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Montresor
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2016
THIS THREAD AND IT'S PROMPTS INCLUDES MATERIAL DISCUSSING POTENTIALLY HARMFUL OR OFFENSIVE TOPICS SUCH AS:
AREAS OF DUBIOUS CONSENT, - PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL ABUSE, - GASLIGHTING, - STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, - MISOGYNY, - ENFORCED GENDER ROLES, - CONVERSION THERAPY, - HOMOPHOBIA, - AND POTENTIAL TRANSPHOBIA
PLEASE RESPECT THAT THESE ARE !ONLY FANTASIES!, AND YOU WILL BE RESPECTED IN TURN
AREAS OF DUBIOUS CONSENT, - PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL ABUSE, - GASLIGHTING, - STOCKHOLM SYNDROME, - MISOGYNY, - ENFORCED GENDER ROLES, - CONVERSION THERAPY, - HOMOPHOBIA, - AND POTENTIAL TRANSPHOBIA
PLEASE RESPECT THAT THESE ARE !ONLY FANTASIES!, AND YOU WILL BE RESPECTED IN TURN
"Slaves, obey in all things your earthly Masters according to the flesh; not with eye service, as men-pleasers; but in singleness of heart, fearing the Lord"
- Colossians 3:22
M o n t r e s o r
I am a male bisexual Dominant looking for a proper and depthful submissive to play with; someone who understands and adores their place. I've known that I was drawn towards a need for hard D/s for as long as I've been sexually aware, and its actually easier for me to categorize my sexual preference as purely requiring BDSM moreso than gender attraction. My characters tend to be on the younger side as I am a young man and prefer to inhabit that space, and am quite tired of being approached for age play. Those who mistake age for maturity need not apply. My average post length is between 5-7 paragraphs, though I have little problem going longer for the right inspiration and writing chemistry. I can usually put out about 1-2 posts per day, though again this can be more depending on the enthusiasm an chemistry of my writing partner, and I typically prefer that minimum to be met in turn by my writing partners (with plenty of exceptions). My POV preference is 3rd person, but that doesn't extend to my partners. I only write through PM, but am open to OOC discussion in discord.- Colossians 3:22
M o n t r e s o r
I consider myself a feminist IRL, but my writing interests carry heavy tones of misogyny. In fact, a fascination with masculine dominance, gendered power dynamics, and misogyny is the cornerstone of my BDSM fiction. Despite this, I quite enjoy discussing gender politics/ gendered experiences and commonly do so with those partners who are comfortable with such. What I take most pleasure in are submissive characters who are internally conflicted with an attraction to either the person engaged in their domination, or the treatment itself. This domination can be either abusive or dubious;y consensual, but I do not typically go for pure non-con or total reciprocated consent, as either end of the many blurry shades of consent often leaves me with little interest. I am drawn to stories of victims who gradually fall head over heels for their abusers, or willing submissives who harbor a deep seeded shame about their complicit obedience. I adore all the grey areas, for lack of a better phrase.
My Character(s)
I only write male characters, and while I may tend to alter minor details based on location and background, I will admit that they all tend to be variations on the same archetype and personality. They are between 19 - 29 years in appearence, and carry a serious disposition. They're actual age could be significantly older, but I don't play older characters in appearence. They may tease and taunt, expressing themselves with a dry sarcastic wit. Otherwise, they may seem generally humorless. They may be driven or ambitious (particularly in works of fantasy), but this drive often leaves them cold to most others. They are practical and precise, but not incapable of romance... at least in their own sadistic way.I'm comfortable portraying 1 or 2 side characters, but these wouldn't have as much focus. I am very much intent on stories that revolve around the emotional arch 1x1 pairings, but for instance am fine portraying other voices in the circle of those two characters.
Please Don't
- Post one-liners/ quick paragraphs
- Copy-Paste your own request thread when responding to me
- Ghost - You won't hurt my feelings if you need to end an RP for any reason. Please communicate with me before ditching.
- Address me as my character if writing 1st person; "I writhe in my bindings as you tie me up," ect.
- Ask me to play established characters
- PM me without explaining what plot you want to write/ are interested in
Primary Fetishes
These are all subjectively desired based on what particular plot is involved, though if there's anything here or my F-list Favorites that you consider an absolute NO, please let me know ahead of time. Depending on which prompt you are interested it, it may or may not be of any issue.
F-List
-Chastity Devices
-Orgasm Control/ Denial
-Anal Virginity/ Training
-Intelligent Characters
-Leather/ Latex
-Impact Play/ Discipline
-Impregnation/ Pregnancy
-Casual Sexism
-Stockholme Syndrome
-Wardrobe Control (Forced Clothes Wearing)
-Tights, Pantyhose, Leggings, Stockings!!!
-Non Con into Dub Con into Consent
F-List
-Chastity Devices
-Orgasm Control/ Denial
-Anal Virginity/ Training
-Intelligent Characters
-Leather/ Latex
-Impact Play/ Discipline
-Impregnation/ Pregnancy
-Casual Sexism
-Stockholme Syndrome
-Wardrobe Control (Forced Clothes Wearing)
-Tights, Pantyhose, Leggings, Stockings!!!
-Non Con into Dub Con into Consent
-Harem/ Cuckquean play
Common Dislikes
-Age play
-Bimbos
-Brats
-Hentai
-CYAO
-Doubling
-Monsters*
-Gangbangs
-Unrealistic anatomy
-Daddies/ littles
-GM/ Player dynamic
-Love Triangles/ squares/ dodecohedrons
-Referring to vaginal discharge as "juice"
-Most fandoms*
-Fantasy without world building*
-Sci-fi without science*
-Modern fantasy*
-Bimbos
-Brats
-Hentai
-CYAO
-Doubling
-Monsters*
-Gangbangs
-Unrealistic anatomy
-Daddies/ littles
-GM/ Player dynamic
-Love Triangles/ squares/ dodecohedrons
-Referring to vaginal discharge as "juice"
-Most fandoms*
-Fantasy without world building*
-Sci-fi without science*
-Modern fantasy*
Possible Plots
These plots each include a 'Consent Rating' indicated by 1 to 5
emojis. This indicates the general level of mutual consent expected from the start of the initial premise. This level of consent is expected to change as a story progresses, and depending on situations (as I've stated, I don't enjoy extremes at one end or the other), but the rating simply states whether the inciting dynamic is aggressive, coercive, or cooperative.
This is a story about a survivor of abuse and/or assault.YC has a past in which they raped. This could have taken any form. Perhaps it was by someone close in their life who had manipulated them severely over the course of years, or perhaps it was fast and violent by someone they didn't even get a good look at. Whatever the case, not only is this a haunting experience in the life of YC, but the trauma has left them with night terrors, and something far more confusing: they have discovered that they are extremely aroused by abuse. They may or may not develop sexual fantasies which involve reliving the scenerior in which they were assaulted, or perhaps their fascinations spirals down a completely different direction of masochism even if they recognize the rape as an inciting incident.
Whatever the case, they are struggling with their identity in the recognition of this revelation and don't know what to do. It feels wrong, even degenerate, and they struggle to truly express those feelings to their friends as it might come across as legitimizing the abuse even though they have nothing to do with it. Furthermore, it makes intimacy with a partner difficult, as they may struggle with trust after their experience. Ultimately they are convinced to explore these fantasies rather than repress them, and thus seek out guidence from a well known solitary Dom living in their area.
At first it isn't about being becoming a submissive at all; it's purely about seeking answers and advice from someone who explores power dynamics regularly, but in the midst of this counseling comes a proposition: what if she were to be tied up just for an evening? See what it was like? Could it help her cope with, or at least understand, her own feelings?
Whatever the case, they are struggling with their identity in the recognition of this revelation and don't know what to do. It feels wrong, even degenerate, and they struggle to truly express those feelings to their friends as it might come across as legitimizing the abuse even though they have nothing to do with it. Furthermore, it makes intimacy with a partner difficult, as they may struggle with trust after their experience. Ultimately they are convinced to explore these fantasies rather than repress them, and thus seek out guidence from a well known solitary Dom living in their area.
At first it isn't about being becoming a submissive at all; it's purely about seeking answers and advice from someone who explores power dynamics regularly, but in the midst of this counseling comes a proposition: what if she were to be tied up just for an evening? See what it was like? Could it help her cope with, or at least understand, her own feelings?
As a forward, this story is NOT about an attack on trans people in general, but rather an individual experience with detransitioning. The prompt revolves around the concept of an FTM trans man (YC) remaining 'in the closet' around their roommate (MC) until MC discovers that YC is in fact AFAB. As far as MC had been concerned, they just thought that YC was male; didn't know anything about their personal identity. There's been a low key attraction between the two (though maybe YC always thought that they were more attracted to girls before they met MC? Your choice) but when MC realizes the truth, his small infatuation grows into full blown obsession. At the same time, YC has been seriously struggling with their identity and whether or not transitioning has really brought any of the happiness and stability they were hoping for. MC forces the issue by sexually assaulting YC, becoming aggressive drawn to the idea of pushing YC to detransition back to female. What ensues is nothing short of transphobic abuse, domination, and gaslighting as meant to culminate in some final acceptance of submission and womanhood.
This is certainly one of those concepts that I see people viewing as particularly heinous, so I respect if there's a plentiful amount of communication and planning required before jumping into it.
This is certainly one of those concepts that I see people viewing as particularly heinous, so I respect if there's a plentiful amount of communication and planning required before jumping into it.
For this prompt, I'm looking for a character who is a confident and well established Domme in the BDSM scene: someone who quite enjoys their own sense of power and sadistic glee, and is no stranger to tormenting submissives of their very own. Be it a muscle bound Dominatrix, a chastity-wielding 'Dommy Mommy', a woman who likes her strap-ons, or any flavor of fiery vixen, the point should be obvious that this is what they tend to be a natural at. I want to see the shades of this character burning bright upon the screen, and I want my character to make her weak in the knees. This is NOT about a character who understands themselves as a switch. This is about a character who is fervantly solidified in their need to be a Domme, and though they would never admit it out loud, likely view the idea of submission as a woman degrading to their own tastes.
You may have seen the next part coming...
Yes, I want to take our dear Domme, and I want to humble her; see her brought to enjoy delights of submission she had never experienced for herself before. The crude might see this exchange and imagine it dehumanizing. In my eyes, I see it as liberating. I want to see the weight this character has carried lifted, and allow them to savor what it is to be small, to be cherished and owned. I would like to lean into a long term relationship, one that is as much about pain and bondage as it is about femininity and domestic obedience; pleasure, surrender, and a character finding happiness in having their power stripped from them.
As a possible pairing for the premise:
YC could be a professor of a local university who moonlights her Domme life. Perhaps she has a powerful presence online, but keeps herself anonymous. But it just so happens that one of her students, MC, occasionally enjoys time at the same kink club that she frequents. Under the guise of a submissve, MC is invited to speak with YC privately to negotiate a session. Perhaps she recognizes him quickly, perhaps she doesn't. Either way, it inevitably becomes appearent that he's one of her students. Sure, whatever... Its not her usual preference, but she's had the occasional shy student under her heel before, and is all too happy to show a school boy a thing or too. But then they talk, and soon he reveals his intentions: he's carefully crafted a web of evidence over the semester that might hold up to him testifying that she sexually abused him. Best case scenerio, she loses her job. Worst case: she faces prison time. But, of course, there is an ultimatum: so long as she obeys him that night, does exactly as he says, and pleases him, there's no reason to drag her through the mud publically like that.
You may have seen the next part coming...
Yes, I want to take our dear Domme, and I want to humble her; see her brought to enjoy delights of submission she had never experienced for herself before. The crude might see this exchange and imagine it dehumanizing. In my eyes, I see it as liberating. I want to see the weight this character has carried lifted, and allow them to savor what it is to be small, to be cherished and owned. I would like to lean into a long term relationship, one that is as much about pain and bondage as it is about femininity and domestic obedience; pleasure, surrender, and a character finding happiness in having their power stripped from them.
As a possible pairing for the premise:
YC could be a professor of a local university who moonlights her Domme life. Perhaps she has a powerful presence online, but keeps herself anonymous. But it just so happens that one of her students, MC, occasionally enjoys time at the same kink club that she frequents. Under the guise of a submissve, MC is invited to speak with YC privately to negotiate a session. Perhaps she recognizes him quickly, perhaps she doesn't. Either way, it inevitably becomes appearent that he's one of her students. Sure, whatever... Its not her usual preference, but she's had the occasional shy student under her heel before, and is all too happy to show a school boy a thing or too. But then they talk, and soon he reveals his intentions: he's carefully crafted a web of evidence over the semester that might hold up to him testifying that she sexually abused him. Best case scenerio, she loses her job. Worst case: she faces prison time. But, of course, there is an ultimatum: so long as she obeys him that night, does exactly as he says, and pleases him, there's no reason to drag her through the mud publically like that.
Whilst traveling abroad in central and eastern Europe, YC, a bright young lesbian woman, encounters a mysterious and beautiful encounter with another woman while still trying to bounce back from a terrible break up. In the midst of following this fling to wherever it may lead, it turns out that the woman YC is courting is in fact a broken and obedient servant of a group of human traffickers. Her guise was easy: lure other young women who would be far more trusting of her than any man around their drinks, get them nice and drugged, and them lead them somewhere secluded to be bagged and tagged. As a result of one little mistep, YC is now on the fast-track to disappearing off the face of the earth; their ambitions and dreams all for nothing. Their resulting destination is the clutches of MC: a young man who has built up a ruthless little empire in the human trafficking and sex work trade.
Its his task to personally take these women, break them down, and teach them that they exist purely to satisfy men and earn him money. But where some pimps care little for the actual efficiency of their 'products', MC takes an extremely personal, almost professional pride in teaching his girls how to make the sex they provide like nothing else his patrons can experience. To that end, his girls mustn't simply be cowed into submission; they must be brought to worship their place and recognize every facet of their bodies that may bring pleasure. This means, of course, that lesbian who has zero physical or emotional comfort getting rutted deep by any man simply won't do. As such, he's considers the pursuit of reinforcing heterosexual desires on his slaves to be a sort of artist passion; a means of demonstrating his complete control. It may take time, but he will break her.
At the same time, he had to let go of his most trusted bottom bitch recently; someone he considered his right hand and invaluable to making his operation work. Given your character's intelligence, perhaps she might just be capable of not only adapting to her new environment, but thriving in it if she is able to fill that role for him. In terms of actual 'conversion'... that's more something that I'm fine with different interpretations on. It could easily be that she doesn't actually ever learn a physical attraction to men, but rather an attraction to her station; her slavery. Regardless of her sexual desires though, I am looking for something that eventually turns romantic between the two.
Its his task to personally take these women, break them down, and teach them that they exist purely to satisfy men and earn him money. But where some pimps care little for the actual efficiency of their 'products', MC takes an extremely personal, almost professional pride in teaching his girls how to make the sex they provide like nothing else his patrons can experience. To that end, his girls mustn't simply be cowed into submission; they must be brought to worship their place and recognize every facet of their bodies that may bring pleasure. This means, of course, that lesbian who has zero physical or emotional comfort getting rutted deep by any man simply won't do. As such, he's considers the pursuit of reinforcing heterosexual desires on his slaves to be a sort of artist passion; a means of demonstrating his complete control. It may take time, but he will break her.
At the same time, he had to let go of his most trusted bottom bitch recently; someone he considered his right hand and invaluable to making his operation work. Given your character's intelligence, perhaps she might just be capable of not only adapting to her new environment, but thriving in it if she is able to fill that role for him. In terms of actual 'conversion'... that's more something that I'm fine with different interpretations on. It could easily be that she doesn't actually ever learn a physical attraction to men, but rather an attraction to her station; her slavery. Regardless of her sexual desires though, I am looking for something that eventually turns romantic between the two.
-
This isn't actually a whole singular story, but rather a series of short lustful scenes revolving around a singular pairing. The Blackwell Household revolves around recent marriage of a young couple. My character, Tom Blackwell, has been nothing but a gentleman and good lover to his beloved fiance; a progressive, kind hearted, and thoughtful man to match his girlfriend's independent and outgoing nature. His fiance, YC, has always been anything but traditional as far as her gender was concerned. That may take any form you wish. Perhaps she is more of a muscle-bound tomboy, or a perfectly feminine yet outspoken woman with a high education behind her and a long career ahead.
They two lovers have been working hard together, saving up enough to buy a dream home before finally tying the knot. After a long time searching prospective homes across the country, matching availability, location, and opportunity, they finally settle on a small town in a scenic mountain valley called Ashford. But Ashford's gorgeous vistas, happy smiles, and gentle neighbors betrays a far more strictly conservative view of gender roles than what was first expected. This is not so much the crux of our story, as the move to Ashford is more of a way of isolating our pair than anything else. The town itself may or may not pay a prominant role in each scenerio depending on preference.
Once wedlocked and settled in, however, Tom's whole personality seems to take a change, revealing a man with a deeply seeded need for control. Now that he is somewhere far from family and friends with his wife, out where the norm for women is to be barefoot, pregnant, and subservient, the two find themselves at odds with the trajectory they desire their married life to take. One thing is for certain: Tom won't let disagreement spoil his desires.
As stated, the following are intended primarily as individual steamy scenes following a set confict. I am not against following up one scene with a continuation into another, more long term, pairing should we both enjoy ourselves on this project.
EDGE OF OBLIVION
It has been some time since YC agreed to wear a chastity belt briefly as a way of consolling Tom's paranoia over fidelity, but whatever trust exercise this once was has now devolved into a means of completely locking away his wife's sexual pleasure beneath his own key. Tom has been gaslighting his wife over days... weeks... months... while she remains in chastity, asserting that she has no need for it to be removed outside of the occasional humiliating bit of hygiene, as everyone knows women don't orgasm. Its a mad assertion, both given obvious anatomy and the fact that they had enjoyed a reasonable sex life. And yet, he continues to play mind games, acting as though he doesn't know what she is talking about. "Women can't orgasm like men, dear. How would that make sense? What purpose would that serve? You're so silly..." Of course, Tom knows exactly what he's doing: building up her sensetivity and need until she's practically ready to hump furniture. It doesn't help that he insists on touching her every night, his fingers dancing over her body until he has to insist she stop getting so worked up or he'll have to restrain her. This scenerio could also involve forced prescriptions that make YC's mind hazy as a form of punishment.
A WIFE'S DUTY
To cut directly to the point, this is a scene involving spousal rape, pure and simple. Where once they had a regular and active sex life, Tom has found that since their marriage, his wife has lost much of her sexual appetite, at least when it comes to satisfying him. Never enough time. Not in the mood. Telling him that he's much too horny. Worse still, she seems to find perfect time with her vibrator when she truly needs to get off. After a long week though, he's had enough. Right before she's expected to head out to work or some other event, Tom grabs his lovely wife without heeding any of her protest. He helps to show her what part of her responsability as a wife is in regard to her husband's needs.
HONEYMOON HORROR
It was her perfect day, and Tom made certain that she would be satisfied in all ways throughout the day. Now they've retreated to the bedroom of their recently purchased home, where Tom has promised his newly wedded wife a special surprise he'd been readying while the rest of the move was still happening. The surprise turns out to be a carefully selected collection of ropes and chains for a sturdy bedframe. His wife's interests have always been a bit vanilla, despite Tom's regular prodding to get her to so much as take it from behind. Tonight though, there will be no negotiating. She got to have her special day in the light, now he gets to have his special night in the candle lit darkness of that bedroom, where he'll introduce his new wife to the submission he truly desires her through the best way he knows how: sodomy and discipline.
THE BREEDING BITCH
The two of them have had their disagreements over children, with Tom promising that he was not really looking to have any when they discussed marriage. But now, it would seem the seemingly happy families of Ashford have touched off a certain instinct buried deep within, and Tom has repeatedly told his wife that she should settle down from work so they could have children. The suggestions have come to arguments which have gone on for months following their wedding. Now Tom has decided to take initiative into his own hands and abduct his own wife under a form of house arrest, chaining her to a bed in the basement. Her work has been kindly notified that she'll be absent under a health emergency for the time being... enough time for him to monitor her, look after her, and wait until she's ovulating. The young couple are about to concieve their first child, whether his wife wants to be a mommy or not.
They two lovers have been working hard together, saving up enough to buy a dream home before finally tying the knot. After a long time searching prospective homes across the country, matching availability, location, and opportunity, they finally settle on a small town in a scenic mountain valley called Ashford. But Ashford's gorgeous vistas, happy smiles, and gentle neighbors betrays a far more strictly conservative view of gender roles than what was first expected. This is not so much the crux of our story, as the move to Ashford is more of a way of isolating our pair than anything else. The town itself may or may not pay a prominant role in each scenerio depending on preference.
Once wedlocked and settled in, however, Tom's whole personality seems to take a change, revealing a man with a deeply seeded need for control. Now that he is somewhere far from family and friends with his wife, out where the norm for women is to be barefoot, pregnant, and subservient, the two find themselves at odds with the trajectory they desire their married life to take. One thing is for certain: Tom won't let disagreement spoil his desires.
As stated, the following are intended primarily as individual steamy scenes following a set confict. I am not against following up one scene with a continuation into another, more long term, pairing should we both enjoy ourselves on this project.
EDGE OF OBLIVION
It has been some time since YC agreed to wear a chastity belt briefly as a way of consolling Tom's paranoia over fidelity, but whatever trust exercise this once was has now devolved into a means of completely locking away his wife's sexual pleasure beneath his own key. Tom has been gaslighting his wife over days... weeks... months... while she remains in chastity, asserting that she has no need for it to be removed outside of the occasional humiliating bit of hygiene, as everyone knows women don't orgasm. Its a mad assertion, both given obvious anatomy and the fact that they had enjoyed a reasonable sex life. And yet, he continues to play mind games, acting as though he doesn't know what she is talking about. "Women can't orgasm like men, dear. How would that make sense? What purpose would that serve? You're so silly..." Of course, Tom knows exactly what he's doing: building up her sensetivity and need until she's practically ready to hump furniture. It doesn't help that he insists on touching her every night, his fingers dancing over her body until he has to insist she stop getting so worked up or he'll have to restrain her. This scenerio could also involve forced prescriptions that make YC's mind hazy as a form of punishment.
A WIFE'S DUTY
To cut directly to the point, this is a scene involving spousal rape, pure and simple. Where once they had a regular and active sex life, Tom has found that since their marriage, his wife has lost much of her sexual appetite, at least when it comes to satisfying him. Never enough time. Not in the mood. Telling him that he's much too horny. Worse still, she seems to find perfect time with her vibrator when she truly needs to get off. After a long week though, he's had enough. Right before she's expected to head out to work or some other event, Tom grabs his lovely wife without heeding any of her protest. He helps to show her what part of her responsability as a wife is in regard to her husband's needs.
HONEYMOON HORROR
It was her perfect day, and Tom made certain that she would be satisfied in all ways throughout the day. Now they've retreated to the bedroom of their recently purchased home, where Tom has promised his newly wedded wife a special surprise he'd been readying while the rest of the move was still happening. The surprise turns out to be a carefully selected collection of ropes and chains for a sturdy bedframe. His wife's interests have always been a bit vanilla, despite Tom's regular prodding to get her to so much as take it from behind. Tonight though, there will be no negotiating. She got to have her special day in the light, now he gets to have his special night in the candle lit darkness of that bedroom, where he'll introduce his new wife to the submission he truly desires her through the best way he knows how: sodomy and discipline.
THE BREEDING BITCH
The two of them have had their disagreements over children, with Tom promising that he was not really looking to have any when they discussed marriage. But now, it would seem the seemingly happy families of Ashford have touched off a certain instinct buried deep within, and Tom has repeatedly told his wife that she should settle down from work so they could have children. The suggestions have come to arguments which have gone on for months following their wedding. Now Tom has decided to take initiative into his own hands and abduct his own wife under a form of house arrest, chaining her to a bed in the basement. Her work has been kindly notified that she'll be absent under a health emergency for the time being... enough time for him to monitor her, look after her, and wait until she's ovulating. The young couple are about to concieve their first child, whether his wife wants to be a mommy or not.
Fandoms/ Settings I Accept
-Contemporary/ Realistic
-Contemporary/ Supernatural
-Contemporary/ Slavery AU
-Cyberpunk (The genre as a whole moreso than the franchise)
-Star Wars (The Old Republic only)
-Star Trek (TNG, DS9, Voyager era)
-Warhammer 40k (No Space Marines)
Writing Sample
For all the neon that embedded itself in that single spot of the desert, Las Vegas, the only light shining down on poor Kieva was that of the full moon. It lit Asher's eyes in the darkness of the alley, two silver disks, as he watched her spectacle in silence. Of the stabbing, the gurgling, the whimpered cry to the merciless moon, it all fell upon deaf ears; all but the scent. It was that which carried on the moistureless air as the girl spilled more and more of herself across the dust and gravel. It caked in handprints across the brick wall, and coagulated in thick rivlets across the concrete, creating it's own petrichor. Blood: thick and palpable and sweet. It called in the night, and Asher had come to answer. Traditionally his visit would have been like seeing vultures overhead, but as he watched his summoner struggle in her own guts, well...
Footsteps emerged from the darkness of the alley, and at first what may have been the passing disturbance of a stray cat revealed itself to be the tall silhouette of a man. It was like he was a part of that darkness given form to answer her prayers; always there, always watching, but now corporeal. Asher did not rush himself by any means, and by the mere cadence of his gate it didn't seem like there was any emergency for him to respond to at all. He simply followed Kieva, watching as this woman tried uselessly to do anything more than lay in her own spreading pool of red. The image of her white dress, the silken weave which wrapped her pale body now drenched in her own fluid, the most violent shade of sanguine, stuck in his mind in a way that he didn't quite understand in that moment. It made him actually frown when he saw her body give up before she did, listing to one side as she slumped against the wall.
Her eyes closed, perhaps forever, but he could still hear her heart beating, could feel it as each desperate squeeze clenched slower than the last. It called to him like a paramour whispering sweet nothings in his ear. The blood would only be fresh for a few more moments, but he witheld himself. The means to save this creature, this bird of torn wings, lay close at hand as did the means to help her to that final destination. Asher had resigned himself to make up his mind when the facts were in front of him, and now that they were it still seemed like he was yet hesitant to choose. He had no desire to rush her death, and yet he seemed to be waiting for something... waiting for her to show him how much it meant to keep going.
"That's it..."
The Devil doesn't come to us with a torch and pitchfork in hand. As if answering a prayer, footfalls traveled along her side at a slow and even pace, revealing a pair of dusty leather boots. It was the boot which nudged Kieva's shoulder and roller her over on her back. The man who had placed himself between her and the incandescent safety of the street lamp, now crowned by its light behind him like a halo, was young; perhaps even younger than her. Tall and black of hair which streamed in waves around his ears just to just shoulders where it just barely caressed his dark trenchcoat. Though clearly a man, there was an androgynous quality to the oval shape of his amber eyes, and the beauty of his youthful features; angelic. "Be still," he spoke with a voice that was as calm as a steady river, kneeling down and gently adjusting Kieva to rest her head on his thigh.
Asher reached a hand to his mouth, biting down between the thumb and index finger before he lowered fresh wound to her lips. Droplets of blood splattered over her mouth, her cheek and chin. He brought it closer until his palm was gently covering her lip. "You have to drink it," he urged tenderly. "You will live, little bird, but you have to drink." Contrary to the denizens of that oasis, his voice was distinctly foreign; a touch of a posh English accent stuck on his tongue. It did not change the truth in his words, nor the effect when she finally did swallow his medicine. There was a part of Asher that was innately curious as to what it must have felt like in that moment; to taste such sweet nectar for the first time. He couldn't remember anymore, only that the high was something that one spent an eternity chasing.
"Good girl," he hummed as he felt her tongue dart up against his skin, and an amused smirk found its way on to his features as he felt the girl instinctively close her mouth around the bite to draw more. Her half lit eyes told the truth of how weak her mind was in that moment, incapable of grasping much save for what was directly in front of her, and certainly not capable of processing it in the moment. He pondered if she still would have kissed that hand if she knew what it meant. She could decide that for herself now. "That's enough..." Asher furrowed his brow as the girl's mouth bit down tightly on the hand, refusing to be parted with the succor of that essence when he tried to pull away. "Enough."
He had to yank back in order to free himself, unable to help a soft chuckle as he squeezed his hand into a fist. Her body took over the rest now that she had taken the predator within her. "A name. I need your name, little bird." Asher insisted as his arms slid under her shoulders and legs. She was lifted up, show falling from one of her feet as the blooded mess that she was now hung limp over his grasp. The word came up weakly and he tilted his head to hear, but he offered a small nod in return.
"Tomorrow morning will feel like you've woken from the best sleep you've ever had, Kieva."
Of all the luck that runs dry on those who flock to the City of Second Changes,
there was a once-in-a-blue-moon oppertunity for a loser to walk away with their jackpot.
For Kieva, this meant her life.
there was a once-in-a-blue-moon oppertunity for a loser to walk away with their jackpot.
For Kieva, this meant her life.
Footsteps emerged from the darkness of the alley, and at first what may have been the passing disturbance of a stray cat revealed itself to be the tall silhouette of a man. It was like he was a part of that darkness given form to answer her prayers; always there, always watching, but now corporeal. Asher did not rush himself by any means, and by the mere cadence of his gate it didn't seem like there was any emergency for him to respond to at all. He simply followed Kieva, watching as this woman tried uselessly to do anything more than lay in her own spreading pool of red. The image of her white dress, the silken weave which wrapped her pale body now drenched in her own fluid, the most violent shade of sanguine, stuck in his mind in a way that he didn't quite understand in that moment. It made him actually frown when he saw her body give up before she did, listing to one side as she slumped against the wall.
Her eyes closed, perhaps forever, but he could still hear her heart beating, could feel it as each desperate squeeze clenched slower than the last. It called to him like a paramour whispering sweet nothings in his ear. The blood would only be fresh for a few more moments, but he witheld himself. The means to save this creature, this bird of torn wings, lay close at hand as did the means to help her to that final destination. Asher had resigned himself to make up his mind when the facts were in front of him, and now that they were it still seemed like he was yet hesitant to choose. He had no desire to rush her death, and yet he seemed to be waiting for something... waiting for her to show him how much it meant to keep going.
"That's it..."
He mouthed the words on his lips as he saw her eyes weakly flutter open.
They were dreary and incapable of making out his shape, but they were open.
He realized then that he was rooting for her.
They were dreary and incapable of making out his shape, but they were open.
He realized then that he was rooting for her.
"...Move."
A smile dug its way into his features, and as Kieva rolled to her knees, the predator marveled at the sheer arrogence of her resolve. She shredded her knees, scraped hands and elbows for every inch she could get closer and closer towards the light just beyond the alley. He was not far behind, hovering over her with rapt attention as though watching the struggle of a wild animal rather than a human being. There was a seperation there to be maintained, as though he were the deciding hand of fate. Only when he became clear she couldn't move any further did his eye break to look out from the alleyway. No sirens. No passers on foot. Traffick was sparse, but the nearest driver did not so much as spare a glance into the alley as the headlights drove by. It was the sound of her voice that yanked Asher's attention back down.
"Please..."
The Devil doesn't come to us with a torch and pitchfork in hand. As if answering a prayer, footfalls traveled along her side at a slow and even pace, revealing a pair of dusty leather boots. It was the boot which nudged Kieva's shoulder and roller her over on her back. The man who had placed himself between her and the incandescent safety of the street lamp, now crowned by its light behind him like a halo, was young; perhaps even younger than her. Tall and black of hair which streamed in waves around his ears just to just shoulders where it just barely caressed his dark trenchcoat. Though clearly a man, there was an androgynous quality to the oval shape of his amber eyes, and the beauty of his youthful features; angelic. "Be still," he spoke with a voice that was as calm as a steady river, kneeling down and gently adjusting Kieva to rest her head on his thigh.
Asher reached a hand to his mouth, biting down between the thumb and index finger before he lowered fresh wound to her lips. Droplets of blood splattered over her mouth, her cheek and chin. He brought it closer until his palm was gently covering her lip. "You have to drink it," he urged tenderly. "You will live, little bird, but you have to drink." Contrary to the denizens of that oasis, his voice was distinctly foreign; a touch of a posh English accent stuck on his tongue. It did not change the truth in his words, nor the effect when she finally did swallow his medicine. There was a part of Asher that was innately curious as to what it must have felt like in that moment; to taste such sweet nectar for the first time. He couldn't remember anymore, only that the high was something that one spent an eternity chasing.
"Good girl," he hummed as he felt her tongue dart up against his skin, and an amused smirk found its way on to his features as he felt the girl instinctively close her mouth around the bite to draw more. Her half lit eyes told the truth of how weak her mind was in that moment, incapable of grasping much save for what was directly in front of her, and certainly not capable of processing it in the moment. He pondered if she still would have kissed that hand if she knew what it meant. She could decide that for herself now. "That's enough..." Asher furrowed his brow as the girl's mouth bit down tightly on the hand, refusing to be parted with the succor of that essence when he tried to pull away. "Enough."
He had to yank back in order to free himself, unable to help a soft chuckle as he squeezed his hand into a fist. Her body took over the rest now that she had taken the predator within her. "A name. I need your name, little bird." Asher insisted as his arms slid under her shoulders and legs. She was lifted up, show falling from one of her feet as the blooded mess that she was now hung limp over his grasp. The word came up weakly and he tilted his head to hear, but he offered a small nod in return.
"Tomorrow morning will feel like you've woken from the best sleep you've ever had, Kieva."
With leashes and love
Montresor
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