Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

The King of Makish nodded politely and spoke quietly to King Filip and some of the older lords. Huge of Glee was absent. He had beg to take his leave early reporting that he must get back to oversee the birthing of his child. The King of Makish troubled by that announcement sent the knight on his way well ahead of the banquet. If there was any finger pointing it might be said that Huge of Glee looked unfavorable upon the young King and had the motive and time to delivered Kalfor to his doom. In truth the wine and the wench under the table was serving the doom to Kalfor in delicious courses. Obviously too tempting to resist it was a bit much for the old Lords who prided themselves in some form of civilized manners while at a banquet. Especially their own. Lusty. The King of Makish thought as he watched the Prince soon to be King sit the throne. He would do well with the plans waiting for him. He need only deliver himself into their hands by falling asleep. It had been arranged that the Prince would be taken to his room by trusted servants at the word of the King. It had been planned that the slaver would take the Prince out the gate that very evening so that the King of Makish could be as present and surprised as everyone else who had prayed for a miracle. Hoping that the Prince would never be a King in this land or in any other. It was just that the King of Makish had a plan to make that miracle happen. A long term plan. So the King of Makish sipped his own wine, white for obvious reasons, while the Prince downed another mug of the red wine.
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

What a night it had been. Kalfor had several wenches, dragging each one to the darkened corner of the hall, his cock hard and full, ramming itself deep inside of each cunt... not knowing why he was so insatiable, why he was so needy, and damned thirsty besides... After each fucking, he returned to the table, almost pacing the room like a predator in search of its next meal. That wine, in an unending flow, pouring into his tankard cooled his parched throat, and finally, after what felt like hours of fucking, he felt himself slipping a little from consciousness. His squires were there, and Kalfor, now sure that he was drunk, heaped them with compliments and thanked them greatly for their assistance... to his room... Somewhere along the way, Kalfor lost the power of speech, lost the power to help, lost the... way... That, that wasn't the way to his room... And finally, lost the power to focus, and he was moved as though in a haze.
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Savant, a slaver by trade watched the spectacle that was the prince from a dark corner of the great hall. His first though was of the virility of the Prince. Definitely vigorous enough for a breeding pen. Endurance enough for a mine. Unschooled enough for the north and the men that lived there. Far far away from these milder lands. Never to return. With that in mind it was Savant who had also chosen to retire at the same time of the Prince. His day would begin early he assured both King Filip and the King of Makish. A curt bow and ensuring all saw him leave the hall by another way before doubling around in the dark with three of his own in search of the meandering prince. Luck or fortune found Kalfor alone and as Savant spoke the other three encircled him and half prodding and half guiding made their way to the stable and bid him lay in the straw to rest. The hardest part was installing him in the canvas used often in slave taking. His hands shackled behind him. His ankles manacled together. Strip to his loin cloth. They had to fold his knees to get him in the canvas and close it over his head. Men were seldom taken in such a manner. Seldom stolen in the night. Men were on their knees surrendering after battle or a pillage and a yoke placed on their shoulders quickly so that they might pull a cart that held the women in canvas sacks. It took three of them to dump the canvas in Savant's cart. The three would travel with him a full day to the market in Attain. He would go to the highest bidder so his fate would be known to only his new owner. Savant gathered the reigns and clicked his tongue. The draft horse stepped lively into a trot. A decent enough gate for a full days trip.
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Kalfor was sure that he was dreaming. He had sworn he recognized everyone in the castle, every servant that had either been whipped by him or fucked by him. But these three? He was sure that they were his trusted... but how long ago was that? His mind could no longer focus on things or even form logical thought. He felt. Felt the straw press into his flesh. Flesh? Hadn't he been dressed? But the air hit him in the chest like a spear of ice, and his whole body shivered, threatening to cast off some of the drugged wine and he struggled. But it was half-hearted, and he felt so sluggish. He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he was more than acutely aware of when he woke up. He was in the dark a smelly, unbecoming darkness and as he groaned with the pain in his head, he tried to stand. That was the first mistake. He tried to stretch himself to full height, and found himself to be shackled, and unable to move fully. But he was moving... from the sway, he was in a cart. As his senses came fully and completely upon him, he also discovered that there was an uncomfortable pressure in his bladder... too much wine the night before... and now was not the time... Hello! he said, muffled in a sack over his head. It almost made him gag, the smells he had pressed into his nostrils. I have money, and lands, and I need, want, DEMAND for you to stop! He had to take a piss, and he was unable to do anything his semi-erect cock was pressing against his loin cloth, and there was no way to make sure he didn't piss on himself. HELLO!
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Savant heard the muffle and the movement from behind him. He turned to look at the cart and motioned for the other three on horse back to do the same. The cart continued to move along the road. The animal trained to follow anything that looked like a path. Savant had no worries as he turned fully around to sit looking down on the moving canvas sack. He DEMANDS! Savant repeated. The roars of laughter were immediate. The three were no strangers to the taking by force of someone. The routine was the same for those of noble birth, privileged birth, those with wealth lacked the sense to be gracious even when they were trussed and helpless. Five coppers says he pisses himself before the cart reaches that out cropping! said one rider. They laughed and bantered. They took a few minutes to decide on the bet but once done they handed the judgment over to the slaver. Savant grinned, The pots five coppers each. The places are the outcropping. The edge of the forest, and the river crossing. Done. Savant turned around to watch the road knowing the three men would be paying close attention to the canvas sack and any moisture that darkened it's dust covered fabric. Savant never wagered. His money was on the market. He had no doubt the prince would bring a fair price.
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

They... they didn't stop? What the hell... WHO the hell...? His body demanded, his whole being ached and he refused to relent with a raised and defiant tilt to his jaw. But where he was, what he couldn't see. It could impress no one inside of a sack. Or in the back of the cart. His jaw worked, his eyes flashed, and his regal tones fell on deaf ears. How could they defy the crowned prince? A PRINCE? Through gritted teeth, he spoke again, expecting more humour and even more humiliation. But he didn't want to be a wager. And he did NOT wish to soil himself. A man in his position, no matter how young, had certain standards. The cart lurched and he squeezed his ass cheeks together, willing his bladder to stop its release. Damned fuckers, he thought to himself. Please, he said, without emotion and as a stipend for request. Stop this cart. And I'll settle all of your wagers...
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Bugrit! said Pinch. We ain't even made it to the outcrop yet! OYIE! Canvas bitch! said Nasty Toman, Hold a bit more til the out cropping! Aye, we've got a deal goin here yah weak bladdered cunt! Hold it until the out cropping or we'll play beat the sack ah kittens. Gnash the Diseased called out. Now wait a minute! said Pinch in protest. He can hold on longer right! Seeins how after the outcroppin there's the forest what I bet. eh! Well I suppose... replied Gnash the Diseased. Ifn he can wait the forest than he can wait the stream! Nasty Toman remarked determined to win the 10 pence from the other two. 'That's the deal right, him pissin himself at the proper time! So you two bloody beggars stop proddin 'im. Pinched glanced toward the horizon. It was a bit longer to the outcropping then pinch originally figured. The forest a bit longer still. It worried him. The five pence was the last of his precious coin til he got paid by Savant again. E'll piss on himself when ee's good an ready which by mi calculation should be about to the count ah TWENTY SLOWLY! said Pinch and would have winked if the bitch wasn't in the canvas unable to see the proper signal. Twenty's a bit long eh? Nasty Toman. E's royale, they're all a bit quick to count. No need to remove shoes after ten see. So 'is twenty is our ten right! Happy now? Pinch replied urgently not wanting Gnash to think at all. Oh right! Nasty Toman said after thinking it almost all the way thru impatiently. He leaned over and slammed his large fist against the side board of the cart for emphasis, TWENTY SLOW YOU!! Pinch without a smile stared at the horizon avoiding Gnash the Diseased troubled looks.
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Nothing they were discussing made it any easier to hold onto his own bladder. How he longed that one of them... any of them... ALL of them... were standing close enough to him to piss ON. And if I piss myself now? he said tauntingly, his voice full of spite. You ALL lose, don't you, you great sacks of shit? He had not been impressed with his situation imagined that he was kidnapped, taken, and that his status was intact. Maybe even ransomed... But this change? This wager at his expense, and as he mapped their route in his head, he really very nearly DID let go involuntarily then. They were heading to market. And his manner of travel, his solid confinement and his situation could only speak of one thing. Slavers... he whispered and hung his head. And decided that the small victory of keeping any of them winning was worth the ultimate loss of his dignity in the back of that cart. He waited for another particularly harsh rumble, and leaned as far forward as he could. That tingling, that embarrasing need of mortality, but he felt that he would NOT hold on any longer, to spite every one of them. Including himself. The heat of embarrassment took liquid form as it coursed down his thigh. And all of them would lose, those fuckers. Once released, there was no stopping it, hearing it spatter like rain on the wooden slats. And one interesting thought ran through Kalfor's head during the entire time that his own dignity, his own choices, were measured in parts and pieces comparable to how much he was willing to relinquish. And how fucking spiteful he really felt. As the smell wafted up to his nostrils and the heated urine was cooling and drying on his leg, he had a sudden realization. He was kneeling in his own waste. His whole body turned a beet red, and the anger rose from in his stomach. When they stopped? Oh, when they stopped... Then, THEN they would see... AND PAY...
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Pinch decided not losing was better than losing any day. The dirt on the canvas darkened and spread. The stupid lout was doin himself a wet ride. Pinch admired how much that bladder could hold. The pipes were clean on that one for sure. But it was time for some fun. EY NOW! Pinch shouted in disappointment. He's gone to it! He's pissed 'emself. An Gnash, you were so close to collectin 10 pence! He dun it on spite! Nasty Toman egged Gnash the Diseased into a fit. You warned him Gnash, Toman and me heard you!, said Pinch. And I think he's mumblin something about doin your mum! There was a roar and a leap from horse to the cart. Gnash the Diseased exploded against the canvas sack. Fists flying and connecting without regard to where the blow landed. Gnash was in a rage. Savant let the hulk have a go at the Prince for a while, not because it was what Savant wanted. But because Savant did not have enough men to pull Gnash off of the sack until the hulk got the first rush of rage out of his system. It took the other two and Savant to finally pull Gnash away. And then they had to chain Gnash ankle to wrist across his own saddle for an hour or more before Gnash calmed down enough to keep from leaping back into the cart. It was high sun before they reached the stream bank that coursed close to the road. It was over the next ridge for the slave Market where the trip ended for the new package. Savant turned the cart off the path to a place he knew just right for preparing the slave for deliver to the market. He glanced over his shoulder at the sack. OYIE! Wake up. It's time to dress for the ball! Savant said with a grin. The Pinch and Nasty Toman laughed. A grin erupted like a break in a fault line across the whole of Gnash the Diseased face.
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Anger was building like a fine wine in the centre of Kalfor's gut. He hung like a sack of meat, swinging and swaying and now being unhappily tenderized by a spiteful asshole. If he had been free, had his hands free... But he wasn't. And he didn't. And he felt the blood slowly drain out of his arms and hands, pooling painfully in his shoulders... He pissed twice more on the journey, and when they finally stopped, when they finally arrived, Kalfor was stiff, sore and damned irritable. And definitely
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Anger was building like a fine wine in the centre of Kalfor's gut. He hung like a sack of meat, swinging and swaying and now being unhappily tenderized by a spiteful asshole. If he had been free, had his hands free... But he wasn't. And he didn't. And he felt the blood slowly drain out of his arms and hands, pooling painfully in his shoulders... He pissed twice more on the journey, and when they finally stopped, when they finally arrived, Kalfor was stiff, sore and damned irritable. And definitely not willing to just take this abuse. He was a Prince, going to be a King! What the fuck were they thinking, these bastards? When he looked at them, when he could see... He would struggle and he would fight his way out. And to be woken in such a manner. He memorized their voices, and swore to kill each one to a man. With a painfully dull and skewering sword. Maybe a corkcrew. Or a flamberge. He was mentally going over the systematic disembowelment of each voice, imagining all the gore and blood and pulling internal organs to external locations... The hood was finally removed and the muffled sounds of the market were fully assaulting his ears. Kalfor squinted up into the faces of his captors, his humiliators... in other words, dead men. Bruises speckled his body. And his arms were almost white. The full smell of his waste rolled up to gag him, and he choked back bile as he attempted to focus. An unfocused mind would be more than just folly. It could be fatal.
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Kalfor was ignorant, and a good thing too. He knew nothing of Administrator's, Books or Baked Beans. All he knew was the present, the pain and the sudden shifting of gravity. Why, after having been left to hang all fucking day and night, shoulders throbbing and piss stink everywhere, he had to be hung upside down. But he had ceased to consider, or even think about tolerating such asshole behaviour. When he saw where he was, he more than struggled... he fought, and as valiantly as an almost 18 year old trained Prince with delusions of grandeur, could fight. He had clipped one, hopefully the one who had pummelled him, and if his feet were working, he would have used them as well. But, now, he heard the Market sounds, the calling, and the cat calls as he emerged, loin cloth dangling, as well as his other bits, and with a heaving and agonizing rush, the blood returned to his arms, shoulders now screaming in protest. He did bite. And would have scratched. He would have eaten a face off one, and spit it spitefully at the others, and try desperately to get free. Because he may not have heard of the baked beans, but he HAD heard of this place. Hell, he had managed to get a couple of the wenches they had rotated through the castle from this place. But never, NEVER in his wildest dreams or more vivid nightmares, could have pictured himself here. And hanging upside down, no matter who the fuck you were never boded well. He almost screeched at them, claiming his noble birth and demanding his release, but something had kept him quiet in the face of it. Something called 'promotion'. He didn't want to give the others any fuel for their fire, or help garner more money for him. He was a fine specimen strong and lithe, hard where he needed to be and soft in others. He wasn't pliant nor compliant, and viewing the world upside down did nothing for his pscyhe or even his perception. But it did give him a literal feeling. For exactly how fucked he really was. And Fate hadn't even given him a kiss. But with his predicament, he kind of hoped he wouldn't get one either...
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

There was biting, and grinding and gnashing of teeth. There was the taste of blood in his mouth, and the gentle prodding of his gnards being tapped rather soundly because of aforementioned teeth gnashing. But all of that sort of took a back seat to something a little more pressing than that. If he hadn't lost most of the feeling in his upper body over a day long trip where he hung from his hand and had the blood pool into his feet, that might have caused a stronger reaction. But what clinched the rather pale visitation of pain? That would have been the sudden influx of blood as he was upended. It wasn't so much that he hadn't meant to bite them, because really, to be honest, Kalfor believed that they each deserved it. What it was is that he hadn't meant to bite so damned hard. That taste was going to stay with him for a while... trail dirt and some other undiscernable taste that he didn't even want to worry about. Because vomiting while in his present state and condition would end his concerns pretty quickly. And that sudden and complete feeling of nerve endings reawakening was not just agonizing. It was downright unbelievable. His body was alive with it, and overwhelming his senses with it. He had heard of salted springs that contained effervescent bubbles that broke against the skin to add to pleasure. But this? Was not like what he had heard. This was like all of the blood rushing from his feet to his head in one fell swoop. That swoop finished the Prince's consciousness. When the blood had managed to finally heat and cool his skin simultaneously while threatening mutiny, he slipped into restless but complete slumber. And he would have a nasty headache when he awoke, but at least, he would have all feeling in his body. Far be it from me, dear reader, to try to convince him that that might be a bad thing. But it is early yet. And the young pup has time to discover his error...
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

Kalor had felt that prying feeling at his lips, coming back to himself with the first wrenching agony of the removal of his teeth. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but whoever had done that was either a dentist or very experienced. Or both. What was strange was that he hadn't heard a single word exchanged. Through thinly slitted eyes, he watched them work together like a well-oiled machine. And one of them, the one who kept walking around him and prodding... he seemed to be there for him. It wasn't easy to figure out who they were not upside down. But after a few moments and coming back to himself as the bit was shoved into his mouth, almost flinched. Those bogie men. It couldn't be... but it was. After having lived, well-sheltered and with his whims met at every breath, now was at the unfathomable mercy of the VuNish. It was wrong. And he, despite his height, his advantages and his strength, was scared half to death. He tried not to shake. He tried to remain calm. But no matter which way you cut it, he was a lonely kid with no way out. They lumped him in the back of some cart, stretched out for something, and he was feeling grimy. And soiled. And... oh how much he hated to admit it... helpless... The final nail on that coffin was a heated feeling, it played over his skin... between two solid points that painted a heat flush in its wake. Shoulder blade... hip... Shoulder blade... hip... Shoulder blade... Unnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhh... It was burning flesh, he smelled it, like cooking meat but it was HIM. The thick part of his shoulder was being marked... permanently... and tears collected in the corner of his eyes, from pain. From humiliation. From his complete situation. He was lost. And as he got packed off with a tender shoulder and a stiff set of muscles... hungry... thirsty... bruised... His original thoughts of kidnapping were being replaced by his actual predicament. The blood and metallic taste in his mouth... VuNish. He had to find the strength inside of him to fight. He was a PRINCE. And with a sinking feeling in his gut as he slowly felt a thick fog of pain overwhelm him, that the word that seemed to be even more important... WAS. He had never had to rely on himself. He had always called for Father. And now? There was Kalor... and he had to learn how to find a place where he could call on himself. But he was weary. And in agony. He leaned away from the branding site and curled into himself, bridle jingling and mouth sore. He would not CRY. Females CRIED. And he... WAS a Prince. Would be a KING... But not today. No, Kalor. Not today.
Thread: Prince of Slaves - The_Fifth Master & Rawr Kitten

He hurt all over. Inside and out. Keeping his eyes averted so that none could see, and hoping that his raven black hair might partially cover his bruising face, he weighed his options. They were few. But if he was at the mercy of the VuNish, the bogey men that now materialized from the collective nightmares... he would need to leave. Before they killed him... before they... Fingers. Pressing. Against his shoulder, his head, holding the jingling... bridle, he could only assume... and a thick swath of something slid across his flesh, acrid medicinal smell assaulted his senses. Were they healing him? Soothing him? A sound like something he recalled from childhood came from somewhere behind him. That slow, steady touch deceptively gentle. But Kalor knew... had heard... had been told of their brutality, and their strange feeding practices. Perhaps they were seasoning him. A simple decision was made. He wasn't a meal, or an appetizer. And no matter how tenderized they had made him, he still wasn't out of the running. Kalor's heart beat faster and he almost jumped as the cart jostled him. They were moving. And he was planning... thoughts racing in his head. He watched where they were going, as well as he could from his position. There was a lot that Kalor was not going to be today. A woman. A king. And now, a meal. The flesh throbbed and he shifted slightly to alleviate the pressure. There was a lot that Kalor was going to be today. And the primary focus of that expectation was one word. FREE.