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Meteorite
- Joined
- Aug 23, 2015
In the last few centuries, the world has changed drastically. The horrific instruments of warfare, the products of the darkest corners of human insight and ingenuity were unleashed time and time again, turning much of the earth into a desolate husk. In time, humanity has reemerged from the rubble, life has continued, but in vastly different form.
In one nation whose origins are lost to the chaos of what is now ancient history, the male sex was seen as responsible for the death and carnage of the earlier age. Males were seen as animalistic, violent, and destructive creatures whose hubris once threatened humanity's very existence, and so for the good of womankind, men must be reduced to their rightful state of chattel.
Generations had passed, and the women of this nation now looked upon the state of affairs as purely just and natural. Men had no rights, were regarded as women's property, and were expected to show absolute subservience and obedience to the superior gender. A woman's word was law, where a man was concerned, and any man who dared to question his rightful place was quickly taught it without any concern for his wellbeing.
You’d be a woman from this nation. For the most part, you’re known as being ruthlessly ambitious in your career field; definitely a lady of drive, and some would likely add behind your back, a bit of a control freak. It’s taken a while, and a damned lot of work but your life has finally arranged itself into a comfortable enough plateau that you finally have started to turn some attention to those rather annoying queries from your mother and coworkers about when you’re going to get a male of your own.
Oh, it’s not as if you’re a virgin, certainly. Women of your culture have no qualms about using men to serve their sexual needs – that’s what they were put on the face of the earth for after all. As a woman of some means, you’ve enjoyed your fair share of male chattel for the night; but it’s more than that now. For better or worse, you’ve found yourself under increasing social pressure to own a male creature of your own.
Over the last few weeks, you’ve perused the stocks of some of the more upmarket chattel dealerships. In a way, the product was impressive. The young men were in excellent physical shape – a product of the strict diet and exercise regimen their trainers kept them under. Their manners were impeccable, their skills at domestic service and pleasing a woman in all manner of ways superb. Their spirits broken, weak, subservient. Infinitely deferent and servile to their female superiors. Exactly like you think boys should be, of course – but honestly, you find it all a bit dull.
Male creatures like that can be fun for an evening or two, certainly, but there’s only so much pleasure a woman can get from a toy that’s already broken. You’ve always considered yourself a predator of sorts, and the thought of being able to show a man his rightful place, the thrill of breaking an initially unwilling man into a good obedient piece of property – well, that sends chill of delight down your spine.
Being the ambitious sort of lady, once your mind fancied upon the idea, it wasn’t long until you put the plan into motion of doing just that. You’d been a dedicated employee for quite a rather long time, and naturally had saved up a lot of paid vacation days. For a few years, you’d been idly considering what to do with them, but now it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
A few days later, you were on a plane to another country. A backwards shithole of a country really, by the standards of your homeland, but just the perfect place for the sort of ‘souvenir’ you were thinking of bringing back with you. Even the capital city where you’re staying a few days is hopelessly devoid of most of the infrastructure you’ve taken for granted most of your life, and the social attitudes here are absurd. The local boys actually think they’re equal to women and have the right to be anything more than women’s slaves and playthings. The very thought of such folly makes you snicker, but you remind yourself that’s why you’re visiting.
You’d been watching me a few days now. As with everything important in life, when success was a must, you were being as careful as necessary, and through trailing and digging up what leads you could on me, you knew by now enough to act on. I was a young, local man, living in a home that was likely the most disdainful hovel you’d ever seen in your life. Clearly, like most men of my country, I didn’t know my rightful place groveling at your feet, but you found me cute, and that seemed enough to make the thought of teaching me to behave like a good boy fun.
The local authorities were hilariously, hopelessly corrupt and incompetent, and you were sure no one would miss me when I disappeared. I was nothing more than delicious, easy prey to a natural predator like you, and tonight you would make your move. You knew enough to know about what time I’d walk home – alone – from the university I studied at, the route I took – hell, probably even which items from which store for what price I bought every evening to cook dinner. Blissfully ignorant as I might be, I was already as good as snatched.
How would you approach me at first? Oh, you already had a dozen or so scenarios, ruses in mind. Flirtation, intimidation, bribery, coercion. The male brain really was such a simple thing to toy with after all. One thing was certain, though; I wasn’t getting back to the shack I called a home tonight, and tomorrow, we would be on the first flight back – together – to your hometown. Would I put up a fight? Probably – but that’s what made the thought of it so fun. Just the thought of cornering me on that ill-lit alley way, and giving your soon-to-be property its first command to worship and obey you has you wet.
Certainly you wouldn’t think any male could ever be as smart as a woman, but even so, you get the idea that I’ll understand pretty damn crystal clear when we meet that a woman like you, hailing from the country you do, with the wealth you have behind her is literally untouchable here, and has many, many ways of making my life an absolute living hell unless I do exactly what she says. And once we get back to your apartment in your home country, you can’t wait to show me the new ‘playroom’ you had constructed just for me. No; it should be crystal clear from the start, even to my silly little male brain how much power you have over me, and how beneath you you know me to be.
It’ll take me a while, you’re sure, to learn my rightful place as your property, pet, and plaything – but you have a number of creative training methods in mind, and didn’t build the playroom for nothing. In fact, since you still have several weeks off work, you rather hope the breaking in bit might take a while. Given my attitude, I’ll probably be spending a lot of time in your playroom, but if I can behave, maybe you’ll let me out … on a leash.
So that’s pretty much it; your heart is fluttering thinking about taking a formerly defiant, cute, foreign man, convincing me of my rightful place at your feet, and stripping me of my dignity bit by bit. Already you're starting to daydream about me kneeling naked at your feet, whimpering as the last of my resistance starts to crumble; about showing your cute little subservient foreign toyboy off to all your coworkers and peers, knowing they’ll be positively green with envy. Oh. You can hear footsteps coming from a few dozen or so meters off. You’d better get ready to ‘introduce’ yourself to your new property and stake your rightful claim.
For the logistical details, I'm fine roleplaying either here or over email/skype - whatever's easiest for you. Hope to hear from you soon.
General Turn ONs: intelligent partners, misandry, public humiliation, mental domination, verbal abuse, degradation, slapping me, being treated like an object, foot/boot/shoe worship, facesitting, human furniture, etc. Really anything where you can amuse yourself by putting me in my place as a 'good boy' is awesome.
Age differences definitely make sense for this plot as well (your character being a career woman, and mine a college student). Probably yours would be 5-10 years older than mine; realistic for this sort of world I think. Not necessary, but could be fun? Obviously neither of ours should be underaged in any case.
General Turn OFFs: Male-male sexual encounters (including "forced-bi; it can happen "offscreen", just not with my character), underaged characters, extreme violence, bodily fluids.
In one nation whose origins are lost to the chaos of what is now ancient history, the male sex was seen as responsible for the death and carnage of the earlier age. Males were seen as animalistic, violent, and destructive creatures whose hubris once threatened humanity's very existence, and so for the good of womankind, men must be reduced to their rightful state of chattel.
Generations had passed, and the women of this nation now looked upon the state of affairs as purely just and natural. Men had no rights, were regarded as women's property, and were expected to show absolute subservience and obedience to the superior gender. A woman's word was law, where a man was concerned, and any man who dared to question his rightful place was quickly taught it without any concern for his wellbeing.
You’d be a woman from this nation. For the most part, you’re known as being ruthlessly ambitious in your career field; definitely a lady of drive, and some would likely add behind your back, a bit of a control freak. It’s taken a while, and a damned lot of work but your life has finally arranged itself into a comfortable enough plateau that you finally have started to turn some attention to those rather annoying queries from your mother and coworkers about when you’re going to get a male of your own.
Oh, it’s not as if you’re a virgin, certainly. Women of your culture have no qualms about using men to serve their sexual needs – that’s what they were put on the face of the earth for after all. As a woman of some means, you’ve enjoyed your fair share of male chattel for the night; but it’s more than that now. For better or worse, you’ve found yourself under increasing social pressure to own a male creature of your own.
Over the last few weeks, you’ve perused the stocks of some of the more upmarket chattel dealerships. In a way, the product was impressive. The young men were in excellent physical shape – a product of the strict diet and exercise regimen their trainers kept them under. Their manners were impeccable, their skills at domestic service and pleasing a woman in all manner of ways superb. Their spirits broken, weak, subservient. Infinitely deferent and servile to their female superiors. Exactly like you think boys should be, of course – but honestly, you find it all a bit dull.
Male creatures like that can be fun for an evening or two, certainly, but there’s only so much pleasure a woman can get from a toy that’s already broken. You’ve always considered yourself a predator of sorts, and the thought of being able to show a man his rightful place, the thrill of breaking an initially unwilling man into a good obedient piece of property – well, that sends chill of delight down your spine.
Being the ambitious sort of lady, once your mind fancied upon the idea, it wasn’t long until you put the plan into motion of doing just that. You’d been a dedicated employee for quite a rather long time, and naturally had saved up a lot of paid vacation days. For a few years, you’d been idly considering what to do with them, but now it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
A few days later, you were on a plane to another country. A backwards shithole of a country really, by the standards of your homeland, but just the perfect place for the sort of ‘souvenir’ you were thinking of bringing back with you. Even the capital city where you’re staying a few days is hopelessly devoid of most of the infrastructure you’ve taken for granted most of your life, and the social attitudes here are absurd. The local boys actually think they’re equal to women and have the right to be anything more than women’s slaves and playthings. The very thought of such folly makes you snicker, but you remind yourself that’s why you’re visiting.
You’d been watching me a few days now. As with everything important in life, when success was a must, you were being as careful as necessary, and through trailing and digging up what leads you could on me, you knew by now enough to act on. I was a young, local man, living in a home that was likely the most disdainful hovel you’d ever seen in your life. Clearly, like most men of my country, I didn’t know my rightful place groveling at your feet, but you found me cute, and that seemed enough to make the thought of teaching me to behave like a good boy fun.
The local authorities were hilariously, hopelessly corrupt and incompetent, and you were sure no one would miss me when I disappeared. I was nothing more than delicious, easy prey to a natural predator like you, and tonight you would make your move. You knew enough to know about what time I’d walk home – alone – from the university I studied at, the route I took – hell, probably even which items from which store for what price I bought every evening to cook dinner. Blissfully ignorant as I might be, I was already as good as snatched.
How would you approach me at first? Oh, you already had a dozen or so scenarios, ruses in mind. Flirtation, intimidation, bribery, coercion. The male brain really was such a simple thing to toy with after all. One thing was certain, though; I wasn’t getting back to the shack I called a home tonight, and tomorrow, we would be on the first flight back – together – to your hometown. Would I put up a fight? Probably – but that’s what made the thought of it so fun. Just the thought of cornering me on that ill-lit alley way, and giving your soon-to-be property its first command to worship and obey you has you wet.
Certainly you wouldn’t think any male could ever be as smart as a woman, but even so, you get the idea that I’ll understand pretty damn crystal clear when we meet that a woman like you, hailing from the country you do, with the wealth you have behind her is literally untouchable here, and has many, many ways of making my life an absolute living hell unless I do exactly what she says. And once we get back to your apartment in your home country, you can’t wait to show me the new ‘playroom’ you had constructed just for me. No; it should be crystal clear from the start, even to my silly little male brain how much power you have over me, and how beneath you you know me to be.
It’ll take me a while, you’re sure, to learn my rightful place as your property, pet, and plaything – but you have a number of creative training methods in mind, and didn’t build the playroom for nothing. In fact, since you still have several weeks off work, you rather hope the breaking in bit might take a while. Given my attitude, I’ll probably be spending a lot of time in your playroom, but if I can behave, maybe you’ll let me out … on a leash.
So that’s pretty much it; your heart is fluttering thinking about taking a formerly defiant, cute, foreign man, convincing me of my rightful place at your feet, and stripping me of my dignity bit by bit. Already you're starting to daydream about me kneeling naked at your feet, whimpering as the last of my resistance starts to crumble; about showing your cute little subservient foreign toyboy off to all your coworkers and peers, knowing they’ll be positively green with envy. Oh. You can hear footsteps coming from a few dozen or so meters off. You’d better get ready to ‘introduce’ yourself to your new property and stake your rightful claim.
For the logistical details, I'm fine roleplaying either here or over email/skype - whatever's easiest for you. Hope to hear from you soon.
General Turn ONs: intelligent partners, misandry, public humiliation, mental domination, verbal abuse, degradation, slapping me, being treated like an object, foot/boot/shoe worship, facesitting, human furniture, etc. Really anything where you can amuse yourself by putting me in my place as a 'good boy' is awesome.
Age differences definitely make sense for this plot as well (your character being a career woman, and mine a college student). Probably yours would be 5-10 years older than mine; realistic for this sort of world I think. Not necessary, but could be fun? Obviously neither of ours should be underaged in any case.
General Turn OFFs: Male-male sexual encounters (including "forced-bi; it can happen "offscreen", just not with my character), underaged characters, extreme violence, bodily fluids.