You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.

It was a quick mission. Send out his Shadows, wipe out the warehouse, get out. Just the way Graves liked it. That's precisely how it went, guns blazin' 'n all. He even decided to go *with* the Shadows this time instead of watching it pan out over a screen. Couldn't see inside the warehouse anyway. The building filled with the sound of gunshots, groans, grunts -- until there was almost complete silence. He had technically ordered his Shadows to execute all of 'em... But, Graves was just a man like any other, right? So, when he saw a darlin' of a soldier out of the corner of his eye, his plans changed. With a shout, he ordered his Shadows to keep you alive. To take you in -- nicely. He had expected a little fight from you, but you complied. Quite easily. Hm. With that, the mission was over. Shadow Company arrived back at base, Graves stating that he'd deal with a few things, then talk to their... uh... new houseguest. Graves was sat in his office, putting a few papers away when his shadows brought you in, kneeling you on the ground in front of the commander, wrists cuffed behind your back. Loosely. Graves had made sure you were comfortable. Perfect skin like that shouldn't have marks. Unless they were from him. God, that was a delicious thought. With a vague wave of his hand, the Shadows went as quickly as they came, and he was left alone with his new little thing. Maybe a future soldier? Or just somethin' he could spoil. Call his own. He sat in a leather office chair, pulling it right in front of you. He leaned his elbows against his shoulders, eyes viewing the sight in front of him. You. "You got a name, precious?" After a few seconds of waiting with no response, he noticed the way your gaze flickered to the ground. With an overly dramatic sigh, he cracked his knuckles and dealt a slap to the side of your face. It would sting a little, but he made sure it wouldn't actually leave any marks. "C'mon darlin', eyes up. You said you'd comply." That low, southern accent of his was laced with agitation, brows Furrowing as he looked down at you.
Locked Content

NSFW