Dungeons&Dragons, Swords&Sorcery, Sex&Submission

[SatanKlaus]

*Delicious, clickable images ahead*

Who am I looking for? I’m looking for a player (male, female, or outside the binary) who wants to play one of a group (2-4) of female submissives fawning over one master (yes, this is a power trip for me). It’s up to you whether you take one ‘player character’ and we run the rest as NPCs or if you play all of them. [/Floatright] What is this about? I’m going to run a light-hearted fantasy romp that is not just sword and sorcery but also sex and submission. Your party of female adventurers is squabbling amongst each other for their master’s attention, while at the same time fighting off outside dangers like monsters, intrigues, traps and other challenges. [/Floatright] What fetishes should you bring? Dub-Con, Master/slave, condescending affection and romance, bondage, teasing and orgasm control, a bit of petplay, sexy fantasy outfits, spanking, catfighting, magical toys and competition amongst subs, to name the most important ones. [/Floatright] What exactly does it entail? A love potion. A group of nubile adventuresses. A reluctant master.                                                                                                                                                                                                                      [/Floatright]

Yes, but what EXACTLY does it entail?

Ah, now we are talking! Plot Bunnies! Characters! Details! World building!

In short, I have been thinking about the possibilities of ‘abusing’ a love potion for a story. One might argue that every love potion is abusive, but this is not what I am talking about here. A love potion makes the victim fall in love with the creator. But what if what he wants is not just the victim’s undying love, but something more? Sex, certainly, but also submission and service: Fighting for his cause, kneeling at his feet, serving at his table…

Could she refuse?



Now I don’t want to get all hung up on the concepts of good and evil here, so let’s just agree that getting people hooked on love is ‘not very nice’. But maybe the ends justify the means if he is turning a drow adventuring party into a force for good. Or perhaps his ends are a bit more… selfish in nature and he doesn’t worry all that much about morality anyway. Finally, it could all be an accident. Please have a look at my sample story to get a feel for what I am looking for in terms of interactions.

Either way, my character is going to be domineering with his playmates, but not overly cruel. He will treat them with the condescending kindness usually reserved for pets. He will touch and tease them when and how he pleases. He will make them kneel and feed them table scraps. There may be a few slaps, spankings, small humiliations and other ‘mild’ punishments to set them right but, hooked on a love potion, withdrawing his attention and affection is the most effective punishment and the girls will probably opt for a spanking over a cold shoulder, if given the choice.

Generally, he likes to bask in the attention he is showered with and will return it generously. The girls get petted and cared for, fed and kissed, comforted and encouraged. Provided, of course, that they have been ‘good’ (whatever that means in the context). Given time, he will even begin to return the love he is shown by the girls. And, given even more time, the love potion might wear off and their little ‘arrangement’ may surprisingly stay intact even when the primary mover is gone.

Of course there will be jealousy between the girls and this will be one of the main sources of internal conflict. Everyone is scurrying for favours with the master and little things like the right to sit at his right-hand side, who gets to serve him ale and who carries his personal belongings might become a serious point of contention. None of them can raise a hand against the master, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t fight amongst each other. Keeping the peace and avoiding bloodshed may easily become a full-time job for our poor master. But if he is doing his job well, he might be able to convince the girls that sharing is caring or that they can blow off some steam amongst themselves if he is otherwise occupied.

Being on a love potion puts the girls on a constant rollercoaster of emotions, as if they were back in their teens and madly in love. If the jealousy gets bad enough, shackles and chains may be necessary to keep squabblers separated. And at night, it might simply be more comforting for the master to keep the girls restrained anyway. Who knows when the love potion will wear off and what will happen then? On a lighter note, being kept in chains for the day might simply signify that this very lucky girl doesn’t need to lift a finger while she is being pampered, teased and toyed with by the master.



The party composition is open for discussion. I was thinking that the master would be more of a supporting role as a ‘mentor’ in the background (and as a utility spellcaster when absolutely needed), while the girls are the primary hitters and problem solvers. To stay with the ‘affectionate slavery’ theme, he might also fill the role of a healer, caring for any girl who gets wounded in his service. 

In general, I was thinking that this would be more of a player/GM type game with you playing the adventuring party and me playing the monsters and the environment – with the interaction between the party and their mentor/master added on top, of course. You can play the whole party or pick just one of the girls as your ‘player character’ and I will take over the rest as NPCs – or we could share them.

I’m offering this as a 1on1 instead of a group game because group games seem to fall apart a bit too often. But if you have a reliable partner or two on hand with whom you want to play in my game, then that’s possible.

If you like, we can use a rule system but I’m not sure if that is really necessary. If you insist, then D&D 3d edition would be my primary system choice simply for the fantasy appeal. I certainly like making up sexy gear and kinky magic items, but systems tend to slow a forum play down. Combat, especially, flows very slowly. So we would have to play it out on instant messenger or simplify it drastically.



Sexually, I already mentioned bondage and spankings, but also (condescending) affection and kindness. I’m relatively open to what other sexual interactions are going to take place. Generally, I am what they call a ‘service top’, so what turns you on, turns me on. Make sure to let me know what that is. For myself, I would like to see some ‘training’ going on in the sense that the girls have their limits slowly pushed as they sink deeper into sexual submission. If, for example, the prospect of wearing that tiny little outfit he bought for you in town seemed daunting at first, a week in the wilderness of sleeping by the campfire and getting fondled and teased non-stop while he whispers in your ear how sexy you look in it might slowly change your mind. Generally, I like physical seduction (endless teasing and toying ), soft humiliation (having to wear clothes that are a bit too revealing for comfort, being called slutty pet names, being hand-fed or having to ask for permission to cum etc.) and ‘firm but fair’ loving discipline (spankings, bondage, taking away rights and privileges…). For this specific roleplay, I also expect there to be a lot of cattiness and maybe some bi-curious exploration. Maybe a few toys would get used on the girls during their play sessions with the master. Shackles and a collars could signify ownership and sexy clothing could help them win the master’s attention. All of those, of course, could be magical. Kinky magic items, yay!

Have a look at my On/Offs if you need to know more details or send me a Private Message. And although fantasy offers a lot of opportunities for human/monster interactions and various humanoids to choose from, I would prefer it if we stayed in the closer human family of basic-book races for characters. It’s not a hard limit, though, and a bit more ‘exotic’ beings could make an appearance as NPCs.

So… that’s it. That’s what I want to play.

Any takers?

Sample story:
I wanted to write a little scene to illustrate what I was looking for and got a bit carried away. Just to clarify: I would certainly like to play in this story, but it is not a requirement. The story serves more to give you a better idea of my side of things and to show you what kind of interactions I would like to see.

Elora felt jittery as she walked down into the small depression. The forest floor was softer here, padded with deep banks of dry moss. Her step was usually so certain, her grace perfect. But in his presence, all her confidence was blown away, replaced with the jittery but elated feeling of butterflies in her stomach. She had drawn the first lot from what they now called the ‘watch schedule’, which meant that she would get to spend some quality time with the master while the others prepared the camp and stood guard.

He was sitting on the soft forest floor, leaning against a tree stump and smiling up at her as his eyes ran lazily up and down her body. Elora just stood there, transfixed in his gaze for a moment, desperately waiting for his approval. After a tantalizing moment of silence, he used a single finger to gesture for her to come closer. She approached and knelt, like he had taught her. He accepted her submission with a smile and then lowered her onto her back, her head resting in his lap and her arms stretched out above her head. He liked that position; it gave him access to pretty much anything he wanted to grace with his teasing touch. She liked it, too, because she could look up at him with a silly smile plastered on her lips while he did so. Deon had certainly grown up. The man who looked down on her was not the dorky young acolyte of Torm anymore. He was a leader now. And a lover. He wore his black hair open and the rough bristles of his goatee teased her skin as he bent down to kiss her and nibble on her exposed neck.

“And so your watch begins.” Deon said as he turned the hourglass, putting it down on the ground, tantalizingly just out of sight for her as the sands of her private time with him began to run. His right hand started a slow exploration over her body; from the tip of her fingers, over her face and down her neck.

“You are still a stickler for rules!” Elora said and laughed just as his nimble fingers got to work. She got a little smack to the cheek for that, not hard, just a tender warning.

“Careful! Or I might stick one on you.” He admonished the elf girl in his lap and she flinched, more in surprise than pain. The old Deon would never have done that. The old Deon wouldn’t have done many things. It was hard to believe that it had been just three months. But three months on a love potion felt like forever. “Everyone gets a fair share of my time. And just let me know if you feel like being cheeky again so I can turn you around for some proper discipline.” Deon threatened. Even though his play had taken on a rougher turn, his voice was still playful. Elora hadn’t crossed the line… yet. The priest had certainly changed. Not as much as they had feared, but probably more than anyone who had known the shy healer before would have thought possible. He had changed his looks, his clothes, his god.

Of all of them, it was probably him who had sacrificed the most, even if it didn’t look that way to the casual observer. After the debacle with the love potion – a simple mistranslation of the label from ancient elvish – the party had been on the verge of self-destruction. Elora had failed in her leadership role, had been as bad as the worst of them in her mad, greedy and selfish desire for the only man on hand. It was Deon who had pulled them back from the brink, bringing order with a firm hand. But he had certainly paid a price.

The symbol of Torm, god of law and righteousness, around his neck had been replaced by that of Bane, god of law and tyranny. It was a rough thing, cast from black iron, and it tended to prick Elora when they played. Still, she liked it better than the make-do one he had carved from wood by his own hands back then. You didn’t need a temple to commune with the gods, when the gods where everywhere. It was possible to lose your faith and find a new one simply by yourself in a midnight glade.

Elora should have been rather worried about Deon’s new deity, but somehow she wasn’t. She trusted the cleric with all her heart. Of course, that was one of things a love potion did, she knew that, but in love there was no room for doubt. Besides, he was still kind to her and the others, just in… new ways. She had learned that a leather collar could mean affection just as much as a mithral ring and that being disciplined could simply mean that he cared.

Deon wasn’t taking them on a crusade to spread evil, either. Just enforcing the law; hunting down bandits and turning back goblin raiding parties while keeping their eyes open for opportunities and lost treasures. Pretty much the same they had done before. Elora had never seen it that way back then but all the gods – even the evil ones – had many faces. And it was quite possible for a priest to worship one and pay the other little more than lip service. No one bat an eye when a cleric of Tempus or Silvanus, both neutral deities, sided with the forces of good. If that was possible, then maybe Bane would be perfectly content to watch his newest disciple uphold the law… and rule over Elora and her friends with a firm but gentle hand. He certainly still granted him magic.

As she felt the priest’s hand resting softly on her throat, gently squeezing, before continuing its journey down her lithe body, Elora felt a little pang of guilt at the forbidden pleasure it made her feel and express. It was not like she – or any of the others – was doing anything to dissuade Deon from the new and dangerous path he was walking on. They were encouraging it, really. After all, hadn’t he held out for one long month of travel through the wilderness, desperately trying to find a cure for the potion’s effect before finally giving in? He had been quite the epitome of righteousness, rejecting the constant advances of not just one but several lovely young women. He had settled their disputes fairly and tried to contain their petty jealousy. Elora shivered as Deon’s nimble fingers traced the outlines of her pointed and oh-so-sensitive ears and a little smile of remembrance spread over her lips. Oh, she had been so bad back then, always the first to pick a fight when it was not her who got to sit at Deon’s side or if it was someone else cooking his meal. When she couldn’t have the man himself, she had started fighting over everything related to him. Elora sighed softly under the priest’s touch and her legs spread a little of their own accord. She was still bad. Only now, Deon had set up rules to order their lives and keep the squabble to a minimum. Like everything about him, they were firm, but fair. Elora’s rear end was still warm and smarting from the evening’s ‘justice’ but she bore him no ill will. After all, she had no one to blame but herself. It had been Lyria’s turn to cook for the master and she had barged in with her elven waybread, trying to steal a little more of his attention and affections for herself. Afterwards, he had gently rubbed a soothing balm into her naked butt cheeks –right in front of everyone, to Elora’s utter humiliation – and the pain was slowly fading to something more bearable, enjoyable even, but the lesson had certainly stuck: she wouldn’t try that trick again.

As he continued to softly tease her, Elora got more agitated. She wanted to have her hands all over him: she wanted rough, satisfying sex and she wanted it now. Deon was having none of it, though. He seized her greedily grasping hands and roughly pinned them down until a little whimper of surrender let him know that she would be a good girl and keep them where he had put them. Not that he didn’t indulge her every now and then but there were three eager, insatiable girls in the party and just one of him, which meant that he usually chose something calmer, more relaxed for their ‘quality time’ together. Sometimes, he just read her from his books or let her take care of his hair or his gear. Tonight, he seemed content to just stroke all of her body while she lay helplessly sprawled over his lap, completely exposed to his tantalizing touches. As if the love potion was not enough, Deon seemed dead-set to own not just her heart but her passion as well. Elora could feel a soft leather band being tied around her wrists and a blindfold of black cloth over her eyes soon followed. The sensory deprivation made her gasp – as did the unexpected touch to her bare thighs.  As an elf, she could see very well at all times of night and she was not used to the inky blackness in front of her eyes. The blindfold made her even more helpless and deprived than it would a human woman. A fact that Deon was very well aware of.

“Did you buy that in the last town?” Deon asked. He had opened her travelling cloak and his fingers moved over her naked belly, tracing the outlines of her skimpy new chain shirt.

“Yes.” Her voice was a breathy whisper and her hips rose to meet his touch as his fingers trailed deeper. Why couldn’t he just take her, right here, right now?

“So that’s what you spent your part of the loot on?” Elora could hear the sliding sound of metal as the priest pulled the knife she wore on her belt from its sheath. Her breath caught as she felt the sharp tip pressing softly against her exposed belly without breaking the skin. “It’s not very useful as armour, now is it?”

Elora shook her head, trying to breathe as flatly as possible while her panicked mind tried to search for words. He wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that from the bottom of her heart… but it was racing in panic nonetheless. It was hard to supress a warrior’s reflexed and the tip of a blade had a way to awaken them, but that was not it. “I… I though you would like it.” She said, desperately awaiting his answer. The elf’s voice was feeble, more of a hopeful question. She hadn’t felt emotional like that since her twenties. It was the love potion. She knew it was the love potion, and yet there was nothing she could do about it. “Don’t… don’t  you like it?” She asked in a pitiful whimper when no answer was forthcoming.

Deon made a noncommittal grunt and his fingers ran over the fine chain links that covered her breasts. The tiny ‘shirt’ was well-made but it revealed more of Elora’s shapely body than any proper suit of armour should. The priest kept the tip of the knife pressed softly against Elora’s exposed belly as his free hand explored hit pet’s new ‘armour’ a little more. His touch confirmed that the bottom piece offered even less protection than the little chain shirt, leaving the vital arteries in her inner thighs vulnerable and exposed.

By now, Elora was close to tears and she hated herself for it. She was a fighter. She was supposed to be strong. Stalwart. And yet, in his presence she became this soft, timid kitten desperate for his approval. Not to mention that she had been the one to berate the other girls when they had started to change the style of their gear from ‘practical’ to something easier on the eye to please Deon. Now she was the one caught wearing the skimpy chain mail. It had been an impulse buy, nothing she would have ever bought before. But, lately, the need to level the playing field with the other girls had become overwhelming. Every time she caught Deon’s eyes resting on the curves of someone else, Elora felt like she had been struck. Gods she had become such an attention whore!

“I like it.” He finally allowed and Elora could feel her feelings soar. The knife at her belly was forgotten and if it hadn’t been for the leather string that kept her hands tied to an exposed root, she might have very well impaled herself as her body arched to mirror her emotional uplift. “In fact, I like it very much my pet. You have a lovely body and I can’t get enough of it. But I am also worried about you, Elora. It’s not good protection and I don’t want you to get hurt when you hold the line.” Deon said and placed the knife back against her naked belly. “You can wear it around camp… and you will wear it around town.” Deon said, putting another dent in what little was left of the elf’s remaining pride and dignity. “But you will wear proper armour when we are expecting trouble! Understood?” Deon asked and underlined his words with a little smack.

“Yes, Sir!” Elora’s said and nodded weakly. Her cheeks were blushing and her emotions were a mess. She had been chastised and complimented, put down and lifted up, exposed and protected, disciplined and softly stroked by her master, all at the same time. Her tears were flowing freely now, even though she didn’t quite know what she was crying about, but she simply didn’t care anymore.

She was safe with Deon.