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Freezn
Above All ~ Self Control
- Joined
- Jul 15, 2020
- Location
- Lost in the Someplace
*~ About Me, Myself, and I ~*
First and foremost, I am here to tell a story with you, not just one smutty scene.
I heavily focus on the story and the feelings of the characters we write to life. In truth I'm fine even if we don't have any smut at all! So long as the story is interesting! I love creating stories and worlds for and with others. That means that I'm really looking for a partner who can give me the freedom to control 2,4,8,10+ characters at any given time or talk about how the scene and setting are moving in the background. Of course I'm still happy to focus on 1 character for the main story.
I give quality and expect quality. I’m looking for ~1500+ words in the introduction/scene setting posts. Literate to Novella?
I want depth and details, thoughts, and vivid descriptions I can wrap my mind around. I want my imagination to be enticed in such a way that I’m thinking about our story while I’m bored doing the dishes. I am loathe to give an exact count of words or paragraphs but I feel like a relatively set value for the intro gets the point across.
Don’t take anything here as a hard rule. Just don’t. I’m a human not a rulebook.
You bring me joy, I bring you joy, that’s the main thing. Sometimes I’ll bend rules, sometimes I’ll break them completely. Depends on my partner and the story we’re making.
I post anywhere from once a day, to once a week. Please bear with me.
Typically I swing from working 24 hours one week to 72 hours the next. On top of that I have other hobbies and a life. Point is that I can be pretty busy some weeks, and pretty free other weeks. Please keep that in mind if you want to write with me.
Faceclaims are hard!
I will spend more time on trying to find the perfect picture/faceclaim for my character(s) than is healthy. I have gone days delaying a post simply because I cannot find one that perfectly matches my character. So if you ever think I don't like them, think again! I just don't use them very often because it becomes a rabbit hole for my perfectionist mind and I'll spend all day searching and searching. Also every once and awhile I might throw something out that I find inspiring or can help get a point/scene across. And of course if we're gonna fan girl it up and show each art that we think is applicable to our characters I'm all here for that. I have folder upon folders built for this.
P.s. All faceclaims should be some form of Art. I vastly prefer to not use real people. Makes me a little uncomfortable.
I tend to write characters that roam all over the Dom/Switch/Sub spectrum.
People are really complicated man, and I love to write my characters that way. In some situations they may be dominant. In others they're more than happy to let another take the lead. However, I understand that some people have a preferred taste in how their partner's character reacts most often, so I'm happy to try and fill whatever role you like or require.
I honest to god will do any pairing when it comes to gender, sex and sexual orientation.
With that said, what's commonly described as futa can make me a little uncomfortable. My trans friends have explained it's a touchy subject and I've grown to dislike its use as a kink. If it is genuinely a part of the character you want to bring to life though, let's go for it!
When writing on BMR I write exclusively in third person.
People can get creepy sometimes when we switch to first person.
I stick to either PMs or Threads.
I have a discord but I only use it for OOC. RIP to all my posts butchered because of character count. T_T
I’m not much for most fandoms.
I prefer to build our own world with its own rules. Though I'm never against stealing inspiration from some place. I feel as though I can't do pre-established characters justice. So I leave them to the original creators.
Feel free to ask me anything you’d like!
I’m a relatively open book.
~* What I’m looking for *~
I’m looking for a partner to keep up with me in terms of quality of posts. On this site, that would be novella or high literate or something like that.
I just want someone who can inspire me, and make me push myself and reach their quality. For good examples of my range you can see some of my work below.
A partner that’s willing to delve into the deep and dark of issues.
Blood, abuse, deaths, pain, loss, sorrow, anger all the emotions that come from those extremes. I don’t want torture for torture’s sake, but if a scene calls for it, I want a partner who can write through the dark stomach churning mess. And then we can both cry OOCly and bond over how uncomfortable and sick we feel.
A partner that can swing back the other way! If there’s a call for a sweet scene where our characters can be happy and smell the roses, I NEED this.
A partner who won’t jump the gun and have their character fall in love with mine ten minutes or four posts after meeting them. Slow burn baby.
I like slowly built up stories where we can let our characters naturally develop past lust or adoration and into those really heavy emotions. Like vitriolic hate or unabashed adoration verging on love!
Obviously that means I’m looking for something more long term.
Even the most engaging smut gets boring after awhile. I really want someone who can help me craft a story that really pulls me in and keeps me checking in between, and even despite the sexy scenes.
OOC Chat.
Hopefully if you like everything so far, you’ll also want to chat it up on the OOC side and help me gush about how cute or terrible something or someone in the story is.
One final request!
Please, please, please come to me with more than I want try X plot, or X pairing. Give me your opinions on it! Tell me about yourself! What you like and dislike! The more information you give me up front the more likely you'll be able to entice my sleep deprived mind into getting creative and excited!
*~ Kinky ~*
Ɛ>~~ F-List ~~<3
Soooooo… I'll be honest. Putting together an F-List was hard work. Not to mention overwhelming. Who knew there were so many kinks out in the world??? Thus below is a list of my favorites and my absolute nots. Anything in between is probably okay too! I'm suuuper open and support a shame free, kink loving world, so get dirty with me! Just please respect my limits.
Favs: BDSM, Co-Dependancy (characters that feed off each other in the worst way are my favorite), love (The healthy and unhealthy kind), rough sex, nails, biting, breath control, bondage, teasing, tension, embarrassment, pride, abuse of power, pain, horror… you get the idea. But so many more things!
No-nos!: Scat, vore, underage or underage looking characters, anthros (sorry guys just can’t get into it. I’ve tried)….
Most everything else is on the table but I will say that I’ll like for my characters to react realistically to situations. Also I would like to remind people that everyone has a right to say they feel uncomfortable with a situation or kink at any time. Please just ask if you’re super into something and it isn’t on my lists.
*~ Plots and Thots ~*
All of the below plots are clearly just the bare bones. In fact a lot of them are just questions!
I want to work on the stories with ~you~ vague partner I’ve yet to get to know. Please when you show an interest, if you could offer your own thoughts or at least come up with questions that’ll make me much more likely to answer with interest. Also sorry for all the lined out plots. I'm either not in the mood right now for them or I already have a partner writing in that same plotline and I don't have anywhere else to store these.
WARNING! I've really been itching for more dark and gut twisting stories lately. Ye have been warned!
Inspired by hits like Danganronpa, or Battle Royale, a collection of teenagers or young adults have been transported to a mysterious island. Perhaps they're there because they're special? Are they the absolute best at what they do? Do they have a talent for magic that needs fostering? Are they their because they've been awarded a place at an affluent school that guarantees any who graduate will have a care free, easy or successful life? Who knows? We can figure those details out together! What we do know is they're not getting off this island without a little blood on their hands. Are they killing each other? Is someone hunting them? Do they have a singular killer in their midst? Or is everyone just waiting for their opportunity? Prepare yourself for some fun campy slasher-like violence, drama, and comedy as we explore the age old question of what happens when you leave an island of teens/young adults alone and inject violence!
Think of the world like Supernatural or the Iron Druid series. Magic and all the monsters are real! But society keeps on moving and most people aren’t aware. And that’s how everyone likes it. But every once and awhile you have to protect what’s yours in this world. There’s a big baddie that’s walking around LA and if left to their own devices they could end the world as we know it. Either by killing off those we love and care for, or literally blowing up the world. Who knows? In this situation I’d love to play a witch trying to live her best life in modern day LA. Just going about buying my organic plants, and home made vials. The setting is more key to me in this option, than any necessary big bad. If you’d like to focus on something different than some big evil or crisis I’d be happy to hear ideas.
What would you do if you suddenly had a devil on your shoulder? Playing around in an occult store was a favorite past time for the local kids when they were younger. Then you get older and you stop doing things that are silly and fun. YC has a bad day and are left looking for a pick me up. On a whim they go into an occult shop and play around. They mumble through a few words in an old book that they find. Then they go home. In the morning the news reports the shop YC just visited had burned down. That wouldn’t necessarily catch your interest were it not for the sudden house mate that they have. Unable to be seen by the rest of the world, they slowly entice your character into more and more extreme actions. Does YC go along with it, welcoming the new found freedom and power the devil offers? Or do they try to find some way to put the genie back in the bottle so to speak?
How far would you go to learn magic? Not the trick magicians do on stage to the oohs and awws of the crowd. But the real, mind and reality warping spellcraft? This is more of a setting than any plot really. I’m kind of itching to flex my DM skills and lead someone through a school like environment for magic. Think Harry Potter but for adults. It could be modern or old timey historical. It could have great wizard and witch battles, and wonderful zany adventures. It could have creepy old professors and loving mentors. It could have students falling madly in love or school bullies not constrained with the torments regular reality provides. I’d be happy to discuss particular characters, or a more specific plot with anyone should they take an interest.
My little spin on a few classics. Let's throw together the arranged marriage as well as the beauty and the beast trope. I'm thinking of a high fantasy world that's facing the apocalypse. The elves and orcs have been natural born enemies since the dawn of time but a cataclysmic/apocalyptic event brings them together. To solidify their newly forged alliance in the face of near-certain doom a marriage is arranged between the Orc Chieftain and the Elven Princess. What sort of apocalypse you ask? Let's figure that out together! Maybe an evil necromancer has finally succeeded in their dream of unleashing an unstoppable zombie plague! What if unspeakable monsters have begun rising from the deep? What if they came from the sky? What happens if our realm is the place Heaven and Hell decided to have their next battle? What if some cutlist has unleashed a hell gate? There are so many world ending events for us to explore! And that doesn't even get into the possible assassination attempts from the people who'd rather die alone than try to see such an alliance work. Or how two completely different cultures would function in a relationship. Would it even function at all???
Video games are changing. Gone are the days where we all sat around a couch and played on the same t.v. Gone are LAN parties, and the arcades. We’ve even finally done away with remotes. Now a days everyone is connected and playing with the Cerebral Chip, or CC for short. A little microchip you get planted into your skull and suddenly whenever you like you can hop into your favorite game. You feel every rush of the wind. Every ray of sunlight and swing of your sword. The G-forces of your race car as you pull into a hairpin turn or the fluffy feeling of your brand new friend in Animal Farm. Normally you can log in and out at a whim. But what happens if you get hacked? I’m thinking of a horror, survival kind of feel for this plot. What happens if someone changes your view so seamlessly that you start losing track of what is and isn’t reality? What if you get stuck in a game world and you can’t log out?
Heavily inspired by Drew Hayes’s Villian’s Code series. Everyone daydreams about what it would be like with super powers. Everyone wants to be the hero. It’s like drama. Everyone dreams of it until it actually starts affecting you. When it does all you want is to live a normal life with nobody bothering you. I’d love to explore this aspect in the same way The Boys and Invincible get into the superhero genre. What would it be like to date a superhero? Or a villain? What if you were the superhero dating the normie? Or the villain doing the same? What if you were normal and came across a villain incapacitated? Would you risk trying to keep them that way until a hero arrived? What if you’re just trying to sell your cabbages and the villains and heroes keep trashing your cart? What if you had powers but you didn’t want to get involved in one side or the other?
They walk amongst us you know? Them. You’d never know it just looking at them on the street. They look just like you and me. They go to work. They go to social events. They decry the government and the upcoming generation. You can really only tell the difference when the masks come on. Suddenly their every step is covered in shadow and whisper. Chanting can be heard coming from dark abandoned halls. Secrets doors and hidden passages hide their movements. What do they want? Why are they here? Think cultist horror scenarios. Secrets societies dedicated to raising a demon in corrupted youths? Drinking blood in exchange for eternal youth? Secret sex orgies that control's the world’s governments? Creepy asylums for the mentally insane where they give the patients hallucinogenic drugs? Rich operas where everyone hides behind a mask? The creepy world of cults are our playground and I’d love to write a story about one, what about you?
How far would you go to save your loved one from a mansion inhabited by souls who are out to get you and yours? Would you climb through the crypt covered in spiders? Would you battle a family of undead? Engage in a battle of witts with a gyspy witch? Would you make deals with unspeakable horrors? Incur a vendetta from a creepy ghost butler? What if you weren't there to save a loved one but instead to find a lost treasure? Perhaps it's your family's ancient home and you're there to break a curse? What if you instead find love upon the way? Maybe you fall for a specter? Mayhaps the specter sworn to protect the mansion falls for you? Maybe the loved one you came to save has already joined the legion of the dead? I'd really just like to capture the essence that Disney put out there in the 2003 movie with Eddie Murphy. We could be as light hearted as that or as dark and dismal as Edgar Allen Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher. I just want an old, Victorian style mansion, creepy lighting, and old fashion mysteries.
In a world of magic and monsters, Archmages and rugged bandits, legends and lore, there lived a girl. She was a girl like many others of her time. Just trying to impress her parents, the boy across the way, her friends. Just trying to reach out and grasp her dreams. And there's no better way to achieve you dreams, than through magic. However everything comes with a cost. When folk speak of magic, they lean into how it can solve all your problems, right any wrong. They always forget to mention how magic begins. Suddenly unleash reality altering powers onto an impressionable young woman just coming into themselves, and there will to be devastating consequences. To avoid the worst fates sorcerers travel the world seeking out apprentices, those that are already showing the signs of magical aptitude, or in the worst cases, taking in those who've already had their powers fully mature.
Okay this is one of the few straight up pairings I'm really inclined to write. It holds a special place in my heart. I'm looking for a Sorcerer(ess) x Apprentice pairing with me preferably writing the mentor. I'm imagining a world where the most powerful sorcerers have untold power, and thus have a responsibility to make sure others in touch with magic don't ruin everything by being fickle and dangerous with their spellwork. It would be up to whoever the Master is in this pairing to decide how they train a powerful up and coming sorceress(er). I'd be happy to talk the pairing in more detail with anyone interested.
Okay this is one of the few straight up pairings I'm really inclined to write. It holds a special place in my heart. I'm looking for a Sorcerer(ess) x Apprentice pairing with me preferably writing the mentor. I'm imagining a world where the most powerful sorcerers have untold power, and thus have a responsibility to make sure others in touch with magic don't ruin everything by being fickle and dangerous with their spellwork. It would be up to whoever the Master is in this pairing to decide how they train a powerful up and coming sorceress(er). I'd be happy to talk the pairing in more detail with anyone interested.
Favorite Genres:
~ Modern day supernatural
~ Modern day superhero (♡ Really Craving ATM ♡)
~ Fantasy/Dark Fantasy/ High Fantasy
~ Horror (The Saw Movie Franchise kind)
~ Horror (The Creepy Ghost kind)
*~ Writing Examples! ~*
There was nothing so infuriating in this world as mud. It stank to high heaven on the rare occasions the sun was out, ruining an otherwise beautiful day. It clung to the fine velvet of a lovingly cobbled pair of shoes, seeping through the lining and soaking one's toes. It splattered along coat tails, hems of jackets and pretty dresses. But worst of all, it was an unrelenting traveling partner. Regardless of if you planned an epic and glorious trip across the country side or a small jaunt down the street, the mud insisted on keeping you company.
It was the on the latter of such trips that Colyn Sansonett, thrice cursed the mud he wade through while answering a summons from the Viscountess. Mayhap in a truly refined city such as Elbrook, the mud would finally desist in plaguing him. The self-proclaimed advisor had heard tell that the streets there were entirely paved with cobbled stone! That unfortunately was not the case here in Claybourne. The city was aptly named after the earthly mineral that mixed with the salty air from the coast to leave a constant sour tang in everyone's nose. Nearly seven months here and it still disturbed Colyn's sensibilities. The next town he hopped off to would be far, FAR away from the coast.
"No, no, no… We're going to do better this time." Colyn chided himself softly, as his thumb and forefinger worked anxiously to curl he edges of his well twirled mustache. There would be no need to skip town this time. This was it. He'd finally landed the perfect role. An advisor to nobility! Here he'd be able to leave a mark on the world! He'd be properly appreciated for his clever ideas and thoughtful soliloquies! His tireless toiling had finally paid off. Now he was getting early morning invitations to the Viscount's chambers. The sun had finally deigned to shine down upon his luck starved life.
He was a noble's advisor, the words repeated in his head again and again as he neared the guarded side door to the Viscount's villa. He certainly looked the part. Dashing dark black hair combed over and completed with a slight curl at the tips. Distinguished mustache curled to give his strong jawline and steel blue eyes maximum sophistication. Behind him trailed the flapping dark black cloak with a counter crimson red underside. His fine attire "acquired" with his employer's blessing from a local tailor. It was a well cut doublet of deep forest green and expensive silver trimmings. His black slacks were pristine and well kept save for the damnable mud near his heels. It was a look stolen directly from Ordo Virtutum, a play he learned during his time with a traveling troupe. In it the Devil would come knocking, looking every bit the well dressed suitor stealing off with the daughters of farmers and wives of happy men.
Ducking his head through the entrance, Colyn made his way through the halls that were slowly becoming familiar. The hard mahogany estate was richly furnished. Carpets of deep reds inscribed with fine embroidery. Plenty of candles to light servants' passages through the halls. Every so often a painting would hang upon the wall, each said to be representing some prior inhabitant of the creaking manor estate. The Grimald family could trace their lineage back over ten generations. A fact Colyn was quite familiar with after he'd spent many a night with cramped hands scribing proof of said lineage. They were old stock who had been about since the founding of the kingdom, yet they had never managed to push their realm of influence past what their clay mines and fisheries could buy them.
The young advisor had finally been able to break down the enigmatic Lady Grimald just the other night. She had plans to see the family finally take that next step. And now it seems she would seek his guidance on how to go about it. With a gentle rapt of the door that barred the servant's entrance to the Grimald's private room, the dark haired conman prepared to put on the performance of his life. This would be it. Here would be the moment he'd point back to when he told his children's children why they were so well off and everyone knew their name.
"Enter." Her voice was soft but stung through the air like a whip. Viscountess Anora Grimald was the epitome of a noble matron. Her once raven hair was all the more distinguished with stark streaks of silver. She bore a strong posture linked to a healthy and firm frame that wrapped in the most fashionable silks. Sharp well maintained eyebrows. In fact her entire face was a collection of sharp features that were highlighted by crisp artistry that brough out her crimson lips and high cheeks.
She didn't immediately look up from whatever it was she was reading in her little nook. There was a small unadorned desk, a comfy looking bench, and several shelves brimming with bottles of various liquids and books. Perhaps tomes would be a more apt descriptor for the works upon the shelves. The phantom of a cramp coursed through Colyn's right hand every time he saw the massive bindings of parchment.
Not having her immediate attention upon greeting the Viscountess was not something Colyn was unaccustomed to. It had become something of a ritual for him to make his own grand entrance before she would acknowledge his presence. Thus, it was that as Colyn entered the room, he stepped into a low obsequious bow, arm trailed out to the side, flaring the cape of his cloak. "My Lady Grimald. I have traveled the weary road to answer your beck and call. How might I be of service." Though his eyes remained firmly on the floor, not a hair so much as twitched as he gave a seemingly sincere and straight faced introduction.
"Mmm, yes. The weary road between here and the Imp. I'm certain your aching feet must be dying for a rest. Perhaps I should fetch another to do my bidding." The matron graced him with a sidelong glance over her reading, brow arched to a devastating point.
"Parish the thought Viscountess. I would sooner eat my shoe than not rise up to any need you have of me!" His voice aghast with just enough dignity to not come across as overtly rude as he rose back up from the bow. With his hand over his heart he looked every bit the stage trouper he had once been.
"Bah. Enough of your dramatics Colyn." The Viscountess spat the words out then proceeded to wave them away as one might a bothersome insect. "I have need of your vapid jawing to acquire rabble I need set to task."
"Your Ladyship need only grace me with the details of what you require of this rabble and I shall procure them with glee." His grin was just as oily as his upturned mustache. It may not be advising her on how to acquire the town of Sharlsbark, but recruiter was one step up from scribe. And if his years on the mud caked roads had taught him anything, it was that any distance could be traversed one step at a time.
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The crack of wood smacking wood rang clearly through the din of the training yard. Where most of her fellow guardsmen would tire out and complain of their arms aching after sparing against training dummies for an hour, Alisoun found it an oddly soothing exercise. The reverberation behind wood striking wood wasn't half so unpleasant as the feel of a hammer striking iron. That used to leave her elbow feeling like rubber. Seven years since she routinely worked in a smithy and still she could never forget that ache.
Her willingness to battle the wooden dummies and re-accomplish sword drills again and again had earned her a mostly private corner of the training grounds. Mostly private. "Alisoun! Just the guard lady I was looking for."
It was with a weary sigh that Alisoun let her arm drop. The wooden training sword stuck tip first into the mud. With a brush of her hand she wiped at the sweat from her forehead and removed a few stray brown hairs from her vivid blue eyes. Not for the first time, she thought of cutting her hair shorter than wear it hung just past her shoulder line. It was only because her brother so adamantly protested every time she brought the subject up that she refrained from having it done. He still had hopes Alisoun would settle down someday.
With a sniff she turned to finally regard the man who had come calling. He stood some twelve paces back, deciding to use a pallet that kept the water barrels from sinking into the mud as a makeshift stage. She already had her best flat, unimpressed guard expression on her face for him. It was best to not give Colyn anything more, lest he were to break into song and dance over what he perceived as a smile. "What do you want Colyn?"
"The world and all her riches. Alas…" The man swooned with a hand up to his forehead. "She has deemed me undeserving of her favor. So I must make do in finding co-conspirators to aid me in wooing her."
Colyn had been entertaining when he first came to city. His odd remarks bringing a chuckle to the dreary everyday life of a simple militiaman. His tales and ramblings grew stale however when you were nursing a three day long hangover and had been standing guard over a door in the rain for six hours. And every low ranking guardsmen got to enjoy that beloved shift at least twice a week. "Co-conspiriting costs a hefty bag and I charge twice that for any wooing."
"Ah never fear my fiscally minded friend. I shall guarantee to make it worth your time and then some." His finger waggled in cadence with his words.
"I want more than guarantees Colyn." Her tone was harsh. The well practiced expression she wore on guard duty slipping as her brow furrowed. The guardsman moved without any conscious thought given to the act. A single menacing step drawing her closer to the well dressed man, the way her jaw set. Nearly imperceptible way her fists tightened as she regarded him. Years spent in the guard had ingrained the body language of intimidation as second nature. The only difference between being a guard and common thuggery from what the Sergeant said was steady pay.
"How does two weeks worth of pay, for an hour of not doing your job strike your fancy?" Alisoun had to disagree with the Sergeant.
It was the on the latter of such trips that Colyn Sansonett, thrice cursed the mud he wade through while answering a summons from the Viscountess. Mayhap in a truly refined city such as Elbrook, the mud would finally desist in plaguing him. The self-proclaimed advisor had heard tell that the streets there were entirely paved with cobbled stone! That unfortunately was not the case here in Claybourne. The city was aptly named after the earthly mineral that mixed with the salty air from the coast to leave a constant sour tang in everyone's nose. Nearly seven months here and it still disturbed Colyn's sensibilities. The next town he hopped off to would be far, FAR away from the coast.
"No, no, no… We're going to do better this time." Colyn chided himself softly, as his thumb and forefinger worked anxiously to curl he edges of his well twirled mustache. There would be no need to skip town this time. This was it. He'd finally landed the perfect role. An advisor to nobility! Here he'd be able to leave a mark on the world! He'd be properly appreciated for his clever ideas and thoughtful soliloquies! His tireless toiling had finally paid off. Now he was getting early morning invitations to the Viscount's chambers. The sun had finally deigned to shine down upon his luck starved life.
He was a noble's advisor, the words repeated in his head again and again as he neared the guarded side door to the Viscount's villa. He certainly looked the part. Dashing dark black hair combed over and completed with a slight curl at the tips. Distinguished mustache curled to give his strong jawline and steel blue eyes maximum sophistication. Behind him trailed the flapping dark black cloak with a counter crimson red underside. His fine attire "acquired" with his employer's blessing from a local tailor. It was a well cut doublet of deep forest green and expensive silver trimmings. His black slacks were pristine and well kept save for the damnable mud near his heels. It was a look stolen directly from Ordo Virtutum, a play he learned during his time with a traveling troupe. In it the Devil would come knocking, looking every bit the well dressed suitor stealing off with the daughters of farmers and wives of happy men.
Ducking his head through the entrance, Colyn made his way through the halls that were slowly becoming familiar. The hard mahogany estate was richly furnished. Carpets of deep reds inscribed with fine embroidery. Plenty of candles to light servants' passages through the halls. Every so often a painting would hang upon the wall, each said to be representing some prior inhabitant of the creaking manor estate. The Grimald family could trace their lineage back over ten generations. A fact Colyn was quite familiar with after he'd spent many a night with cramped hands scribing proof of said lineage. They were old stock who had been about since the founding of the kingdom, yet they had never managed to push their realm of influence past what their clay mines and fisheries could buy them.
The young advisor had finally been able to break down the enigmatic Lady Grimald just the other night. She had plans to see the family finally take that next step. And now it seems she would seek his guidance on how to go about it. With a gentle rapt of the door that barred the servant's entrance to the Grimald's private room, the dark haired conman prepared to put on the performance of his life. This would be it. Here would be the moment he'd point back to when he told his children's children why they were so well off and everyone knew their name.
"Enter." Her voice was soft but stung through the air like a whip. Viscountess Anora Grimald was the epitome of a noble matron. Her once raven hair was all the more distinguished with stark streaks of silver. She bore a strong posture linked to a healthy and firm frame that wrapped in the most fashionable silks. Sharp well maintained eyebrows. In fact her entire face was a collection of sharp features that were highlighted by crisp artistry that brough out her crimson lips and high cheeks.
She didn't immediately look up from whatever it was she was reading in her little nook. There was a small unadorned desk, a comfy looking bench, and several shelves brimming with bottles of various liquids and books. Perhaps tomes would be a more apt descriptor for the works upon the shelves. The phantom of a cramp coursed through Colyn's right hand every time he saw the massive bindings of parchment.
Not having her immediate attention upon greeting the Viscountess was not something Colyn was unaccustomed to. It had become something of a ritual for him to make his own grand entrance before she would acknowledge his presence. Thus, it was that as Colyn entered the room, he stepped into a low obsequious bow, arm trailed out to the side, flaring the cape of his cloak. "My Lady Grimald. I have traveled the weary road to answer your beck and call. How might I be of service." Though his eyes remained firmly on the floor, not a hair so much as twitched as he gave a seemingly sincere and straight faced introduction.
"Mmm, yes. The weary road between here and the Imp. I'm certain your aching feet must be dying for a rest. Perhaps I should fetch another to do my bidding." The matron graced him with a sidelong glance over her reading, brow arched to a devastating point.
"Parish the thought Viscountess. I would sooner eat my shoe than not rise up to any need you have of me!" His voice aghast with just enough dignity to not come across as overtly rude as he rose back up from the bow. With his hand over his heart he looked every bit the stage trouper he had once been.
"Bah. Enough of your dramatics Colyn." The Viscountess spat the words out then proceeded to wave them away as one might a bothersome insect. "I have need of your vapid jawing to acquire rabble I need set to task."
"Your Ladyship need only grace me with the details of what you require of this rabble and I shall procure them with glee." His grin was just as oily as his upturned mustache. It may not be advising her on how to acquire the town of Sharlsbark, but recruiter was one step up from scribe. And if his years on the mud caked roads had taught him anything, it was that any distance could be traversed one step at a time.
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The crack of wood smacking wood rang clearly through the din of the training yard. Where most of her fellow guardsmen would tire out and complain of their arms aching after sparing against training dummies for an hour, Alisoun found it an oddly soothing exercise. The reverberation behind wood striking wood wasn't half so unpleasant as the feel of a hammer striking iron. That used to leave her elbow feeling like rubber. Seven years since she routinely worked in a smithy and still she could never forget that ache.
Her willingness to battle the wooden dummies and re-accomplish sword drills again and again had earned her a mostly private corner of the training grounds. Mostly private. "Alisoun! Just the guard lady I was looking for."
It was with a weary sigh that Alisoun let her arm drop. The wooden training sword stuck tip first into the mud. With a brush of her hand she wiped at the sweat from her forehead and removed a few stray brown hairs from her vivid blue eyes. Not for the first time, she thought of cutting her hair shorter than wear it hung just past her shoulder line. It was only because her brother so adamantly protested every time she brought the subject up that she refrained from having it done. He still had hopes Alisoun would settle down someday.
With a sniff she turned to finally regard the man who had come calling. He stood some twelve paces back, deciding to use a pallet that kept the water barrels from sinking into the mud as a makeshift stage. She already had her best flat, unimpressed guard expression on her face for him. It was best to not give Colyn anything more, lest he were to break into song and dance over what he perceived as a smile. "What do you want Colyn?"
"The world and all her riches. Alas…" The man swooned with a hand up to his forehead. "She has deemed me undeserving of her favor. So I must make do in finding co-conspirators to aid me in wooing her."
Colyn had been entertaining when he first came to city. His odd remarks bringing a chuckle to the dreary everyday life of a simple militiaman. His tales and ramblings grew stale however when you were nursing a three day long hangover and had been standing guard over a door in the rain for six hours. And every low ranking guardsmen got to enjoy that beloved shift at least twice a week. "Co-conspiriting costs a hefty bag and I charge twice that for any wooing."
"Ah never fear my fiscally minded friend. I shall guarantee to make it worth your time and then some." His finger waggled in cadence with his words.
"I want more than guarantees Colyn." Her tone was harsh. The well practiced expression she wore on guard duty slipping as her brow furrowed. The guardsman moved without any conscious thought given to the act. A single menacing step drawing her closer to the well dressed man, the way her jaw set. Nearly imperceptible way her fists tightened as she regarded him. Years spent in the guard had ingrained the body language of intimidation as second nature. The only difference between being a guard and common thuggery from what the Sergeant said was steady pay.
"How does two weeks worth of pay, for an hour of not doing your job strike your fancy?" Alisoun had to disagree with the Sergeant.
With each thrust of his hips Matty could feel his body tensing. It built from the tendon running from heel to calf. It wound up in his shoulders and down the muscles of his spine. It hardened his grip on her luscious curves, farm worked hands groped with at his hips. Their vice like grip unlike anything he'd have dared used on his precious Eliza before this moment. Her sultry moans, and the way she pleaded for more of him burned through his chest, down his spine and into his soul. They gave his body the will to flex his back and provided him life when his lungs strained for air.
"Gruugh, God damn it… El…" He groaned between ragged breaths as her slick warmth took him in again and again. Her gasps struck him like electricity. The way slid and ground against her walls reverberated through him like thunder. The blissful feel of her skin against his chest was like cool rain that made the storm brewing through him bearable. He took the budding ball of need and built up frustration out upon the poor Southern Belle who writhed under his attention. Each moment tightened his hold on her, forced his hips to drive back into her just that much rougher, inching them closer and closer towards the headboard.
The way she cried out without her hand over her mouth should have given him pause. He should have thought to ease her back down, to quiet her to save them both the embarrassment that would be sure to come were any of her neighbors home. But he didn't care for that possible future, or any future. His whole world wrapped up in that moment with this woman he was sure he'd share the rest of his life with.
All he thought of was pressing upon her that need he had for her. For her breath, her touch, her scent. The inexplicable internal demand that wanted him to crush her beneath his weight. Taking the tightness that licked at the edges of his limbs and stirred in his core and forcing it back into her. She guided and encouraged him, let him know when he struck her just right, filled her up perfectly so that her voice rose and his cock thrummed. With her hips held up he bottomed out again and again trying to go deeper, reach farther and each failure left him just that much more frustrated. His fingers crawled across her as he tried to adjust his grip and find that perfect spot that would satisfy his desire. They worked from her hips and down to her rear, spread her cheeks and crawled up the small of her back. Growls of hunger ripped from his throat as time and again it wasn't quite right. With the force of a man used to breaking livestock, he shifted his grip on her, one hand pinning down her shoulder to the bed while the other kept her hips raised. He kept her there as he drove himself up onto his knees, feet and calves helped give him force as he fucked her sopping sex into the bed, her body folding in on itself.
That slight crescendo of her voice rang out to him like the chorus of the Heavenly Host. The sudden pull that brought him deeper into her only served to draw up a nagging pressure that no longer dissipated within him. He needed more of that. Yearned for it more than he ever had in his life.
But she didn't let him slide out easily now. Every thrust was a contest of strength as he drove back against the claim of her legs. His hips fought to gain the room to pull back and down, and he slowly lost ground. Each thrust was just a little smaller, the tip of his shaft stayed in her touch deeper, rubbed more deeply against the sensitive cluster of nerves in her sex. He fell into a fitful trance as he fought back against both her and the slowly building pressure in his core. Each thrust adding a layer of struggle, a layer of aggression and desire that brought his breaths to struggling gasps. He never registered the tear of the sheets, he didn't feel the wet stain of juices that was pooling under them. The faint click of the apartment door never even crossed his mind as his vision faded around the corners.
All he could see, feel, touch, smell, and desire was her. He bubbled with it. His farm worn fingers worked into her shoulder as he pulled her down against his thrust every bit as forcefully as her legs held him. His husky breath growled directly into her ear as he buried his face into her blonde hair. His teeth scratched against her throat and ear as his lips parted.
A high pitch ringing drove all sound but hers from his ears. The movement of his hips ground to a near halt. He barely moved inside of her now as he kept her snuggled right up to his base. The subtlest of movements that brushed his primed tip right up against her walls. With choked gasps managed, "Eliza… I'm gonna…"
The wound cord that had tightened his entire body snapped. His vision pulled back in as he felt his body convulse, one last torque of his arm pulling her upper half into him. An explosion of pleasure ripped free from his core. His girth twitched inside of her as it flooded the condom between them with his milky white seed. All of which was followed by relief that washed away every ache, tore away at every worry he didn't know he had and left a dull calm over the big man as he felt himself erupt inside Eliza's warmth.
"Nnng… fuckin' gawd…" With a heavy breath Mathew eased his grip on Eliza, his body otherwise completely still as he recovered from the shock of his orgasm. The sensitive head of his till thrummed with ecstasy as he stayed inside. He weight slumping atop the smaller woman as he let her body unfold. He hadn't even noticed the light hum that he had started as his thumb now lovingly brushed over her shoulder. "Mmm… I love you Elizabeth Bates."
With care in his movements, he gently lifted his head, shaft still buried up to the hilt inside the sweet country girl, and gave her a passion burnt kiss. As gentle and soft as an early spring breeze. Afraid of the shocks of electric ecstasy any excessive movements might elicit from his spent member.
"Gruugh, God damn it… El…" He groaned between ragged breaths as her slick warmth took him in again and again. Her gasps struck him like electricity. The way slid and ground against her walls reverberated through him like thunder. The blissful feel of her skin against his chest was like cool rain that made the storm brewing through him bearable. He took the budding ball of need and built up frustration out upon the poor Southern Belle who writhed under his attention. Each moment tightened his hold on her, forced his hips to drive back into her just that much rougher, inching them closer and closer towards the headboard.
The way she cried out without her hand over her mouth should have given him pause. He should have thought to ease her back down, to quiet her to save them both the embarrassment that would be sure to come were any of her neighbors home. But he didn't care for that possible future, or any future. His whole world wrapped up in that moment with this woman he was sure he'd share the rest of his life with.
All he thought of was pressing upon her that need he had for her. For her breath, her touch, her scent. The inexplicable internal demand that wanted him to crush her beneath his weight. Taking the tightness that licked at the edges of his limbs and stirred in his core and forcing it back into her. She guided and encouraged him, let him know when he struck her just right, filled her up perfectly so that her voice rose and his cock thrummed. With her hips held up he bottomed out again and again trying to go deeper, reach farther and each failure left him just that much more frustrated. His fingers crawled across her as he tried to adjust his grip and find that perfect spot that would satisfy his desire. They worked from her hips and down to her rear, spread her cheeks and crawled up the small of her back. Growls of hunger ripped from his throat as time and again it wasn't quite right. With the force of a man used to breaking livestock, he shifted his grip on her, one hand pinning down her shoulder to the bed while the other kept her hips raised. He kept her there as he drove himself up onto his knees, feet and calves helped give him force as he fucked her sopping sex into the bed, her body folding in on itself.
That slight crescendo of her voice rang out to him like the chorus of the Heavenly Host. The sudden pull that brought him deeper into her only served to draw up a nagging pressure that no longer dissipated within him. He needed more of that. Yearned for it more than he ever had in his life.
But she didn't let him slide out easily now. Every thrust was a contest of strength as he drove back against the claim of her legs. His hips fought to gain the room to pull back and down, and he slowly lost ground. Each thrust was just a little smaller, the tip of his shaft stayed in her touch deeper, rubbed more deeply against the sensitive cluster of nerves in her sex. He fell into a fitful trance as he fought back against both her and the slowly building pressure in his core. Each thrust adding a layer of struggle, a layer of aggression and desire that brought his breaths to struggling gasps. He never registered the tear of the sheets, he didn't feel the wet stain of juices that was pooling under them. The faint click of the apartment door never even crossed his mind as his vision faded around the corners.
All he could see, feel, touch, smell, and desire was her. He bubbled with it. His farm worn fingers worked into her shoulder as he pulled her down against his thrust every bit as forcefully as her legs held him. His husky breath growled directly into her ear as he buried his face into her blonde hair. His teeth scratched against her throat and ear as his lips parted.
A high pitch ringing drove all sound but hers from his ears. The movement of his hips ground to a near halt. He barely moved inside of her now as he kept her snuggled right up to his base. The subtlest of movements that brushed his primed tip right up against her walls. With choked gasps managed, "Eliza… I'm gonna…"
The wound cord that had tightened his entire body snapped. His vision pulled back in as he felt his body convulse, one last torque of his arm pulling her upper half into him. An explosion of pleasure ripped free from his core. His girth twitched inside of her as it flooded the condom between them with his milky white seed. All of which was followed by relief that washed away every ache, tore away at every worry he didn't know he had and left a dull calm over the big man as he felt himself erupt inside Eliza's warmth.
"Nnng… fuckin' gawd…" With a heavy breath Mathew eased his grip on Eliza, his body otherwise completely still as he recovered from the shock of his orgasm. The sensitive head of his till thrummed with ecstasy as he stayed inside. He weight slumping atop the smaller woman as he let her body unfold. He hadn't even noticed the light hum that he had started as his thumb now lovingly brushed over her shoulder. "Mmm… I love you Elizabeth Bates."
With care in his movements, he gently lifted his head, shaft still buried up to the hilt inside the sweet country girl, and gave her a passion burnt kiss. As gentle and soft as an early spring breeze. Afraid of the shocks of electric ecstasy any excessive movements might elicit from his spent member.
Just as the half-elf was truly getting used to the foreign, irregular feeling inside of her it was stripped away. At first Alexandria was scared the elf might have something new and cruel to torture her with. Then she was saddened at the lack of pleasuring sensation. The needful rise of her hips, the sway of her waist, attempting to entice some measure of attention. And the attention did then come. The bulbous head of a more familiar shape. The way it filled her, and pressed along her walls so much more lovingly than the crop had. Alex's head rocked back, her entire body contorting as best it could to aid in the toys efforts to push her closer to that edge she had sworn herself off from by the elf's command. Had the half-elf not been so preoccupied she might have questioned why an elven priestess would have such sized toy. But she had no time for such ridiculous thoughts. Her body was a storm of feelings. Her heightened sense completely in control as she was removed of so much else. Each flick of those poor abused purple and swollen nipples, each tug and jerk, twist and squeeze causing the half-elf to bounce about on the floor. She strained like an animal against the ropes. Her back arching again and again as her hips twisted away, flopping about uncontrollably as the dominatrix delighted in sending her from one end of the spectrum to the other.
Moans of passion, screams of pain, guiltless expressions of each easily heard throughout the somewhat private bed chamber of the priestess. As the night wore on she no longer had control over what her body did. A passenger merely along for the ride. A mere spectator in the cruel, loving sensations brought about by Ama'lea. Each time she came so close to her ecstasy laden crescendo of pleasure it was stolen away. Often violently. With screams of pain. Searing jolts of pleasure. The cathartic sessions of weeping in between needful rounds of lusting. Like clay before a potter, Alexandria was putty before Lyra's childhood friend.
Inevitably the feelings became intertwined. The pain expected with the pleasure. The pleasure so intense it became painful. The cracks of the crop along her sensitive and abused clusters provoking joyous screams. Shocks that threatened to push Alexandria towards the edge. The twisted young woman's climax a seeming inevitability in such an environment as she grew closer and closer to the leaping over the edge, less she were left cruelly untouched.
Moans of passion, screams of pain, guiltless expressions of each easily heard throughout the somewhat private bed chamber of the priestess. As the night wore on she no longer had control over what her body did. A passenger merely along for the ride. A mere spectator in the cruel, loving sensations brought about by Ama'lea. Each time she came so close to her ecstasy laden crescendo of pleasure it was stolen away. Often violently. With screams of pain. Searing jolts of pleasure. The cathartic sessions of weeping in between needful rounds of lusting. Like clay before a potter, Alexandria was putty before Lyra's childhood friend.
Inevitably the feelings became intertwined. The pain expected with the pleasure. The pleasure so intense it became painful. The cracks of the crop along her sensitive and abused clusters provoking joyous screams. Shocks that threatened to push Alexandria towards the edge. The twisted young woman's climax a seeming inevitability in such an environment as she grew closer and closer to the leaping over the edge, less she were left cruelly untouched.
There it was. The sudden inevitable chaos that came with every job. It was too much to hope that this job of all the jobs she had ever taken would be the one to go off without a hitch. Even with how gullible the princess had been. Once more that devilish grin swept over Emilly's lips as she gave up the slow crawl they had taken, the horn signaling the start of a sprint.
The half-elf was prepared for the guards in their path. A measly two wasn't going to stop her getting out of here with her prize. The pack of truly dangerous enemies lay behind her, and were moving far too slowly to play apart in what was to come. She was ready for it all except for the sudden rising heat that seemed to emanate from the girl in her arms.
The change of hair color was almost more disturbing. Magic? Nobody ever told me she was magic! It was almost enough of a distraction to cause her to slip up her next step. She didn't know what was going to be coming from the princess yet, but she knew what the guards were capable of and they were one of the very last obstacles in her way.
With a hard shove she dove through the hedgeline, pushing Nydre with all her might at the guard on her left hoping to catch him off guard with the unexpected move, counting on his unwillingness to hurt the princess to effectively neutralize him for a brief moment. Continuing that flow of action once shoved away, coat and all, Emilly brought her hidden knife up and across her body, effectively burying it into the skull of the guard on her right. The blade slipping through the man's eye right up to the hilt.
As the remaining guard caught the princess Em continued to run forward right into the princess's back sending the three of them tumbling to the ground. On the way down, the assassin reached down into her boot drawing another knife, the contact of the ground threatening to jar the weapon from her grip. She rolled with all the furious violence of an animal fighting for its life, beating the armorbound man in terms of reflexes. She scrambled up to her knees shoving her blade up under his chin guard, bursting the blood vessels within and releasing a torrent of hot sticky liquid over her hand and down his chest where the princess had been thrown.
Just as quickly as she had dashed into action the half-elf scrambled to her feet, the wicked grin upon her lips meeting with an expression of confusion and worry as the princess seamed anything but a normal maiden at this point. Still she didn't have time to hesitate. If she didn't finish this job she was a dead woman. There was no running from the situation now that she was in the thick of it. So as always, she barrelled on ahead with the plan, damned be the consequences. Reaching down for the mute woman's wrist Emilly jerked and pulled trying to get the woman up on her feet and running again. "Time to go princess!"
The half-elf was prepared for the guards in their path. A measly two wasn't going to stop her getting out of here with her prize. The pack of truly dangerous enemies lay behind her, and were moving far too slowly to play apart in what was to come. She was ready for it all except for the sudden rising heat that seemed to emanate from the girl in her arms.
The change of hair color was almost more disturbing. Magic? Nobody ever told me she was magic! It was almost enough of a distraction to cause her to slip up her next step. She didn't know what was going to be coming from the princess yet, but she knew what the guards were capable of and they were one of the very last obstacles in her way.
With a hard shove she dove through the hedgeline, pushing Nydre with all her might at the guard on her left hoping to catch him off guard with the unexpected move, counting on his unwillingness to hurt the princess to effectively neutralize him for a brief moment. Continuing that flow of action once shoved away, coat and all, Emilly brought her hidden knife up and across her body, effectively burying it into the skull of the guard on her right. The blade slipping through the man's eye right up to the hilt.
As the remaining guard caught the princess Em continued to run forward right into the princess's back sending the three of them tumbling to the ground. On the way down, the assassin reached down into her boot drawing another knife, the contact of the ground threatening to jar the weapon from her grip. She rolled with all the furious violence of an animal fighting for its life, beating the armorbound man in terms of reflexes. She scrambled up to her knees shoving her blade up under his chin guard, bursting the blood vessels within and releasing a torrent of hot sticky liquid over her hand and down his chest where the princess had been thrown.
Just as quickly as she had dashed into action the half-elf scrambled to her feet, the wicked grin upon her lips meeting with an expression of confusion and worry as the princess seamed anything but a normal maiden at this point. Still she didn't have time to hesitate. If she didn't finish this job she was a dead woman. There was no running from the situation now that she was in the thick of it. So as always, she barrelled on ahead with the plan, damned be the consequences. Reaching down for the mute woman's wrist Emilly jerked and pulled trying to get the woman up on her feet and running again. "Time to go princess!"
"Tsk tsk. It's too late to claim ignorance now." The taller man chided, closing the distance between himself and the woman with only a few steps. In a matter of moments Baran had a hold of her wrist, fingers wrapping tightly around the joint. With a yank he forced her arm out, extending it between them. His opposite hand gruffly pulling up her sleeve as she attempted to retreat. Baran's eyes focused on the now exposed bruise with suspicion. The details of it were so vivid it didn't seem like an illusion. At least if it were, it would have been a particularly well crafted one. With his thumb he pressed down into the joint, eyes flicking from bruised flesh to the woman's face. The needle kept threateningly off to the side in his remaining fingers.
"If you're not a spy what other possible reason would the Council have in sending you, a self proclaimed non-mage, who bares the mark of being recently tested? Hrm? Why did they send you here?" The Arch Mage's voice dropped into a gruff baritone. His furrowed brow sharply lining with accusation as his bright gaze darkened upon her face. His change from light hearted banter to near snarling expression occurring in the breadth of a heartbeat. Baran's own ignorance on the matter sent the tried and tested man into the default aggression that had seen him through a decade of being enemies with one of the most powerful men in the world. He kept himself close to the freckled covered and pale faced young woman, forcing his daunting presence upon her, gladly walking Alice up against a wall should she continue to retreat.
"If you're not a spy what other possible reason would the Council have in sending you, a self proclaimed non-mage, who bares the mark of being recently tested? Hrm? Why did they send you here?" The Arch Mage's voice dropped into a gruff baritone. His furrowed brow sharply lining with accusation as his bright gaze darkened upon her face. His change from light hearted banter to near snarling expression occurring in the breadth of a heartbeat. Baran's own ignorance on the matter sent the tried and tested man into the default aggression that had seen him through a decade of being enemies with one of the most powerful men in the world. He kept himself close to the freckled covered and pale faced young woman, forcing his daunting presence upon her, gladly walking Alice up against a wall should she continue to retreat.
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