I am a slave girl. La kajira. Various extreme scenarios / f for M or F

[Klio Darque]

I’ve got a real craving for some Master (or Mistress) / slave RP at the moment, preferably something dark, either non con or extreme and including (but not limited to) elements of the following

Forced stripping / public nudity
Heavy iron collars and chains / cages
Branding / tattooing
Torture, , whipping, scourging
Degradation, debasement.
Individual and gang Rape (Anal. vaginal, oral)

A full list of my ons and offs is linked below, but basically I like to push things and have a fairly high tolerance when it comes to extremes.

I prefer writing via the threads here as opposed to any other mediums and am looking for someone who enjoys writing multi paragraph responses and potentially some world building. All of the stories below are open to either a male or female character and I don’t care what the writer’s gender is.

I’ve listed some possible story seeds below. If you are interested in fleshing any of them out please drop me a PM rather than replying here. If you're not interested in the ideas below but want to discuss alternative ideas of your own feel free to drop me a PM! All names can be changed, and all plots are adaptable.

The Emperor’s (or Empress's) Daughter

tl;dr what I'm looking for here is an intense blend of space opera (loosely inspired by Dune or 40K) and Master (or Mistress) and slave rp.

Pairing: M/f or F/f. Option for multiple characters
Level: Extreme.
Includes incest

Possible Intro

Darius the Eighth, the Sovereign Emperor of the Empire of Kel, Ruler of ten Star Systems, Guardian of the Black Sepulchre, Divine Flayer of heretics and Executioner of the last of the Jadeth, he who now held the lives of billions in the palm of his hand, now looked at his Lord High Chancellor, who stood in his accustomed place, next to the Sovereign Emperor’s Great Throne, nodded his head once, to indicate that it was time.

“As you command, Sovereign Lord.” The Chancellor bowed his head towards the Emperor once, before striking the floor with his Rod of Office, a staff of polished black obsidian that was said to have been plucked from the heart of a Star in the days of the first Sovereign Emperor, that Rod now striking, once, twice, three times, commanding those within the Throne Room to direct their attention towards their Emperor, and the Empress who sat on her own Throne next to his, her son, the Heir flanking her. The fourth Throne, that of the Emperor’s daughter, the Grand Duchess Alyssa, was empty, its usual occupant evidently elsewhere.

Silence descended upon the Throne Room immediately, musicians ceasing in mid tune, a multitude of conversations dying in the throats of the gathered throng as all those present turned their eyes towards the Thrones, for when the Emperor desired their attention that is what he would have. Amongst those who now watched and waited to see what was about to occur were the courtiers and sycophants who formed the Royal Court, the Inquisitors, the dark clad servants of the Emperor’s will, his mailed fist who struck terror in the hearts of those foolish enough to stand against him, and the slaves, male and female, who existed to serve, all now turned expectantly towards the Thrones, none knowing what the Emperor was about to announce..

“Bring in the female.” The Lord High Chancellor announced. A moment later the guards standing by the mighty doors of the Throne Room pulled them open, they having clearly been expecting this moment, to admit the Grand Inquisitor himself, brother of the Sovereign Emperor, resplendent in polished battle armor and a cloak, of the darkest black, both the armour and the cloak adorned with the symbols of the House of Kel, a holstered sidearm strapped to his left thigh, his gloved fist holding a leash, the other end of that leash around the throat of a woman, she naked, utterly, absolutely so, her hands secured behind her back by steel cuffs, a hood of black cloth over her head, so that she could not see as the Inquisitor tugged sharply on the leash once, she then stumbling after him as he strode towards the Great Thrones, their progress observed by the Emperor, the Empress, and the Heir,

Such was the vastness of the Throne Room that it took the Grand Inquisitor perhaps a minute to lead his captive to the foot of the Royal Dais, a minute during which many an eye within the Hall drifted to the woman as she was pulled along on the end of the leash. She appeared to be a beauty, even although her head was hidden by the hood, her body slim, lithe, raven tresses escaping from the confines of the hood, her bare feet skittering over the black marble floor as she stumbled along behind the Grand Inquisitor until the reached the foot of the dais, at which point he gave the leash one more sharp tug before he commanded ‘Kneel.”

The hooded woman obeyed, lowering herself until her knees touched the marble, her bare ass then coming to rest on her heels, though her thighs were evidently not parted to the Grand Inquisitor’s satisfaction, for a moment later a booted foot roughly kicked them apart, exposing the delights at the base of her belly to those who sat on their Thrones on the Royal Dais.

The Imperial Family watched as the rack was put in place, as too did the throng, some whispering to others, more than one wondering as to the identity of the the hooded beauty who knelt naked before the Great Thrones, displayed before them, helplessly awaiting her fate.

And then the Sovereign Emperor silently nodded to his brother, the Grand Inquisitor. The whispers fell away, to be replaced by a hushed silence as the Inquisitor stepped forward, grasped the hood that concealed the beauty’s face in a gloved first, jerked it upwards, revealing the captive’s face, the gasps coming a moment later as the Court sycophants recognised the young woman that knelt on the black marble.

It was the Grand Duchess Alyssa, the Emperor’s younger daughter.

A cruel and despotic Ruler has an adult daughter (Princess, Grand Duchess, etc). The daughter is found guilty of an act of treason (justly or otherwise, and possibly after a confession that is tortured out of her) and as a punishment is sentenced to slavery, serving as one of her father’s slave girls.

Note the title and sample intro as written can easily be changed to make the Ruler a Queen or Empress. Also open to having the Family be a step down from the Emperor, a High House perhaps but not actually the Imperial Family.

Photo inspiration (SFW)

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La Kajira

Pairing: M/f. Option for multiple characters
Level: Non Con / Extreme.

Possible Intro

Erin Connors had a fairly conventional upbringing, doing the usual sort of teenage stuff as she grew up - school, hanging out friends, facebook - and at the age of nineteen she secured a place at Northwestern University in Illinois, where she majored in Business Management. A popular young woman, she threw herself into all aspects of college life, including joining a performing arts group where she studied various dance moves. She began dating a guy called Josh in her Junior year. Josh was a fellow student, the same age as her, and as they went into their Senior year things were beginning to get serious.

In attempt to supplement her income Erin got a job at a local coffee shop at the start of her Senior year. And that was when her life changed forever. For that was where the Gorean Slavers first noticed her. She had no way of knowing that the two men were Goreans when she served them coffee. Of course she couldn't know, she had never even heard of Gor. She was cleaning a table after customers had left. The two men had been sitting at the adjacent one. One of them told her to fetch them two coffees. She had smiled, said that the coffee shop did not offer table service but they could order at the counter. One of the men had looked at her, asked her if a command must be repeated. Erin had hesitated for a moment and then fetched their coffees. As she had been told to do. When she had brought the drinks to the table and placed them down she had stood there a moment, unsure what to do, feeling like a deer stuck in headlights as they had looked at her, spoke amongst themselves for a moment in a language that she did not understand, though she was sure from their body manner and demeanour that they were talking about her. She would tell by the way that they looked at her. And then, with a nod of the head, they had dismissed her, later left a ten dollar bill as a tip.

That was the first time that Erin encountered Gorean men. A chance meeting, fate. Had she not been scheduled to work that day she might never have met them, would have gone about her life, might perhaps have married Josh, got a job, made good money, vacationed abroad, went to Taylor Swift concerts.

Instead she had been noticed by Gorean Slavers.

I know Gor’s not everybody’s thing. Certain aspects of it aren’t really my thing. So I’m happy to use it as a basis for a story about an Earth girl abducted and taken to a low fantasy alien World similar to Gor but not actually Gor to be sold as a slave (that can include adapting the World to one where YC is a powerful female). The story can start on Earth, with YC the Slaver, and move through her abduction and training. Or we could start with her being auctioned naked from the block, with YC buying her, and move in to a sword and sorcery type of adventure story. I think there are a lot of options.  [/spoiler]

Slave of Slaanesh

Not looking for just now

Pairing: M/f, F/f, M/F/f, etc. Lots of scope for multiple characters
Level: Extreme

Possible Intro

Five figures stood in a circle in the center of the dark chamber, each of them spread eagled between pillars of sheer black marble, their hands held high above their heads, heavy shackles locked around their wrists, chains running from those shackles to the tops of each pillar, other manacles around their ankles drawing their legs apart.

Five figures, facing each other, so that each could watch the others' torment, although only four of them still lived, for the fifth had already found the solace of martyrdom. None of the four knew how long they had been there, for there was no natural light within the chamber, what illumination there was coming from a multitude of flaming torches and flickering candles that caused the shadows to dance, shadows that were home to all manner of cruel and twisted denizens who would sometimes emerge from the gloom to amuse themselves with their captives, before slithering back into the darkness from whence they came. Sometimes the torments were relentless, unceasing, other times it felt as though the captives had been abandoned, forgotten.

But always their captors would emerge again, to have their sport. Always.

Ophelia stood at the first pillar. The Novice was clothed in what remained of her robes, if it could be called clothed, for those robes were now naught but ribbons of soiled cloth that fluttered about her, a mockery that revealed far more than they concealed, exposed the swells and curves of her flesh to any who wished to look upon her, any who wished to touch her, for she was helpless, a chained amusement, a plaything, theirs to do with as they pleased.

Different symbols had been daubed on her belly and breasts, the marks of Slaanesh drawn on her alabaster skin with her own blood. Her back was bare, and scarred horribly where they had put the lash across her flesh, the whip a living thing that had seemed to have its own mind, that had torn at her skin, caused her to scream, to howl in utter agony as it had bit into her, tormenting her mind as well as her body, causing a dark terror to envelop her soul and inflicting a pain the likes of which she had never imagined..

The Legate Investigator was to her left. They had put a black helmet on him, one adorned with the same symbols that they had painted on her flesh, one that covered his entire head and contained vox speakers and amplifiers, so that they could bombard him with a myriad of noises, blasting his ears ceaselessly until, finally, they had destroyed his sanity, left naught but a shell, a mindless husk, one that now jerked and writhed spasmodically in response to an obscene and unending cadence that only he could hear.

Next to him stood the Tech Priest, or rather what remained of the Tech Priest, for he was the one who had found the release that came with martyrdom, although it had been a slow death that he had suffered, the Heretics denying him water while they had feasted and gorged themselves before him. Three days he had lasted, until, finally, he had succumbed, but still his lifeless corpse hung from its shackles, its slow decay their only way of marking the passage of time.

Next to his corpse there was an empty pillar, and next to that, opposite Ophelia, was the Confessor. He had not said a word since the first day of their suffering, for that was when they had cut his tongue from his mouth, tossing it to one of their foul minions and making him look on as it devoured it, the only sounds now coming from his mouth unintelligible gurgles. Stripped from the waist down,  the Confessor had watched as their captors had  put things inside Ophelia, foul, twisted things, his excitement manifested in the throbbing of his cock as the young novice had writhed helplessly in her chains, dancing like a tormented marionette as she had experienced both agony and ecstasy.  And then they had used their skinning knives on him, sliced that engorged cock from his body, so that he would be excited no more, fed it to their beasts, just as they had done with his tongue. They had come for him other times since then, each time taking another part, always being careful never to take too much lest he bleed to death.

And, finally, next to him, stood the Inquisitor himself. He alone was untouched, for his torment had been different from the others, crueler perhaps, for he had simply had to watch, helpless, as each of his retinue suffered in turn, all the while knowing that his time must surely come.

Set in the W40K Universe. An Inquisitor and his retinue have been captured by servants of the Dark Powers. The story would involve a young novice slowly being turned into a (willing?) slave of the Prince of Pleasure. I have some ideas on where I’d like to take this but would like input from my partner. Also while I have a basic familiarity with WH40, I’m not an expert on it, so an ideal partner would need to bear that in mind.

[Klio Darque]

Bumping the Emperor's Daughter.

[Klio Darque]

Hey E,

Bumping this with some more plots added, some of which are new, others older ones from previous request threads. For any potential partners, I don’t mind what gender you are. A posting rate of once or twice a week (with multi paragraph responses) would be great, although a slower posting rate wouldn’t be a dealbreaker.

Please PM if you'd like to discuss any of the plots listed

Post Apoc slavery. Extreme.

Pairing: F/F or F/M
Level: Extreme
Themes to include forced stripping / public nudity, chains / cages, branding / tattooing, torture, whipping, degradation, debasement, individual and gang Rape (Anal. vaginal, oral)

This is inspired by a group game that I was in that fizzled out. The World is a barren and desolate wasteland. Maybe there was a nuclear War, maybe there was some dramatic climate change, maybe something else. Small bands of survivors try to eke out a living as best as they can in the desert. Others have become raiders, moving from settlement to settlement like a plague of locusts, stripping it bare before moving on to the next place.

In an attempt to protect themselves, some settlements pay ‘tribute’ to the raiders. The villagers offer the raiders things that they need - food, water, medical supplies, women - and in return the raiders don’t destroy the village. The arrangement suits both sides - if the raiders burn the village to the ground it’s a one off supply source, whereas this way they can keep coming back for more.

MC is an eighteen year old settlement dweller named Hope. Hope has been unfortunate enough to be selected to be a ‘tribute’. I’d imagine the story would start off with her bound naked to an A Frame in the desert outside her village, waiting for the raiders to take her. YC would be her new owner. You be male or female, I don’t mind either way.

While my preference would be for post apoc, I’m open to discussing putting this in a low fantasy setting, e.g. a world inspired by Robert E Howard’s Hyboria as well. In that case the raiders could be a powerful Sorcerer(ess) and his / her minions. The basic principle would be the same, i.e. that MC is being offered up as tribute to save her village for a terrible fate.

Not Actively Seeking

From Ensign to slave girl.

Pairing: F/F or F/M
Level: Non con / Extreme?
Themes to include public nudity, restraint / cages, branding, torture, whipping, degradation, debasement, individual and gang Rape (Anal. vaginal, oral)

In a nutshell MC is a Starfleet officer who ends up enslaved.

MC

There are a few ways that I could imagine that working.

Maybe she’s part of a landing party that’s observing a barbarian society (inspired by places like Hyboria and Gor). Something goes wrong and she ends up getting captured / enslaved by the barbarians.

Her ship (or maybe she’s on a space station) is attacked by pirates and she’s part of the loot that they take away.

She’s on a first contact diplomatic mission somewhere. As a result of a combination of a universal translator malfunction and a complete and utter lack of understanding of the new Species’ culture and laws she unwittingly does or says something that has the effect of declaring herself to be a slave. Following a lengthy diplomatic stand off the Federation are unable to secure her release (possibly the other species have control over some resource that the Federation needs so MC is deemed to be expendable in the overall scheme of things).

For options two and three I’m thinking that there might be scope to focus on her being trained as a pleasure slave and then sold at auction so perhaps YC might be her trainer, with the option to introduce her Owner later. I think option one would be more straight into naked branded property of barbarians. Option one is probably my preferred option, primarily because I think it’s the darker and more extreme of the three, which fits better with me.

Also, I’m not a huge ST fan and only have a passing familiarity with the canon so I'm wedded to this taking place in the ST universe. Long story short, the picture caught my attention. I’m totally open to doing it in a setting of our own choosing.

The Experiment - Semi Dystopian

tl.dr this one isn't a slavery story so much as extreme survival.

Pairing: F/F or F/M
Level: Extreme
Themes to include enforced long term nudity, physical / psychological torture, potential rape, strange things (cannibal plants / dinosaurs?), creepy computers, dystopian futures.

My character wakes up on a deserted tropical beach. The Sun is shining, the water is lapping against her. She’s in paradise. Except she has no memory of how she got there. In fact, she can’t remember anything except her first name. And she’s naked. And unknown to her, there’s a barcode at the nape of her neck.

Your character is waking up in an identical situation on another part of the beach. Naked, alone, no recollection of how you got there. With a barcode that you can’t see, don’t know is there.

Our characters will meet each other, work together to try and find water, food, shelter. It becomes clear that they are on an Island. At first the it appears idyllic, but that will soon change as it throws challenges at the pair - extreme weather, wild animals, other inhabitants. The landscape will also appear to change over time - yesterday they found a stream of crystal clear fresh water, today it’s gone. They begin to wonder whether they are going to survive the Island.

Our characters are the unwitting subjects of some sort of experiment being run by an Artificial Intelligence. The island is an illusion of sorts, a mental projection, one created by the AI, and which the AI can alter at will. As far as our characters are concerned it is a reality however their actual physical bodies are in a laboratory somewhere, lying on gurneys in a medically induced coma with various leads attached to them, through which the AI can monitor all manner of things. In a nutshell, our characters are human ‘lab rats’.

Serious injury / death is a possibility. If one of the test subjects dies the AI just ‘resets’ the experiment. The character isn’t dead – s/he is still lying on a gurney in the lab. So it becomes a sort of Groundhog Day. Each time the AI resets the subjects have their memories wiped, so each time they wake up on the island it’s all new to them. Who knows how long the subjects have been there for, how many cycles they’d been through? This could be their first time on the island or their 1,001s. Maybe next time the memory wipe doesn’t work properly and one of the characters retains some fragmentary memories of a previous experiment. There’s also the option of varying locations – maybe after the reset they wake up in a desert or a cave rather than the island.

There’s also the possibility of switching the focus from the island to the lab. Maybe a reset goes wrong causing one or both of the characters to wake up on their gurney. That gives us the chance to explore the lab complex, potentially meet the AI, talk to it. Do they get recaptured and end up back on the island? Or maybe they manage to escape, break out of the complex. Maybe then they discover that the world has been laid waste by war or plague and the realities of real world survival mean that the island suddenly seems quite an attractive option. Maybe they want to go back?

I’d expect a high percentage of plot vs smut in this one, probably 70/30 or 80/20 towards the former. For sure both characters will spend a lot of time naked and I’m fine with them having consensual sex. I’d also like to include non con scenes, possibly through them being captured by other inhabitants of the Island or through cut scenes to what’s happening in the lab so I’d envisage both of us writing writing for supporting characters as the story progresses, but initially it would just be the two characters, yours and mine. I should probably also say that I would not want your character to be dominant over mine while it’s just the two of them - this would be two people working together to try and survive, not a non consent relationship (I’m more than happy to include non consent stuff with supporting characters).  [/font]

 

Shot Down behind Enemy Lines - Modern War, Real World

tl;dr I think the title speaks for itself. Looking for fairly brutal stuff rape and torture here. Not for the squeamish.

Karma felt the vehicle lurch to a halt. She didn't know how long she had lain in the back of it, bound hand and foot as it had lurched along, every jolt throwing her against its sides. Whilst she presumed that she was in the bed of some sort of pick up truck, she didn't even know that for sure, for the black cloth hood that the Separatists had pulled over her head after they had captured her had served its purpose well, completely obscuring her vision, leaving her in a world of total darkness as they had driven her off, her ribs still aching from the boots that had flailed into her as she had lain on the ground, unable to block the blows her captors had landed on her when they had caught her, less than two hours after she had ejected from her stricken aircraft.

The thirty one year old Naval aviator could feel a raw knot of anxiety rising in the pit of her stomach. As long as she was in the back of the truck nothing was actually happening to her, but the Separatists were obviously taking her somewhere. She didn't know if she had now arrived at that destination or they had halted for some other reason, for she thought that the engine was still running, although it was hard to tell for sure. She could hear voices, talking in what she presumed to be either Ukrainian or Russian, neither of which the slim brunette spoke. Maybe they were handing her over to regular Russian Fed forces, maybe not.

The voices were getting louder. It sounded as though they were arguing. Then she heard the engine switched off, another sound, the tailgate being lowered. She'd scarcely registered it when she felt a hand grab her by the ankles, pull her across the bed of the truck. She tried to lash out, tried to kick with her booted feet, only managed to connect with thin air. And then she was falling, for a split second, before she hit the ground, hard, grunting, lying there, on her side, bound hand and foot, hooded. She still wore her nomex flight suit but they had stripped everything else from her, not only the military issue gear like her survival vest, her flight helmet, her sidearm, but her watch, her sunglasses, all taken as trophies, mementos of the day that the US aviator had fallen into their midst, her F18 blown from the sky by a surface to air missile.

She could hear the sound of laughter, felt hands grab her by the upper arms, jerk her roughly to her feet. She could hear more talking in the Slavic language, recognized her name. "Sawyer." It was on her ID tags of course, the tags that they had snatched from her after they had captured her. Lieutenant Erin Sawyer, United States Navy. F18 driver. Shot down over eastern Ukraine for months after the long simmering tensions there had developed into a full blown shooting War between the United States and the Russian Federation. Call sign Karma. As in Karma is a bitch.

Karma felt herself being pulled forward, the hands gripping her firmly, her boots dragging across the ground. There was a sound that might have been a door opening, and then the surface under her boots changed, became more regular, more even, suggesting that she had just been taken indoors. She heard other doors opening as they took her deeper into whatever building she was in.

And then she was being tossed forward again, flung to the ground, landing on her belly on something hard, her front taking the full impact of the fall, gasping as she felt the wind knocked out of her, lying there, alone in the darkness of the hood as a door was slammed shut. She thought that she could make out the sound of a key turning in a lock but she wasn't absolutely sure.

Karma closed her eyes inside the hood, tried to process everything that had happened since the ejection. She had managed to get off a brief transmission so her Squadron back at Vinnytsia would have known that she had survived the ejection. They would have probably scrambled the Pedro CSAR bird but the Separatists had got to her first, more than twenty of them, heavily armed, converging on her. She had tried to hide from them but they had caught her almost immediately, punched her, kicked her, then brought her here.

Wherever here was.



Looking for a partner to develop the above seed set in a near future (2025/2030) where the new Cold War has gone hot. I would be writing for Karma, you would be writing for her captor(s). Initially that might be Ukrainian Separatists, with the possibility of her later being handed over to regular Russian troops or the FSB. The possibility of both of us playing multiple characters is definitely an option.

The story would fit in the extreme section. This is not a story where I’m looking for a happy ending, Stockholm Syndrome, my character falling in love with her captor, etc. I’m also not looking for her to be taken back to Moscow as a sex slave. I want this to be something brutal. violent, and realistic with themes to include rape, torture, degradation, mock executions, and enforced nudity. I have some things that I’d definitely like to include and my only hard no’s would be bestiality, body modification / amputation (tattooing and / or branding is fine) and anything that breaches site rules. Where it goes long term is open to discussion - maybe she ends up in a POW camp with extreme PTSD, maybe she gets rescued, maybe she does get executed in the end - that can be discussed.

[Klio Darque]

Bumpitty bump...