Open to one male for now. PM if interested.
Verity Jackson woke with a start as the lights in her small cell suddenly flickered on and off for a few moments, making the light in the room flash dimmer and brighter, until it suddenly settled again. That had happened at least twenty times since she had been put in this cell, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to get used to it.
She didn't know how long she had been in there. Could be hours, could be days. The leering warden at the front of the police station had made her remove her watch, along with her other jewellery and shoes. Would have helped if she could understand the man, but he didn't speak a word of English, and she didn't speak his language.
She had been holidaying when she'd been arrested. A backpacker, alone, trying to cross the border. On her gap year from uni, before starting her PhD. Of course, being a female alone, with a heavy backpack on her, she'd been stopped, pulled to the side, and asked for her passport. The border policeman had signalled to her to put her backpack on the table, and she had readily complied, used to this by now. What she hadn't expected, however, was for the policeman searching her bag to find a packet of white powder in there. She hadn't been able to understand their words, but she knew what it looked like. Drugs.
She had tried to protest all the way from the border in the policecar, but they had brushed her off or shaken her heads, showing her they couldn't understand her words. And now here she was, trapped, waiting for someone to come and let her out.
She drew her legs up closer to her body. This was just all some misunderstanding, she told herself. They would come and apologize to her, let her out, she'd be freed. It was a mistake, it had to be.
(Plotline I was thinking off: You would play an interrogation officer, who uses.. ahem.. unusual methods on his young female suspects to get the answers he wants. He then either keeps them or sells them for slavery elsewhere. I'm fine with non=con, rough and bdsm.)
Verity Jackson woke with a start as the lights in her small cell suddenly flickered on and off for a few moments, making the light in the room flash dimmer and brighter, until it suddenly settled again. That had happened at least twenty times since she had been put in this cell, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to get used to it.
She didn't know how long she had been in there. Could be hours, could be days. The leering warden at the front of the police station had made her remove her watch, along with her other jewellery and shoes. Would have helped if she could understand the man, but he didn't speak a word of English, and she didn't speak his language.
She had been holidaying when she'd been arrested. A backpacker, alone, trying to cross the border. On her gap year from uni, before starting her PhD. Of course, being a female alone, with a heavy backpack on her, she'd been stopped, pulled to the side, and asked for her passport. The border policeman had signalled to her to put her backpack on the table, and she had readily complied, used to this by now. What she hadn't expected, however, was for the policeman searching her bag to find a packet of white powder in there. She hadn't been able to understand their words, but she knew what it looked like. Drugs.
She had tried to protest all the way from the border in the policecar, but they had brushed her off or shaken her heads, showing her they couldn't understand her words. And now here she was, trapped, waiting for someone to come and let her out.
She drew her legs up closer to her body. This was just all some misunderstanding, she told herself. They would come and apologize to her, let her out, she'd be freed. It was a mistake, it had to be.
(Plotline I was thinking off: You would play an interrogation officer, who uses.. ahem.. unusual methods on his young female suspects to get the answers he wants. He then either keeps them or sells them for slavery elsewhere. I'm fine with non=con, rough and bdsm.)
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