10th of February, 460th of NDE. Somewhere in the Dreary Lands of Central Eoran.

  “Cnmm nn...cnmm nn...” With each thud of the Sleipnir’s galloping through the Dreary Lands, Rosanna lifted a little into the air and smmed against its sturdy back. Her grunts muffled by the silver sealing tape strewn across her pretty, youthful face whilst tears and pearly sweat mingled upon her subtly contoured, rounded cheeks reddened by the dry, pervasive heat of the desert. Her uniform no longer offered protection, after the Gaona Gang confiscated her coat, pants and boots leaving her only in her golden and crimson Aetherna satin dress shirt, and the thin dragonidh leather corset-vest which colrs fluttered against the crisp, crimson colrs of the dress shirt left unbuttoned, standing still proudly whilst her strawberry blonde strands slipped betwixt, tickling her glistening, sweat den neck.

  “No need to worry. I bet the few remaining garments of yours shall make sure you won’t die from this much.” The white dragonkin’s words echoed in her minds as her wide, round eyes peered at the coarse, gray-brown stubbly skin of their ride. Rosanna still felt the shame and the pain when they used her own siphoning ropes to bind her.

  First the rough, white braided ropes tightened against the cuff hidden wrists, a single, taut column ensuring that no fidgeting would loosen their yoke. A simir knot looped around her ankles and thighs where now even her exposed skin adhered against each in a cruel twist of fate born of the ndscape and its tyrannical, disparaging climate. Though her shame faded a little by the time it came to her torso, watched with strangely hopeful eyes as white, scaled and cwed hands adroitly circled the thicker coils about her abdomen, two columns used behind the back, limiting their movements to almost none besides the fidgeting Rosanna continued periodically when numbness reared its head.

  “Not, tighten those pretty lips of yours!” She ordered her in a calm, mellowing cadence complimenting her deep, raspy voice. One loud textile creak followed another as she stretched out a long strip from the opulently gleaming silver tape, used her sharp cw on her index finger to sever it from the roll. Inadvertently, Rosanna’s gaze focused on the oily side where the adhesive concoction lingered on the white walls as the dragonkin slowly pulled the strip closer, then let out a lone whimper when it tched onto her smooth, unblemished fair skin before closing on the full and symmetric lips and other cheek whilst pulling a few loose strands out of the way.

  A st, muffled groan followed when the scaled palms pressed strongly against her tape lips and cheeks, encompassing her whole lower face as the dragonkin made sure the sealing strip remained tautly in pce. A needless gesture which Rosanna tried to point it with a sardonic raise of her left, thin brow with a soft arch at its end. Then she was sit along the train they travelled on, amongst the other passengers secured the same as her, spared from the fate of her fellow Sisters of the Sunnarsthar Division and the Eoranian’s Host guards who id within the train dead.

  Rosanna stared up to the sky then, watched the clouds billowing peacefully, shielding them occasionally from the cruel rays of the sun, whilst her so scraped along the coarse, dry nd covered only by a thin sheet of shifting sand. The same feeling, she experienced once the sleipnir ceased its gallop, and the dragonkin hoisted her down from the not so pleasant seating. Though the yer of her sweet, fragranced perspiration somewhat made the second experience a bit more enjoyable.

  “How is it?” The Dragonkin leaned her against the Sleipnir’s side, looked at her bound and half naked form with her deep set, icy blue eyes. Rosanna spotted no lust within them; they simply investigated the tightness of the rope that held her for three days now at least since the train robbery. She nearly tumbled over whilst bancing herself, her corset-vest creaked frequently as she done so whilst the arcane-satin shushed and whispered as its cold surface wiped her cmmy torso as best it could, whilst the whole yearned for movement it was ridden of whilst restricted. “That should do. It is nothing personal, and I am sure you understand, it is for the best.”

  Whilst she listened to the words of the Dragonkin, slightly confused whilst heaved over the broad, firm shoulders, Rosanna understood she was taken her out of a strange mercy. The three days she spent bound on horses twice, then in a cold, dry cell amongst the other dies. Half of them were of common birth, doomed to be sves for the cartels, whilst three or four were of noble blood, children of politicians or of The Court who ruled Center and South. So, they fared better, and needed only to wait until their families paid handsome fees to get them back safe and sound.

  Yet Rosanna was a danger to them in a sense, which she knew about. In the academy, it was drilled into them the elven beauty provided to each and everyone of them, comes with benefits and curses. The benefits were clear, whilst the curses not in all case as many of them preferred not thinking on them. One was a threat evoked by the context of getting captured. Their beauty alluring, bewitching compelled the weak minded to regress back to the level of beasts, and as she learned in the cell, this could endanger not just them, but fellow hostages.

  Many times, Gaona and the Dragonkin had to whip their fellows, beaten them into sobriety in just the span of three or two days. Rosanna wasn’t exactly sure. “Here you have a chance.” The Dragonkin broke the stream of her memories when she id her onto something harsh and searing, even through the two yers of clothing remaining, whilst a muffled cry broke forth her taped lips when the back of her shapely calves burned on the seared metal. She nearly kneeled into the nether region of the dragonkin, but she stopped, knowing a bit more of their biology, knowing it would have hurt her more than the Dragonkin.

  “So, you still have some stamina left huh?” The Dragonkin noted to herself when Rosanna leapt from the sudden pain breaking the stream of memories. For a moment she disappeared, heading back to the sleipnir, shuffling around the pouches attached to the saddle. A thinner coil of white, siphoning ropes she retrieved and headed back to Rosanna whose blue eyes widened in confusion, then in terror of the understanding. She continued her muffled pleading, squirmed weakly whilst the dragonkin looped the rope beneath her hips, the lone column looping around the center, cutting into her vagina through the silken, bck panty with rosy patterns.

  Then she disappeared whilst Rosanna pleaded vainly in indecipherable words for a better chance than being id on tracks.

  Rosanna ceased the muffled moaning reverberating through the dreary vista only when the galloping grew distant, ceased completely. Only the creaking of the ropes binding her, and lone dragonidh leather corset-vest remained as writhed on the tracks. Tears welled in her eyes; the sharp stones filled with arcane inscriptions guiding the train towards its destination puncturing her hands.

  Above, no clouds remained only the blue fiment whitened by the searing rays. Only the Aetherna silken colrs standing proudly by the sides of her neck and taped cheeks offered a little soothing chill whilst Rosanna contempted how to get on her feet, to roll besides the tracks at least.

  Normally, she would have tried to get on her feet, but for one the rails beneath her neck and ankles proved a bit trickier to lift of off. And secondly, what made it harder was the crotch rope adorning her exposed nether region. Still, she tried carefully, little movements that still compelled the rope to tighten lightly, brushing the outmost folds of her vulva. A few cold tears crawled out from the stretched corners of her round, blue eyes, cascading down on her oval face, stopping just before where the silver sealing tape clung to her soft, smooth cheeks. Her narrow nostrils fred, a gentle breeze of her warm breath tickled her neck between the spreading, crimson colrs of her shirt.

  Maybe for an hour or two, she continued her struggles, seldom checking left and right, trying to focus through the mingling sensations that slowly driven her insane on top of the heat, but as a cloud – Rosanna believed was sent by the motherly goddess of her Order – offered its sheltering shadow, she decided to cease her efforts for a moment, to condense her remaining strength not yet sapped away by the craving ropes.

  The world blurred as the lights dimmed, whilst remaining cruelly bzing. Her hazed mind drifted back to the past, to the days of the Academy. She now sat in css, listening and watching as they showed off how stave rifles and wand pistols acted as mediums, how she and her friends were handpicked by Aurea visiting, how she brought them into her Division and let them see the southern halves of Heleion. How they fought against rebels, fellow worshippers of Myelia beneath the sands of far-southern Heleion, the dark earth shielding them from the bzing heat. How they tracked along the jungles of Southern Heleion, fighting beasts, carnivorous pnts and the ill-equipped cartel’s soldiers protecting their pntations, camps where wicked breweries emitted tantalizing scents and smoke.

  Though the pleasantness of recalling faded when the cloud billowed away, taking its soothing shade with itself. But it proved enough to fill her with hope, that there was still a chance to escape from her situation. “Wnnd?” A warm breeze swept, lifted a few of her strands forming the choppy bangs with bold, cherry red tips, tickled her forehead. The breeze rustled, crinkled her dress shirt’s crisp colrs, even stole beneath her cooked calves offering a little revitalization before horror set in.

  Thanks to the breeze, the numbness faded, and now she sensed the faint trembling of the tracks. Shockwaves swept across, entered her form and as Rosanna tilted her hands, pushing down one side of the crimson colr onto the corset-vest’s, she spotted the ticking time bomb manifesting in the defined shape of a howling train. The wheeled kind which shall chop flesh and bone, instead of atomizing her form.

  “Nnmn nph... nnphph n hnph mnrm phnmm.” The following few, stronger waves that came in wide intervals proved enough for the enchanted rope to tighten itself. A loud, muffled groan echoed through the interminable, dreary ndscape where life barely exists, drown out the husky creaks of the tightening rope. The pain was nearly unbearable as it dug into her naked, tender flesh reddened by the sun. Not even the pleasure inflicted by the crotch rope could overcome it.

  Then her eyes bulged wide, noticing the first few cars with the cylindrical chimney emanating the etheric, colorful smoke drawing a streak across the empty vista. Tasting the fear seemed to give her the will and power, as she began to exert the st of her strength. From left to right, from right to left she rolled further in the opposite direction whilst her sole, heel tried to grasp into the sizzling, cracked ground trying to find a gap to use. Along, a few stones carried by wind or beast scraped her tender flesh, yet Rosanna swallowed the pain and ceased not her efforts.

  The coils around her calves, ankles began to slither around, their rough surface scraping her skin. Though she noticed no blood or exposed yers, she still felt a mild pain as she tried to angle her knee face down. Now she felt as the sharp gravel pierced into her shapely breasts exposed between the buttoned-down dress shirt and zipped open corset-vest. With a bit of effort from herself, Rosanna managed to hold back and only let out a muffled whimper as the pain spread quick. Pulling through it, she slowly dug her knees into the gravel, smothering the muffled cry which wished to escape through her taped lips, whilst the waves of the train became ever more progressive and noticeably closer.

  As she subconsciously looked to her right, she could barely make out the train’s angur front, heard its howl louder when it was less than half an hour away from her. With this approximation in mind, she ignored the pain and began to lift her upper body. This time she could not hold back, and the along the smooth, lustrous surface of the long strip, her lips drawn prominently out as a muffled cry emanated from her. It felt nearly like the one time her arm was broken by an enemy agent, though she could nor want to remember it whilst the bindings around her wrists and abdomen imposed the same level of pain like the coils around her naked legs and crotch rope that now was tinted in an iridescent crimson.

  The only pleasant sensation she felt was the brushing against her neck and cheeks by the silken colr of her shirt. And the mild triumph of slowly rotating soured by her knees being scraped, cerated by the heated gravel. On the precipice of the rail staring south, she stopped, breathing in the dry and warm air, her bosom rose and colpsed with great frequency as she thirsted for it and a bit of water.

  Through the numbness, she felt the waves becoming ever closer and more defined, and as she id on the rail, her eyes were filled with mild terror and pain noticing her cmmy skin clinging to the metal like the silver sealing tape to her lips and cheeks, whilst yonder approached the howling, vrooming doom…

  Afterword:

  And another one. Harkoning back to the old days of damsels in distress, with the old bound on the train tracks. An idea I wanted to do for a long time [and kinda did].

  Also a returning cast in the form of the Gaona Gang as originally in the April story, I was thinking of using them as the main opposition to the Raven Eyes and their allies, The Eoranian secret service. Though truth be told, instead the focus went on the cartels of Eoran besides the Cabal assassin.

  So instead, they got this bound diary story, and will get a future story. For this year, the pn as of now is the april story (Passion Ride) shall serve the same purpose as Loner, Tall, Handsome, False story, a bridge so to speak towards a major point in the Cabal storyline, introducing a few important characters.

  Said major point I began working on and probably will be the st story of this year, a quite long one featuring Astrydril, Maleern and Arvindel and their subordinates, and will involve a long battle which I started working on, mostly outlining. There shall also be a returning character from the Colonial War arc of the previous iteration, whom I wanted to use, but often forgot about her.

  Anyhow, that is enough rambling from me. Thank you all for reading this, hope you all have a fine evening and weekend. The next bound diaries will come next week, same day. Till then take care folks!

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