Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Shivering in the cold cellar, she had been left nothing but her socks, and a dirty, faded grey tanktop. Her head spun with the abuse she had suffered in transit to their current location, which was unknown to her. All she could remember was walking to her car from the bar downtown, and as she was unlocking her car, she felt something smash into the back of her head, and she was out. When she awoke, her head was throbbing, and she was restrained somehow, wrists bound behind her, with something wound around her tummy, just beneath her breasts, pinning her elbows to her sides. Tight and unyielding, it felt like ductape had been wound around her a few times, which must have been used as her blindfold and gag as well, as if they took a roll and just continued to twirl it around her face until her lips and eyes were completely cut off, leaving only enough room for her nostrils to breathe.
The rumble of a big truck, or van could be felt beneath her, with the sound of a few other men talking quietly amongst themselves, the sound of a radio drowning out their conversation for the most part. When she started to wriggle lightly, her hair pulled at the tape that was wound around her head, making her squeal lightly, which made her head hurt even worst. Someone noticed that she was awake, and a hand grabbed the back of her head by her hair, and the sound of him hocking was heard, before he spit down a glob onto the cheeks of her face, only partly showing between strips of tape. Then she felt someone deliver a powerful kick to the middle of her stomach, doubling her on the ground like a worm, knee's touching her forehead as she struggled to breathe, before she faded back into darkness once more. When she awoke, she was in the cold cellar, with the ductape still wound around her. She was set on a dirty, lumpy spring mattress that was just laid out on the floor, with stains and smells covering it's beaten, raggedy form, making her squirm and scrunch her nose, trying to wriggle her bound form from the disgusting surface. It was then that she heard a door open, followed by the sounds of many consecutive feet.
With my mind wrapped in books and my nights filled with Netflix, I've been spiraling down further into the depths of Depravity, especially with the discovery of the show RIN ~Daughters of Mnemosyne~. I've been typing and toying the hours away, as my imagination takes me into dark, sometimes sultry, sometimes violent places, with the wine bringing on distinctly pleasant, and more often than not unpleasant things that I find make my heart race faster and faster.
What am I looking for? Above all, fluidity, grammar, and charm. I've went through the last year and a half, or so, with hit and miss results, but nothing that has truly made me double take and blush. I'm looking for gritty detail, and a predominantly more black and white sort of encounters. By black and white, I mean A. ghastly, B. abusive, C. violent, or D. extremely humiliating. With the occasional choice of E. All of the Above.
Somethings I absolutely need, and can't do without, are pretty predictable, if you've ever read an Ad of mine in the past. Bondage. Gags. Bondage and Gags. Both are independent, yet hopelessly intertwined in my love for everything taboo and deviant, for I find my roots in bondage, in many ways that I won't go into here. I will say it now, as well. Rape. Abduction. It doesn't have to be with every setting, but I do want Rape, and forceful or non-consensual scenes, with some that may even end in death. I can negotiate levels of violence, as I know some people aren't as twisted as myself, and death itself won't even be a requirement, but sometimes, I would like to play around with it. Artistic endeavor mixed with pleasure in all the wrong places, to put it blatantly, I suppose. I have a cinematic imagination. And it's always active. Humiliation, degradation, and severe abuse. Choking, slapping, spanking, spitting, markers, I could go on and on. But so can your imagination, I trust, and sincerely hope. I have a special love for group scenes and settings, whether it's multiple people, or just you controlling multiple roles. I love the thrill of being at the mercy of a group or gang of overwhelmingly strong, bigger men. And I say bigger, with the inclusion of chubbier, or fat partners. Grotesque. I love grotesque partners, or ugly, mildly dissatisfying, or outcast types, just as much as the typical gangmembers and gun toting younger people making up the inner city streets.
I want to be kidnapped from the playground at night, where I was hiding in the shadows on the swings, smoking a joint, and pulled into a van, or better, quickly bound and thrown into the trunk of a car. Driven away, to be used as a secret link to the other youths around town, used and pimped out, threatened with the weed taken from me, along with other lies and evidence built to bring me under the fold of a strict, harsh dictatorship of cock, cunt, sex, and delicious pain.
Am I your daughter, or your sister? Niece, or cousin? Neighbor? I want to be bent over a table, or couch, or someone's lap like a badgirl, and have my ass spanked, paddled, belted or whipped raw. I want to be in tears, squirming, begging, pleading for the punishment to end, before I am pushed to the ground, and made to fuck the big pittbull in the cellar, if I want to eat a meal at all. Starve me, feed me nothing but bowls of dogfood mixed with cum. Paint my face, my tits, my ass with cum, and make me wear it throughout the day, as you parade me to your friends, and/or my friends.
Am I allowed to wear clothes? What am I allowed to wear? A simple, thin nighty or shift? Panties and a tanktop with the cloth around the nipples cut away? Combatboots, a leather thong and bra, and nothing else? Can I always wear a ball gag, bit gag, or some other type of gag? Am I to always have a toy stuffed into my pussy, while my asshole is left open to anyone and everyone to fuck? Hell, leave me tied up in the middle of the kitchen, stuffed full of vegetables, and I'll probably beg or cry for more.
I can't stress enough my love for heavy bondage, combined with heavy men, or a-lot of men/women. And cum. More cum, always more cum. I want you to nearly drown me in cum, maybe, in some instances, even do just that.
And please, oh please, don't neglect to fuck my face and throat until I cry and beg you to stop, and then continue to do so. Hold my little slutty face down on your cock until my eyelids are fluttering, and I'm choking, near to passing out. If I'm face-fucked so hard I throw up, well, that just makes me a worthless, messy little whore who can't suck cock right, and needs to learn better. Slap me, clean your cock off with my hair, spit on my face, even piss on me, or forcefully use me as a toilet. I'm here to serve you. This goes for my little asshole too. No matter how much I beg you not to, or try to dissuade you, stuff as much as you would like into my body, whatever you would like.
-A young woman hangs from her wrists, dangling a foot above the cold stone floor of the cellar, as she screams and moans into the black bar that was clenched between her teeth, spreading her jaws wide and leaving a tendril of drool free to dribble down her chin, joining the other drops of spit that now covered the front of her dirty white tanktop, the fabric around her nipples cut away. The flesh of her wrists were pink and red from the shackles, her bare feet kicking against the stone behind her. She was forced to look out over the crowd of people around her, forced to see their judgmental eyes weighing her physically, like an animal to be purchased and bred.-
-The girl had been reversed in position at some point through-out the day, her lithe body now hanging upside-down by her ankles, with her hands bound behind her back, wrist to elbow, cords of coarse scratchy rope wound tightly around her forearms, and around her chest, to encircle her breasts, squeezing them out, while ridged silver clamps bite down on her nipples, serving as handholds for the man who stood in front of her, pulling on the chains attached to the clamps to bring her hanging body back and forth, moving his exceptionally large member in and out of her open mouth, leaving her gasping for breath as small ropes of saliva dangle from her lips and roll down her face, before she squeals once more with the tug on her nipples, the squeal muffled and drowned out once more by the flesh filling her mouth. Her hips moved in small circles in the air, trying uselessly to stir the vibrator that hummed away inside her slick, dripping cunny with violent force.-
A few videos that may serve as examples of what I'm looking for can be provided, if questions arise. Here is a small sample-
--New--
Liz is a young woman that was born for dungeons. She has short black hair, just enough to grab a hand-full of, with a lithe, narrow boned build, save for her generous handfull sized breasts and round ass that seems out of no where on her thin frame, the outlines of her ribs just visible, giving her the look of an emaciated, almost underfed young woman, which was only accentuated by the shadows and bags under her eyes from little sleep. She lives her life in one home to another, owned by a deviant subclass of society that trades in free young woman who get off on serving others and being hurt or humiliated. With a strong love for bondage and pain, Liz is the perfect little dungeon whore for any master or group of people. She generally loves and prefers older men, in from their upper twenties and older.
Mona was always anxious and socially awkward, shy around groups of people with a quirky sense of humor and a love for fantasy, horror, and the deranged. Always watching horror movies or reading similar stories, she started to dabble in the occult as she fell into the wrong crowd of people at school and around the campus. She took it all for fun and games, until she began to see a hideous, big black dog with shaggy raven locks and burning red eyes, a beast that stalked her from the shadows, until it gradually began to manifest to her in the light as well. She was the only one that could see it, or so she thought, and much to her mortification, it's gaze spoke to her body on subconscious levels, and she could feel herself react to the dogs hungry gaze. Soon it would win out over her will, melting her mental resistance until she couldn't help but get on her elbows and knee's to accept it's cock into her orifices, sometimes sucking the dog off or jacking it off. It would occasionally appear in the nights and piss on her sleeping form, as well as around her living space. It's piss seemed to draw the attention of other dogs, and lust would fill her at the strangest times, terror co-mingling with the overwhelming desire to be filled by the demonic dog's cock and it's lesser vassals of the mortal world.This could lead to her being the whim of someone of a magical eye that happens to see the dog stalking her, or perhaps learns of it through other means, recruiting her to some sort of cult. This idea is still floating around hot in my mind with possibilities.
-Anna-Marie was perched in the tree branch, in what most would say a precarious position, her legs propped up against a sturdy branch and her back firmly pressed against the trunk; she could feel the bark scratching at the pale smooth skin of her back through the thin black, purple splattered shirt she wore stretched over her lithe upper form. The wind blew against the leaves, sending them dancing around her as she shifted her head a bit to let a few of her blue-black, gently curling locks of hair to blow away from her eyes. Twin emeralds of burning inner life gazed out from behind a set of lustrous sooty lashes, which complimented the fine, delicate structure of her face, a pair of glasses sitting perched on the bridge of her pointed nose. She had snuck out of her room to come to the park since she was younger, and it was always her refuge. Tonight was no different; a thrilling summer night, clouds mounting in the sky, devouring the stars from sight, giving promise to storms in the near future. She would have to go home, or seek shelter, soon. But for now, she would watch the flickering lightning in the distance come ever closer, leaving the horizon to dominate the small city she lived in.
A commotion of man-made origin sounded over the typical soft roars of traffic from the distant highway, making her crane her neck out to glance down the shadow engulfed pathway that held only small pools of light where the posts stood with their pale, yellow globes of illumination. She tried to make her eyes adjust further, but couldn't. It turned out she didn't have to, for a group of men eventually ran into view, coming to stand around and surround a single couple who had been running for what looked like a good while. The couple were younger, maybe their mid-twenties or early thirties at the latest; while the gang of men chasing them wore the stamp of youth and cruelty boldly in the way they carried themselves. It looked like something more than a simply robbery or mugging, the couple looked like they were not exactly strangers to the gang, though they were clearly not members, or anything else of that nature. They both wore fine clothes of upper middle-class make and fit, each looking like they had quickly ascended and succeeded soon after highschool. But that success didn't help them now, when one of the white men of the group stepped forward, lifting a handgun up to shoot the man in the head, quickly followed by the woman. It was like a movie. The gun made a slightly louder muffled sound, having some sort of silencer on it, and the couple just crumpled like puppets with their strings cut.
Unable to contain herself in the sudden terror of the situation, Anna-Marie shrieked, quickly covering her mouth with her hand as she felt like she grew even paler than she already was. She lost her balance in her fright, and tumbled from the perch she had in the tree, and fell on one of the thick roots which knocked the breath from her lungs, leaving her doubled over on the grass and dirt, squeezing her eyes shut and gasping for breath to return to her slim body as a few of the men nearby quickly cursed and ran over to her, taking out their guns as well. She brought her knee's up to her stomach, hugging them tightly as she rolled onto her side, trying not to cry, her vision filled with the purple fabric of her jeans. Figures eclipsed the light of the nearby posts, casting shadows over her as she parted her eyes and looked up at the silhouetted mannequins of darkness.-
Detail, Intrigue, and thoughtful input only, please! Wow and amaze me!
I'm looking to play over Yahoo Instant Messenger only, though I will communicate through PM's or email, if necessary, though I will have to be convinced. Ideas, dreams, other necessities and fantasies I prefer to flesh out with my partner, talk to them and get to know them through the process of creating foundations for our mutual novel of smut, betrayal, and sinister wiles. I eagerly and sincerely hope to hear from some of your soon! My YIM Screen name is MourningEmaleth.
-Kisses and love, Emaleth
The rumble of a big truck, or van could be felt beneath her, with the sound of a few other men talking quietly amongst themselves, the sound of a radio drowning out their conversation for the most part. When she started to wriggle lightly, her hair pulled at the tape that was wound around her head, making her squeal lightly, which made her head hurt even worst. Someone noticed that she was awake, and a hand grabbed the back of her head by her hair, and the sound of him hocking was heard, before he spit down a glob onto the cheeks of her face, only partly showing between strips of tape. Then she felt someone deliver a powerful kick to the middle of her stomach, doubling her on the ground like a worm, knee's touching her forehead as she struggled to breathe, before she faded back into darkness once more. When she awoke, she was in the cold cellar, with the ductape still wound around her. She was set on a dirty, lumpy spring mattress that was just laid out on the floor, with stains and smells covering it's beaten, raggedy form, making her squirm and scrunch her nose, trying to wriggle her bound form from the disgusting surface. It was then that she heard a door open, followed by the sounds of many consecutive feet.
With my mind wrapped in books and my nights filled with Netflix, I've been spiraling down further into the depths of Depravity, especially with the discovery of the show RIN ~Daughters of Mnemosyne~. I've been typing and toying the hours away, as my imagination takes me into dark, sometimes sultry, sometimes violent places, with the wine bringing on distinctly pleasant, and more often than not unpleasant things that I find make my heart race faster and faster.
What am I looking for? Above all, fluidity, grammar, and charm. I've went through the last year and a half, or so, with hit and miss results, but nothing that has truly made me double take and blush. I'm looking for gritty detail, and a predominantly more black and white sort of encounters. By black and white, I mean A. ghastly, B. abusive, C. violent, or D. extremely humiliating. With the occasional choice of E. All of the Above.
Somethings I absolutely need, and can't do without, are pretty predictable, if you've ever read an Ad of mine in the past. Bondage. Gags. Bondage and Gags. Both are independent, yet hopelessly intertwined in my love for everything taboo and deviant, for I find my roots in bondage, in many ways that I won't go into here. I will say it now, as well. Rape. Abduction. It doesn't have to be with every setting, but I do want Rape, and forceful or non-consensual scenes, with some that may even end in death. I can negotiate levels of violence, as I know some people aren't as twisted as myself, and death itself won't even be a requirement, but sometimes, I would like to play around with it. Artistic endeavor mixed with pleasure in all the wrong places, to put it blatantly, I suppose. I have a cinematic imagination. And it's always active. Humiliation, degradation, and severe abuse. Choking, slapping, spanking, spitting, markers, I could go on and on. But so can your imagination, I trust, and sincerely hope. I have a special love for group scenes and settings, whether it's multiple people, or just you controlling multiple roles. I love the thrill of being at the mercy of a group or gang of overwhelmingly strong, bigger men. And I say bigger, with the inclusion of chubbier, or fat partners. Grotesque. I love grotesque partners, or ugly, mildly dissatisfying, or outcast types, just as much as the typical gangmembers and gun toting younger people making up the inner city streets.
I want to be kidnapped from the playground at night, where I was hiding in the shadows on the swings, smoking a joint, and pulled into a van, or better, quickly bound and thrown into the trunk of a car. Driven away, to be used as a secret link to the other youths around town, used and pimped out, threatened with the weed taken from me, along with other lies and evidence built to bring me under the fold of a strict, harsh dictatorship of cock, cunt, sex, and delicious pain.
Am I your daughter, or your sister? Niece, or cousin? Neighbor? I want to be bent over a table, or couch, or someone's lap like a badgirl, and have my ass spanked, paddled, belted or whipped raw. I want to be in tears, squirming, begging, pleading for the punishment to end, before I am pushed to the ground, and made to fuck the big pittbull in the cellar, if I want to eat a meal at all. Starve me, feed me nothing but bowls of dogfood mixed with cum. Paint my face, my tits, my ass with cum, and make me wear it throughout the day, as you parade me to your friends, and/or my friends.
Am I allowed to wear clothes? What am I allowed to wear? A simple, thin nighty or shift? Panties and a tanktop with the cloth around the nipples cut away? Combatboots, a leather thong and bra, and nothing else? Can I always wear a ball gag, bit gag, or some other type of gag? Am I to always have a toy stuffed into my pussy, while my asshole is left open to anyone and everyone to fuck? Hell, leave me tied up in the middle of the kitchen, stuffed full of vegetables, and I'll probably beg or cry for more.
I can't stress enough my love for heavy bondage, combined with heavy men, or a-lot of men/women. And cum. More cum, always more cum. I want you to nearly drown me in cum, maybe, in some instances, even do just that.
And please, oh please, don't neglect to fuck my face and throat until I cry and beg you to stop, and then continue to do so. Hold my little slutty face down on your cock until my eyelids are fluttering, and I'm choking, near to passing out. If I'm face-fucked so hard I throw up, well, that just makes me a worthless, messy little whore who can't suck cock right, and needs to learn better. Slap me, clean your cock off with my hair, spit on my face, even piss on me, or forcefully use me as a toilet. I'm here to serve you. This goes for my little asshole too. No matter how much I beg you not to, or try to dissuade you, stuff as much as you would like into my body, whatever you would like.
-A young woman hangs from her wrists, dangling a foot above the cold stone floor of the cellar, as she screams and moans into the black bar that was clenched between her teeth, spreading her jaws wide and leaving a tendril of drool free to dribble down her chin, joining the other drops of spit that now covered the front of her dirty white tanktop, the fabric around her nipples cut away. The flesh of her wrists were pink and red from the shackles, her bare feet kicking against the stone behind her. She was forced to look out over the crowd of people around her, forced to see their judgmental eyes weighing her physically, like an animal to be purchased and bred.-
-The girl had been reversed in position at some point through-out the day, her lithe body now hanging upside-down by her ankles, with her hands bound behind her back, wrist to elbow, cords of coarse scratchy rope wound tightly around her forearms, and around her chest, to encircle her breasts, squeezing them out, while ridged silver clamps bite down on her nipples, serving as handholds for the man who stood in front of her, pulling on the chains attached to the clamps to bring her hanging body back and forth, moving his exceptionally large member in and out of her open mouth, leaving her gasping for breath as small ropes of saliva dangle from her lips and roll down her face, before she squeals once more with the tug on her nipples, the squeal muffled and drowned out once more by the flesh filling her mouth. Her hips moved in small circles in the air, trying uselessly to stir the vibrator that hummed away inside her slick, dripping cunny with violent force.-
A few videos that may serve as examples of what I'm looking for can be provided, if questions arise. Here is a small sample-
--New--
Liz is a young woman that was born for dungeons. She has short black hair, just enough to grab a hand-full of, with a lithe, narrow boned build, save for her generous handfull sized breasts and round ass that seems out of no where on her thin frame, the outlines of her ribs just visible, giving her the look of an emaciated, almost underfed young woman, which was only accentuated by the shadows and bags under her eyes from little sleep. She lives her life in one home to another, owned by a deviant subclass of society that trades in free young woman who get off on serving others and being hurt or humiliated. With a strong love for bondage and pain, Liz is the perfect little dungeon whore for any master or group of people. She generally loves and prefers older men, in from their upper twenties and older.
Mona was always anxious and socially awkward, shy around groups of people with a quirky sense of humor and a love for fantasy, horror, and the deranged. Always watching horror movies or reading similar stories, she started to dabble in the occult as she fell into the wrong crowd of people at school and around the campus. She took it all for fun and games, until she began to see a hideous, big black dog with shaggy raven locks and burning red eyes, a beast that stalked her from the shadows, until it gradually began to manifest to her in the light as well. She was the only one that could see it, or so she thought, and much to her mortification, it's gaze spoke to her body on subconscious levels, and she could feel herself react to the dogs hungry gaze. Soon it would win out over her will, melting her mental resistance until she couldn't help but get on her elbows and knee's to accept it's cock into her orifices, sometimes sucking the dog off or jacking it off. It would occasionally appear in the nights and piss on her sleeping form, as well as around her living space. It's piss seemed to draw the attention of other dogs, and lust would fill her at the strangest times, terror co-mingling with the overwhelming desire to be filled by the demonic dog's cock and it's lesser vassals of the mortal world.This could lead to her being the whim of someone of a magical eye that happens to see the dog stalking her, or perhaps learns of it through other means, recruiting her to some sort of cult. This idea is still floating around hot in my mind with possibilities.
-Anna-Marie was perched in the tree branch, in what most would say a precarious position, her legs propped up against a sturdy branch and her back firmly pressed against the trunk; she could feel the bark scratching at the pale smooth skin of her back through the thin black, purple splattered shirt she wore stretched over her lithe upper form. The wind blew against the leaves, sending them dancing around her as she shifted her head a bit to let a few of her blue-black, gently curling locks of hair to blow away from her eyes. Twin emeralds of burning inner life gazed out from behind a set of lustrous sooty lashes, which complimented the fine, delicate structure of her face, a pair of glasses sitting perched on the bridge of her pointed nose. She had snuck out of her room to come to the park since she was younger, and it was always her refuge. Tonight was no different; a thrilling summer night, clouds mounting in the sky, devouring the stars from sight, giving promise to storms in the near future. She would have to go home, or seek shelter, soon. But for now, she would watch the flickering lightning in the distance come ever closer, leaving the horizon to dominate the small city she lived in.
A commotion of man-made origin sounded over the typical soft roars of traffic from the distant highway, making her crane her neck out to glance down the shadow engulfed pathway that held only small pools of light where the posts stood with their pale, yellow globes of illumination. She tried to make her eyes adjust further, but couldn't. It turned out she didn't have to, for a group of men eventually ran into view, coming to stand around and surround a single couple who had been running for what looked like a good while. The couple were younger, maybe their mid-twenties or early thirties at the latest; while the gang of men chasing them wore the stamp of youth and cruelty boldly in the way they carried themselves. It looked like something more than a simply robbery or mugging, the couple looked like they were not exactly strangers to the gang, though they were clearly not members, or anything else of that nature. They both wore fine clothes of upper middle-class make and fit, each looking like they had quickly ascended and succeeded soon after highschool. But that success didn't help them now, when one of the white men of the group stepped forward, lifting a handgun up to shoot the man in the head, quickly followed by the woman. It was like a movie. The gun made a slightly louder muffled sound, having some sort of silencer on it, and the couple just crumpled like puppets with their strings cut.
Unable to contain herself in the sudden terror of the situation, Anna-Marie shrieked, quickly covering her mouth with her hand as she felt like she grew even paler than she already was. She lost her balance in her fright, and tumbled from the perch she had in the tree, and fell on one of the thick roots which knocked the breath from her lungs, leaving her doubled over on the grass and dirt, squeezing her eyes shut and gasping for breath to return to her slim body as a few of the men nearby quickly cursed and ran over to her, taking out their guns as well. She brought her knee's up to her stomach, hugging them tightly as she rolled onto her side, trying not to cry, her vision filled with the purple fabric of her jeans. Figures eclipsed the light of the nearby posts, casting shadows over her as she parted her eyes and looked up at the silhouetted mannequins of darkness.-
Detail, Intrigue, and thoughtful input only, please! Wow and amaze me!
I'm looking to play over Yahoo Instant Messenger only, though I will communicate through PM's or email, if necessary, though I will have to be convinced. Ideas, dreams, other necessities and fantasies I prefer to flesh out with my partner, talk to them and get to know them through the process of creating foundations for our mutual novel of smut, betrayal, and sinister wiles. I eagerly and sincerely hope to hear from some of your soon! My YIM Screen name is MourningEmaleth.
-Kisses and love, Emaleth
