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Story Requests: D/s, non-con, blackmail & more (M for F)

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Egoiste!

Egoiste! Egoiste! Egoiste!
Joined
Apr 15, 2016
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Consider this an open invitation for anyone who wants to participate in erotic games with an experienced role-player looking to play dominant males and explore plots involving possession, coercion, non-con, bondage and a great deal more besides.

I’m on the look-out for players with whom I share a reasonable number of kinks and who find the themes of my games and stories interesting. The ability to make every post a masterpiece is not required, and my take on post-length is very flexible (I’m generally happy to adapt my style to my partners) however decent grammar and spelling is a plus. Imagination, a sense of fun and a personable nature are all even better though! Most of all I’m looking for people who want a relaxed and casual approach to role-playing - where our mutual indulgence is the primary goal. If what you're looking for are in-depth, story driven games you won't find many in this thread. Oh I‘ll try to add a few, but generally speaking my other request thread is for more involved, story or character driven games.

I’m always up for talking to potential partners, and I do enjoy working out plots, settings and characters with prospective partners. That said I’m not the best when it comes to coming up with plots and stories on demand. Not unless I'm working within an established setting. So this can take time although getting input and feedback from a partner can make it much easier and faster, and the right kind of inspiration will make things easier still. Finally if you’re not interested in any of my plots but would still like to arrange a game I’m always happy to read over any story ideas you care to send me and if you have any other questions or comments at all feel free to contact me and fire away.

Sibling Revelry

The focus of this game is blackmail and non-con, but it can cover many other kinks besides these. The focus is erotica and it is essentially smut-driven. The basics of the plot are fairly simple; our leading man and lady are step-siblings whose parents married fairly recently (no more than two years, no less than one) and the idea here is to have some fun with the taboo inherent in having one of them lust after the other. The blackmail side of the game is less about giving the male lead a means of controlling the female lead, and more about giving him a sense that he can act without consequence. As, with his new-found leverage, my character finds certain inhibitions melting away; giving him what he feels is the opportunity to express some of his darkest impulses without fear of consequence. Pacing and build up are very flexible, but I think playing with some tension and build-up would make this game more fun.

In the months since his father had-remarried Mark had discovered he was not particularly happy with this new step-sister being around. In fact he resented her very existence. She was neither unattractive nor particularly shy about it, and for a young man mired in the frenzied throws of raging adolescence lusting after something he could not have was downright painful. Since not being able to screw her brains out every time she came within ten feet of him was simply tormenting he wanted her gone, and he got his wish. Several months ago she had lost her job and found it impossible to get another given her college schedule, but their parents did not accept this as an excuse and after a number of fights she was kicked out. As far as Mark knew she'd crashed with friends for a while after that, but it hadn't lasted as they needed a paying tenant. That was why she'd asked him to snag one of the keys to the small beachside town-house their parents owned. That had occurred a few weeks ago and it was exactly why Mark, who was now on break, was heading toward the door of that same townhouse.

He strode purposefully towards the pleasant, but rather small domicile with a louche smile on his arrogantly handsome face. It wasn't far from home - he hadn't been travelling for more than an hour - yet there was a sense of isolation there. As he strode down the path which bisected the simple lawn leading toward the front door Mark savoured it; the feeling that he could do almost anything here, that he was in a place outside the realm of his normal life. It caused him to smile in a manner that was less than wholesome as he dug in his pocket for the key, pausing just outside the door and slipping it into the lock. As the door swung open he pulled down the hem of his button-down shirt, drawing the thin cotton taut across his athletic torso briefly in an attempt to smooth the creases from its surface before he stretched, rolling his well-built shoulders and reaching for the bag he had left on the doorstep. He knew she was here.

'Hey...' Mark called out as he strode boldly down the hallway, glancing into the first bedroom to find it was empty.

There was only one other door that opened off the hall before it reached the main open-plan living space, and from where he stood in the hall Mark could see through to the glass rear door and beyond. Golden sand stretching down to a rolling surf, and the ocean reflecting the brilliant sunset. He found his step-sister, rising up off the small couch where she had been sitting, and glanced down at the mess of books scattered around her laptop on the coffee table. Stepping into the room as if he owned it, and looking her up and down shamelessly Mark smirked.

'Hey,' he intoned, but even as he spoke the young man's dark eyes were scanning over his step-sister's figure with blatant lust. 'How's it going?' he asked, 'I can see you've settled in-' he smiled in a fashion that worried her, while glancing around the room, 'Good. I'm going to be spending my break here,' his arrogance and the blunt declaration made the young woman’s eyes narrow slightly as she looked up at him.

‘Fine, I hope I won't be in your way.’ her last words were laced with sarcasm as she followed his gaze, her own eyes flashing with irritation. ‘I think I’ve made it more comfortable-’ the girl’s big, brown eyes flicked downward as she closed her laptop and lifted it up off the table, ‘So what are you going to be doing this week?’

‘I'm glad you like it,' Mark cut back after a pause, ignoring her question. 'There's nowhere else you can go, after all. Still I thought that was pretty rough, you getting kicked out for losing that job, good thing no one knows you're staying here though,' his face was less than reassuring, and the words saw a lump appear in the young woman's slender throat as she swallowed nervously, 'I mean you'd be sort of screwed if they did...'​

The Stepford Syndrome

The focus of this plot is coercion, mind-altering substances, domination, and the idea of changing someone - from the way they think to the way they dress - into something radically different. Whether this is a realization of some long-buried impulse or desire is something you can decide on. It can encompass many other kinks and fetishes, which we can discuss and consider based on our preferences and characters, and is best suited to a slower build-up in order to generate erotic tension. So if you want a game that dives right into the smut this may not be for you.

An attractive, ambitious young journalist, always on the lookout for odd news and gossip, hears about a town with a most unusual quality. It seems here life has gone back to the way it was in the 50's, albeit in some warped, and highly over-stated fashion. The women giggle and flirt like school girls, and if they're not pregnant or doing house work they're always made up and well dressed. Men seem to rule the roost, and nobody ever complains. Of course she can't believe it's really like this, but thinks it might be worth investigating. However after she talks to several people whose relatives or friends were either travelling through the town or staying nearby, and never came back. Later some of them sent letters or called, but only to say they were now married, usually with a child on the way. It seems to her something sinister; a cult perhaps, but either way she is certain it will make a good story. On arriving she finds out it is exactly as described, if not even more unusual, but the locals all seem welcoming and as reported nobody seems unhappy, and nobody complains. What she doesn't know is this town has a trick up it's sleeve, and she may well end up a permanent resident if she’s not careful.

The young journalist glanced over at the two members of her crew. Her photographer and his assistant seemed eager to set up and get some photos of the gathering. She’d been told the fair was being held to celebrate the opening of a new library. Amid the groups of people and rows of stalls on a neat reserve of park-land perhaps one hundred people were sat on folding chairs set up in rows facing a small dais. Three people had already taken their turn to speak. Two of them: Joseph Wright and Stephen Marsh headed two of the three families who claimed descent from the town’s founders. Her research had made it fairly plain that this small town with no real industry or exports and an apparent desire to avoid attracting tourists could only seem as prosperous and independent as it did by way of frequent, generous donations from these three founding families. They were the towns de facto owners.

Now it was the turn of Joseph Wilkinson. He was the very picture of an older yet still vital gentleman, and dressed in a superbly tailored suit he appeared a robust and athletic forty-something although he was in fact approaching his fiftieth year, and the only clue was the odd grey in his close cropped, dark hair. He gave a congenial smile as he looked over the small crowd. After tapping the microphone once he spoke earnestly about the superior community values, and spirit of fellowship that existed in Point Pleasant and pontificated, at length, on their ongoing ability to dodge the pervasive corruption of post-modern apathy with its culture of degeneracy. This saw the crowd react with insufferable smugness or, at least, the men did. That was the thing about Point Pleasant. The men, or rather the women, or - in fact - both of them. Particularly when seen side-by-side. Joseph for example occasionally received adoring waves from a tiny thing clutching a couture purse who could not have been more than twenty five and nothing about the way she looked at him suggested he was her father, unless they had an unwholesomely close family.

Though she was more fashionable in her accoutrements she was no less made up, dolled up one might go so far as to say, than the other young women in the assembly. Many of whom stood next to much older men. They kept their mouths and listened, or tended to the children, and speaking of the children, there were a lot of them. Point Pleasant seemed very big on families. In fact a fair percentage of the women present were visibly pregnant. The young journalist thought of the photographs she had brought with her. Each had been sent by the family or friends of a young woman who had seemingly disappeared while staying at or passing through the town. She couldn’t be certain, but several of the young women she’d seen so far had reminded her of those photographs.

Joseph’s speech contained further oddities for anyone who was listening, and the young journalist was definitely listening. For example after remarking on the excellence of its reference facilities, the breadth of subjects covered on its shelves and the rich collection of literature he added that their new library boasted an entire section intended for the women of the town. The subjects it focused on or at least those he listed were quaint in the most chauvinistic fashion but the women did not seem to mind. In fact a number of them seemed impressed, some almost giddy in their excitement over having simply been mentioned.

What was wrong with them?

Finishing his speech the patriarch alighted from the podium and was greeting by an athletic young man not far from the dais. The familial resemblance suggested it was his son, one who had not wanted to listen to the speeches. The two traded a few words which she wasn‘t able to overhear, and Joseph followed his son’s gaze as the young man pointed towards her photographer. The two regarded him even as the dispersing crowd gave rise to a confused colloquy which overtook the area as each individual aired their views now they could speak freely, although the chorus of raised voices had a depth and timber which was wholly masculine.

As a chattering group of young women obscured her view the journalist did not realize that Joseph was approaching her until he stood almost in front of her.

‘Good afternoon miss [your character], I trust you’ve been welcomed suitably. If not, welcome to Point Pleasant-’ there was a charmingly personable quality to the way he offered his hand and smiled, ‘I hear you’ve spoken to our deputy councilman, Jack’s a decent enough fellow but, well, between you and me - no verve, or backbone. I can’t stake the reputation of our wonderful community on his say-so. As one of our esteemed patrons, a member of one of our founding families, I’m prepared to answer any questions you might have. First, though, let me introduce you to my son-’ Joseph turned then, ‘Jared?’

The dark haired youth took a step forward, bereft of his fathers energy in presenting himself to this lovely young woman - a fact neither had missed or were shy about acknowledging by way of their glance - although there was absolutely nothing in his posture or expression which spoke of reticence. He was appraising in his nature, his manner invested with a careful patience. His eyes dark to the twinkling shade of blue of his father’s, but otherwise the two were much alike save that Jared was a hair taller, his posture a straighter, and his arms and shoulders noticeably bulkier . He wore a simple pair of trousers and a long-sleeved, button down shirt although the warmth had seen him fold the cuffs back, and he held a sports coat in one hand.

‘This is [your character],’ his father went on. ‘[your character], my son Jared, and my wife Christine,’ he directed to the young woman who had just swept over to stand by his side.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ the journalist remarked with feigned interest before fixing her gaze on Joseph, ‘Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your town?’

‘I’m not in the mood for questions,’ Jared spoke brusquely, speaking to Madelene, before Joseph could respond.

He looked the journalist over a final time with that, raising an arm to sling his coat over one shoulder, the cotton of his freshly pressed shirt flattening against his chest as it was drawn out between the pinions of his backward-thrust shoulders to mark the rigid contours of his athletic sinews. A studious, dark eyed gaze took in the female then, glancing over the lines of her outfit. He shamelessly raised an eyebrow at the curve of her hips, her waist, and her bust, and seemed to take pleasure in tracing the arc of her bare neck, his lip curling into a slight smile. His attractively severe features exuded a palpable arrogance through it all as though he were condescending even to look at her.

‘But I might see you later,’ he remarked, and with that, having imparted that she was an attractive animal but not one who he was as yet interested in seeing perform, the young prince of the town turned and left.

‘I‘m afraid my son doesn‘t appreciate small-talk,’ Joseph stated with a shrug, making no apology for the young man. ’Oh!’ his voice became louder as though there was some revelatory point he had forgotten, ’before we go on, in case I should forget again. As we are so seldom lucky enough to receive any media attention you are of course welcome to stay for as long as you wish, and your entire group as well. However we have so few hotels now, so you’ll need to see Jack again. Tell him I’ve said it’s alright and he’ll direct you to an apartment. Your crew can have their own as well, though you may be in different buildings. Your lodgings will be first-class though, you have my word, we’re eager to keep any members of the press, and hopeful that if they do stay they’ll, naturally, be willing to tell the world about how wonderful our community is.’

The attractive young journalist wondered at this generosity. Moreover she was surprised to hear that they were willing to invite media scrutiny.

‘However, with that out of the way, I believe you had some questions? I‘m afraid I won‘t be able to spare the time to answer them just now,’ Joseph went on, smiling, ‘but I‘m sure Jack can tell you anything you need to know,’

The journalist felt a stab of disappointment with this. She had grilled Jack extensively and he knew nothing. She wondered if Joseph was deliberately ducking her questions. It would have been odd to invite a journalist to stay if he really did have such qualms.

‘When do you think you’ll be available?’ she asked.

‘Oh-’ his brow creased with thought, ‘not for a few days I’m afraid,’

The young journalist sighed inwardly at this. It looked as though she’d be staying at Point Pleasant for a few days at least.​

Grade This

This plot focuses on blackmail and power-exchange. The set-up is very simple, and follows a young teacher who has recently begun work in a new town. She has family who live there. Including a niece with whom she is very close. Much to her irritation she finds out that the girl is going out with her most troublesome student, but after less than a month the girl comes to her in tears. The two have broken up, but he has a number of compromising images and videos saved from when they were together, and refuses to get rid of them. When she discovers this the teacher decides to take matters into her own hands.

She had made it a rule to reach out to problem students, and to resist any urge to dislike even the very worst, and was very proud of her reputation for doing wonders with even the most troublesome classes. Teaching here was different however and from almost the first day she had felt like she was at war with Greg for the loyalty and respect of the male half of her class. A war she knew she was winning, and one she was determined to win despite the shocking indifference of the over-privileged young man’s rich, influential parents. When she had spoken to them about his behaviour they had simply refused to believe that their child was capable of doing anything bad. She’d only been teaching here for six months but did not even feel guilty for hating him anymore.

Glancing up from where she sat behind her desk, brown eyes glancing toward the clock, the attractive young teacher fixed a brief glance on Greg. The rest of her students were all making notes about their homework; the class almost over. He stopped writing and ran a hand through his thick black hair. Their eyes met for a brief moment and the young teacher wondered if he knew what was about to happen. If he didn’t he would soon find out, the young teacher thought, as she stood and headed down the aisle made by two rows of desks, walking towards him.

‘Don’t forget your term projects are due tomorrow,’ she spoke up even as the bell rang.
Her students had begun to pack away their books as she halted by Greg’s desk.

‘Not you,’ she stated simply as Greg started to stand, ‘There’s something I would like to speak with you about.’

‘man, you're in trouble bro,’ one of Greg’s friends drawled idiotically.

‘Did I ask for your opinion Kurt?’ she stated icily.

‘Naw,’ the young man answered, eyes down, even as he slung his bag over his shoulder. ‘Sorry Miss,’

Greg sat back down as the other students filed out, and his teacher returned to the front of the class. The room was soon emptied but for the two of them, and the sound of people chattering and the bang of locker-doors drifted back in from the corridors outside.

‘Do you know what this is about?’ she asked after a moments pause, waiting for the hallway outside to quieten down a little.

Leaning back in his chair Greg shrugged and rolled his athletic shoulders, his challenging expression difficult to read.

‘I might,’ he ventured noncommittally, a smile forming on his face.

‘Then you shouldn’t be surprise that I’m confiscating your phone,’ she cut back.

He shrugged at this.

‘Sure-’ Greg withdrew his smart-phone from a pocket and held it out, ‘but you won’t find what you’re looking for on this, it’s all been uploaded.’

Opening her mouth to reply his teacher found herself suddenly bereft of comment. In fact she seemed little shaken by the news.

‘Where?’ she demanded.

‘If you want them gone, I want something in return,’​

Lessons in being Enslaved

A simple game focusing on the idea of slavery, domestic slavery, bondage, training, and objectification. As with most of my games it is capable of covering many other kinks. This plot involves a young woman being introduced to the flesh trade. It's all very unsettling and disturbing, being kidnapped, wondering, while languishing in alien bondage, what the motive could be. They treated her well enough though and she had access to decent facilities, was largely left alone, and really the only thing she couldn't handle was the isolation and uncertainty. It did not last long though. No more than a week before the day when they told her, to her indignant outrage, that she had been purchased. It was almost surreal. Why, or what for no-one told her. However things became dreadfully clear when she finally met her new 'owner,' only to discover, humiliatingly enough, it was a man she knew. Someone from her own normal, real life. Someone who had wanted her, whom she hated. Who now owned her. In this game I'm hoping to explore the idea of what it means for one person to belong to another person. The freedom it imparts to mould someone else’s behaviour and enforce their obedience through whatever means the owner feels are necessary or effective.

Introduction coming soon

A Gilded Cage

Arranged marriage, non-con, discipline/punishment, blackmail, inter-species. This is a game which can develop a little more slowly and which might require some world-building on our part to realize well. How extensive this is remains up to us however. The plot involves the conclusion of a long and bloody war between a human-dominated kingdom and an Elven one. Despite their apparent superiority in many areas the Elves breed slowly, and were not a warlike people. Their grasp of logistics and strategy did not develop quickly, and though they defied the humans on the field in battle after battle they were losing the war. Rather than risk the conquest and occupation of their lands their king attempts to forge a peace. The price is the hand of his daughter in marriage to a human prince, the annexation of a part of their lands, and his own personal surrender to be tried and hanged for war crimes.

Introduction coming soon
 
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