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He had finally been caught. After years of evasion and rebellion, Michael "Prometheus" Logan had finally been defeated. A name given to him by the Femme Regime, based off the Greek legend for the creation of man. Michael had led several small victories and the morale gained from them were contagious. Until today. They had been currently hiding off the coast of France, trying to infiltrate the base with the regime's main line of communications towers. He had lead the charge multiple times to storm the base this week, but was met with failure on all occasions. He watched his squadron dwindle in numbers to a small tribe, then a handful of freedom fighters, and finally to just himself and his friend. Mike had left their camp to retrieve water for their canteens at a nearby river, but when he returned they were surrounded. He watched as a spike heeled boot plunged into his friend's skull and left him dead. Furious with rage, Michael charged towards the women but was slashed with whips and beaten with flogs. Bloodied but not broken, he was captured by the soldiers as they bound his hands behind him with a pair of leather handcuffs. Their gray uniforms stuck out against the red sky. They mainly consisted of a miniskirt, a jacket, fishnets, and thigh high black stilettos.
Mike was garbed in a black shirt with a denim jacket and jeans that had been ripped and torn from the whips. He wore black combat boots for maneuverability but they weren't much use when the opposition was carrying machine guns. They hauled him into the transport van and drove him to the capital city of Paris, where most of their business was conducted. They used to capture a few men and torture them on live television or make them fight like gladiators. But Prometheus as was known to them, wasn't some random victim, they had bigger plans for him. They finally reached their destination and hurried him along to a dark room. Leaving him there alone on his knees.
He could hear faint words coming from the other side of the door. Something about his actions and attitude. He had spit at one of the women teasing him on the ride there and she promptly bashed his face in with the butt of her rifle, leaving a bruise on his right cheek. He was also forced to wear a muzzle until they arrived. The talking soon stopped and a sudden flash of lights illuminated the room forcing him to close his eyes. His short brown hair seemed to absorb most of the light coming in giving him a clear outline. His green eyes widened when he realized what kind of room he was in. Around him was shelves full of torture devices organized by use. One was full of all sorts of gags from muzzles and ballgags to different types of tape as well. On another shelf there was all sorts of flogging devices such as whips, crops, and even paddles. There was tons more like this, but one that frightened him was filled with strap-ons of different sizes and colors.
It was at this moment that Michael heard a clacking echo from the room. It sounded like the movement of heels or boots heading his way. His curiosity getting the better of him he decided to shout. In marched two guards as they hauled him off into the next room.
"We'll escort you back here later." one giggled as they drug him off.
He was pushed into a room on his knees, after they removed his muzzle. The room was outfitted with a crescent table as six figures cloaked in darkness sat around it. Mike, couldn't believe it, he was brought to the Sorority. He clenched his fists in anticipation for whatever lay in store for him.
Mike was garbed in a black shirt with a denim jacket and jeans that had been ripped and torn from the whips. He wore black combat boots for maneuverability but they weren't much use when the opposition was carrying machine guns. They hauled him into the transport van and drove him to the capital city of Paris, where most of their business was conducted. They used to capture a few men and torture them on live television or make them fight like gladiators. But Prometheus as was known to them, wasn't some random victim, they had bigger plans for him. They finally reached their destination and hurried him along to a dark room. Leaving him there alone on his knees.
He could hear faint words coming from the other side of the door. Something about his actions and attitude. He had spit at one of the women teasing him on the ride there and she promptly bashed his face in with the butt of her rifle, leaving a bruise on his right cheek. He was also forced to wear a muzzle until they arrived. The talking soon stopped and a sudden flash of lights illuminated the room forcing him to close his eyes. His short brown hair seemed to absorb most of the light coming in giving him a clear outline. His green eyes widened when he realized what kind of room he was in. Around him was shelves full of torture devices organized by use. One was full of all sorts of gags from muzzles and ballgags to different types of tape as well. On another shelf there was all sorts of flogging devices such as whips, crops, and even paddles. There was tons more like this, but one that frightened him was filled with strap-ons of different sizes and colors.
It was at this moment that Michael heard a clacking echo from the room. It sounded like the movement of heels or boots heading his way. His curiosity getting the better of him he decided to shout. In marched two guards as they hauled him off into the next room.
"We'll escort you back here later." one giggled as they drug him off.
He was pushed into a room on his knees, after they removed his muzzle. The room was outfitted with a crescent table as six figures cloaked in darkness sat around it. Mike, couldn't believe it, he was brought to the Sorority. He clenched his fists in anticipation for whatever lay in store for him.