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Derelict
Moon
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2010
- 2020-04-05 – Original version. I’ll bump the date here when I fill in more content.
It’s been a fair while since I’ve made one of these, so it’s probably time. The standard laundry list of kinks doesn’t really work well for me; my enjoyment depends on a general feel and aesthetic of a story, more than the actions inside of it being specific.
There are three abstract features/kinks that are exceptions to this:
Competency Fetish
Women who are elite, powerful, gorgeous, strong, athletic, intelligent, experts get me harder than fictional steel analogues.
This originally shows up as being hot for teacher, but it moves on from there. Some people have tried to narrow it down and just say I’m a sapiosexual. Nah.
A woman dominating a tennis court. Fucking hot.
A video clip of a soccer player just putting her opponents on the ground. Jesus Christ, yes.
A scientist presenting her research, digging into complex nuances with ease. Mithril hard.
Models, too, for that matter. Practiced poise and expert attention to detail, combined with borderline insane genetics.
Powerful, beautiful, intelligent women.
Or the twist – the potentially elite. We’re dealing with fiction, after all, she doesn’t even need to have achieved all of these things. We can write about all the things she’s going to become, if only she hadn’t gotten sidetracked.
Being an Evil, Manipulative Bully
I just enjoy being the bad guy, to whatever degree is appropriate in our story. Neighborhood bully to sociopathic world dominator and all of the flavors in between.
All sorts of subideas fit in here. I might throw in more later.
Corruption
So let’s mix the two together. I enjoy taking pure things, and making them mine. This can be a fuck and chuck, using them up and spitting them out, or it can be as something treasured.
I’ve also got a list of subideas for this, but for now, let’s chat about it if you’re interested.
So long as you are interested in writing within those themes, and especially if you enjoy mixing those themes, we’ll likely find plenty of common ground.
Bookkeeping and Style
Sure, so those are my “kinks” up there, but how do I actually like to write? Once upon a time I had posting limits and rates, and if you have those, you should share them with me. I’ve dropped mine. Mostly.
Because threes drill into brains in a manner that is downright manipulative, here are my three style/method points.
Shared Headspace
An enjoyable partner for me doesn’t require a certain number of words, or a certain list of kinks. Those are just crutches in an attempt to find immersion. Let’s focus on the goal, and not the crutch.
Some people state that they need at least x words or paragraphs or sentences or whatever-the-fuck rule they’ve come up with. I used to be one of them. I’d say give me at least 300 words and we’ll work from there. I’ve decided that all of these minimums are attempts to get people who can help create a shared headspace – an immersion in the story or interaction we create.
I’ve now realized that I’ve experienced this with a wide range of posting styles. I’ve had an amazing partner who convinced me to try one sentence per post, and with her, it fucking worked. It’s about creating something rich enough to lose yourself in, not about throwing enough words at the screen.
That said, you’ve got to put in the work to build it, and if you’re not capable of putting together good paragraphs, you’re not going to be capable of putting together that single sentence that captures the best actions and descriptions to continue our story.
Aesthetic
Details are a choice. I don’t care about the 100th time you sipped your wine. Let’s explicitly decide on the headspace we want to create, and specifically choose the details that will vividly bring it to life.
I’ll fill this one in later.
Online/Offline
I’ll do it all, but prefer to start with a pull method (bluemoon messages/email) and eventually move to a hybrid method (discord or whatever the app of the day is).
This is a mood thing. Same for you, right? I greatly enjoy chatting and playing via instant online methods, chat, instant messaging, etc. This generally isn’t sustainable on its own. If I had to choose, I prefer messages/email/notes – something that lets us write when we have the time and desire.
The best, though, are the hybrids. Discord (if only they could figure out how to decently format long form writing) and other chat but store if offline methods are the best.
We’ll likely start discussion someplace else, though, unless I get enough of a rush from your prompt that I’m temporarily dumb. Too many jealous types think that if I’m online I should be chatting with them.
So yeah, there’s all of that. I’ll update this as time goes along. Have some prompts.
***
She was crying. She was crying for your help. She was crying for your help and you just watched.
You hid as I held her head down. She was your best friend and you just hid. She needed your help. She was crying for your help. Crying and you just hid. Hid while I pounded her face. Hid while I slammed my cock into her throat, making her sputter and choke. Hid while I used her face like a toy, flipping her over as soon as I needed more.
You watched as flipped her over, amazed at the spit and precum that had glazed all over her face. She’d looked perfect before. Her hair and her makeup and her dress and her jewelry. Now she was a mess. A mess of tangled hair. A mess of drool and smears. A mess of tatters and tears. She’s struggling and you just watched. Watched while I forced her legs open. Watched while I hammered my too thick cock inside of her. Watched while I fucked her into a sobbing, quivering puddle.
You orgasmed as she sobbed, your fingers dancing over your cunt, your clit, your soul. She was collapsing in on herself. Her panic and rage, gone. Her strength, mine. Her virginity, mine. She was sobbing in a heap and you orgasmed. Orgasmed while watching her strength become mine. Came while watching her virginity become mine. Orgasmed while dreaming about me doing it all over again.
You dragged her back to me when she ran, finally coming out of hiding to help. To help me have even more fun. To help you satisfy that dripping need between your legs.
You watched as I held head head down once again. This time going slower, deeper, pushing and holding all the way inside that tight, battered throat. You watched. Watched while the passion left her body. Watched while the fight disappeared. Watched while her mind became fuzzy, my cock taking over while your desire started to push you further.
You pushed her face down harder, removing all ability for her to sob. She couldn’t even choke any more, but she struggled. Your friend was desperate to get away from me, from you, from us. Desperation turned to dire panic as she turned from pink to red. From red to purple. Were you going to let her up for air? I smiled at you as I stroked your hair, waiting for your decision.
***
Trashed.com -- It's Pickup Day, Bitches
Bagging up stuck up jizz rags worldwide. Coming to your city soon.
I mean, you've seen it, it's everywhere now -- a fucking viral sensation. This crew of hoodlums goes from town to town, country to country, targeting unsuspecting haughty bitches and bringing them down a notch or two -- or ten -- or just, all of them. First they tease and torment, and then they strip em down and torment her some more.
Buxom bitch of a barista? Banged brainless with a coffee ground and cream enema. Tossed in the alley bin along with the nightmare of a latte. It's a health code thing.
Queer Queen of the Quixotic Questors? Socked full of cock in her jizz stained Ren Faire slut wear. Some say she's still in that pile of hay.
Haughty hotwife harlot? Bet she didn't think that tinder date would end with her getting stuffed full of her husband's baseball cards. Actuaries and their strange love of dry anal adversity avatars. It's a thing. Guess it's great that they paid for the big wheelie.
So, that's the gist. A trio of alpha-holes trysting around filming conquest after conquest, turning their prey into jizz dumpsters and leaving them with the rest of the fuck trash.
Limits: Lack of textual rhythm, Contemporary Significance
Kinks: Absurd antics and fun semantics, finding a bit of humor in the debased, 300+ words of filth, raceplay, assplay, misogyplay, all the plays, but just because you can fit them all in your mouth at once doesn't mean that you should. Also, I promise that I do actually enjoy paragraphs and punctuation, despite the abuse.
Interested? Great. Tell me why and tell me who you think should end up in the featured section next.
Trashed-dot-com is for entertainment purposes only. No monetary value or even mild assurances regarding fairness should be accepted as in good faith
***
You, the bully next door, and your wandering mind.
You didn't really know what you were doing here. Well, you did. You were here to step in and put me in my place. I was terrorizing both your husband and your basement dwelling son, and you knew that someone needed to do it. What you didn't know was why you had decided it had to be you.
Maybe it would be different if you hadn't seen me last week? Maybe you wouldn't be standing there at my door thinking about how much the girl under me had been moaning, or all the bright shades of pink and red her skin had been when I was done with her. You'd lost count of how many times she'd screamed that she was cumming, even during the time that you'd been watching, and you had made your retreat before I was done. You'd run away once you realized that if you kept on watching you wouldn't be able to walk home. your legs already shaking from one too many orgasms.
Shame, really, as now you just had to wonder whether I'd really made her lick every inch of me, whether I'd sent the pictures I was taking to her husband like I'd promised. God, what if I had? Could you even imagine what your husband would do if he saw you like that? What your loser of a son might think if he knew you were spreading open wide for the guy who stuffed his head in the college toilets?
Fucked up.
But now you're there, smiling even as you try to look stern, and it seems we're each undressing the other with our eyes.
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