on the dock for her as she steps off, and I greet her. “My name is Michael Witherborn, and Gregory was my grandfather. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss…” I await her response, hoping to keep our introduction brief and lead her back towards the manor with few questions asked of the inevitable game.

OOC: While we will return to the manor together, and I hint at the upcoming opening dinner, that won’t actually take place until more people decide to play; I hope we see many more arrivals over the next few days.

[Chuckdom19]

"Marigay Smythe, Mr. Witherborn. I am the daughter of April Witherborn, and, I believe, your cousin. Gregory was my great uncle." The man had an air of confidence and arrogance which would be detested in polite society. I reached forward and shook his hand as my trunk was loaded onto a small cart. Slaves took it from there, hauling the heavy piece of luggage in the direction of the big house visible in the distance.

The elderly vehicle awaited, door open, with a slave standing to be of service as needed. I was assisted into the car and Michael followed.
We conversed a bit about the upcoming meal and the starting of the Ritual. Both of us were tense during the drive, it seemed... I know I was. We approached the Manor House and stopped in the portico, entering the front door about the same time as my luggage cart was approaching the house from a more direct path in the rear.

I looked back towards the pier, watching for a second as the slaves unloaded the remainder of the cargo. A beautiful woman opened the door for us, assisting us as we entered the entryway. Michael indicated the door woman, telling me that she was Jasmine, and was to be assigned to me for my personal needs and desires. I thanked him for his courtesy, and followed Jasmine to my suite, where my locked trunk was waiting for me. It would be several hours before the meal; I used the time to clean up from the difficult voyage.

Sitting in a hot tub a few moments later, I savored the delightful scented oil Jasmine she had added to the tub from my trunk. I would, of course, not utilize anything that I had not brought myself; my parents had warned me of the methods and such the others would use in their efforts to win the inheritance. I had, however, been pro-active in many ways. In fact, I had already activated one weapon.

[Razor7826]

The bitch claims to be my cousin, but I’m not sure about that. There’s a long history of everyone trying to relate back their lineage to the most recent master, to present their blood as pure to the Witherborn line.

It doesn’t matter. I won’t be breeding with her, but she looks strong—an ideal candidate for pairing with a mainlander.

Parting ways, I retreat to my chambers, with Mary following like the devoted pet that she is. Once inside my room, I address her quietly. “Keep and eye and ear on Jasmine. Though she is still somewhat obedient, I’m still willing to nip the problem in the bud if she shows the slightest signs of defying me.”

“Yes, Master,” she mutters before walking into the hall with determined haste. I close the door behind her and lock it shut. It’s time for me to do some reconnaissance. I find the hidden switch and open the portal to my own world.

Though my grandfather died without making me the master, I still claimed his bedroom as my own, and that meant free-reign of the underhalls. When this expansion to the original castle was built, hundreds of years ago, the insane and paranoid Master made sure that he would be in complete control of the manor at all times. To that end, his room—and only his room—was used as the entrance way to secret halls, built between the rooms and halls of the manor proper. Nobody but the current master knew of the hallways, and it wasn’t until after I claimed the bedroom that I knew they even existed.

Stone corridors stretch in three directions. Glimmers of light shine against the walls every thirty feet or so, marking the spots where I can gaze into the inner workings of the manor. Most of the maids don’t even know these corridors exist, and the few counterexample wishes she didn’t. I reach the end of a long corridor and descend down the dark flight of stairs. At the bottom is a thick metal door, and behind it lie my most precious secrets. I open the door and enter.

Three former maids line the walls, blindfolded and gagged, completely bound with chains. These were my grandfather’s private pets, the final resting place for defiant maids and servants that could not be domesticated. Once they enter here, they can never leave alive, for they know too much about the manor they were born to serve.

The only one I recognize is the young one, a twenty-year old brunette that disappeared without a trace six months ago. Everybody in the manor thought that grandfather had her killed for disobedience, but it seems like he found a much better use for her.

The other two maids I don’t recognize at all, and I suspect they’ve been down here decades. One looks to be about forty-some years old, her . The other’s hair has gone completely white, but her body is still firm. My grandfather must have let them exercise and fed them well.

They almost died of starvation before I discovered these underhalls, but I’ve taken great care of them since then. Cum pools from their cunts onto the floor from the past few days. I need to take care of them while I have the chance. I undo their ballgags, one by one, and feed them like babies. I spoon the health food into their mouth, and put a glass of water to the lips to wash it down. They don’t even speak a word the entire time, no matter what I ask. The youngest almost answers but swallows her words, while the other two pretend not to hear me at all. What did my grandfather do to them that was so brutal? Do they even remember who they are, decades after spending a life in these tiny cells? I’ve been wondering a lot over the last week, but my concerns for their mental well-being don’t keep me from using what should be mine.

I crawl between the legs of the middle-aged woman and lick her cheek. She twitches, but then allows me free reign over her body. I caress her smooth, tight skin as a pump gently into her cunt, soon dumping my load. Her pleasure is none of my business.


Once my duties are done, I return upstairs to spy on my competitor. She’s bathing, and I can’t help but admire her body. I pause to savor the moment before returning to my chambers to take an afternoon nap—one of my favorite past times. I fall asleep with a hard-on, dreaming of what I will do to this Smythe woman once the game begins. My traps and schemes are already falling into place.

[Razor7826]

OOC: How are traps determined in RP here? Is there ever a 'moderator' that keeps track of what schemes/traps/poisons we've laid, or are we just expected to 'keep it honest'?

[collared_kitten75]

I casually check the front right pocket of my favorite pair of drab green Banana Republic cargo shorts for the key that had arrived in my mailbox a few short weeks ago. Secure that the key is still there, I stuff my wallet, still thick with the remnants of the 4,000 Euros that had arrived along with it back into my hip pocket.

Shouldering my backpack, I half-step, half-jump from the chartered yacht to the fast-approaching dock. I make my way quickly down the length of the dock to the rocky shoreline of the island itself. "So this is it, Briar Island, land of my forefathers," I mutter to no one but myself, "doesn't look like much."

I check my Nike watch, already adjusted from the Eastern Standard Time of my native Louisville, Kentucky, to the time zone of this tiny island of Kentucky. "Well, I'm here in time for the dinner, assuming there's going to be some transportation provided," I mutter under my breath as I look around for a driver or shuttle or something.

Finally, spying a castle in the distance, I set off, by foot, up the rocky road. My thoughts are focused on the game before me, and the prize, control of the island. "I bet this rock will sell for a pretty chunk of change," I think out loud, "and even if I lose, I bet this competition will land me a spot on an even more popular show- maybe even Survivor." Thoughts of Survivor cause me to quicken my pace toward the castle.

OOC
Name: Jason Speed
No hard limits, would prefer to be collared early on by a female player/character

[Razor7826]

One of the maids returns and tells me of the new arrival. She offers to greet the poor schlum, but I tell her to hold back. I want to watch this specimen and gauge him in an unperturbed environment. I grab some binoculars from my closet and head off, exiting the manor and lurking far off the beaten path.

He doesn't look like much. I doubt he's going to be much of a threat.

It's funny, isn't it? The first woman to arrive is built like a truck, while the first man is barely worth mentioning. Still, there could be a lot to learn from watching his behavior.

[collared_kitten75]

Invigorated by the sight of the castle, I start to jog toward it, slowly building speed into a comfortable run. My Teva sandals are not made for this, but I suspect they will serve well enough over the short distance.

Thirty minutes later, I have still not reached the castle. "A lot fricking farther than it looks," I mutter to myself as I slow to a walk, catching my breath, "you'd think what with the travel money and all they'd have a driver here for me."

I check my watch and start back into an easy reason. "Don't want to miss dinner."

[Razor7826]

He's wandering around like an idiot and clearly has no idea what is waiting for him. If only all of my competition were as ill-prepared as him. There are some rivals deserving of my attention. I return to the manor and tell a maid to show the poor-man to his room.

There are more important uses of my time, after all. Plans must be schemed and traps must be set. As much as I wish to lock my rivals in their rooms until the game begins, the island is theirs to explore. The original castle, the more modern extension, the beaches, the cliffs, the woods; there's a lot to do, and I'd much rather see them waste their time exploring for pleasure than laying traps of their own.

[collared_kitten75]

My mood brightens as I see the car approaching, black, a smallish European make that I don't recognize. 'Finally, some transportation,' I think as the car pulls to a stop just in front of me. My view of the driver is blocked by deeply tinted windows.

As I move toward the front passenger side door, the driver's side door open and out steps a woman, a naked woman- naked, that is, save for a leather collar locked snugly around her neck. I clap my hands and point at her. "Ha, you must be one of the island slaves."

This is great. I'd read a little about the laws of Briar Island before my trip here, but I didn't really believe it, or what my parenst had told me either. This is like some sort of adult Disneyland. The naked woman and I move closer toward one another. Even as she is reaching out to take my backpack, I am moving in to get a closer look at her collar. "Ah, how cute, you have a little name tag. Let's see who you are," I say taking the name tag hanging from her collar in two fingers, "Sillitta, eh? Is that Italian."

The girl stiffens under my approach, but does not pull away. Finally she speaks. "Perhaps you should allow me to get the door for you, so that I can get you to the castle in time for dinner."

"Oh," I stutter, letting her name tag fall back against her collar, "I'm sorry. Lead on then, um, slave Sillitta."

During the ride back, Sillitta says essentially nothing, but I ramble on, full of questions about the 'fake slavery' practiced here on the island. She seems annoyed during the five minutes that it takes to reach the castle, and greatly relieved when the car finally comes to a stop.

Sillitta looks at me and cocks her head. She really is pretty with tanned skin, and short, but unruly black hair, but there's something hard about her physique. 'She must work out tons,' I think, 'because she clearly doesn't do anything more strenuous than drive this car, and maybe carry some luggage from time to time- slave or no.'

I allow Sillitta to take my backpack and follow her into the castle to my room. I watch her tight little ass the entire time. 'Nice.'

[Chuckdom19]

The long, relaxed soak done, I run through my quick routine of exercises to keep things tight and in shape. A bit of cardio to finish up, a quick shower to clean off the sweat, and I dressed in jeans and a tee, with some running shoes. There were still a few hours before the scheduled dinnertime, so I set out to do some exploring.

It was not long before I was in a copse, surrounded by thick undergrowth. And here was a pit, covered with a 'grass' throw! One of Michael's first poor efforts at a trap, no doubt. Climbing down carefully, I found the entrance to an underground tunnel at the bottom! Hmm... perhaps a 'hiding hole' or some such, rather than a trap. Pulling out my torch, I inspected the opening and, lo and behold! An electrical connection to the door. A moment's effort and I jumped the indicator's line, making the connection ineffective. I crawled into the tunnel, and was shortly able to straighten up inside! A long tunnel with light at the end lay to my left; the tunnel to the right dark and foreboding.

Deciding to trace the left, a quick jog and I found the source of the light; a bare-stone exit at the base of the rocky hills along the North edge of the island. Perhaps a spot to take note of... I drew this onto the rough map I had created from my grandfather's memories and my own observations. Returning to the tunnel, I dashed down the tunnel to the south, heading in the general direction of the Mansion. The tunnel walls narrow and become stone-lined, with blackened marks along the ceiling from flaming torches from years gone by. It widened suddenly, with many doors along each side. A central area showed signs of recent use, so I began to look for an exit.

Moments of quick searching led me to a stairway up, I followed it into what should have been an area above the ground and found myself to be in the garaging space for the car. Finding the door to the outside, I ducked into the trees just in time to avoid being seen by the driver. After parking and exiting the car, she walked briskly towards the Mansion.

Back into the tunnel, I followed in the direction towards the older section of the building, and found another stairway up into the house. It ended at a bare wall, sending me into a search for a trip switch. A small recess in the rock overhead proved to be the spot, and the wall opened before me, into a hallway. Quick exploration showed it was the second floor, near my room; another marking for my map. I returned to my room and discovered a young, slender man working with a wire and jimmy bar, attempting to open my trunk!

"Errr, Hi!" he said. "You must be cousin Marigay! I'm Jason Speed." He blushed to his collar, trying to distract from the situation.

"And what the FUCK do you think you are doing in my room, trying to open my trunk?"

[Razor7826]

OOC: I still want at least another female character before start the dinner. And for purposes of time keeping, it isn't necessarily the night your characters arrive; the date is indeterminnant in the future.

[collared_kitten75]

I look up from my illicit activity at the powerful woman standing above me. Knowing that no lie will readily appease her, I push the still locked trunk aside. "It would appear that I have been caught red-handed cousin," I say, standing and slipping my lockpicks back into a pocket of my shorts.

The lockpicks stashed, my hand does not return empty. Instead, I have armed myself with a small syringe full of clear liquid. Using only the fingers of that right hand, I slip the cap off of the attached 25 gauge needle. "Come on then cuz, I've got enough ketamine to put even you down."

In a flash, I jab the needle toward Marigay.

[Chuckdom19]

I darted back, depending on my training for the quickness of my reaction. A kick from my left boot sent the needle flying, landing far away from Jason in the corner. This allowed me to reverse the attack at my leisure, holding short from doing any serious injuries. The competition didn't start until later, after the dinner.

Putting his unconscious body out in the hall after I liberally applied my catalyst to his skin here and there, I locked my door and went to open my trunk once again. In here were the tools and things I would need to win this thing and take over Briar Island.

Father's chemical company had produced several of them from arcane recipes that he had worked on over many years, hoping for his own opportunity at conquering the island. Some others I had found after some time spent with my Maori teammates in the military; old island blends of natural things found throughout the South Pacific.

The best of the tools and devices in my trunk would simply incapacitate... and the amounts I used would set the time. A full dose of some of the weapons would lead to weeks or months of disability, but it easily may be diluted to last 18 hours or so. Any one of these alone would work my magic. I carefully set the locks and the alarms and the seven separate booby-traps. Should Mr. Speed or Michael or a servant dare to touch the trunk, they might live, or might not, depending on the method used. Short of using C4, this luggage would resist their best efforts.

[collared_kitten75]

My eyes blink, then blink again before finally opening. Even the dim light of the castle corridor sends stabbing pain through my skull. 'What happened?' I think, 'what in the world happened? Ah yes, I had been sneaking through guest rooms, looking for, for, well anything that might give me an edge in this competition. Most of the rooms had been empty, but not that one, the last one. What had I found? What had I found? Why is my memory so clouded? A trunk, locked. What had been inside? What is wrong with my head? That's right, I never got it opened. She had arrived. Another contestant, a cousin perhaps, and we fought. Evidently I had been on the losing end.'

I slowly stand. The stone floor is cold beneath my feet. 'Why am I barefoot? That's right, I prefer to go unshod when working covertly like this. I'm quieter that way, and most of my martial arts training had been done in bare feet, lot of good that it did me in there. That woman was built like a damn football player.' I check my pockets. My lockpicks and the syringe of ketamine are gone. 'Disarmed and humiliated, by a woman nonetheless. Not a good way to start.'

I start to limp back to my room. 'Why does my head hurt so badly? Yeah, I know, I took a beating, but it's a different kind of headache. Drugged? Was I drugged?' I start to mentally make a list of any pharmacologic agent that could have been used against me, but my mentation is slowed by something. A drug? But which one?' Ultimately, I surrender to whatever agent has been used against me, and collapse on the bed of an empty guest room. 'Just need a little sleep. head will be clearer after that.'

[collared_kitten75]

OOC: It's been too long since anyone has posted, and W/we need new people to jump in. Come on people, jump in.

kitten

[lucy]

I'm very tempted to jump in since i've never done something like that. Unfortunately i don't have too much time at the moment, but i'll think about it.
Furthermore i'm not sure if i've gotten the plot right so far...

[collared_kitten75]

OOC lucy, i know from our e-mailing that you do have the plot right, and it only takes as much time as you let it (maybe just a few minutes a day). jump on in.

kitten

[lucy]

Briar Island. Finally. It certainly was a long trip to get here. The letter with the key and the 4000 Euros reached me in Ushuaia, southern Argentina, where I just returned from a fourteen day hike through the wilderness. Talk about being „al culo del mundo“. But it suited me fine, to be out of sight, especially out of sight of the Swiss law enforcement. No idea how that lawyer managed to track me down, but track me down he did. And when I read the letter he sent me, I instantly knew that this was the chance of a lifetime.
So I packed my belongings, which didn't take more than ten minutes, since they all fit easily in a backpack, headed for Italy, crossed the border on a mountain path into Switzerland and soon arrived at my former home. My late grandfathers' chest was still there, and in it all he ever wrote about Briar Island and it's rules and costumes. I carefully read it all again. Then I went to a good friend, spent a lot of money on things that would come handy in times of fighting and scheming and left for southern France.
Hitchhiking down the Rhone valley some asshole truck driver made a terrible mistake by trying to rape me. Guess he was fooled by my petite frame and my young age, and probably attracted by my long blonde hair and firm butt. Well, he will regret his mistake for the rest of his life. At least the truck brought me directly to Saint Correns, where I boarded the stinking vessel to Briar Island.
And here it is. Briar Island. Nice to look at, but I'm not here to look at it. I'm here to own it.
I jump down onto the jetty, take my heavy backpack one of the deckhands is holding out for me and swing it onto my back.
Then I turn around and start towards the manor without looking back. On the way I think again about how I should proceed. Probably play the dumb blonde chick. Show them some ass and tits, that usually does the trick. For further scheming I rely on the two pounds of grey matter between my ears. They have helped me out of every trouble so far.
I may not look like it, but hauling a 20kg backpack is no biggie for me. And if those slobs don't even have a cab or a transport here then I don't mind walking to the manor. But I sure hope they have something decent on the table for dinner.

OOC
Name: Luisa Malatesta
Hard limits: probably scat, mutilation (don't know really)
About the codes: i didn't get what they mean, please someone PM me about it. But i guess i could live with being enslaved by F or M if that's what it's about.

[Chuckdom19]

I glanced out my ocean-facing window and saw yet another boat arrive, and one female disembark. Lovely; we need another woman in the competition. After all, the way to win this was... ah, someone is going to meet her! I'll have to meet her in the outer hall! She WAS family, after all, however distant she might be.

Stopping for a fresh dose of catalyst, I rushed downstairs to introduce myself. When she walked in through the huge wooden doors, Michael was there to greet her first, then presented me. I shook her hand, wondering at her unusual accent. French, Italian, German... and something else?

[collared_kitten75]

After a long sleep, I blink once, twice, and open my eyes. Realizing that I am ona comfortable bed, whether or not it is my own, I allow myself to fall back to sleep, for how long I do not know. Finally, I awake again. This time, I am able to remain so. My head is still throbbing, but I force myself to my feet. The stone is cold underneath my bare soles. My ribs ache. I check the pockets of my cargo shorts. Empty. I must have taken a beating. That's right, I did take a beating, from my giantess cousin. How humiliating.

I open the door to the bedchamber that I am in a fraction of an inch and look out. No sign of anyone, but I can hear voices from down the hall: Marigay, Michael, and one I don't recognize, feminine, but without a clear accent.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes and stumble down the corridor to teh castle's main hall. As I approach, I get my first look at the new arrival. 'Man, she's hot,' I think to msyelf, 'she's going to look so good in a slave collar, sitting naked at my feet.'

I approach the gathering, looking perhaps a little out of place in my bare feet, cargo shorts, and ratty STP t-shirt. I extend my hand to the blonde chick. "Jason Speed, nice to meet you."

[lucy]

Michael, Marigay and Jason. Cousins of the nth-grade. One hell of a nice family we are. Everybody is watching everybody else warily.
I don't know what to make of them all coming down to greet me. I'd have preferred if they hadn't bothered, as if they didn't think I'm enough of a competition to come and greet. I muster them all while shaking their hands. Michael seems to be quite fit and is definitely good looking. He has an air around him as if he considers himself the Master of this island already. Well, we'll see whether that's going to happen. Marigay, wow, she must be the tallest and largest woman i've ever seen in my life. I bet those tits of hers can crush coconuts. Maybe we could team up against Michael. I must check her out further.
The last one is Jason. There isn't much about him, but then again, that's what the others maybe think of me too. So better watch out, he may be one sneaky guy. On the other hand, he's already staring at my tits and my legs. He might be easy prey after all.
And "nice to meet you" my ass. As if anyone's pleased to see another competitor.

„'ello ev'rybody. Is there anything to eat around 'ere? I'm starving.“

[collared_kitten75]

At the mention of food, I turn to look at Michael. "Come to think of it, I'm pretty hungry too. Isn't there supposed to be a feast or something to welcome us to the island?"

[Razor7826]

I look to my competition and smile. "The ceremonial feast is still but a day away, but I don't see why we all can't share a small meal together. Hurry along to the dining room; I'll send one of the servants to prepare a dish."

This new arrival doesn't look like much either, but I won't let my guard down. There's no point in not being uniformly brutal against those that cross me, now is there?

[collared_kitten75]

I rub my hands together and head off toward the dining room in anticipation of a decent meal, even if it is not the welcoming feast. 'Maybe some food will help clear my head,' I think.

On the way there, I attempt some idle conversation with Luisa. "So, um, you like French cuisine? I can't say that I think much about it, except maybe french fries."

I poke Luisa in her shoulder, playfully testing her muscular definition. "You're pretty ripped. What do you do to work out?"

[lucy]

Small talk. Now if there is one thing I hate it's small talk. No, that ain't exactly true. There are many things I hate just as much. Like for instance some jerk poking me in the shoulders. However, I manage to resist the urge to kick him in the groin but instead say "Yes, I like french food. I like almost ev'ry food. But I don't work out. I just do a bit of, how do you say? Climb with no ropes?"
Should I tell him about my experience with slicing up guys like him with a switchblade? Or go on about my travelling mate and fuckbuddy Simon, an ex-member of the israely special forces who showed and learned me not how to survive in a fight, but how to win it?
Nah, don't think I should.
"Freeclimbing. It's called freeclimbing" Jason replies. I give him a broad smile "You like to climb? Be on top?"

I follow Michael to the dining room, still wearing the backpack. "Is there a place I can shower and change before we have dinner?"

[collared_kitten75]

I defltly step in front of Luisa, spinning to face her. I place my right hand on her left shoulder. "I'd be happy to show you upstairs to the guest rooms. I could even carry your bag for you."

Taking the bag from Luisa, I am surprised by its weight. 'Did she carry that all the way up from the docks,' I think, 'she's stronger than she looks...and she doesn't look weak by any means, just smallish.'