Salutations!
I'm a semi-literate writer here to
fill all of your sadistic dominant needs.
Of course, I'm rather versatile
and if you need something a bit less impactful
I'd be glad to help too.
Status - OPEN ▲ Age: Twenty-Eight
Time zone: EST
Writing style: Third person
RP locations: PMs | Threads | Discord
Average post lengths: 800 - 1,200 words
F-List: Link ▼
Kinks ▲
Impact Play
Wax Play
Master | Servant
Aftercare
Dacryphilia
Biastophilia ▼
Pairings ▲
Prince x Knight
Soldier x Civilian
Brother x Sister
Mobster X Civilian
Captain X Crewmember
Employer X Maid ▼
Themes ▲
Sadism And Masochism
Forbidden Love
Power Imblance
Age Gap
Obsession
Dominance and Submission ▼
Plot Ideas
Plot 1: At only twenty-six years old, MC is the youngest homicide detective in Philadelphia. By most assessments, he’s cold, calculated, and fantastically good at his job. It’s this callous view of the world that often gets him in trouble. One day while investigating a double homicide, he discovers forensic evidence that places YC at the scene of the crime. Seeing an opportunity to explore his more nefarious side, YC is blackmailed into being his personal call girl for rest and relaxation.
Image Ideas
Writing Samples
Sample 1:
Roderick took careful note of Aliyah’s attempt to create distance between them. He could tell from her movement the way his stern gaze affected her, the way she melted beneath his glare. Her nervous timidity plucked at the core of Professor Bennett’s soul. Roderick chewed his lower lip as he traced the familiar form of Aliyah's frame beneath her garments, a nefarious calculation present in his mind as he did so. It was hard to say what Roderick Bennett’s reputation was. He may not have been seen as a lecher, but he was known for his fervor and vitality, unafraid to stand up to the dogmatism of his peers.
Aliyah simultaneously represented a threat to Roderick’s reputation and a confirmation of his indelible spirit. A man far more concerned with the beauty of life than its more unimaginative facets. Roderick's time as a professor had somewhat stunted his ungovernable nature, but Aliyah roused the old nonconformist inside him, if only for a moment.
“Restraint is an honorable trait in youth, Aliyah but a curse in maturity.” Professor Bennett spoke with an authoritative tone, his previous look of introspection replaced with one of affection. Roderick took a careful step towards the young woman, aware of how little time they had together before his next class began. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and kissed Aliyah passionately. His tongue explored the depth of his assistant’s mouth with virile lust. He purposefully lost himself in the moist folds of her mouth, his eyes shut tightly as he prodded at her walls with his tongue. There was a part of him that wanted to pull her tightly to his chest but held back.
The break of their kiss was just as sudden as its start. Roderick’s eyes burst open as he pulled his lips free of Aliyah’s. He glared sharply at her and said,” Those bruises on your skin should tell you that I’m not a man to be trifled with. You’re going to be at my house by eight-thirty tonight or else.” Roderick ordered with a sinister grin. He was aware that Aliyah had the ability to go to the Dean and have him fired, but his professorship was a minor part of his income, and while such a scandal might have lowered the value of his artwork, he already had enough money to retire comfortably.
Without another word, The Professor turned on his heel and headed for the seat behind his desk. Within moments, the lecture hall was once again packed with an eager crowd of students and Roderick began his lesson anew. The rest of Professor Bennett’s day passed without incident and he left the campus at six o’clock as he did every day while school was in session.
As Roderick entered his townhouse, he was greeted by a drowsy Bruce. He reached down to scratch his beloved feline's chin. “ I might have a guest tonight, Bruce. Do you remember the pretty girl from a few weeks ago? Turns out, she’s a student of mine. How dangerous.” Roderick tidied up his house before he went to work on dinner, Miso Salmon with jade rice.
Sample 2:
Large French vanilla hot, no sugar, no cream. Sonny learned to drink his coffee straight, off the Korean Peninsula in his mid-twenties. He was a giant of a man, six foot five and well over two-hundred and twenty pounds. He had gained about forty pounds since active duty, the tone and muscular frame of his youth still present in his build. He was sharply dressed though not ostentatiously so. A professionally tailored Blue Italian suit with a gold handkerchief covered his massive frame from head to toe, accented by hand-fitted Gucci loafers that rested on his feet. A heavy five o’clock shadow just shy of a full beard graced his jawline complemented by a short buzz cut on top.
He was known as the Captain to those of the criminal underworld who were aware of his presence though the nickname was strictly ironic, he had never been promoted above the rank of petty officer in the actual Navy. Robinson was born on the south end of The Bronx, the son of a high school janitor and a hairdresser. His youth was marked with the typical violence one would expect from a low-income neighborhood in New York. At sixteen, he made friends with a group of local hoodlums a bit too rambunctious for their own good. A year later he caught a first-degree assault and battery charge, when the Judge gave him the choice between prison or the Navy, Sonny chose the Navy. He spent four years aboard the USS Chaffe before his honorable discharge. When he returned those hoodlums had managed to make themselves into two of the most powerful drug dealers on the entire east coast and they were in desperate need of a bodyguard. Someone who could handle himself under pressure and knew his way around a gun, two skills Sonny had picked up in his time in the Navy. Fast forward a decade later and he was now one of the most powerful Crips in the entire state.
The clock on the dashboard read 9:15 am. It was a typical humid August morning and Sonny was on his way to collect a sizable debt one of his regulars had picked up. Sonny wasn’t a drug dealer, he mostly ran guns and back-alley casinos. Drugs were messy and the DEA was a headache that he wanted no part of.
Eighteen hundred Maple Avenue. It was a courtly four-bedroom house on Long Island. Sonny pulled up to the street in his BMW, his eyes fixed on the empty driveaway. An irritated curse word escaped his lips as he parked beside the sidewalk. As the door of his coupe swung upon, Sonny sighed heavily, seventy-six thousand dollars gone in the blink of an eye. The black tire marks present on the asphalt, a sign that someone had abandoned home in a hurry. Curious as to whether or not the house held information about the location of his debtor, Sonny strolled over to the front door and was shocked to find it unlocked.
Sonny certainly had underlings he could’ve assigned to this task but he was the sort of man who liked to get his own hands dirty from time to time. He strolled into the home without a word, his eyes focused on the elegant curios that decorated its interior. The Captain took special note of a photo hung on one of the walls of his debtor and a young woman he had never met before. Perhaps she could help him find his quarry if he could figure out where she was. The front room had a decidedly feminine touch, light-colored furniture, and a faint hint of perfume. The furniture was well-crafted but heavily worn from years of use.
The kitchen was in good order. The dishes were clean and placed on the dish rack on the countertop. The modern appliances and electronics in the room showed that whoever lived here had a decent amount of wealth at one time. Sonny had no idea how much any of the stuff here was worth and the resale of home goods was far from his forte. Nonetheless, he continued to stroll through the house blissfully unaware of any other occupants inside. Robinson was armed as he always was but he was more concerned about getting his money back than a potential ambush at the moment.
Satisfied that there was nothing of use to be found on the ground floor, Sonny began to make his way up the stairs towards the bedrooms. He found four doors, three of them open. The one that was clearly the master bedroom had a bed with a pile of blankets bunched up on top of it and a few pairs of men’s trousers in the closet. It was definitely the bedroom of his target but not much else could be gleaned by its content but that.
The second room was a bit odd. It looked like a child’s bedroom that hadn’t been touched in a decade or more. Without context, the room gave Sonny the creeps. Perhaps it was left as a shrine to a deceased child or something, Sonny couldn’t make heads or tails of it. The third was a bathroom which Sonny ignored.
As he attempted to open the fourth door, however, Sonny was shocked to find that it was locked. He turned to look for a key when a familiar sound caught his attention. The sound of respiration. His brow raised and without concern for its inhabitants, the gigantic man began to wrap on the door with a closed fist. “Whoever's in there has three minutes to come out of that room and greet me or I’m going to kick this door down.” The Gangster’s voice was deep and authoritative. Robinson continued to bang on the door loudly as he waited for a response from within. Purposefully stood to the side of the door as he did so, aware that a gunshot could come from inside at any moment.
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