Mx Female The Domesticated Domme [BDSM - NSFW]

[Montresor]

"Slaves, obey in all things your Masters according to the flesh; not with eyeservice, as menpleasers; but in singleness of heart, fearing the Lord"

- Colossians 3:22​

​

Welcome to a thread meant to illustrate a very specific plot concept that has suddenly dug itself deep into my fixations. I hope you'll stay awhile long enough to consider that plot, but first I would like to go on a tangent and get some basic details out of the way.


An Introduction
I am a male Dominant looking for a proper and depthful submissive (or in this case switch) to play with; someone who understands and adores their place. My characters tend to be on the younger side as I am a young man and prefer to habit 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 posts per day (this may currently vary), 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.

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 patriarchal views 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 (especially with this particular plot concept) 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 consensual, but I do not typically go for pure non-con as it doesn't seem to provide a lot for me to work with.


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.


The Plot
Now that some of the basics are out of the way, we can consider this itch. I'm looking for a character who is a confident Domme; 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 pain-inflicting 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. Admittedly, you probably saw this coming... but being that you did, and are still reading, I'll presume your interest.

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 and surrender. There is a lot of kinks to cover, so I'll leave most of the physically steamy stuff there. In essence, I would like to take someone who has grown perhaps a little burdened by their scene image as a powerful Mistress, and transform her into a beautiful doll.

WHAT THIS IS NOT: A story about bimbofication or 'dumbing down' an intelligent woman. Quite the contrary. Be mindful that personal shame and a good pinch of humiliation are in mind, but I don't have an interest in 'brainwashing' a character until they may as well be mindless. I want to imagine the eyes of a brilliant, admirable, and equal character, and I want to read them weep with fear and joy.


Primary Fetishes (NSFW)

Kinks (NSFW)

F-List

-Chastity Devices
-Orgasm Control/ Denial
-Anal Virginity
-Anal Training
-Oral Training
-Posture Training
-Latex/ Encasement
-Bondage
-Gags/ Muzzles/ Blindfolds/ Hoods
-Pain/ Impact Play
-Pet Play
-Sexism
-Marking
-Stockholme Syndrome/ Aftercare
-Forced Clothes Wearing/ Pantyhose/ High Heels
-Dub Con into Consent
-Domestication/ Breeding/ Pregnancy

...And potentially more!

Common Dislikes

(*subject to discussion)

-Age play
-Bimbos
-Brats
-Hentai
-CYAO
-Doubling
-Monsters*
-Unrealistic anatomy
-GM/ Player dynamic
-Referring to vaginal discharge as "juice"
-Most fandoms*
-Fantasy without world building*
-Sci-fi without science*

How To Get There
So, we have our plot, we have our core characters, and we have an idea of all the messy things they may get up to, but how do we start? This part I am going to leave to your preference. Would you prefer things to be initially fully consensual, such as YC searching for a Dom on their own out of a reluctant desire to know what its like to love on the other end of chains? Is it actually an assault at first, as perhaps MC is someone who pretended to be a potential submissive to get her alone before springing his trap? Or is it somewhere in the realm of dubious? As mentioned, I leave this to you, but I won't leave you without at least a suggestion...

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. That's where the game starts at least...

So, what do you think? Are you ready to wear the collar?



Writing Sample

Asher x Kieva

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...

Asher x 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.​

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.​

"...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

 

[Montresor]

BUMP