A battle-hardened warrior stares straight ahead with ferocity and a hint of confusion. He has black dreadlocks, bronze skin, and clothing of crude leather. Around him, a primitive room of concrete and metal holds him prisoner.
Please help me. I woke up in chains and I hurt like hell, but I don’t have a clue what happened to me. In fact, now that the pain in my head has eased a little, I’m coming to the conclusion that I don’t remember anything. Not where I am, how I got here, or even who I am. The only other person I’ve seen is the pretty twink crouched over there.
Insert your own favorite twink image here, I’m not picky, long as he’s cute and vulnerable looking… and has sad, dark eyes…
He’s shivering in the corner, so afraid I can almost smell the fear coming off of him. He’s dressed in rags and I can see bruises and welts on his pale skin… (did I do that?) Every so often he casts a furtive look my way, those dark, dark eyes silently begging me for something… but what? He hasn’t spoken to me yet, and I’m not sure why. Am I supposed to know him? His eyes say yes, but his face doesn’t do anything to my memory.
Are we lovers? Slaves? Enemies? Strangers?
Is it me he’s afraid of, or just our situation?
Help me figure this out before it drives me out of my mind…
Dearest Author, I adore amnesia stories, so feel free to twist this up in any way you see fit. I would love it to be either fantasy or sci fi, post-apocalyptic or dystopian is fine, and I don’t mind me some hot slave-fic, either… Go ahead and make it as dark as you like— I’ll be sure and wear my big-girl panties.
Tags: military men, sex industry, prison, captivity, amnesia, slave
Content warnings: violence and dubious consent
Word count: 18,251
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