Looking for RPs! Submissive F for Dominant M! bdsm/non-con/gor?

[Cordae]

Hey!

Currently looking for a single roleplay to reacquaint myself with the format as well as to test out what my new availability will be and how many I'll be comfortable writing at once.

I'm pretty flexible when it comes to adapting an idea to fit someone else's preferences. 

I'm interested in BDSM of most flavours ranging from light to heavy, non-con/forced, and slavery.  I have particular interest and experience with slavery of the Gorean variety, but I haven't seen too much interest in Gor yet.  (fingers crossed!)  I like fantasy settings as well as realistic ones.  Please see my O/O's for details! :)

This being said, I enjoy stories without the BDSM aspect in them as well... I'm usually up for trying almost anything.

PLEASE PM WITH INTEREST INSTEAD OF POSTING HERE :)

I'll RP in threads as well as through private messages. 

Current Ideas

A Second Chance

Half baked idea of the day: Dec 1, 2019 Prompt taken! Running Blind

You know that urge to run away and join the circus? Or just to run away and never look back? The thought that doesn't live in your head, but instead stays coiled in your spine giving you the feeling like you're so full of potential energy that you KNOW you'll just snap one day? Well, that just happens to be how I felt right before I did exactly that--I ran. I ran and ran until I found him.  Maybe not exactly the guy your mama warns you about, but definitely not one you'd feel super confident over bringing home for dinner.

What I didn't realize until it was too late? It wasn't the circus. It was a cult and he was the leader...

Half baked idea of the day: Dec 2, 2019

She wasn't sure what it was, but something always drew her to that building when she was downtown. Something always had her searching the doorways and alcoves for him.  Sometimes he was there, with his garbage bag of belongings, his tattered sleeping bag and his smiling face, other times he wasn't.  All she knew was that there was something about him--a story that hadn't yet been told, at least not to her.  She always had an extra, foil-wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water in her bag in case he was around. One day, she'd offered him more. She'd had the time and the courage to invite him into a nearby diner for a meal, but he'd refused her with the same smile he always had for her. She wanted to help him, to learn about him, to know him, but something inside her told her that when she did, it would change everything.

Half baked idea of the day: Dec 4, 2019

An artist learns that anything he draws comes to life. Unfortunately, not everything he's drawn wants to have been brought to life...

[Krayz]

I've been thinking of trying something in Carey's world for a while now... I think that has some definite potential for awesomeness, but I think it'd be even more fun as a group game. If not, I'd still be happy to do it one x one :)

[mermaidmaster]

I am very much interested in Gorean role play or would also be interested in your idea for a slave auction.  Please take a look at my profile and let me know if you want a partner.

[Cordae]

From looking at her, you'd never think Beth Montgomery was anything more or less than an average young woman. Her reddish-brown hair was usually kept in a modest ponytail or swept up into a claw, she wore her make-up fairly subtle and dressed the way you'd expect any 20-something woman would in the professional world. For today, that meant a wide-flared pair of black pants, close-toed black heels and a striking, red, boat-neck, knit top.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as Beth pulled into her driveway after work that Friday and quickly ascended the front steps, disappearing within the confines of her house. However, Beth had quite the interesting secret and the radio weatherman in her car on the way home spoke volumes about what was to come for her.

An evening like this one required some extra preparation and the thought of it sent a thrill of excitement rushing through Beth's veins. Her elated grin, wide and pearly tooth filled, refreshed each time she peered out a window and saw the dark clouds accumulating on the horizon.

Beth made her way through dinner in a haze, nibbling half-heartedly at her salad and sipping lazily from her wine glass, thoughts of the last thunderstorm dancing through her head.

Anyone could tell, after stepping foot in her house, that Beth enjoyed a good storm. As a professional photographer and graphic artist she'd taken and collected images of hundreds of storms, many of which were framed and displayed on tables and shelves and hung on her walls.

Storms had always been special for Beth and aroused feelings in her that others may not have picked up on in the same way. The gradual build-up of clouds, energy and rain sagging heavy in the sky, compacted and growing until it was all too much to bear and finally climaxing in violent release as the rain comes pouring down. Lightning streaks across the sky and thunder booms, loud enough to shake one's very soul. No, not many appreciated a good storm the way Beth did.

Storms spoke of things to come for Beth and in the last 3 months they'd taken on an even stronger meaning. It started almost frighteningly, a hot July night cooling quickly as the sun set, the perfect catalyst for an amazing storm. Beth could remember how the wind picked up, rattling the shutters and whistling through the door, the tinkling of the chime hanging on her back porch growing incessant. As fate would have it, that night, a would-be thief crept into Beth's home and quietly up her stairs.

[Cordae]

Suddenly, she existed. She couldn't recall being born but, then again, who could? This wasn't the problem. The problem was that she couldn't remember much of anything up until this point. As if waking from a lifelong slumber she blinked her eyes as the light, pale and flecked with particles dancing through the beam, kissed her skin and caressed her hair. It was a beautiful way to meet the world and a smile temporarily graced her lips before the confusion crashed from the ceiling down on her and she flailed about in the constrictive bedding until a leg burst forth, and then the other, and an arm until finally she was free. She sat up and put feet to cool hardwood, bracing herself with hands on either side of the yielding mattress.

A quick survey of the room told her she was not in familiar territory. Why wasn't she at home? She furrowed her brow and a frown curved her mouth downward. This didn't make sense. She couldn't recall where home was or even how it differed from here. She glanced behind her. What? A man in the bed! She stood and backed away until she felt the window sill press against the small of her back. She self consciously pulled at the long t-shirt she'd apparently worn to bed, feeling a flush of red on her cheeks as she considered having being half naked in a strange room with a strange man.

He stirred. A sleepy groan and a half-snore before she watched his fingers twitch and he breathed in sharply through his nose. She saw his foot come up, tenting the blankets as he went rigid in a stretch and then his eyes blinked a few times and he squinted at her standing in the sunbeam, a silhouette with a golden aura in front of him.

"Lyra!" He was instantly awake and he sat up, naked chest easing from under the tumbling sheet that had concealed it. She tried to back up further, placing hands behind her on the windowsill and pushing her shoulders back against the glass. "You're out of bed! That's great! Oh Lyra!" He stood and Lyra dropped her gaze to her feet as he approached her. "God, baby. I've been so worried about you." He wrapped her into his arms and held her close, his chin resting on the top of her head and she stiffened, unsure of how to respond.

"Uhh..." She began awkwardly and pulled back, pushing him away gently and sidestepping out of his reach. "Umm, I'm sorry, you seem really nice and all that but, I don't know you. I don't know where I am. Can you just take me home please? I really just want to go home."

The man's face shattered. His shoulders slumped and Lyra could almost see the happiness evaporating into the air around him.

"They said this was a real possibility. I had just hoped that we would have been powerful enough, meaningful enough for you to remember. Selfish to think that, unfair too, but I couldn't help thinking it." He shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at her with a pained expression.

~~~~~

Car crash. Logging truck - impatient and passing on a double solid. Headlights ahead and not enough time. Panicked, the driver swerves back into his lane, smashing the small car he'd been passing in the process. A small bridge over a creek. The car crashes into the side rail and topples helplessly downward towards the water. The driver in the oncoming lane sees what happens, the logging truck driver either doesn't or doesn't care. A run down the embankment and finally he spots the car, upside down and a foot underwater. He calls for help on his cell and rushes towards the car, desperately trying to get the door open. Her head is under the water. If she's not dead from her injuries, she'll surely drown. Finally, jacket wrapped around his arm, he smashes through the passenger side window and reaches in, unbuckling the seatbelt and pulling her free and up the bank.

***

Doctors speak in terms unknown. What is understood, however, is that she'll make it. Bones will mend, bruises will fade, stitches will be removed. Brains don't always bounce back in the same way. Lack of oxygen for too long can cause severe damage. Nothing will be known until she wakes up. She will wake up. It's just a matter of time. The body just needs to heal first. Don't lose hope. She can go home with you if you'd like, her injuries are nearly healed. Call when she wakes up. Be prepared.

~~~~~

"You've been home for a week, Lyra. You were in the hospital for almost three months."

Lyra shook her head. This couldn't be true. This wasn't her life, this man was a stranger, this house was unknown. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair before looking back up at her. He could read her face, he knew her thoughts. Raising an arm, he pointed towards the low dresser with a large mirror on the other side of the room. A framed photograph hung beside the mirror. Lyra walked towards it slowly and as it shifted into focus, her eyes began to tear, blurring the image again.

"That was taken the week of our five year wedding anniversary." He called to her from the bed and she whirled around, tears splashing against her cheek. He smiled softly at her before pointing again, gesturing to the photo frame on the opposite side of the mirror.

A young girl, hair in ringlets the color of the pale sunbeam pouring into the room. She sat against deep green grass, arms and hands sprawled behind her in support as if she'd just fallen in a fit of laughter to the earth and stared from the picture, sparkling eyes and a wide grin. Lyra could almost hear her melodic laughter.

"That's Beth. She's four. She has my stubbornness and your sense of confidence." She could hear the waver in his voice and a sob bubbled up through her chest as she clasped her hand to her mouth. She looked in the mirror at herself before looking back at the picture of the girl. There was no denying she was hers. Their eyes were the same shape and color and the nose was petite and slightly upturned just like hers.

Suddenly he was behind her with a hand on her shoulder. He reassured her that her memory would return, it just may take some time in finding it's way back to her. He told her he knew she'd need some time to absorb it all and he didn't want to make her feel pressured or uncomfortable. He'd answer any questions she had, he could take her back to the doctor. He'd sleep on the couch. He sheepishly admitted to just wanting to hold her while she slept in their bed for the past week. He'd missed her so much.

Lyra nodded and turned to face him. She blinked wet eyelashes and brushed a tear from her cheek.

"Are you sure I'll remember eventually?" He nodded at her as she wrung her hands in front of her. "OK. I...I need to sit down." She walked back across the room to the bed, sat down and looked up at him again. "This is hard to take in."

"I know." He reassured her and walked towards the closet, pulling it open and retrieving a pair of sweatpants. Lyra's eyes went immediately to the line of skirts and blouses, the neat row of high heeled shoes and the purses hanging from a hook. They were hers. She didn't recognize them but they had to be. This was her room. This was her house. This was her husband.

"I have to get Beth up and fed. You can stay in here as long as you'd like. All day if you want. Take the time you need, OK?" She nodded her head at him and pushed another sob back down her throat.

He opened the door as he pulled a t-shirt over his head before turning around and looking at her.

"Lyra," he started as she looked at him with a stranger's gaze, "I love you."

Her mouth opened and shut a few times. Was she to respond? She knew he was her husband but at the moment she didn't know him from Adam. Her face contorted in pain and he smiled at her.

"I'm sorry. Please don't rush things. If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't say it until you're ready."

"Thank you." She whispered as a rogue tear slipped from under her lashes and escaped down to her chin. She looked up again as he moved to pull the door closed behind him and called for him to wait.

"I'm sorry." She shook her head and winced at him momentarily. "What's your name?"

[Cordae]

Walking alone and the shores are longing
I miss your footprints next to mine
Sure as the waves on the sands are washing
Your rhythm keeps my heart in time

You, you found me

Made me into something new
Led me through the deepest waters
I promise loud to carry on for you
I'll carry on for you

Talk to the wind on the open ocean
I wonder if you hear me too?
Wrapped in my arms with every moment, yeah
The memories that pull me through

~Carry On - Kygo~



The letter arrived late morning as the sun was reaching the top of it’s procession through the bright, cloudless sky. It’s not often she received registered mail, so once she’d thanked the carrier and locked her door, she tore open the envelope. Two sheets of loose leaf, creased deeply through the middle and an edge worried until it was more fluff than pressed fibers. Drawing them fully open, the handwriting in stark blue ink buckled her knees. The letter reached the floor just after she did.

Nick…his writing was unmistakable.  She sat back against the wall, huddled beside the entrance table and pulled the letter back into her shaking fingers.  Desperately, she scanned the letter. Where had it come from?  Her name was written at the top, his at the bottom and there in the worried corner, was a date. Six months ago, to the day. Tears filled her eyes and blurred the words, but carefully she tilted her head back and attempted to blink them away. This had to be one of the last things Nick had done before he died—it had only been three days past the date scrawled neatly on the line.

How to describe Nick? How does someone who lived the way he did, so big and brightly, so worthwhile, get packaged into tidy words that can be expressed with throat, lips and tongue alone? They can’t. Nick… he had been everything to her. So much so that she still felt as if she were walking in her own personal fog. The world had grown dark without his light and laughter. Even until the end, when the cancer had ravaged his body so violently, his eyes sparkled and his smile came easy. No one was like Nick and no one ever would be.

With a deep breath, she returned her focus to the page and began to read.



Dearest Grace,

You’ve been living up to your name lately, you know. I know this is hard on you—I wish I could spare you from it—but you’re handling it better than I thought you would. I’m sorry, love. I’ve been fighting so hard but its not enough. The doctors told me yesterday that there wouldn’t be much time left. They’re doing their best to keep my comfortable. I haven’t told you yet, but I will. I’ve never held anything back from you and I never will.

That’s why I’m writing this. When it’s delivered, I’ll be gone. For you, today is six months since I’ve died, give or take a couple days. I’m writing to tell you that it’s enough. I need to you stop mourning me. We had our heaven. We found it within each other from the moment we met. I love everything about you, but I can’t be there to continue loving you the way you need to be loved. You need to take the leap, sweetheart, and let someone else in to see just how beautiful life can be when they have the attention and love of such an incredible woman as you.

Please, don’t fight me on this, Gracie. You’re doing me no favours wasting how amazing you are on floating around the house like a ghost. So, I’m going to take care of it for you. I want you to know that I’ve thought about this for a long time and as it was my idea, you don’t have any reason to feel guilty. Put in your best effort for me, okay? Hopefully you’ll be hearing from him soon because baby, this isn’t the only letter I’m writing today.

You’re the best thing I had in my entire life. Thank you for choosing to gift me with your love.

Forever,

Nick



Latest idea! Willing to modify as necessary and I could see this being played straight as well as within the BDSM realm. Please PM if you're interested in fleshing this out with me!