The Siren Seeks... (F for M Characters)

Started by RipTide, May 28, 2011, 11:37:38 PM

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RipTide

“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”
― Werner Herzog




If interested in anything below, please be sure to first review my O/Os, and if our interests align, please go ahead and PM me.




Current Ideas & Plots

The Informant (Modern, Taboo): Available

     

The DEA has been chasing Mexican cartels for decades. When they squashed one drug ring, another seemed to pop up in its place in a matter of days. It was a war they didn't have resources for, and yet they couldn't just stand by and watch the cartel murder and manipulate the entire country into doing its bidding, nor could they let the drugs flow freely into the United States. It was exhausting. The more seasoned agents ran themselves into the ground, retired with nothing to show for themselves despite years of hard work, and new agents sprung up through the ranks with dreams of making a difference. All too quickly, those bright eyes turned jaded.

But once in a great while, even the DEA caught a break. A fruitful bust of a popular Mexican night club lands them one of the biggest catches they'd had in a while; the daughter of Javier Miguel Fuentes Bolivar.

Rosa had snuck out that evening, wanting nothing more than a night away from her father, her over-bearing step-mother, and the guards. Hell, they watched everything she did. She couldn't even rub her own pussy without them knowing, let alone go on a date or sneak a handsome guy inside. Then again, no smart man laid a hand on Rosa Marie Bolivar.

Notes: Looking for someone to play the DEA agent opposite Rosa, the drug lord's daughter. As much as I love the face claim above, it's by no means mandatory. Whatever you decide he looks like, there will be an attraction between the two, but she's loyal to her father despite knowing he's a cruel man. He'll appeal to her, she'll be conflicted, but no one can say for certain that Bolivar didn't want his daughter to fall into the hands of the DEA. How will the two navigate these stormy seas? What extremes will the DEA agent go to in order to protect his beautiful informant?

Borne of Wind & Sand (Non-Con/Dub-Con, Historical, possible M/F/F): Taken!


Nadira, the childless though beautiful wife of a wealthy, Middle Eastern merchant, risks her life to save her husband's other wives and their children when Vikings attack their village. She is taken in among the spoils of war, and presented to the leader of the raid among a group of women and children who are to live their lives from then on as slaves--to be traded. Her exotic beauty captures the attention of the leader who takes her as his own. What starts as a foreign, forceful, and violent relationship opens Nadira's eyes to a world beyond what she ever thought possible.

Notes: Seeking someone to play the male viking. This was a story I got started with another member on E, but I never received a response after posting the introduction which can be seen in the spoiler below. Basically, I would like to explore the transition of a non-consensual relationship into that of a consensual one. It won't be quick, and it will take time, but eventually they might see eye-to-eye. Initially, she would be shocked by their culture, but as the viking comes to enjoy her company and vice versa, perhaps he will teach her the language, culture, and religion (think of Ragnar and Athelstan in the Vikings series), to the point where he begins to favor her.

If we decide that he has a wife, which would be likely in this setting, we can explore some MxFxF settings where I would be more than happy to play either a cruel and possibly jealous wife, or perhaps one who is also willing to welcome another into their bed. Much of this is up for negotiation, but please feel free to PM me to discuss it further.

Introduction
That night was cooler than most and was just the remedy the household of Ebrahim Mahmoudi needed for sweltering, sleepless nights. Ebrahim was a wealthy tradesman, and his two-level stone home containing a small, though lavish central courtyard was a fine testament to that. Up on the second floor, he slept separately from his four wives--the most a man could have--though his room was just next door to Nadira's. She was his most beautiful, and yet childless wife, even while the other wives had borne him 5 children, 3 of them sons. She'd been told on several occasions that she should feel lucky she was beautiful, otherwise Ebrahim would likely have divorced her by now.

Behind an ornately carved door, Nadira, too, was cloaked in a soundless sleep. The small room, which was hardly big enough for a bed, a wardrobe, and a table was almost completely dark and kept adequately cool by the stone walls. Even her orange and white mau was curled up contentedly at her feet in search of some additional warmth, but all of a sudden, the feline shot up and leapt off the bed with a yowl. When he began pawing and scratching at the door, searching for a way out, Nadira lazily rolled over onto her side and gave a faint, annoyed whimper, though as her green eyes peeled open, she saw what momentarily appeared to be the golden light of morning through the small, rectangular window. Not long after, screams began to swell in the distance and Nadira soon came to realize it wasn't the sun, but fire that blazed in the night sky.

Confusion melted into fear and for a moment she seemed frozen to the bed, unable to speak or move. The sound of pottery shattering outside the window, however, finally broke her temporary paralysis and she threw herself from the bed and toward the door which she immediately pulled open. Bursting out into the hall, her hands outstretched to grasp the balcony that overlooked the courtyard, a few of the servants were beginning to barricade the door with whatever they could find. Hundreds of questions occupied her mind, but Nadira eventually pulled herself from the balcony and knocked furiously on Ebrahim's door.

"Husband!" she cried, and was soon joined by two of the other wives, Dima and Hajar, who were just as frantic as she was. Hajar was the youngest at just 17 and clung to Dima who was nearly twice her age like a child would it's mother. Dima tried her best to soothe the girl, but soon began to ask the same questions that Nadira wanted answers to.

"Do you know who has come?" she asked Nadira, but she could only shake her head in response. She knew only as much as any of them, and it was clear as day that they were in danger. Eventually, Dima sent Hajar to fetch the children. No doubt that's where Adila had gone off to but she would need help. At last, before she'd finished her next round of pounding, Ebrahim opened the door, pulling on a thick robe. Nadira could see the fear in his eyes as his mind worked out what to do to keep his family safe. He had seen the white-skinned barbarians from his window, and he knew they would claim whatever they could get their hands on as their own.

"The cellars. Go," he urged, grabbing Nadira by the shoulders as if to emphasize how grave the matter at hand was. "Take the children with you, and pray to Allah they don't find you." She felt a knot tighten in her gut, and though she was hesitant, she obeyed her husband. She wanted to ask who it was, what would happen if they were found, but Nadira didn't delay. Her slender hand found Dima's and together they rushed to the stairs. In a flurry of linen, the two scurried down the steps as quickly as they could without tripping over their robes.

"Should we run?" asked Dima, her voice low as they wound through to the kitchen. Nadira had thought the same initially, but the sounds that filled the night were enough to convince her other wise.

"We don't know what it is waiting for us out there," she replied with a shake of her head as she bent to push the thin rug that concealed the cellar door, hoping her instincts were right. "We must hide." Grasping the iron handle, she anchored her feet on the wooden planks beneath her and pulled, lifting the heavy door upwards. She helped Dima into the cellar which offered no light, but moving to search the cabinets nearby, she eventually found a candle, a candleholder and a flint, shoving them into Dima's hands.

"I must go find the others," she whispered and bent to pick up the front of her gown in her hands so she could run. Once she returned to the courtyard, a loud thump on the front entry greeted her and caused her to freeze suddenly in her tracks, her light eyes locked on the two wooden doors which had been barred, and when another thump just as loud came again, causing the doors to buckle, she gasped. Luckily, Hajar and Adila were making their way down the stairs with the children who were bleary-eyed and too tired to cry.

"Hurry!" she urged, ushering the bunch into the kitchens. A third thump came and then silence once more, and as the last few bodies moved into the cramped cellar which was now illuminated by candle light, a crashing sounded from the courtyard behind her. Nadira's heart sunk, and though the three women tried to coax her in with them as well, Nadira knew deep down they would all be found, and likely killed--or worse--if she didn't do something. Childless, Nadira had nothing to lose. If she could save the others, then so be it.

"Don't make a sound!" she hissed and eased the door closed, praying the women could keep the children calm. Scurrying to slide the rug back into place, Nadira could hear the thundering of boots and the shouting of men above the thundering heartbeat in her ears. Once the rug was situated enough, fully concealing the cellar once more, she threw herself beneath the nearby table which was up sidled against the wall and slid herself as far back into the shadows as she could. She quieted her breath out of necessity and hugged her knees tightly into her chest, silently praying the invaders would soon leave them in peace. For a moment things did quiet, but when she heard Ebrahim's voice out in the courtyard, low and calm, her blood ran ice cold.

"Please don't," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Please just leave us alone." Whether or not the invaders understood, she didn't know. Whatever the case, they didn't seem to like Ebrahim's plea. Shouting ensued and his voice became muddled by the strange language, but once more everything fell still with what sounded like a blade slicing through flesh. Straining her ears, she heard the gasping, the choking, and the gurgling for a few long moments, punctuated by the low laughter of a voice she did not recognize.

Ebrahim... Her husband was dead.

Posting Rate = 1-2 posts/story/week

What Does a Siren Crave? === What Does a Siren Prefer?

RipTide

#1
Images to Inspire

         

         


Posting Rate = 1-2 posts/story/week

What Does a Siren Crave? === What Does a Siren Prefer?

RipTide

#2
The Graveyard



Below are some of my favorite stories that for one reason or another were abandoned. I've noted a few below with "**" that I would consider reworking and reopening with another partner.

Can a Cyborg Love with AceFlyer
To Bend and Break with jacobjon**
A Breath of Fire with PrimalChaos**
Borne of Wind and Sand with MandredSnowborn**
Double-Edged Deception with Arkaniel**
Wayward Summer with CuriousItch**
Dangerous Mind Games with GnothiSeauton
The Price of Nobility with Becca
Brother and Sister in Arms with Tulgeyman
Fame Won't Keep You Warm at Night with Napanee
Prime with GnothiSeauton
Royally Fucked with GnothiSeauton**
The Rebel and the Princess with Dudan**
In the Ashes of My Kingdom with Tulgeyman**
The Occupation with Trafalgar**
Home Or Something Like It with Aleph**
Fighting Nature with AlphaMale
GDF with Dark Deception


Posting Rate = 1-2 posts/story/week

What Does a Siren Crave? === What Does a Siren Prefer?

RipTide


Posting Rate = 1-2 posts/story/week

What Does a Siren Crave? === What Does a Siren Prefer?

RipTide

#4
Update:

Added new picture prompts and reopened Borne of Wind & Sand

Posting Rate = 1-2 posts/story/week

What Does a Siren Crave? === What Does a Siren Prefer?

RipTide


Posting Rate = 1-2 posts/story/week

What Does a Siren Crave? === What Does a Siren Prefer?

RipTide

Swapped out some picture prompts, working on adding a new story idea; Crossed Wires

Posting Rate = 1-2 posts/story/week

What Does a Siren Crave? === What Does a Siren Prefer?