K/V: Victim (Consensual)
Name: Trinity Barker
Age: 17
Sex: F
Characteristics: See Image
Scene: Your daughter has a bad habit of laying around in skimpy outfits. You told her several times that you would kill her if she didn't stop. She knows you're serious, since she had a sister five years back who learned that lesson the hard way; you shot her, had her body stuffed, and sold to some perverts.

You assume Trinity isn't taking you seriously, but she is. In fact, she hopes you will. The idea of being killed by her father and sold as a sex doll is something she finds thrilling. So, she keeps dressing like a slut, and one day you come home to her on the couch like this.

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>>4389


During the last months of the Secessionist War, I witnessed some of the most desperate acts one could imagine. They knew defeat was inevitable, and most of their good soldiers died long ago. As we moved into their home island, they began to launch suicide attacks – some were successful, but most were not. Their raid on the Zaukaz Mountain Fortress was not only the least successful, but a wasteful use of an opportunity on their part.

Their navy successfully slipped past our detection and landed a few hundred soldiers with a small nuclear warhead deep within our territory. Rather than destroy a port city nearby, they chose to attack our strategic command center. They appearantly thought they could storm the place and set off their weapon underneath the mountain. We detected them before we were in range of any of their weapons.

It was an army of children, with most around fifteen, and the youngest probably not even thirteen. It should not have been a surprise, since we knew the secessionists were recruiting young, but I personally never fought them until that attack. Children or not, our artillery mercilessly fire cut them to ribbons, obliterating dozens every shot. Taking the fortress was impossible, and they probably knew it as well; less than a minute into the engagement, their warhead was detonated. In a blinding flash, the entire army turned to dust. The Zaukaz Fortress, built into solid granite and kilometers from the epicenter, barely felt it. Unfortunately, the town that developed around the fortress was not so lucky; over ten-thousand of my fellow countrymen were killed.

During the cleanup and rescue operation, I found a surviving secessionist taking refuge in one of the empty houses we planned to use for a temporary shelter. I entered the house and found her on the floor in the kitchen, eating a can of rations. She was probably between sixteen and seventeen, certainty below eighteen. Petite, with brown hair that barely touched the base of her neck. Her uniform was the traditional woman's Talisian dress shirt, miniskirt, and boots.

"Stand up!" I told her, with an assault rifle pointed at her back.

The girl turned around to look at me and started to reach for the gun on the floor.

"Don't think about it, sweetie."

Her hand stopped and she stood up. The soldier turned around to face me with her hands in front.

"Too bad, you are very pretty. I have a daughter at home who looks just like you, hairstyle and all." I stepped closer and she moved back against the wall, "A girl like you should be at school, flirting with boys and going shopping with your friends, not playing with weapons of mass destruction and killing so some old geezer can fulfill his dreams."

The female soldier backed against the wall. My eyes shifted up and down her body; from her scared, hateful, eyes, to her soft, firm, legs.

"It would be such a shame to let a beautiful thing like you go to waste, but it would be treason to pleasure you after killing thousands of innocent civilians."

I opened fire, and thirty bullets tore through her abdomen. She fell back and slid down the wall, and left a pasty streak of blood and intestine pieces. She coughed and spatters of blood dripped from her mouth. I drew my sidearm and pointed it at the center of her forehead; I waited for several seconds, as she coughed up more blood, then pulled the trigger.

The bullet punctured her skull and exited through then back; pieces of brain splattered against the wall. Her head tilted to the side and her eyes were vacant. A drizzle of piss flowed between her legs, and grew into a large puddle on the floor.

I slipped out of the house and sent to inspect another one in the area. Luckily, the nobody else checked to see if that house was suitable for survivors to take shelter. The entire population eventually relocated, so her remains are probably still rotting in there.