Men Behaving Badly -- Dark Desires for Sordid, Smutty Stories (M lf F, dark)

[apocryphan]

Hello. I enjoy playing men with dark and terribly unpopular views toward the world, but aren't simply stereotypical Disney-level villains. They have biases and motivations, desires and dreams, and aspirations for the future. It just so happens that they're sometimes a little one-sided. See, the trouble with trouble is, it always starts out as fun...



First, A Little About Me:

Fresh & Organic
I prefer to give our characters the tools and opportunities they need, and watch as they interact with each other and the world. Let’s throw them surprises and curveballs and see what sticks and what flies out of the park. Sometimes it’ll lead to a dead end, and that’s fine. Because sometimes it might also lead to a deliciously decadent idea neither of us would’ve thought of. I strongly dislike planning a hard and rigid outline of how the story should rise, climax, and resolve, and then filling in the blanks like a madlib.

The Importance of Communication
If you don't like something, say so. I will do the same. And let me know if you love something! We’ve all been there where we love the way a roleplay is going, but we’re unsure of how our partner feels. It feels great to have someone you’re playing with compliment your writing! And if you have a problem, it’s better for us to resolve the problem together and continue happily, than to have a small problem sink the whole ship. Don’t be shy.

Keep it Focused
Have you ever spent page after page describing the foliage, vegetation, climate, and landscape, down to the snow white daylilies being pollinated by a yellow-striped bee buzzing from flower to flower? Just to have a partner rolling their eyes and desperately trying to fast forward the action? I consider myself a very descriptive writer that looks to play with prose and imagery. But there is a time and place, and requires the cooperation and consent of both players. It’s fantastic to enjoy painting the world and stopping to smell the flowers, as long as the other player is on the same page. The only way to know that is to communicate, and make sure we’re both focused on the same objective, whether that’s building background and exposition, or moving the story forward.

(Post) Size Doesn’t Matter
I love very descriptive play, with lots of imagery and deliciously salacious details. However, I don’t adhere slavishly to paragraph requirements. Here’s the way I see it: use as many words as you’d like to convey your action and your story, and leave enough bite for the other player to get a pleasant mouthful. Leave enough bait and line so that the other writer can work with what’s given, and expand on it. Sometimes that means just a single line, or it could be several paragraphs and pictures.

Frequency
Ideally, I enjoy when both players are online at the same time, and we can chat and shoot posts one after another for an evening. However, that’s not always possible. If we’re separated by several hours per post, let’s leave meaty bites for each other to mull over through the course of the day. Everyone loves coming home to the written equivalent of a steak and wine dinner.
If each post is only separated by an hour or less, we can make shorter posts and rely on getting an immediate reaction from the other.

Alluring Plots, and Salacious Storylines
A good background story and setting is a must. Developing the context and relationship between the characters and how they interact is literary foreplay. And Foreplay is an amazing thing… isn't it so much more enjoyable when everything's hot and slick and trembling? It really doesn’t even need to be said, but let’s spend some time building up anticipation and excitement so we can invest in an explosively satisfying payoff.

Creativity, Surprises, Humor
We all love our reliable classics like the orc and the elf, or the dark alleyway, and there’s a time and place for them. However, how much more delightful would it be if we had our own spin on the burly orc seizing the elf princess? Perhaps the vampire finds that his next victim is actually a serial killer, or the burglar that breaks into home at night needs to come up with a creative way to defeat the home security system before he can claim his prize. Here, you’re free to throw as many curveballs and surprises as you like. Experiment and have fun, because I’ll be doing the same!

Call and Answer
I prefer playing with each post responding to the previous one and acknowledging the heartbeat, and then adding my own movement that propels the story forward. Too much or too little passivity is unsatisfying... let's find and hit that perfect medium.

Partner Dancing & Cooperation
Writing with two players is much different than solo. I compare it to partner dancing. I can be the best solo dancer in the world with thousands of memorized choreographed moves, but if I just lead a bunch of patterns that my partner isn’t able to follow along with, we just look unpolished and forced. This means setting up opportunities and events and dialogues that let the other player have a chance to shine. It also means sometimes taking a backseat and letting the follow take the lead. Let's not just railroad a bunch of kinks and throw it all together like a meatloaf. Let's play with the story and weave it together as co-authors, and play off each other’s creativity and ideas. That’s why we’re here!

The Big Picture
We are having a good time telling a smutty story and exploring an adventure. We’re all here for the same reasons, to make friends, have fun, and get titillated. Please don't be, or make it weird.

Kinks I Like:

I enjoy playing men that aren’t afraid to take what they want. You can probably imagine the kinks that are associated with that. Just a few of my favorite things, out of many I enjoy:

Objectification
Embarrassment / Humiliation / Degradation
Strong / Selfish / Manipulative Partner Characters
Submission / Bondage / BDSM
Non-Con / Force / Rape
Romance / Dub-con
Chains and collars
Cleverness / Wit
Strength / Overpowering


This is What I Don’t Like:
Passivity: I enjoy leading, but no one should be expected to lead through an entire story and have the other partner only react. This is a two way, cooperative effort.

Railroaded Outline: I like keeping the story organic and leaving multiple routes that can be taken at each fork, each with a plausible path to further explore. It’s much more enjoyable to me than to decide on an outline before we start playing and then we just fill in the details and dialogue.

God-Modding, and Accusing Everyone Else of God-Modding: Of course no one likes it when someone plays their character for them. But being so terrified of god-modding that every post becomes a health clinic consent form where no tangible action is taken, and is just a bunch of checkboxes that ask “do you consent? y/n” is also a mood killer. Don’t be afraid to take up space.

The Usual Suspects: I’m not into scat, bathroom stuff, bestiality, underage, yadda yadda. If you have something you’re interested in knowing my opinion on, just ask.





The Demon's Bidding

Themes: Role reversal. Heavy D/s. Dark. Psychological.
Rating:Light to NC, possibly extreme.


“Her heart sank into her shoes as she realized how much she wanted him. No matter what his past was, no matter what he had done... He moved her chemically more than anyone she had ever met, and all other men seemed pale beside him.”

It was a dark and stormy night. A powerful sorceress, bored and lonely on a rainy night in her tower, summons a handsome incubus to light her firepit for the night. Little does she understand the demon's seductive power. He inflames the cocky girl's mind with his sly tongue, bewitching her senses with his honeyed charms, before ensnaring her with his lustful promises. Believing she controls the demon, she becomes intoxicated by her new lover, who satisfies her mind and body in ways no mortal ever could.
She's surprised one day when he withholds his affections. He has but a single, simple favor to ask. Now, she must perform the demon's bidding in exchange for the demon’s heart-fluttering embrace that she’s grown to crave so needily. Slowly, the demon turns the sorceress into his pawn, chipping at her resolve and fortitude, until he becomes the true Master.


Related idea prompts in the same setting:
What if the roles were reversed at the beginning? A dominant master summons a submissive succubus to come fulfill his needs, but struggles to maintain control after her ministrations…

A wine-drenched dinner party and masquerade is underway at the Tower, when the summoning circle opens...





Brought to Heel

Themes: D/s. Psychological. NC to romance?
Rating: Light to NC to extreme.


“You grabbed me in your sleep one morning and whispered 'mine' in my ear. And I keep that memory on my windowsill, and feed it music, water, and light.”

Having won a vicious and protracted war against an Elven kingdom, a human prince is eager to exact retribution against his hated enemies. After razing their capital and woodlands and enslaving its populace, the merciless warrior takes a beautiful Elven princess as his new bride. Knowing that she was the spiritual and ceremonial leader of his enemies, he is determined to crush her will and bend her to his perverted desires. He has her bound, blindfolded, and caged in front of her people and marched like a filthy mongrel to his base camp, where he intends to ravage her to the dull night glow of her smoldering city. But…

He quickly realizes there is more to the woman than he expected. Even after he had conquered her body, he still felt a gaping hole inside, his black heart so used to unending and ceaseless warfare that he had forgotten to love. Can someone he so wronged forgive him and mend his heart? He begins to feel a closer kinship with her and her subjugated people, than his own vicious and warlike people...

BDSM Gone Wrong
Themes: D/s. Dark. Psychological. Abuse.
Rating: NC to extreme.


“In this world there are two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.”

She had responded to his ad, finding his strong, dominant personality attractive. She was naive and innocent, and eager to taste life as a submissive. Her world was quickly turned upside down when she moved in with her new Master in an isolated woodland cabin. At first, it was everything she dreamed of: mind-blowing sex, obedience, complete surrender to a powerful man. He took what he wanted with a smile… he was everything she dreamed a strong, dominant man should be. But then she had doubts as he slowly grew more and more controlling. It was cute, at first… he was possessive because he craved her so much. She’d never felt so desired and needed before. But the accusatory questions suddenly turned into a play session where he was far rougher than she was comfortable with. Soon, he was beating her, forcing himself on her, cutting off communication with the outside. She tried to leave, but she found her phone and passport missing. Trapped, thousands of miles away from civilization, she was his prisoner now, psychologically as well as physically. She had thought she wanted nothing more than to be treated like a cheap, disposable toy, but this… this was BDSM gone wrong.



The End of Days
Themes: Dark and gritty. Exploration and survival. World-building.
Rating: Light to NC, possibly extreme.

There was no time for preparation, loading the photo albums, or grabbing the jewelry. He was sitting in the recliner at home, enjoying a cold one, watching the game, when a nuclear warhead detonates over the stadium, to the sound of screaming and horrified gasps, before the broadcast suddenly cut out to static. An emergency bulletin is sent out. But it's not a nicely groomed anchor sitting at a news desk telling everyone to sit tight and everything will be OK... it's a panicked message in all caps on a flashing red -- GET OUT NOW!

It's the immediate aftermath of the most devastating all-out war the world has ever seen. Cities and countries have been completely and utterly decimated, reduced to irradiated and diseased smoldering ruins. Any semblance of governance has collapsed, replaced by strength and ruthlessness. In the days immediately after the cataclysm, the scores of survivors try to band together, attempting to find shelter, food, water, and safety in the desolate wastelands.

He grabs his bug-out bag sitting in the same place it's been for the past decade... right next to the door. He's trained for this. He's gone over every zombie apocalypse scenario in his head, over and over. He's mentally rehearsed how he'd kill a zombie in five different ways with a katana, ten with a sharpened pencil, and fifty with a roll of floss. He runs out on the driveway, dodging out of the way of the frantic and utterly lawless people driving down the street. He watches, giddy with excitement as mushroom clouds erupt over the metropolis. He's prepared for this, every day and every hour of his life, even down to living in the podunk, utterly obscure suburb that would be last on the list for mutually assured nuclear destruction. He watches with pity as people take all the predictable wrong options that would inevitably lead to their demise. People sitting in their cars and trucks, honking angrily, stuck in miles of unmoving traffic. They'd run out of gas, food, and water, and be easy prey for raiders and bandits, he thought to himself. And in the other direction, people were fleeing to the grocery stores and pharmacies. It would be a battle royale to the death over the remaining scraps, and then the winner would be snuffed out like a gnat to the first organized gang that forms in the wake of the destruction.

Oh no, he knew what everyone else was doing wrong. He'd run thousands of simulations, queried focus groups, and even gotten his doctorate in survival (from an online diploma mill, of course). He jogged at a brisk pace toward his underground shelter, stocked with the necessities needed to restart civilization. This time, he was going to do it right. It wouldn't be the bravest warriors, or the most diplomatic politicians, or most inspiring leaders that'd survive the coming reboot of the world. No, it'd be the survivor.



Murder Mystery Dinner -- The Changeling
Themes: Psychological. Dark. Betrayal.
Rating: Light to NC, possibly extreme.

“Pour yourself into me, and I will not let a drop of you hit the ground…”

One of the happy vacationers on a space tourist cruise-vessel has been infested by a parasitic alien while bathing on Omicron-8. The alien is able to transform between its alien form and its host body, retaining all of its human attributes such as memories, speech, and reasoning. The cruise-vessel's own version of HAL alerts the vacationers to the intruder, but they don't know which one of them is the parasite. Terrified, they band together, clinging to their mojitos as they snapchat and tweet their terror, as misfortune and chance slowly separates them one by one...

Related idea prompts in the same setting:
The space tourists are in the middle of a Masquerade party on the vessel. They’ve dressed up as vampires, witches, werewolves, elves, and orcs. It seems every time one of the partygoers sneaks into the closest with the elf, they end up missing…

The cruise-vessel has been utterly infested, and drifts heedlessly in the reaches of space. Until one day, in the far, far future, an illegal pirate vessel docks and boards the hopelessly-antiquated cruise-vessel, searching for treasure...



The Inner City
Themes: Dark. Abuse.
Rating: NC, possibly extreme.

“There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable…”

A sweet and innocent woman in her early 20s has a flash of inspiration and decides to open an inner-city dance school to provide troubled youth an outlet for their aggression. She's a feisty and confident little thing, with just enough bite to talk a good game, but she's wholly unprepared for just what life in the inner-city is really like. The local gang enters her life easily enough -- an after-hours offerance of 'protection'.
But as they learn just how soft and pliant the lithe beauty is, their demands grow larger and larger by day, until they have no problem humiliating her in front of her students, groping and fondling her in her costume, until before long she's splayed lewdly against the glass of her front window, her hands pinned over her head, her screams and bawling silent to the neighborhood crowd gathering outside, watching her pained, weeping expression as she's violated in broad daylight.

Related idea prompts in the same setting:
Her studio becomes a breeding ground for vice and shady activities. A young detective is dispatched to investigate…

She smiled as she felt the last one spill himself inside of her. It was a trap. She had collected the essence of countless men, and tonight, on the full moon… they would become her thralls.



Conquistador of a New World
Themes: Alternate universe. Exploration and survival. New cultures. Adaption.
Rating: Light to NC, possibly extreme.

“We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.”

They set him afloat in an improvised raft with nothing but a piece of driftwood as an oar, and a flagon of rum. They wanted to kill him, but none of them had the balls to slide their finger into the trigger well. He laughed maniacally as they lowered him into the stormy waves… they would be utterly lost without their captain. They were signing his death warrant, and also their own. And he was right… he drifted by the skeleton of the caravel that had been dashed into a thousand wooden splinters against a cliff. ‘Oh, throw the only man left that knows how to command, to navigate, to survive in these treacherous waters? What a mistake!” He chuckled to himself as he paddled his raft to the beach. He could see smoke rising above the tree canopy...

A grizzled sea captain lands on the beach, and finds a whole new uncharted civilization. Are they brutish natives that try to capture him and tie him to a stake to roast him like a pig? Or are they an enlightened civilization that developed in parallel? Have they reached the pinnacle of Instagram technology hundreds of years before the Europeans? Who does he find… perhaps peace-loving natives that use sex as casually as hugs, freely sharing their fruits and berries with him. Does he subjugate the easy prey, ruling the once happy and free-spirited natives with an iron fist, establishing himself a gigantic harem from a once peaceful free love community? Or perhaps he finds a brutal culture of survival, with a single-minded focus on surviving the especially brutal and barren winters. Does he become a brave warrior in their own tradition, or does his knowledge and technological know-how elevate him to the status of chief? Deity? Let’s discuss some ideas…

Related idea prompts in the same setting:
Instead of the captain, two galley slaves are thrown overboard from their ship, and set on a raft to either drown or starve. They reach the New World together, but find only uncivilized and uncolonized wilderness. There isn’t a single campfire or smokestack in sight…

On the shores, an entirely different race or species spots the floating raft. Elves, with their bows strung and nocked? Werewolves, catching sight of the raft in the reflective moonlight? Demons, in the middle of a sacrificial volcano ritual?



Songstress of the Scream
Themes: Dark, Psychological, Violence, Kidnapping, Twisted Character
Rating: NC to extreme.

“And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.”

He had been following her performances for nearly three years. He watched as she went from a fledgling singer in a garage band to a celebrity songstress. He was entranced with her soft, honeyed words, the way her melodies made his heart lift. He lived to hear her beautiful, sultry voice. His interest grew into a fullblown obsession, as her songs began speaking directly to him. He hung on her every word, listening to every youtube interview, appearing at every gig, buying every piece of memorabilia.
Then the day came when he learned she would appear in concert in his town. He had everything planned out... everything down to her exact routine and schedule, planned to the very minute. That night, she’d be missing after her set at the venue. She'd be crying and whimpering, chained  and blindfolded in a dark room. She screams as she feels the rough, splintery rope tightened around her body. He'd defile her until he heard her sweet, delightful screams echoing in the chamber. He craved to hear her whimpers, her sweet, melodic sobs. He would play her songs in the background, of course. He desired nothing more than to hear that same voice, transformed to a delightful shriek as he buried himself inside her. He was going to transform her until the only word to escape her lips would be his name.

Related idea prompts in the same setting:
She’s no songstress, but a full on screamer. A tough girl that has a certifiable reputation for kicking ass. He attempts to kidnap her, but she fights, thrashes, bites, and kicks every step of the way. Does he enjoy the satisfaction of claiming the toughest cookie in the business? Or does turn the tables on him when he makes that fatal mistake. “Oh, time for a little payback…”

What if the band was crazed, instead of the fan? A sweet and naive girl is bubbling with excitement. She’d been saving up all year to treat herself with this for her birthday. She smiles broadly as she goes backstage…



The Rotten Scion
Themes: Dark, Twisted Character
Rating: Light to NC, possibly extreme.

“The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me.”

Born of immense means to a noble and ancient household, Saber is the favored and lone son of the Sunstrider family. As the last remaining scion of the family tree, his upbringing was spoiled rotten, with his every desire catered to and satisfied. It was an idyllic life as the young Saber learned political subterfuge and manuevering shifting allegiances. Governing came easy, as the youth found a natural affinity for dispensing orders and commands. Eager to heap honors and privilege on his young son, the elder Sunstrider gave Saber his own commission in the calvary, and a large manse on the outskirts of town with his own staff.

However, the maturing Saber soon found he had a distaste for martial honor and bravery; rather, he enjoyed watching his foes driven before him, their towns and villages sacked, their women raped and enslaved. War was only a means to an end, and that end was having others under his benevolent thumb, forcing them to acquiesce to his every desire. He soon discovered the allure of women, much to the dismay of the city. There was no mutual respect, nor romance, nor courtship. He used them to slake his desires, ruining them and their chances for marriage, as he brutally seeded bastards all across the socialite scene. Yet the power and prestige of his family ensured that his reputation was always of a spotless, genteel, well-groomed heir to the Sunstrider name.

Is it possible to grow bored of an unending line of scared and cowed women, picked in their peak of ripeness to enjoy at his leisure? Of having his subjects and vassals quivering in their boots as they're invited to a banquet, and told to bring their daughters? Of unending debaucherous parties of wine, women, and violence? Saber would tell you no... but there's no denying that at the bottom of his black heart, something yearns...




Out of the corner of your eye...

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

You catch a glimpse of the dashing young Sunstrider male out of the corner of your eye, discreetly glancing your way when he thinks you aren't looking in his direction. A gorgeous specimen of masculinity, tall and handsome even for by this establishment's impossible standards... you watch as the small circle of high class socialites closes around him, wine glasses in hand. His piercing emerald eyes twinkle with devilish mischief as the circle erupts into laughter... and suddenly, his brilliant green eyes dart towards you. His lips spread into a wicked smile as he catches you looking, dimples forming in his cheek as he gives you a sly wink. You can't help but feel an urge to drift your eyes downward, eyeing his strong, virile body, apparent even underneath his evening garb. He possessed a powerful, sculpted musculature that wouldn't seem out of place on a statue displayed prominently in Silvermoon. Your eyes flit back to his eyes, still watching you with amusement... as if he knows you were mentally undressing him. He places his glass on the table as he walks towards you, a coy grin forming on his lips...

You've heard a lot about him already... this was the type of blood elf your mother had warned you about. You know he has no moral qualms about using his sharp tongue or stunning looks to get ahead, and when that fails... his conscience wouldn't blush at the notion of forcible entry. He was more powerful than he was wealthy, and, judging by his exquisite outerwear, he was extremely wealthy. You know he's had his pick of the litter for as long as you can remember, tearing his way through harems of beautiful debutantes, leaving nothing in his wake but broken hearts. Rumor had it he's grown weary of the typical young socialite women that fold too easily, crumbling like dust in his firm hands.

You can feel your heartbeat racing, your hair standing on end as he draws closer, every detail on his gorgeous face coming into view, a mischievous smile framed by high cheekbones, long, dark hair cascading down to his shoulders.You can even smell his masculine fragrance...

Every shred of logic in your body tells you to run, run far away... but tonight, there are far more powerful forces dictating your choices. You try to remind yourself of all those reports of young women, their cocktail dresses torn down to their ankles, bruises covering their exposed bodies, left unconscious in the park until the next morning. But he had never been convicted, no matter how many times he was accused! Your mind wanders to all those tabloids you couldn't help but quickly glance over in the marketplace... but the headlines still lay emblazoned in your mind.

"...When Push Comes to Shove, He Loves to Bite..."

"...A Masterful Lover, or a Savage Rapist?"

"...Three Ladies Who Tried to Change Him and Failed..."

All those lurid details, all the smut fit to print... you can't help but wonder what is true and what is fabricated. He bites, loves being bitten... hard. There was something incredibly erotic about the thought of him tracing the tip of his warm, coarse tongue along your hot, sweaty skin, surrendering to his strong, powerful arms wrapped around your body. More than once has he been accused of being so gripped with passion, he grabbed his woman by the shoulders and roughly shoved her up against a wall, pinning her frail wrists with his hardened, muscular body, grinding lewdly against her soft, feminine curves... Just the thought of a woman that would resist him, squirming and thrashing in his grasp, wrestling against him, biting and kicking... You decide you can't just close your eyes and melt to his every desire... however much it sets your imagination aflame with all the delicious, tasty possibilities.Aa fistful of your hair wrapped around his powerful hand as he viciously jerks it backward, groaning as he slowly sinks himself deep inside, every inch of skin on your body tingling as you feel yourself slowly submitting to his savage style of seduction...

You unconsciously lick your lips as you see him standing across from you. You can change him... you are the woman that will turn his life around. What will you say?

Related idea prompts in the same setting:
Saber's bachelor days of ravaging loose women and chasing tramps is over -- his noble parents are threatening to cut off his inheritance and his privileges if he doesn't marry the sensible, innocent girl they've chosen for him. He begrudgingly meets her at the altar, but little does she know what's in store for her… Or perhaps they set up an alliance marriage with a prestigious and well-connected woman from an equally powerful family. One that will not simply overlook his dalliances…

The Seductress -- The Silvermoon Nightclub is Saberoth's favorite haunt, and he's made his way through several of the women there already. But one day, a mysterious new face appears, and he can't help but be captivated. Perhaps she is a chanteuse with an alluring voice that mesmerizes him, and lulls him into a false sense of security. Or she is newly arrived in town, and seems to know how to push all of Saber’s buttons… but in reality she was a girl whose heart he broke nearly half a decade ago, come for revenge...

The Ride of the Silvermoon Brigade -- War threatens the city, and desperate times calls for the notorious playboy to be commisioned into a regiment of knights. He finds himself drawn to the feisty hellcat of a sergeant in his company, her commanding personality vitriolic to his… Can they put aside differences for King and Country, or do they fall victim to their insatiable desires? His to claim her, Hers to crack every bone in his body.

A New Pet -- Saber's taken up the fashionable hobby of collecting exotic pets. Of course, no ordinary snake or ferret will do. He craves the most dangerous plaything, and what is more dangerous than woman? He'd put on his hunting leathers and summon his courtiers for a grand safari. They'd track through the wilds and forests, in search for an especially elusive prey. Or perhaps through the winding streets and narrows of the city, searching for the perfect specimen to add to his collection. Of course, as a newcomer to the hunting profession, his ideas of taming a pet are quite... crude.



Raw Clay
Ideas I haven’t gotten around to sticking in the oven yet.

Black Mirror episode where people can upvote or downvote each other based on their daily social interactions. Their rating then determines their lot in life. People with higher ratings have more weight on their votes. What happens when a cartel forms to abuse this new system?

Hollywood Lights
It’s a long and difficult road to become noticed in Hollywood, and it’s even more difficult to stay relevant. Each favor a girl gives away decreases their exoticism and marketability. How can a girl get to the top without giving *too* much away?

Flint and Tinder
Themes: Casual hookup app dating. Romance.
Rating: Light

“And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.”

Partially inspired by the Black Mirror episode. Two people enter a world where a computer matches them with compatible love interests. Each date has an expiration date on it, which can only be accessed if both people agree. Although initially these two believed the other was a ‘nice and a good match’, they wanted to play the field to see what else was out there. As they go on hundreds of dates, they realize that they were what each other wanted.


"Time is slow for those who wait, very fast for those who are scared, very long for those who lament, very short for those who celebrate, but for those who love, time is eternal."
What if two people fall in love, only to find they separated by both time and space? Perhaps she lives while he's already passed, and their only means of communication is through a dusty old tome. Or a stack of post-it notes in the park. And the the notes are slowly running out...

"I wanted to write my words all over her body with my lips; all the curves, all that soft canvas of beauty, and read her everyday, over and over again.."
An artist that suddenly finds success when he meets his beloved muse. But their relationship is stormy and tempestuous, swinging from one extreme to the other. His art and his muse become intrinsically intertwined.




All these ideas are only intended as a starting point for brainstorming. If you have any ideas of your own to share, feel free to drop a line and let's chat!

[apocryphan]

Finally have time to start playing again. I'd love to find someone that has a similarly dark desire...

[apocryphan]

Name: Bad Road Trip

Content: NC, extreme, kidnapping, slavery, BDSM

Scenario: A young woman and her friend are taking a carefree road trip across the country, culminating in the music festival to end all music festivals -- Coachella. It's a trip of a lifetime; enjoying life and youth with your bestie in an open-air convertible, racing across open road with the wind blowing in your hair. What's not to like? But they're a little too care-free, and they run out of gas and break down in the middle of nowhere.

The sun is beating down hard, and they begin to get a little worried. Luckily, a stranger lives nearby in the wilderness, and arrives to help with a wicked smile. He needs a few tools to fix their problem, but he's more than happy to drive them back to his cabin so they can grab some water and food and get out of the sun. He's a charming and charismatic man who gives off safe vibes, even if he does seem a little eager. Bad things only happen in the movies... this was just a kind stranger being neighborly.

Think again. She screams and thrashes as she feels her hair gripped by the scalp and savagely dragged toward a structure that looked like a crude kennel. He has both women in either hand, and he locks them both inside his improvised dungeon. She watches through a tiny hole cut in the wooden log walls. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pill, downing it with a swig from his canteen. He slams the door to the cell next to her open, and her ears are greeted with her bestie's frightened screams. Her screams are cut off with the sound of a savage slap, and her screams quickly turn into a long, piercing wail. The woman peeks through the slits in the logs, and can see the faint figure of the rapist mounted on top of her friend. There was no need for rope or shackles... the man pinned her down with only sheer brute strength that had been earned from living a life in solitude in the wilderness. There was no ceremony or preparation, the only foreplay being his rapacious cutting off of her blouse with a pocket knife. There was no sweet, honeyed words. There was only a brutal and merciless rape. She closed her eyes, trying to drown out the whimpering sobs and screams coming through the wall. The man was clearly unashamed and didn't have an ounce of regret. What was she going to do when he inevitably came for her next?