D&D: The senior cleric strips your clothes and your rank
From Create Your Own Story
The Senior Cleric strides up to you, his stiff gait belying his pride. He rougjly grabs your rank insignia, the black iron fist gilded with red gold pinned to your chest, and jerks it off of you. This stings in more ways than one. You had worked years to get that rank. While it hadn't been honeslty earned, no rank above the dregs was ever "honestly" earned. You had fought, clawed, and backstabbed your way to vice-senior. To have it taken away with such immediacy was a blow yo your pride and even to your identity and self worth.
But your Senior did not stop there. He roughly spins you around to face the full-height mirror in his offfice, beginning to unlace the leather bindings of your hauberk. You are numb with schock, unable to mount a resistance, not that it would be a worthwhile option. The Senior Cleric overpowered you in strength by a good measure. He jerks you this way and that as he undoes your armor, your body stiff and unmoving.
"Raise your arms!" He harshly commands,
You slowly comply, and he roughly yanks your knee length hauberk over your head. He quickly does the same to your tunic, baring your hidden weapons and your lingerie. His eyes go wide, and he quickly disarms you, even reaching up into your hair and removing your hidden weapons, causing your long, dark curls to fall to hip length.
He then crosses your arms behind your back and ties them there, not too tight, but enough to ensure their purpose. You submit to this as is customary. The submission of the defeated is clear in the laws of your faith. You had your own plans of what to do in the advent of your victory, not that it matters now.
He steps behind you, his arms reaching around your waist to begin to undo your skirt. Your cheeks redden at the intimacy of his touch and your exposure soon to be. You can feel your own heart thump in your chest and his breath in your ear. He finishes untying your skirt, and proceeds to rip the seams causing your breath to hitch in your thtoat. You didn't expect to come out of this with your dignity intact, and those who would see you leave this office would now have ample clues as to what transpired.
He jerks your skirt down your hips, leaving you in your flexible leggings which he promptly tears asunder. You now only have your skimpy undergarments "protecting" your modesty, though they do a piss poor job of that.
He walks around you, taking a moment to view his prize, to savor his victory. Shamelessly ogling your body, he takes in your pale exposed skin, your D-cup breasts, your waspish waist, your womanly hips, your heart shaped ass.
