AsleepGlass
Serf
- Local time
- Today 10:37 PM
- Messages
- 7
- Age
- 24
Hi, I'll get straight to my prompts. They are mostly written as a sort of... examples of my writing! You can either reply to the examples itself or first discuss the details, I'm up with anything! Oh and... they are all heavily smutty, so... you know. Open the spoilers at your own risk!
t was a dark night, interrupted only by the light of the full moon, shining down on the capital of Albion. The cathedral was dark, save for light from few candles and silent, save from wet, slapping sounds of two bodies crashing into each other. Anyone, who'd enter the cathedral at this time would no doubt be shocked at the sight. Me, the young and beautiful queen, riding you, the old bishop of this very cathedral. On the altar, no less. I loved the feeling of taboo, and by the way, your cock was twitching, I wasn't the only one. You're not my only plaything and you know that. My bodyguard and few other men all fell for my charms. But you are by far most delicious. Inexperienced, true, but your priest cock... mmm. "You're so big." I moan, as my hand reaches down to fondle your balls. I lean back, so you can watch yourself entering me, as my hazel hair dance around my body, in the rhythm of me riding you. "Come on. Fill my royal pussy with your priest seed. You know you want it." The sight, the feeling, and my words are finally enough to drive you over the edge and I feel the thick, creamy strings of cum as you shoot them into me. I purr and shiver in my own climax, before slowly standing up. Little drops of cum, mixed with my juices, drop down on the altar. I smile wryly at you. "I trust that this will be enough to persuade you. I need the tax, my little bishop. Don't disappoint me. I can always say you raped me." I kiss you on the cheek, before dressing up and leaving.
Five years later
I moan as the man behind me empties his balls into my already overflowing cunt and clears the space for another man. Where did this all go wrong? The taxes were finally too much for the common folk. My soldiers were too weak to contain them all and the kingdom has fallen. Me, with it. First, I tried to fight. Seduce the leaders and at least assure that my son will be left alone. I don't even know where he is. And I don't even care. I have no idea whether it was few days or few weeks since the rebellion. Every day the same. Few men having their way with me from behind, before they force me to my knees and lick up the poodle of their cum and my juices, while they fuck my ass. First, I cussed at them and fought them. Now, I just moan like a royal slut as they take me. But today... something is different. My eyes widen when I notice just what my captors brought today. One of them smiles at my reaction. "What? They deserve a taste of royal bitch as well." He grins and then my mouth is stuffed with another dirty, peasant cock.
So, long story short, I've been playing too much CK2 and watching too much GoT. And I fell in love with the idea of a queen, using sex as a way to climb the ladder, before taking the fall.
So, there are few options the way I see it. We can go vanilla, the queen having a bit of fun because she genuinely likes the guys. Or femdom way, the queen becoming the most powerful woman in the whole world thanks to her body, building herself a harem of faithful toys. Or maybe the bitch way, the Queen falls and is now a slut for the whole countryside. Or maybe, if you have a mind for long-term (and I'd love that!), we could do all of this. First, she started because she fell in love with maybe her bodyguard and then found out that sex is an efficient way of controlling men (and women), before taking the fall? I feel that this is a very flexible plot.
We can either do it historically or fantasy - maybe I'm an elf and rule over orcs? If you're into it, I don't judge you, just tell me what you'd like to see! Or maybe sci-fi or whatever! I don't mind incest, bestiality, monster sex and all the things that go with that. Just scat and watersports aren't something what I really enjoy.
Oh, and if you'd like to change things around and would like to play a king with a harem or something similar, I wouldn't mind playing the harem! That goes for girls, who'd like to take the role of the queen too. I don't mind playing guys.
Picture reference for your dream queen more than welcomed!
Five years later
I moan as the man behind me empties his balls into my already overflowing cunt and clears the space for another man. Where did this all go wrong? The taxes were finally too much for the common folk. My soldiers were too weak to contain them all and the kingdom has fallen. Me, with it. First, I tried to fight. Seduce the leaders and at least assure that my son will be left alone. I don't even know where he is. And I don't even care. I have no idea whether it was few days or few weeks since the rebellion. Every day the same. Few men having their way with me from behind, before they force me to my knees and lick up the poodle of their cum and my juices, while they fuck my ass. First, I cussed at them and fought them. Now, I just moan like a royal slut as they take me. But today... something is different. My eyes widen when I notice just what my captors brought today. One of them smiles at my reaction. "What? They deserve a taste of royal bitch as well." He grins and then my mouth is stuffed with another dirty, peasant cock.
So, long story short, I've been playing too much CK2 and watching too much GoT. And I fell in love with the idea of a queen, using sex as a way to climb the ladder, before taking the fall.
So, there are few options the way I see it. We can go vanilla, the queen having a bit of fun because she genuinely likes the guys. Or femdom way, the queen becoming the most powerful woman in the whole world thanks to her body, building herself a harem of faithful toys. Or maybe the bitch way, the Queen falls and is now a slut for the whole countryside. Or maybe, if you have a mind for long-term (and I'd love that!), we could do all of this. First, she started because she fell in love with maybe her bodyguard and then found out that sex is an efficient way of controlling men (and women), before taking the fall? I feel that this is a very flexible plot.
We can either do it historically or fantasy - maybe I'm an elf and rule over orcs? If you're into it, I don't judge you, just tell me what you'd like to see! Or maybe sci-fi or whatever! I don't mind incest, bestiality, monster sex and all the things that go with that. Just scat and watersports aren't something what I really enjoy.
Oh, and if you'd like to change things around and would like to play a king with a harem or something similar, I wouldn't mind playing the harem! That goes for girls, who'd like to take the role of the queen too. I don't mind playing guys.
Picture reference for your dream queen more than welcomed!
"So, uh." He's got that shifty, sort of bored look that I hate, the kind of look I'm seeing more of since I opened Gemini, my tiny little brothel, wedged beneath two noodle shops.
"What do the girls look like?"
I look at him, expression neutral despite the pang of dislike in my chest. Stupid question. Must be a new customer, just wandering in off the street. "They look like me," I say, matter-of-fact, gesturing at myself, up and down. "That's sort of the whole thing."
He stares, expression blank as a wiped drive.
"They're me. They're modeled off of me."
More staring from his wet little eyes.
"Look, I'm just going to show you." I stand, lead him back, open the door to five identical and equally nude clones of me, supine and hooked up to diagnostics. They could be sleeping.
His eyes travel slowly over the doubles, then back over my clothed body. He's smiling, more interested now that he's seen me naked.
I don't blame him. I look good laid out like that.
"They any fun in the sack?"
More stupid questions.
"They don't move. They can't. Look at this place. You think I can afford to give them all personalities? You just fuck them like that. Twenty five for an hour. Fifty if you want me to watch."
He scoffs. "Twenty five to fuck a dead clone? I can do that for free."
I roll my eyes, walk over the the nearest spare, spread my copy's cunt wide with two fingers for him. It gleams wet in the soft light. "Not dead. On standby. Wet and warm." I slide a finger inside my double's pussy, with an audible squelch, watch it go in easy, feel her cunt clench. "They'll even come for you, if you care about that. I have them do kegels and everything."
I suck myself off my fingers, knowing the reaction it'll get, a little smirk quirking my lips as I watch his cock tent his loose pants.
He's thinking now, eyes darting between me and...me.
"Fifty, then. You sit on the table and watch."
"Payment up front," I say as I hop up, legs not quite reaching the ground.
He's not gentle. He fucks my spare like he hates her, choking her, slapping her face and tiny tits hard enough to make me wince, sitting on the table next to him. I can hear him grunting, can hear his hips slapping against my cloned flesh. It smells like sex.
"Talk to me," he grunts in my direction, hauling his dick out of my clone, nearly dragging her off the table by her hair. He stops just short, and shoves his dick down my clone's throat, her head hanging off the side of the slab. I watch with a strange sense of pride as her lips close around him and her throat bulges, tongue moving automatically.
"It's extra for talking. Fifteen extra."
He grunts and nods as he sheathes himself in my double's throat, his balls mashed flat against her nose.
"Harder," I start, voice low and husky, more actual arousal bleeding through than I care to admit.
"Fuck her like you're gonna break her."
I put my hand on the pale column of her neck, watch as it move up and down, ever so slightly, as the john's fat prick forces her throat open, over and over.
"Feels good being able to do anything you want, huh? Just using those tight little holes like meat."
He grunts, reaches down my clone's body to give her dripping cunt a stinging slap.
He's close. I've watched enough guys fuck me to know.
I lean in, lips close to his ear, start squeezing my double's throat hard enough that I can feel his dick actually moving beneath my palm.
"You like fucking my face like that? How my throat feels?"
I press down harder on her throat, too hard to be comfortable for anybody conscious.
"F-feels good," he grunts, grabbing her head behind her jawbone, slamming himself into her face so hard I'm worried her nose is going to break against his pelvis.
"Cum," I whisper, letting my lips brush his ear in flagrant violation of my own rules.
"Drown that useless cunt with your cum," I go, and I'm a little surprised at how turned on I actually am.
He unloads with a low growl, his hips mashed against her face. I can feel his dick jumping in her throat. I giggle, giddy, when some of his spunk comes out of her nose.
He leaves without saying another word to me, lays the extra fifteen on her sculpted stomach.
After he leaves, I fuck myself to a quick and unsatisfying orgasm, sucking on my double's tit.
It feels vain sometimes, I can't deny that. Having so much me lying around, well...it implies a certain level of narcissism. But it wasn't. Isn't. Well, I don't what it is now. But it used to be for security.
They always said that you can't put a price on peace of mind.
They're backups. Spares. Cats have nine lives, I've got six. Including my current life, of course. If I die, I'll automatically get uploaded into one of the clones, the first of five. They've got identifying tattoos behind their ears, their number in the sequence. I gave myself a little "0" behind mine.
My friends told me I was just being paranoid when I started trying to make an off-market clone, that I was going to bankrupt myself, ruin my life.
They were right.
My girlfriend left me after she found me growing the second one in our bath. The Taxmen came after I drained my accounts, their matching suits more expensive than anything I've ever owned. They took my house, winched it physically out of the tenement block with one of their huge machines. Meanwhile, the closest I've come to needing any of my spares since I made them has been a bad case of food poisoning, and the closest I've come to a real relationship is me cleaning the cum out of my clone's holes after a john finishes filling them up.
It's been a rough year.
But I make enough from pimping them out that I can keep the business going, can keep on living in my little prefab domesticube up on the second floor. I can afford occasional food, instead of the standard nutrient slurry. I even have a few books. And of course, all the company I'll ever need.
It's made me less frightened of the world. Less paranoid. It's also made me a little kinkier than I used to be. Running a brothel will do that.
I'd never admit it, not after all the time and energy I spent on them, but it'd surprise me if I needed my spares any time soon.
It's almost a waste.
THE VERY NEXT DAY
"Welcome to Gemini, how can I hel-"
He hurls himself over the counter, on top of me, my shoulder twisting badly, the back of my head bouncing off the floor.
He's different from the man yesterday, different from my usual clientele. Stronger. Meaner. Smarter.
His grip is like a steel ring around my throat, locking me beneath him. I can't breathe, can't move. He's turned, looking into the back room where all my clones lie sleeping.
"So it's true."
His smile is ugly, terrifying. I feel his skin beneath my nails, blood too, but his grip doesn't loosen. My head's swimming, floating, I'm reaching to try to find something to hit him with, can only find the leg of my toppled chair.
"Well, let's find out exactly how true."
His grip gets even tighter, too tight to let any noise out. I can feel every word, every grunt, dying in my throat, strangled against his palm. My legs jump beneath him, and I can feel his cock with my thigh, rock hard and hot even through his clothing.
I can barely hold my arms up now, can feel the strength leaving my body, draining like blood from an open artery.
My windpipe crumples. I can hear it compress and collapse, the frenzied heartbeat in my ears getting slower and slower.
And slower.
My arms fall to my sides with a soft little thump, eyes glassy and unseeing.
THE VERY NEXT SECOND
I wake up in the back room, gasping, hands flying to my throat to loosen a grip that isn't there, desperation making me flail right off the table. I'm naked. Clones Two through Five are next to me.
Oh, god.
I turn just in time to see him climb off my dead body, to see my face me!!! oh god it's me!!! drooling prettily onto the floor, eyes unfocused and still open. He steps over me, like I'm garbage, like I'm nothing, carefully keeping his bulk between me and the door, flicking the neon to "closed" before turning and walking back.
Towards me. Towards all of me.
"You're supposed to keep backup bodies safe, you stupid bitch. Not pimp them out."
"HEEEELP!" I scream, but he just smiles.
"Good," he says, moving closer, walking into the back room, his huge body blotting out the door.
"Keep on yelling. That's how I like it."
"What do the girls look like?"
I look at him, expression neutral despite the pang of dislike in my chest. Stupid question. Must be a new customer, just wandering in off the street. "They look like me," I say, matter-of-fact, gesturing at myself, up and down. "That's sort of the whole thing."
He stares, expression blank as a wiped drive.
"They're me. They're modeled off of me."
More staring from his wet little eyes.
"Look, I'm just going to show you." I stand, lead him back, open the door to five identical and equally nude clones of me, supine and hooked up to diagnostics. They could be sleeping.
His eyes travel slowly over the doubles, then back over my clothed body. He's smiling, more interested now that he's seen me naked.
I don't blame him. I look good laid out like that.
"They any fun in the sack?"
More stupid questions.
"They don't move. They can't. Look at this place. You think I can afford to give them all personalities? You just fuck them like that. Twenty five for an hour. Fifty if you want me to watch."
He scoffs. "Twenty five to fuck a dead clone? I can do that for free."
I roll my eyes, walk over the the nearest spare, spread my copy's cunt wide with two fingers for him. It gleams wet in the soft light. "Not dead. On standby. Wet and warm." I slide a finger inside my double's pussy, with an audible squelch, watch it go in easy, feel her cunt clench. "They'll even come for you, if you care about that. I have them do kegels and everything."
I suck myself off my fingers, knowing the reaction it'll get, a little smirk quirking my lips as I watch his cock tent his loose pants.
He's thinking now, eyes darting between me and...me.
"Fifty, then. You sit on the table and watch."
"Payment up front," I say as I hop up, legs not quite reaching the ground.
He's not gentle. He fucks my spare like he hates her, choking her, slapping her face and tiny tits hard enough to make me wince, sitting on the table next to him. I can hear him grunting, can hear his hips slapping against my cloned flesh. It smells like sex.
"Talk to me," he grunts in my direction, hauling his dick out of my clone, nearly dragging her off the table by her hair. He stops just short, and shoves his dick down my clone's throat, her head hanging off the side of the slab. I watch with a strange sense of pride as her lips close around him and her throat bulges, tongue moving automatically.
"It's extra for talking. Fifteen extra."
He grunts and nods as he sheathes himself in my double's throat, his balls mashed flat against her nose.
"Harder," I start, voice low and husky, more actual arousal bleeding through than I care to admit.
"Fuck her like you're gonna break her."
I put my hand on the pale column of her neck, watch as it move up and down, ever so slightly, as the john's fat prick forces her throat open, over and over.
"Feels good being able to do anything you want, huh? Just using those tight little holes like meat."
He grunts, reaches down my clone's body to give her dripping cunt a stinging slap.
He's close. I've watched enough guys fuck me to know.
I lean in, lips close to his ear, start squeezing my double's throat hard enough that I can feel his dick actually moving beneath my palm.
"You like fucking my face like that? How my throat feels?"
I press down harder on her throat, too hard to be comfortable for anybody conscious.
"F-feels good," he grunts, grabbing her head behind her jawbone, slamming himself into her face so hard I'm worried her nose is going to break against his pelvis.
"Cum," I whisper, letting my lips brush his ear in flagrant violation of my own rules.
"Drown that useless cunt with your cum," I go, and I'm a little surprised at how turned on I actually am.
He unloads with a low growl, his hips mashed against her face. I can feel his dick jumping in her throat. I giggle, giddy, when some of his spunk comes out of her nose.
He leaves without saying another word to me, lays the extra fifteen on her sculpted stomach.
After he leaves, I fuck myself to a quick and unsatisfying orgasm, sucking on my double's tit.
It feels vain sometimes, I can't deny that. Having so much me lying around, well...it implies a certain level of narcissism. But it wasn't. Isn't. Well, I don't what it is now. But it used to be for security.
They always said that you can't put a price on peace of mind.
They're backups. Spares. Cats have nine lives, I've got six. Including my current life, of course. If I die, I'll automatically get uploaded into one of the clones, the first of five. They've got identifying tattoos behind their ears, their number in the sequence. I gave myself a little "0" behind mine.
My friends told me I was just being paranoid when I started trying to make an off-market clone, that I was going to bankrupt myself, ruin my life.
They were right.
My girlfriend left me after she found me growing the second one in our bath. The Taxmen came after I drained my accounts, their matching suits more expensive than anything I've ever owned. They took my house, winched it physically out of the tenement block with one of their huge machines. Meanwhile, the closest I've come to needing any of my spares since I made them has been a bad case of food poisoning, and the closest I've come to a real relationship is me cleaning the cum out of my clone's holes after a john finishes filling them up.
It's been a rough year.
But I make enough from pimping them out that I can keep the business going, can keep on living in my little prefab domesticube up on the second floor. I can afford occasional food, instead of the standard nutrient slurry. I even have a few books. And of course, all the company I'll ever need.
It's made me less frightened of the world. Less paranoid. It's also made me a little kinkier than I used to be. Running a brothel will do that.
I'd never admit it, not after all the time and energy I spent on them, but it'd surprise me if I needed my spares any time soon.
It's almost a waste.
THE VERY NEXT DAY
"Welcome to Gemini, how can I hel-"
He hurls himself over the counter, on top of me, my shoulder twisting badly, the back of my head bouncing off the floor.
He's different from the man yesterday, different from my usual clientele. Stronger. Meaner. Smarter.
His grip is like a steel ring around my throat, locking me beneath him. I can't breathe, can't move. He's turned, looking into the back room where all my clones lie sleeping.
"So it's true."
His smile is ugly, terrifying. I feel his skin beneath my nails, blood too, but his grip doesn't loosen. My head's swimming, floating, I'm reaching to try to find something to hit him with, can only find the leg of my toppled chair.
"Well, let's find out exactly how true."
His grip gets even tighter, too tight to let any noise out. I can feel every word, every grunt, dying in my throat, strangled against his palm. My legs jump beneath him, and I can feel his cock with my thigh, rock hard and hot even through his clothing.
I can barely hold my arms up now, can feel the strength leaving my body, draining like blood from an open artery.
My windpipe crumples. I can hear it compress and collapse, the frenzied heartbeat in my ears getting slower and slower.
And slower.
My arms fall to my sides with a soft little thump, eyes glassy and unseeing.
THE VERY NEXT SECOND
I wake up in the back room, gasping, hands flying to my throat to loosen a grip that isn't there, desperation making me flail right off the table. I'm naked. Clones Two through Five are next to me.
Oh, god.
I turn just in time to see him climb off my dead body, to see my face me!!! oh god it's me!!! drooling prettily onto the floor, eyes unfocused and still open. He steps over me, like I'm garbage, like I'm nothing, carefully keeping his bulk between me and the door, flicking the neon to "closed" before turning and walking back.
Towards me. Towards all of me.
"You're supposed to keep backup bodies safe, you stupid bitch. Not pimp them out."
"HEEEELP!" I scream, but he just smiles.
"Good," he says, moving closer, walking into the back room, his huge body blotting out the door.
"Keep on yelling. That's how I like it."
Look, I know what you are thinking. You've heard the stories, how we'll jump anything slightly male-shaped in a heartbeat-- hell, you've even seen the proof of our supposed 'promiscuity' in the many half-elves that walk around these days. But let's get one thing clear, alright? Elves are not lewd! There is absolutely nothing to suggest that elves, regardless of gender, are easier to bed than humans or halflings, and it is certainly not true that almost all elves can get off by having the tip of their ears rubbed just right. I-- I mean, that's-- there's a little more to it than that! And so what if we can? It's not like there is anything wrong with enjoying your own body, and it's not like I've ever done it in the middle of a conversation with a human while imagining what his cock would taste like, trying to keep my face neutral because stroking the pointed tip of my ear with two gentle fingers was making me so wet that I had to fight not to squirm, and the image of him bending me over and plunging that thick cock into my tight elven snatch was making it hard to concentrate on what he was saying--
I, uh, guess I got sidetracked. But, to get back to the point, it's simply not true that elves are lewd. Okay, so we may be open to the idea of sharing our bodies a little more freely than you humans; that's just our culture, though, and doesn't say anything about our natural proclivity for sex. And even if I do sometimes walk into a seedy tavern with the express intention of slipping beneath someone's table and glazing my throat with a sticky load of his spunk, that doesn't make me lewd! Nor does the fact that I constantly wear skirts mean that I am totally okay with you slipping your cock between my cheeks whenever I bend over. A "hello" would be nice! Or at the very least a bit of spit on your dick before you shove it it. It may, possibly, be true that we tend to be pretty, ah, accessible in terms of wetness, but at least be polite enough to give me some warning, you know? That doesn't make me lewd, that's just being sensible.
Frankly, I am sick and tired of people suggesting that since I wear revealing outfits with conveniently placed buttons, I must be some kind of insatiable slut. Just because we are long lived doesn't mean we enjoy wasting our time, okay? And having to pinch just one button to get my tits out is very handy-- not that I'd expect your flat-chested human women to understand. And on the topic of your women, why is it that you never see them sucking cock in public? If I didn't know better, I'd think they were too squeamish to take a cock down their throat. And it's not like they offer their third hole to make up for it, is it? Hell, last time I was getting ass-fucked in the alley behind the tavern, some human girl gave me the stink-eye and called me a whore! Can you believe that? I mean, if she can't put out enough to keep her man from fucking an elf in the ass, that's her problem, not mine! And so what if I let him blow his load in me after just five minutes of quiet flirtation and eye-fucking? That ought to be my privilege as a proud and noble elf.
And yeah, okay, we may sometimes go a bit ga-ga for large dicks; orcs, centaurs, minotaurs in particular (oh my god!), but that's no excuse to call us lewd. It's not! What, you're saying you don't care that my breasts are big enough to lose a small dog between? Or that my waist flares into two generous handfuls of squeezable ass? Yeah, that's what I thought. Everyone loves sexy things, and just because we have a hard time fighting the urge to get down on our knees for an orc or well-endowed human doesn't mean we are cheap or easy. I bet if I came up to you and offered you to eat and fuck my asshole, you'd jump at the chance! Hell, I know so; that's what happened the last ten times. So don't go playing all high and mighty on me, any of you! We are a proud and cultured race who deserve respect-- at least enough respect to be told when you're about to cum so I don't choke on it. Just... just tap me on the head or something. You know? It's not hard. You don't even gotta say anything, just a light tap on the head to show that dinner's ready. You don't want me walking around with a face full of cum, do you?
..oh, you do?
Well.. I guess that'd be okay.
I, uh, guess I got sidetracked. But, to get back to the point, it's simply not true that elves are lewd. Okay, so we may be open to the idea of sharing our bodies a little more freely than you humans; that's just our culture, though, and doesn't say anything about our natural proclivity for sex. And even if I do sometimes walk into a seedy tavern with the express intention of slipping beneath someone's table and glazing my throat with a sticky load of his spunk, that doesn't make me lewd! Nor does the fact that I constantly wear skirts mean that I am totally okay with you slipping your cock between my cheeks whenever I bend over. A "hello" would be nice! Or at the very least a bit of spit on your dick before you shove it it. It may, possibly, be true that we tend to be pretty, ah, accessible in terms of wetness, but at least be polite enough to give me some warning, you know? That doesn't make me lewd, that's just being sensible.
Frankly, I am sick and tired of people suggesting that since I wear revealing outfits with conveniently placed buttons, I must be some kind of insatiable slut. Just because we are long lived doesn't mean we enjoy wasting our time, okay? And having to pinch just one button to get my tits out is very handy-- not that I'd expect your flat-chested human women to understand. And on the topic of your women, why is it that you never see them sucking cock in public? If I didn't know better, I'd think they were too squeamish to take a cock down their throat. And it's not like they offer their third hole to make up for it, is it? Hell, last time I was getting ass-fucked in the alley behind the tavern, some human girl gave me the stink-eye and called me a whore! Can you believe that? I mean, if she can't put out enough to keep her man from fucking an elf in the ass, that's her problem, not mine! And so what if I let him blow his load in me after just five minutes of quiet flirtation and eye-fucking? That ought to be my privilege as a proud and noble elf.
And yeah, okay, we may sometimes go a bit ga-ga for large dicks; orcs, centaurs, minotaurs in particular (oh my god!), but that's no excuse to call us lewd. It's not! What, you're saying you don't care that my breasts are big enough to lose a small dog between? Or that my waist flares into two generous handfuls of squeezable ass? Yeah, that's what I thought. Everyone loves sexy things, and just because we have a hard time fighting the urge to get down on our knees for an orc or well-endowed human doesn't mean we are cheap or easy. I bet if I came up to you and offered you to eat and fuck my asshole, you'd jump at the chance! Hell, I know so; that's what happened the last ten times. So don't go playing all high and mighty on me, any of you! We are a proud and cultured race who deserve respect-- at least enough respect to be told when you're about to cum so I don't choke on it. Just... just tap me on the head or something. You know? It's not hard. You don't even gotta say anything, just a light tap on the head to show that dinner's ready. You don't want me walking around with a face full of cum, do you?
..oh, you do?
Well.. I guess that'd be okay.
The gentle rhythm of downpouring rain hardly mimics the quickened pulse of the lithe little minx slinking past the buildings' customarily drunk guards. Cloaked in shadow and steadied by experience, her countenance is untouched by amateur faults—fear and doubt are insignificant, merely blockades separating her deadly weapon from the vitals of the enemy. The district is unfamiliar, the target is of distinct high status, but her heart needs no comfort to take action; passion is her aegis. Youthful vigor and pride are the only fuels her action requires.
Her infiltration is practiced and swift, her cloak fluttering with every feather-light footfall, every fluid step bringing her closer to the prize, her pale chest delicately rising and falling, yet failing to belie any significant effort on her part. Two guards nobly keep watch outside their leader's suite, utterly unprepared for what lurks in the darkness. Seconds fade into the bleary past, a hall clock chimes the hour… *Now*.
One absurdly armored brute yawns; her icy blue eyes flash as she takes aim, a huntress to her prey, expertly sending a silenced bullet straight into his forehead, instantly ending his pathetic life. Another swift, well-aimed shot and his companion drops to the ground similarly, dead before alarm even has the chance to sink in. They weren't her mark but collateral damage is necessary in all prodigious endeavors, she reasons, flipping her hood back up to conceal silky platinum blonde locks, bound back in a simple ponytail and befitting a model. He's close, the would-be assassin smirks, slipping into the room.
She sidles up to the bedside, heated firearm held idly in her hand, and lowers her apathetic gaze to the pillow—nothing. Not even one of his airheaded whores. With a huff, she throws back her hood once more, fully exposing for the first time her toned physique, firm breasts bound back tightly, flat abdomen, athletic hips and long, slender legs filling her skin-tight suit, a commanding jawline and pale complexion accentuated by a flash of lightning from the open window. The bastard. He'd heard his men fall and decided to flee rather than avenge them… "Pitiful." Her scoff is unamused, ruthless, harshly formed by her perfectly defiant pout.
Before she can leap from the terrace after him, her waist is seized from behind, arms pinned against her sides by a powerful, well-muscled arm, the cold metal of a blade pressed firm against the foolishly exposed skin of her throat. "Drop the gun," came a snarl to her ear, the breath scorching against her sensitive skin. Her pulse quickens, her cheeks flush, but her slender digits only tighten around the weapon.
"Go to hell," she replies.
---
So. For this little story, I'd like you to play a wealthy businessman, corrupt high-ranking politician, crime lord - ideally someone with enough power and influence to warrant an assassination attempt by someone as… accomplished as my heroine. Essentially, after she all but falls into your lap, feisty and fatally dangerous, it's up to you to break her. Tame her, interrogate her, fuck her brains out. But a word of warning: she will fight back, at least at first. Who is she, exactly? I'm sure we can think up an interesting background for our sultry assassin.
The breaking down of a strong and capable woman is incredibly hot, especially as she's reduced to an 'example' / 'trophy' / 'pet' - a docile plaything hopelessly possessed and completely under his control. And, surprise, surprise, that's *exactly* what I'm interested in having happen here; I want my character to get turned into one of his prettied-up whores that he takes to bed every night.
kinks: dub/noncon to con, domination/submission, mind altering/mental transformation, possessive partners, forced dress up (control of clothes, makeup, hair), big cocks, cumplay, detail
limits: minors, anything that belongs in the bathroom, snuff
Can't wait to hear from you! Feel free to send me your questions, ideas, even initial thoughts on the prompt~
Her infiltration is practiced and swift, her cloak fluttering with every feather-light footfall, every fluid step bringing her closer to the prize, her pale chest delicately rising and falling, yet failing to belie any significant effort on her part. Two guards nobly keep watch outside their leader's suite, utterly unprepared for what lurks in the darkness. Seconds fade into the bleary past, a hall clock chimes the hour… *Now*.
One absurdly armored brute yawns; her icy blue eyes flash as she takes aim, a huntress to her prey, expertly sending a silenced bullet straight into his forehead, instantly ending his pathetic life. Another swift, well-aimed shot and his companion drops to the ground similarly, dead before alarm even has the chance to sink in. They weren't her mark but collateral damage is necessary in all prodigious endeavors, she reasons, flipping her hood back up to conceal silky platinum blonde locks, bound back in a simple ponytail and befitting a model. He's close, the would-be assassin smirks, slipping into the room.
She sidles up to the bedside, heated firearm held idly in her hand, and lowers her apathetic gaze to the pillow—nothing. Not even one of his airheaded whores. With a huff, she throws back her hood once more, fully exposing for the first time her toned physique, firm breasts bound back tightly, flat abdomen, athletic hips and long, slender legs filling her skin-tight suit, a commanding jawline and pale complexion accentuated by a flash of lightning from the open window. The bastard. He'd heard his men fall and decided to flee rather than avenge them… "Pitiful." Her scoff is unamused, ruthless, harshly formed by her perfectly defiant pout.
Before she can leap from the terrace after him, her waist is seized from behind, arms pinned against her sides by a powerful, well-muscled arm, the cold metal of a blade pressed firm against the foolishly exposed skin of her throat. "Drop the gun," came a snarl to her ear, the breath scorching against her sensitive skin. Her pulse quickens, her cheeks flush, but her slender digits only tighten around the weapon.
"Go to hell," she replies.
---
So. For this little story, I'd like you to play a wealthy businessman, corrupt high-ranking politician, crime lord - ideally someone with enough power and influence to warrant an assassination attempt by someone as… accomplished as my heroine. Essentially, after she all but falls into your lap, feisty and fatally dangerous, it's up to you to break her. Tame her, interrogate her, fuck her brains out. But a word of warning: she will fight back, at least at first. Who is she, exactly? I'm sure we can think up an interesting background for our sultry assassin.
The breaking down of a strong and capable woman is incredibly hot, especially as she's reduced to an 'example' / 'trophy' / 'pet' - a docile plaything hopelessly possessed and completely under his control. And, surprise, surprise, that's *exactly* what I'm interested in having happen here; I want my character to get turned into one of his prettied-up whores that he takes to bed every night.
kinks: dub/noncon to con, domination/submission, mind altering/mental transformation, possessive partners, forced dress up (control of clothes, makeup, hair), big cocks, cumplay, detail
limits: minors, anything that belongs in the bathroom, snuff
Can't wait to hear from you! Feel free to send me your questions, ideas, even initial thoughts on the prompt~
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