This is the music video that made me fall in love with JLo. She literally did what I always wanted to do. She became a sexy superhero. She came to this underground sex club to save a little boy from being exploited.
Ohio and Texas share the ?HONORS? in this despicable topic. Do you think that's a bad or a good thing?
Having multiple thoughts about human trafficking prosecutions I just finished reading this article in the Columbus Dispatch, by Bethany Bruner, where she tells about the first and second most active states prosecuting human traffickers in federal court in 2020. Since the Dispatch is an Ohio based paper, the headline caught my eye immediately in the midst of a Google news search. Human…
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A small collection of JC’s films and upcoming film......
Savannah, Infidel, SOF, Unknownn, COMC
This is something everyone should listen to👇
This has been going on for a long time. If you didn't know this you're listening to the wrong news source. Not only this but a lot more like adrenochrome, human/child sex trafficking, drug cartels and the building of an underground network.
Welcome to reality🤔
If anyone can donate to my getting transportation to and from my methadone clinic and my job I would really appreciate it I have cashapp and PayPal and the police literally Stole my belongings and now I can't work my Job. Please donate to my getting a new apartment as I lost mine to addiction but I am now clean on Methadone.
Thanks for any and all help I love anyone that still stops by rip Angel whisper ill still make art if I can get my attackers the police off my mind beware @easydoe on IG he sprays his weed and steals phones and scams locked laptops and snitch he works w the police watch ou
Can work out sending hardware in mail perhaps but need donations rn to keep afloat thank u for any and all help
I am a torture victim of the police and kamberlings and beardsleys they prey on suicidal people and drug addicts they made me believe I was going to be eaten and gave me PTSD be careful of anyone that talks to police
I am a freedom fighter and protector of what is just please help me get transpiration and housing I am a torture victim of the police idk what to do I stand for freedom fuck these idiots wtf did I do wrong I'm just tryna start a family and make ends meet please donate I was robbed By the police please help
some writing from today -
Oof! Strong arms grabbed her, snatching her leg and arm out of the air—but the force of her weight slammed him backwards and he fell to the floor. She lay awkwardly across him, their arms and legs entangled. He lay there, stunned for a moment, then sat up, slid his arm around her back. “Hey. Nice to have you back on solid ground.”
She laughed in spite of herself. He didn’t look injured, just even more in disarray, locks of hair falling over his forehead, a smudge on his cheek. She reached up to brush it off, then thought the better of it. He looked good this way.
He kissed her forehead; their lips met. She drank in his kiss, starved for more. But he pulled away, looking beyond her. David and his horse Viola waited in the shadows...
the montgomery family has their hands in pretty much every illegal trade there is. however, there’s one thing the family has never gotten involved in: sex trafficking. every generation of the montgomery family has been taught that everything can be bought or sold, except a human body. and while they do have some operations in illegal immigration, none of them include the sale of people into slavery, be it sexual, domestic or industrial.
in fact, both james’ grandfather and father have been known to specifically target the human trafficking operations of rival families and syndicates in their wars with them. while other operations are simply absorbed into the montgomery empire after the rivals are defeated, these are dismantled and those involved with it often disappear or are found dead a few months later. as he’s slowly taking over leadership, james has continued this tactic.
CW: human trafficking, caning, blood, noncon touching (a bit suggestive), intimate/sadistic whumper, hanging, begging, future pet whump (with implied noncon), fictional worldbuilding.
“Saints, you’re barely twenty, aren’t you?”
“T-twenty-” His voice cracked. Rohan closed his eyes, trying to focus on the foreign words his father once taught him in the shelter. The words that had always been effortless to him now refused to come, lost somewhere between his panicked breaths and the throbbing pain in his shoulders. His raw throat protested any sign of communication.
Somewhere, there had been pain. Strong hands held Rohan by his shoulders, taking him away from the caravan. There was a glimpse of copper hair, a weeping mother, her clothes spattered with blood, crying out for her son. He remembers calling out for his dad.
Then, he’d woken up here.
Rohan’s wrists were held over his head by a pair of rusting manacles. The chain that attached them to the ceiling was barely long enough to let him scrape his toes along the floor. For the past ten minutes, Rohan had balanced on his tiptoes, trying to get some slack. Still, his shoulders ached for bearing his weight while he was unconscious.
The room where he was left could’ve been described as cozy, if not for restraints holding him in place. There was a queen-sized bed in one corner, where a blonde woman, dressed as a maid, sat on the verge of passing out. Another maid helped her calm down, while a tall, younger man stood by the wall. He looked like an average Ettoryan man, casually dressed, heavy-lidded eyes so similar to all the foreign students Rohan’s father had taught over the years, but unlike all the meek soon-to-be college boys that Rohan had met, this man stood there like he owned the place, his fingers curled around an ornamented cane.
He eyed Rohan like the boy was prey, and Rohan couldn’t help but give him some reason. Sharp green eyes moved over Rohan’s face, taking in his labored breaths and glazed eyes. Then, he smiled and walked towards him.
The man circled Rohan with his cane in hands, until he was no longer in the prisoner’s sight. “No.” Rohan said, weaker than he intended to. His hands twisted uselessly over him, a failed attempt to turn around and face his captor. “W-wait, wait, what are you doing , what are you-”
“Do I have to repeat myself, prodtyia?” The stranger spoke from behind, his mouth too close to Rohan’s ear. There was more than a bit of contentment in his voice.
“Twenty four.” Rowan mumbled. It didn’t occur to him to lie.
“Hm. I would have show you some mercy if you were younger”
Without warning, the man brought the cane down on Rohan’s bare back. Rohan screamed. His toes gave up under him and he slumped forward, all his weight caught by agonizing shoulders. Blood ran down from his wrists to his forearms.
The ettoryan stepped back to give Rohan some time to regain his position, then struck him again. The man kept Rohan in place with a hand on his waistband. One maid cried out. Rohan yelled and clenched his eyes shut against the tears.
Again. He sobbed. The pain was raw, worse than anything Rohan had ever endured. With only the manacles to hold to, it was difficult to keep his feet arched.
Again. Again. Again. Rohan’s legs were trembling.
The ettoryan man paused to ran his fingers across Rohan’s back. He let the boy get adjusted to the touch before he slapped his sore welts with a bare hand, eliciting a pitiful cry from him. He moved methodically, hitting-stroking the deep red lines on Rohan’s back, drawing out all sorts of incoherent pleas from his abused throat.
Rohan went rigid when one hand went to his chest and pinched his right nipple. The other stayed on his back, massaging his burning skin with less than careful motions.
“The extension of your suffering is up to you, prodtyia.” The man announced. The cane lay useless on the floor, all of his attention turned to toying with Rohan’s nipple until it hardened on his hand. “I want you to do something for me. Do as I say and you can rest for the night. My maids will clean you up.”
Rohan nodded once. He would have raised his tear-stained face to beg him, anything, please, let me go home, if he wasn’t so exhausted.
The ettoryan released him. “Say my name.”
Rohan panted through his teeth. “B-but, you,....nngh, d-didn’t tell me your name.”
The cane went back on Rohan’s back. He shrieked.
“No!” He moaned. “P-please, I don’t know-”
Again. Rowan was twisting weakly, barely on his feet. His face was a mess of tears and sweat, and still he tried to spare his shoulders from further pain.
His captor kicked his trembling legs. This time, Rohan didn’t find the strength to rise to his tiptoes. “It only stops when you say my name.”
“I d-don’t know! Please... aaagh, hurts-”
Another blow. The maids looked at them with horror on their face. The younger one paled, her eyes shining with tears. They didn’t felt real. Nothing was real except the agony on Rohan’s back and the man administrating the blows.
“Help!” Rohan begged them. “Help, please-”
The ettoryan grabbed his chin from behind with a bruising grip. “They are not holding the cane, I am. If you’re going to beg, beg for me.”
“P-please...” Rohan’s pleas were barely whispers. “Please, no more...”
His captor chuckled.
“Here’s the thing about begging, prodtyia.” He used the handle of the cane to poke a irritated welt. “It won’t do you any good, but saints, do I love to hear it!”
Rohan whimpered. Blood trickled down his back and stained his waistband. “C-can’t... No more, p-please, too much, too much...”
“Shhh, you can do it.” The stranger stepped forward, back to Rohan’s field of vision. He guided Rohan’s head to rest on his shoulder, gently stroking his sweat-dampened curls. “You will be so good for me.”
Rohan sobbed on his captor’s shirt. “P-please, d-don’t kill me...”
“Oh, babe, I won’t go too far.” He said. The taller man tilted Rohan’s head and wiped his tears away with a thumb. “I never killed any of my pets before.”
Rohan raised his head. His mouth fell open in confusion and shock. “N-not, not your your pet.”
The man in charge laughed. “I’ll give you a chance to reconsider.”
He dropped the cane unceremoniously to the floor. Rohan flinched when it landed on the tiles. He could swear he saw a maid flinch, too.
“You really don’t know who I am?” The ettoryan asked, faking his utter disappointment. When Rohan shook his head, he brought a hand to his own heart. “That’s a huge blow to my ego, y’know?
“Please, don’t take it personally.” The stranger said, in a rather mocking voice. “I do this to every pretty thing that catches my eye. You’re only the first one who never heard of me.”
“Y-you’re not...” Rohan asked, averting his kidnapper’s eyes. It came out as a strained whimper. “You, you’re not g-going to kill me?”
“That would be such a waste, darling.” His mouth twisted in satisfaction, reading the fear in Rohan's face. “My name’s Cassi. My parents run most things in this side of the country, and that includes the roads." He poked at Rohan's chest.
"Trying to get to enemy state through our territory, darling?" Cassi accused. The playful humour in his voice was gone.
"N-no, nnhgh..." Rohan said hoarsely. "Dad's sick, we h-had to..."
"Well, I suppose the cells won't be good for his health."
"No" Rohan tried to move, but his shoulders protested again. "P-please, let him go..."
"Here's what you can do." Cassi took a chair and sat in front of his prisoner. Even towering over him, Rohan felt helpless. "I'll move you to a room closer to my quarters. From now on, you'll be my pet. You’re going to let me take you, in every way that I see fit."
Rohan paled. "You father will receive proper medical attention, as long as you're good for me."
"C-can I see him first?" Rohan swallowed against the pain in his throat. His face burned with humiliation. "I'll do it, if you let me see him first".
"Okay." Rohan replied, finally.
Cassi laughed. He signed, asking the maids to get Rohan out of the restraints.
"Don't worry, prodtyia. You'll learn to love every command I give you."
The Barn 3 - Beaten
(Prompt #18 for Summer of Whump)
Previous | Next | Masterlist
Warnings: captivity, restraints, referenced human trafficking, beating, blood
It was a long, bumpy ride before the truck finally came to a stop and the tailgate dropped open, letting sunlight flood in. Jacob squinted against the influx, muscles tense, waiting for the hands to grab him and sling him around like an object rather than a person once again. Sure enough, Stetson’s silhouette appeared, and he was dragged forward and out by the same loop of rope. He hit the ground with a bruising thud.
Coughing, Jacob wiggled himself around until he could look up at his captor. Not owner, he refused to acknowledge the fact that he had been purchased. “Okay, seriously. What do you want with me? I’m just...I’m just a boring guy, I was just trying to get home from work, I don’t…” Stetson bent down, seemingly ignoring his rambling, and fiddled with the ropes. “I’m just a computer programmer. That’s pretty much all I’m good at. So, I mean, if you want me to work on your computer, I can do that, but -”
The ropes fell away from his hands and feet. It took a second of shock for the reality of that to set in and send him scrambling to stand up. He swayed slightly, body not used to being fully upright after two days and no food.
Stetson was just standing there, staring at him, maybe waiting to see what he would do. Keeping his hands raised in front of him, as if that would somehow ward off any more bad things happening to him, Jacob darted his eyes left and right, taking in his surroundings and looking for an escape route.
He was on a farm. That much was pretty obvious. There was another barn to his left, and never-ending green pastures beyond that. To his right, a dirt road that disappeared into the woods and around a curve.
The truck behind him was tempting, but he had to assume that Stetson had the keys. The woods were probably his best bet. If he could lose Stetson in the woods, disappear for long enough that he gave up looking, then maybe he could make his way back to the road eventually and find civilization.
Jacob locked eyes with Stetson for the space of two heartbeats, then bolted.
He’d only made it four or five steps when a hand snatched him by the collar of his shirt and threw him back onto the ground. Tiny rocks ripped little holes in his shirt and skin as he skidded through the red dirt. Before he could recover, Stetson stepped forward and slammed the toe of his boot into his ribs. Once, twice. Jacob cried out, rolling away from the assault and stumbling back to his feet, aching all over.
The man was still just staring at him. Getting more and more scared by the second, Jacob tried backing away, but he quickly ran into what he gathered, upon glancing back, was a wooden fence. His heart was trying to pound straight out of his chest. Stetson’s expression never changed.
He didn’t want to run to the left, toward the barn and farther into this guy’s property, but it was the clearest path at that point. Not that it mattered, anyway. Again he was grabbed, this time by the arm, calloused fingers digging bruises into his skin and propelling him backwards until his spine and head smashed into the side of the truck. The world spun for a moment, and before it could right itself a fist was buried in his gut.
Every bit of oxygen ceased to exist in his lungs. Doubling over, Jacob retched, eyes wide, brain completely stuttering to a halt as he desperately tried to draw anything into his starving lungs.
Stetson didn’t give him a break, though. He drove his knee into Jacob’s ribs, sending him to the ground again. Air was just beginning to trickle back in, and he tried to crawl away, fingernails digging down into the dirt. He was stopped by Stetson grabbing a fistful of his hair. Jacob whined involuntarily as his head was jerked up, eyes widening when he saw the clenched fist poised in front of his face.
“N-no, no, don’t -!”
The next couple of minutes were a blur of pain and dizziness. Stetson’s fist pounded his face over and over, until it was a complete mess of blood mixing with tears and snot and drool.
When Jacob could think and see somewhat straight again, he was on his back, watching clouds go by. It took far longer than it should have to realize it was actually him moving, not the clouds. Stetson was dragging him by the ankle, grinding rocks and dirt further into his skin, though that pain was nothing compared to the throbbing of his face.
He didn’t want to know where he was being taken now. All he wanted was to be done with this nightmare, but the iron coating his tongue told him that his wish probably wasn’t coming true anytime soon.
https://www.instagram.com/fluence.co/: STOP ✋ Slavery didn’t end with Lincoln. It was amazing how many people spoke up and got loud on July 30th for World Day Against Trafficking. We need to keep learning even though lately there’s a lot of information going around that is difficult to process and hard to forget, but that’s the point. It’s a difficult subject because of how grotesque it is, but let’s let that fuel us in our efforts to keep fighting 👊🏼👊🏾
Read more about this here: https://www.instagram.com/p/CDXMmG8hmqh/
jstor my beloved ♥