Choose Your Own Adventure
I will be writing a "Choose Your Own Adventure" style sexual misadventure.
Each chapter will have a poll for which option to choose.
Feel free to comment after each part, as the links will lead to new topics! I'd love to hear your feedback and I'm desperate for votes to help guide me towards which parts should be written next!
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The knight is on you before you can move. His hands are tugging at your skirts, exposing your calves, your thighs, your undergarments. He lets out a grunt of approval as he sees your bare inner thigh, and slides his hand up between your legs, groping you roughly. His grin is feral, predatory. His hand closes on your most private parts and he nearly lifts you up off the floor as he gropes you. A jolt of fear runs through you. His hand comes away from your legs, your skirts bunched up uncomfortably between your legs, and he leers over you, pulling you up roughly. You only make it as far as one knee before his hand is fisted in your hair and he holds you there, shoving…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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Your hands tremble, but it isn't fear that makes them shake, it's rage. This man, this invader, this butcher, thinks he can stand here, in the ruins of your home, over the blood of your father, and offer you life in chains? That he can strip you of everything and expect you to kneel at his feet like some grateful pet? Your lip curls in disgust. Over my dead body, you think to yourself, and you spit in his face. The glob of saliva lands just below his eye, sliding down his cheek. The moment it happens, the entire world stills. The air between you is electric, humming with the weight of your defiance. The knight doesn't move, doesn't speak. He just slowly wipes his che…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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Your breath is unsteady, your mind racing. You are beaten. The weight of your father's death, your kingdom's fall, and the cold steel of the knight's grip around your wrist remind you of that with every thudding heartbeat. But submission is not your only option. You lift your chin, just slightly, enough to show him you are still a Valoryn. Enough to make him hesitate, even if only for a second. "I won't beg," you say, your voice quieter than you intend, but steady. "And I won't pretend I have the power to fight you." His smirk remains, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in his sharp eyes. He waits, letting you speak. "But killing me would be a waste," …
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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Your breath shudders as you stare up at him, your pulse hammering against the place where his thumb lingers at your throat. Every instinct tells you to resist, to fight, to never kneel, but instinct won't save you now. Defiance is death. Your fingers curl into fists at your sides, but you force yourself to still them. You force yourself to breathe. The weight of his words settles over you, thick and suffocating. The world you knew is gone, your father, your home, your people, all burning in the wake of this conquest. If you fall here, there will be nothing left. No one to remember House Valoryn. But if you live, if you survive no matter the cost, then maybe, just may…
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You freeze. The man standing before you is a tower of muscle and scars, his thick frame wrapped in a chaotic patchwork of leather, rusted metal plates, and strips of matted fur. His skin is darkened with grime, his arms knotted with jagged tattoos that seem more like brands than ink. A cruel smirk splits his bearded face, revealing yellowed teeth, some filed to points. "'Ello, leashling..." he rumbles, his voice like grinding stone, thick with amusement. His one good eye, the other milky and scarred shut, drinks you in with something that makes your stomach turn. When he calls you leashing, you notice the metal and leather collars hanging from his belt and …
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The silence that follows is thick, suffocating. The creatures before you remain frozen, their grotesque forms rigid, their eyeless faces locked onto you in unnatural stillness. The air itself feels wrong, charged with an unspoken command that holds them at bay. Then, a voice, low, steady, and merciless, breaks through the thick, unnatural quiet. "Your choice, female. Kneel or be fed to the chorath." The words slither into your ears like cold steel, sharp and absolute. The voice carries no hesitation, no indulgence, no cruelty, just certainty, as if your fate has already been decided, and the only thing left to determine is how much you will suffer first. Yo…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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A shudder runs through you as the creatures freeze, their gaping maws snapping shut in eerie unison. The vibrating hum of their voices ceases all at once, leaving behind an unnatural, suffocating silence. The air thickens, pressing against you like a damp, living shroud. Then, from behind you, a voice speaks. "Mmm... dinner time." The words are slow, drawn out, each syllable reverberating through your very bones. The voice is deep, wet, and hungry, a voice that does not simply belong to something monstrous but to something beyond. The kind of thing that doesn't just consume flesh, it devours souls. You don't turn. You can't. Your breath is caught in yo…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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Your fingers move before your mind catches up, plucking a knife from the sheath at your thigh in one fluid motion. The weight of it feels natural in your grip, the cool steel an extension of your hand. You don't have time to question how you know what to do, you just act. With a practiced flick of your wrist, the blade sails through the air, spinning end over end toward its target. The guard barely has time to react. His eyes widen, and he instinctively jerks his head to the side. The knife doesn't miss, but it doesn't kill. A sickening thunk echoes in the chamber as the blade buries itself deep into the flesh of his shoulder, just beside the plate of his a…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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You take a slow step back, lifting your hands in a show of surrender. Fighting is pointless, as is running, you can see that clearly. This man is stronger, faster, trained in ways you are not. But brute strength isn't the only weapon in the world. Your mind races, grasping for anything that might shift the balance in your favor. If you are truly a princess in this world, then you still have power. If not in steel, then in words. "I see," you say, schooling your features into something composed, something regal. "House Valoryn has fallen." You say it as if the words don’t hollow out your chest. "And what now? Do you mean to kill me?" The knight pauses, his sneer …
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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You don't think. You just turn and run. The gown tangles around your legs, the heavy skirts threatening to trip you with every step, but panic drives you forward. Your bare feet slap against the cold stone, the floor slick with something you don't dare think about. The shattered remains of stained-glass windows cast fractured colors across the hall as you sprint toward the archway ahead. Behind you, the knight laughs, low and cruel. "Run, then," he calls, the sound of his armored boots striking the stone in pursuit. "Let's see how far you get." Your breath comes in ragged gasps. The castle is in ruins, walls crumbling, bodies strewn across the floor. You do…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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You reach down and pickup the bloody sword. Your fingers tighten around the hilt, the weight of it foreign but solid in your grip. It feels wrong in your hands, too heavy, too unwieldy, but you refuse to simply stand there and surrender. You barely know what's happening, but you know this much: if you do nothing, you're at his mercy. And judging by the look in his eyes, he has none. You lift the sword with both hands, your muscles straining against its unfamiliar heft, and try to mimic the stance you've seen in movies and museum exhibits. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you take a step forward, willing your shaking limbs into action. The knight watches you…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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The quiet hum of fluorescent lights presses against the edges of your awareness. You open your eyes and look around. The room around you is plain and unadorned. Rows of stiff, vinyl chairs line the walls, each spaced precisely apart. A low table sits in the center, stacked neatly with outdated magazines that have been thumbed through enough times to leave the corners curled and folded. The artificial coolness of recycled air conditioning barely moves across your skin. You don’t remember walking in. You don’t remember sitting down. The last thing you remember is falling, falling into the ruins in eastern Morocco, and yet, here you are, in a waiting room with no other …
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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The soldier in plate armor seems ready to pounce as he says, "Back away from the crown, you thieving bitch! I'll have your hand for stealing from our dead king." Thieving... bitch? You're an archaeology student, not a thief. What would make him think...? You look down at yourself for the first time since waking. Your clothing is all black, a dark tunic that flattens your breasts against your chest, loose fitting pants for ease of movement, and soft leather gloves and boots. Across your chest is bandolier with pockets that you somehow know are filled with various picks, tension wrenches, small files, and other tools for making entry into places you should not be…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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You wake to feel cold concrete pressing against your cheek, gritty with dust and fine debris. The faint scent of mildew hangs in the air. As you stir, tiny fragments of glass crunch beneath your fingertips, and the distant sound of dripping water echoes through the stillness like a metronome. You open your eyes and look around. You're in ruins, but not the kind you expected. You sit up slowly and take in your surroundings. The space you're in is the cavernous, gutted shell of a modern office building. Desks lay overturned, their surfaces warped by time and water damage. Shattered flat-screen monitors lay strewn on the floor near most of the desks. Filing cabinets in …
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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The soldier in plate armor looks you up and down and sneers. "Your father is dead, Princess. House Valoryn has fallen. There's nowhere for you to run." Princess? You're an archaeology student, not a princess. What would make him think...? You look down at yourself for the first time since waking. You're wearing a gown of crimson silk that shimmers in the light coming in through the broken window. The bodice is intricately embroidered with gold filigree depicted cascading vines and blooming flowers, the neckline an elegant sweetheart curve, and you can see your more than ample breasts fill it out quite nicely. The sleeves are long and flowing, the long skirt bil…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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You open your eyes and look around. You're in the dark. This is not just dark, this darkness is absolute, a suffocating void that seems to pulse against your skin, pressing inward like a living thing. The air is thick and wet, heavy with the stench of decay and something metallic, like old blood. Something undefinable fills you with terror, a feeling of impending doom pressing down upon you. You have no idea why you're scared, but terror grips your heart like an icy fist. A faint glow the sickly green of rotting vegetation begins to seep through the blackness, revealing a landscape that seems to writhe and shift, as if alive. The ground beneath your feet squelches an…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
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You open your eyes and look around. You're in a dark, enclosed place... was it a cave? Some kind of ruin? Light streams in from the left and you can see that you are nowhere near where you remember falling. This place is a ruin, as you expected to find, but not the kind of ruin you expected. These ruins are much more recent. You are in a throne room, or what was once a throne room. It's a large room, excessive in size, with high vaulted ceiling and long windows along one wall. These windows are hung with richly embroidered, crimson draperies with the symbol of a black steed on them, most of them pulled closed. One window is broken, its drapery piled on the floor amid…
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