Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Vivian grinned as she watched Eilert take a look around at her little piece of paradise. It was a beautiful place to be away from everything, where nothing could spot her and only the welcome knew where to look. She was so excited that, on the verge of throwing herself down on the cloak that he offered, she suddenly realized how terrible an idea that would be. Her laugh was cut short as she felt the way her ribs were constricted by the fabric around them. It would be all too difficult to breathe, far less speak, in such attire. Suddenly she found herself hating it. She'd always hated the fancy clothes. She'd hated how they stifled, how delicate they were, how they kept her from doing the things she wanted. Whether by the mindset of those around her, the inability to climb a tree in layered skirts or the way her mother admonished her for the slightest tear or stain, she had always loathed being forced into such trappings. Why someone had to wear so many layers of cloth to be considered reasonable or proper was beyond her. No one should have to endure that. And so, as Eilert lifted his hand to offer Vivian a seat, he would find instead that her hands were preoccupied, straining behind her back in an attempt to undo the topmost layers of her dress. Her fingers grasped and groped without success in midair, a few inches from the appropriate ties in every direction, no matter how she twisted and turned. Her back, which was arched in the effort, was thankfully facing towards the handsome soldier and left her with no reason to feel ashamed of her antics aside from the fact that she could not seem to smoothly overcome her obstacles. Absolutely. She answered him, a slight grunt in her voice. A few strands of her hair fell from the overly-precise bindings she'd long ago taken to ignoring, leaving behind a few clips that dangled in her hair. As she huffed, she became irritated with one of the strands and shoved it out of her face, leaving the metallic pieces to fall into the grass, lost forever in the moonlight. Once I've managed to wrestle myself from this infernal satin trap. She was grateful for the moonlight, as it rarely gave so complimentary a shade to flesh to accentuate a blush. She finally rested, putting her hands on her hips and turning her head to look back over her shoulder at Eilert. Would you mind giving a lady a hand, first? She said, the slight smirk on her face. That is, if you don't yet regret the first.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Her struggle with the layers of clothing reflected a frustration with them quite familiar to Eilert. It was many a time that he and other soldiers had mocked the finery of the nobility. Shiny clothes prized for what they said of the owner's wealth rather than any practical application. Ill suited for anything other standing around and showing off their feathers. Now he had his own finery and walked among the strutting birds - supposedly as one of them. The joke was a poor one by his measure. But that irony was nothing compared to the vision she was presenting him. Most women grew less beautiful as the layers of artifice were stripped away. Their carefully cultivated allure undone piece by piece as hair fell and doll like clothes were ruffled. Vivian did not share that condition. The slowly, growing disarray of her hair highlighted rather than detracted from her charms. Every act that distanced her from the useless mannequins back in her father's hall served only to bring out the best in her. Her question brought a thin smile to his lips as he stood, gave a little bow, and said, As my lady desires. With careful hands Eilert helped loosen the outermost layers of her dress. It was not the most graceful or knowledgeable working of a noblewoman's clothing as they were unfamiliar to his rough hands. Most of his companions came to his bed clad either in their skin or simply in far less complicated of clothing - or at least they had when he had taken companions to his bed. If he was honest he would have to admit that he could scarce remember the last time he had helped a beauty work any of her clothes free and none of them had been quite so alluring as Vivian. The thought - and the reaction it had engendered in him - made him take a step back, take a deep breath, and say, The catches are undone, Vivian. You should be able to get the layer off now.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

It wasnt quite a sensual sound, the groan that Vivian loosed as the garments came undone around her shoulders. She felt her ribs relax, the pressure lifting from her body and suddenly her head was no longer pounding painfully. While she gained little perceptibly from the loosening of the outer layers, she did find herself suddenly divested of restricting cloth that allowed her to breathe, that allowed her to feel her skin once more. It was a condition that often felt odd to her of the end of a day, leaving her slightly-chafed skin all the more sensitive due to the relative sheltering of the days trappings. The evidence of the change was present in that she moved more freely than before, particularly as she found herself in the lighter, silver-blue silks of the slip of a dress beneath. The skirt was still somewhat ruffled, intended to fill the space between legs and the outer edges of her grander skirts, but at least they left her ankles clear to the night air and rose up only barely over her shoulders. The back left her shoulder blades bare, dipping low enough in the front to remain unseen while the higher outer layer of the dress neckline was intended to do the work of preserving her modesty. Along with the groan, Vivian took a deep breath, sighing and rolling her shoulders. She put her hands on her waist, sliding down over her hips and trying very specifically to forget the charming momentary clumsiness of Eilerts fingers as he attended to her request by helping to unfasten her dress. It had, momentarily, brought a blush to Vivians face that had been replaced by the rapture of being finally something akin to free. She turned back to her companion, giving him a warm smile as her hands rose up to pull strands of her hair free from their prison on her skull. It seems Im becoming more indebted to you by the minute, soldier. She said, trying to disguise the pleasant if momentary discomfort with mirth. Another minute and I might have suffocated. It would have been a poor way to repay you by passing out unceremoniously and forcing you to carry me back to the party. I can only imagine what aspersions might have been leveled on your character at that point. She teased him salaciously, pulling a few pins from her dark locks. Dropping them on the dress, she walked over to where hed motioned to his cloak. She didnt wait for him, having already been extended an invitation, instead kneeling smoothly to shift into a sit upon the dark fabric. At least at this point, we can both say we are far more comfortable than we might have otherwise spent tonight.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Any accusations would simply be added to a long list of things people say about me that I have no cares for, Eilert said with a certain fierce amusement - an enjoyment born from shaking off the titles and rumors and gossip of the nobility. A petty act of defiance but a pleasurable one. But I can certainly agree the night is better for us being out here. I have experienced torture more pleasurable than these parties. Stepping carefully over her fallen dress he joined her on his cloak. Stiffly the soldier lowered himself till he was seated on the soft cloth with his right leg laid straight before him and his other bent at the the knee. It may have been painful to get there but once seated it was quite comfortable. The grass and cloth together making a fine cushion as a gentle breeze blew off the lake. The night, it seemed, was doing it's best to aid in them leaving behind the mess of gossip and fake smiles behind. I must thank you, Vivian, for letting me accompany you, Eilert said turning his gaze to her while leaning back on both hands. I am not often given good company and the prospect for such had seemed as slim tonight as any other. You have saved me more than I you this night.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Vivian laughed at the idea of preferring torture to the parties. She felt guilty about it, slightly, seeing as how she had no right to make the comparison in her own mind. She imagined the two of them, however, dressed as they were and tied to chairs, conversing pleasantly as shadowy figures attempted to terrorize them. The very laughter was enough to send her laying back against the cloak, looking up into the field of stars above. Well, I could hardly leave you behind, after all your help. If I had, I could not have enjoyed myself so thoroughly. After all. She rolled over onto her stomach and looked up at Eilert. I would still be bound in those infernal trappings of a ballroom. She nodded forward, indicating the dress that lay several paces off beyond the edges of their little nest. For a moment, Vivian gazed up at Eilerts face, illuminated by the moonlight and left with dark pools where the shadows of his brow hid his eyes, and the shadows of cheeks and nose served to keep his mouth from full view. He looked almost sinister, this way, but Vivian could not have been frightened of him now, not at all. Why do you come to these gatherings? She asked him curiously. If you cannot stand the proceedings? It seems a little counter-intuitive to me. In the back of her mind, a light, easy verse from a once-forgotten tome made itself remembered to her once again. For it is in midnight blue Where there laid the lovers two Revealing the deepest hue That neither had ever knew Like swallow there within the leaves, To rise up and to gain in threes, The only thing the moonlight sees To release the blood in these. She began to hum to herself as she let her feet sway back and forth behind her. Idly, she reached out to pluck a piece of grass, using the thumbnail on one hand to fold it in half and crease it down the center, exaggerating the natural grain of it.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

By request of the King, Eilert answered simply as he watched her play with the grass and hum her little tune. He asks me to attend all of these parties. He says that I am a symbol of our victory against Valois and that my presence will remind them all that we are strong - and that greater threats than not being the talk of Grevestrad exist. I think it is all a waste. I remind the nobles of nothing of value. The younger ones see me as a relic of a war they do not remember. The older see me as an insult to their heritage as a common man raised to peerage and a reminder of their own failings on the battlefield. And I? I just do not belong. The words were as true as anything he'd ever said. He was a symbol of nothing to the nobles because they believed in nothing other than wealth and their own superiority. Victory and pride meant nothing to them. Loss and sacrifice were for speeches and campaign reports. Just words they used without any understanding of what they were. What they meant. A class of idiots deciding who died and congratulating those who lived like it was a game. Mimicking her earlier action he laid back on the cloak and let the night sky fill his eyes. Endless stars - the same ones that had shone over him from birth to battlefield - soothed him. Reminded him of the times before he was called the Dragon. Before a blade became as natural to him as breathing. Before the fevers made him a terror and a legend on the battlefield. Before blood had stained his hands. Back when he was a child laying with his head in his mother's lap as she pointed out the constellations. As the night came to a close she'd say, Remember them. The stars will always watch over you, Eilert. Look to them when your way is clouded. Why is that, momma? She'd stroke his hair and say, Because one of them burns inside you.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Hrm, Vivian said, twisting her mouth in a very odd caricature of pensiveness. It broke the tune for a moment, the face she pulled, leaving her only with the trailing edger of her song before she picked it back up again. She couldnt seem to get it out of her head. Well, I certainly know what that feeling is like, if maybe not in the same way. She didnt feel like she couldnt belong, necessarily, or that she wasnt supposed to. Only that she didnt want to, and the very idea seemed to drive her mad with frustration. She scooted herself a little closer to Eilert, so she could turn her head and look down and over at him without craning her neck too far. You know. She said to him, glancing out the corner of her eye for a moment. Her mouth quirked up at the edges, a slight grin waiting for him there. The more you talk, the more you remind me of this old poem. She shrugged her shoulders a little and looked sheepishly down at the piece of grass she was tormenting. My brothers and I found it in an old book, and when we were very young and very bored we decided to put a tune to it. Something that could help us remember it. Pluck from fiery burning bright Settle within a heart of stone Within the cold black of night Discover we are not alone When water touched upon the land To sate the ember buried deep Pour liberally on calloused hand Within the ember, water keep Be reforged the mighty blade But stone does not forget life When two as one stand Vanquish foe, banish strife In icy halls in distant past Though slumbering giant wakes Never threat that rise shall last Despite what shape blood takes She smiled then, feeling the familiar thrill in her heart that often came along with reciting the words. The brothers had soon grown tired of it, forgetting it easily until she reminded them, but something in the words always made her feel awake, alert and powerful. For a moment, everything around her seemed calm and still, even the chirping of crickets falling silent for a moment. In another wave of embarrassment, she ducked her head and cleared her throat, shrugging her shoulders. Well, anyway, I always liked it. It reads almost like a recipe for redemption.
Thread: Bad Bitch [ Bear & Coldchaos ]

Mother had always raised a prideful child. And pride was one of the seven deadly sins, though it had not lead her to the stake yet. Instead, it seemed it was leading her to something that was far worse than death -- the loss of pride. Maxine had always been far too prideful and above the law. It had been only a part of her personality to turn people down. She was above them, in her mind. And that had been a grave mistake to make, to believe that a woman could ever be greater than a man. She owed him her everything, because men were the providers of the nation. They were the ones that ruled the world and were the businessmen, did the jobs that no one else wanted to. Women's place in the world was to serve the man. She had failed at her place in the world and had gained herself a new one. They came for her in the middle of the night. She had been comfortable in her bed when her front door was kicked in, the sound of wood splintering and the door frame cracking frightening her from otherwise peaceful sleep. Her kidnappers were silent as they moved through her house, kicking in doors until they found her in her bed, curled up beneath her blankets as if they would protect her. They drug her from her bed, screaming so loud that she could see the neighbor's lights turn on in their homes. A wet rag was pressed over her mouth and nose, the noxious odors of the chemicals suffocating her into a fitful and drug-induced sleep. Her body went limp, making their job a much easier one. While she slept, they prepped her for her punishment, stripping her of clothing as they set up the stage in the courtyard. Max woke to the morning light, groggy and confused at first, but soon coming to understanding the world around her. Even in her still cloudy mind, it wasn't hard to see that things were not good. Rough hands drug her from the vehicle that had been storing her, forcing her to a strange bar on the ground. The men were silent as they shoved her down onto her knees, kicking her legs apart so that they were spread and bending her over the suspended bar. It was just at hip-height, preventing her from laying flat. Her hands were secured in front of her, hand-cuffed to the ground. Max was efficiently stripped of her ability to move, but she still had the ability to speak, crying out for help as her captors read her offense out to the slowly gathering crowd of curious on-lookers. She didn't catch much, but she caught the end ... And in the case of Maxine Fletcher, we have found her guilty of ill behavior towards a man. In punishment for being a bitch, she will be bred like one.
Thread: Bad Bitch [ Bear & Coldchaos ]

A deep panting could be heard behind her, as the sound of scrapping paws could heard around the crowd. The people looked to each other, with morbid curiosity. A single wolf was brought next to her, so she could see her looming punishment. It was mating season for the pack, and this one was captured before it could find a bitch of it's own. The guards held a chain around the creature's neck, moving it around so the people would get a good view of it. From it's side, everyone could see the huge, erect, knotted cock the beast was carrying. The red penis passed Maxine's face, letting her know of the humiliation to come. The guards placed the wolf behind her, giving it the chance to take in her sent. It's nose dove towards her anus, taking careful whiffs of her quivering pussy. The people pointed at Max, understanding the fate that was going to befall her.
Thread: Bad Bitch [ Bear & Coldchaos ]

After the announcement of her 'offenses,' there was a hush that fell across the crowd. The air was so thick with anticipation of all parties that it could have been cut with a knife. She felt her skin crawl as the silence was broken by the sound of paws scraping across concrete, the unmistakable pant of a canine coming from behind her. From all around, cameras flashed from cell phones, people snickering as they watched the guards circle her, letting her see that the male was poised and ready for her. Max could do nothing but take in the sight of his thick, throbbing cock dangling from his sheath, the girth of which would have been impressive if it even on a man. She gulped, looking up at the nearest guard, Please, I didn't do anything wrong. She begged, struggling against the restraints as the wolf was taken out of her sight. She couldn't follow the movements, but she could hear him behind her. There was a silence and a sudden brush of cold and wet against her rear as he sniffed, her entire body clenching from the whoosh of hot air from his breath. Goosebumps rose on her flesh and brought her nipples to perky peaks on her breasts, her muscles stiffening, Please, no... I'm still interested, but please understand I have a full time job that takes precedence over role-playing.
Thread: Bad Bitch [ Bear & Coldchaos ]

Sorry, I just didn't know if you saw my response The wolf sniffed all around Max's pussy, licking at her juices with curiosity. Her womanhood was coated in canine slober, it was like she was inviting creature to enter her. The guards pulled it's collar upwards, moving his attention to the girl's anus. Just like her pussy, the wolf moved it's tongue around it. The crowd moved to the side of poor Max, trying to get a good view of what this beast might do next. Some took pictures of it sticking it's nose in her ass, others took videos of her embarrassed face. Finished with the foreplay, the guard holding the wolf's leash moved the creature further up Max's body. This mindless animal crawled it's way up, leaving light scratches on her back. It rested itself on top of her, she could feel his warm fur brushing along her. His mouth panted right in her ear, warm breathe pushing against her cheek. The tip of the wolf's red cock jabbed at her entrance as it adjusted it's position.
Thread: By Will of Lamashtu:

By Will of Lamashtu Part 1 Consciousness. You were sore, both of you. The grass was uncomfortable and the ropes that bound your wrists were course to the touch and unpleasant, much like the creatures that bound you in the first place, so different from the silk cloth you were used to. You're bruised and battered, and each of you sports an awful headache from where your attackers struck you. Now you can remember more. Gnolls... But why were you here? They attacked in the night, slaughtering so many. You had to escape. The tent in front of you is closed, and there's three more women in the area, unconscious. One appears to not be breathing. What do you do?
Thread: By Will of Lamashtu:

Amara shook her head. What happened? She could barely remember...the attack... that's right.... she was on a diplomatic mission... but that meant... there's no way the gnolls knew who she was. Small blessings at least. I can use that as leverage when I need to. Looking around and seeing the others captured with her, the princess forcibly shakes them awake as best she can. There's no time to be polite and without her retinue of servants these poor fools would have to do. Get up! They left the door open, and we need to get out of here together! So that when they come after us, they only catch some of you.
Thread: By Will of Lamashtu:

Ezri Ezri's appearance with human ears and a bit darker skin The young woman, no more than 18 or 19, groans as she returns to the world of the conscious. Owee...whose BRIGHT idea was this to become conscious again? My head feels like an elephant stepped on it... she thinks to herself as she closes her eyes and tries to go unconscious again to make the pain go away That plan failing, she tries to get up, and does so slowly and gingerly, her tanned body filled with gypsy grace only stumbling once, and her heavy cow udders swinging in front of her. Another young woman is here, shaking a few others awake. Door open? Good...we...we need to help the one that's not breathing. Let's get these ropes off or we won't be getting far. Ezri tries to to wriggle out of the ropes binding her wrists so she can heal the injured woman. ooc Attempt to use Escape Artist to get out of ropes.
Thread: By Will of Lamashtu:

Amara Seeing one of the other women wake up and start trying to free herself, Amara hisses at her to stop. No, untie me, that'll be easier than trying to undo the bindings on your hands. Once you free me I can untie the rest of you. While she wasn't quite as top heavy as her companion, she was still somewhat woozy and having trouble keeping her balance, her pale skin covered in dirt and grass from where she'd been dragged nearly toppling back down into the same. Though she hadn't yet seen twenty winters, the princess was stubborn and did her best to compose herself as best she could. Even captive, she needed to have a certain decorum. Hurry up, Varisian, the living take priority over the dead.