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Author Topic: Chocolate Sin is looking for sinners  (Read 445 times)

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Offline Chocolate SinTopic starter

Chocolate Sin is looking for sinners
« on: February 05, 2012, 03:12:27 PM »
I have a number of ideas, and I thought I'd put them here a few at a time. I haven't been very active lately, but I'm trying to become more involved. That said, my work can be very demanding on my time, so I'll likely only be able make about one post a week, though I can promise it'll be as good as I can make it. If that kind of pace is alright with you, then read on.


Superman's Submission
In this DC universe, Jimmy Olsen is packing both a package and an attitude. Cornering the Planet's newest reporter in the copy room, he presses him to submit to his desires, taking him then and there. Mild mannered reporter Clark Kent could fight back, but doing so would mean compromising his secret identity. And afterward, he can't fight the craving for more. I imagine Jimmy turning Superman into a slave for his prick, and how it would change his interactions with other well-known characters from Superman. That signal watch? It tells Superman when his master is calling him.

Undercover
I wrote this scene for an rp that didn't get off the ground, and I'd like to explore it.
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide
Three blocks west of the docks there's an old apartment building, the Lord Haversham Arms, built in 1909, its brass nameplate boasts. In the penthouse, four men and two women have gathered to discuss their plans for the future, one which bodes rather ill for law-abiding citizens. They lounge in armchairs, loveseats, and divans as one figure stands in front of the fireplace. He's Dominic Hasek, a well to do financier whose leadership abilities and clean criminal record are among his best assets. Implicated in hundreds of crimes over the past fifteen years, he's never been charged. He owns half the city, and it's time for his monthly staff meeting. "Check in. Les?"

Les Churchill, an overweight moustached man, is at the bar pouring a drink. He runs Submissive Lips, a fetish porn company that Dominic now owns. Dom used to break girls for him, going masked in scenes to protect his livelihood. Bondage, torture, humiliation, exhibition, Les always says that if there's something somebody somewhere will jerk off to, he'll film it. Lately he's expanded the business a bit, using the slaves and actors from the films to work parties for the rest of the organization, even giving some of the more broken in ones away as bribes. "Dom baby, we've got a big crop of girls on the casting couch. If you've got time, I could use you as a breaker. Nobody does it like you, baby. Other than that, money's comin' in strong and steady, just like you wanted."

"Good. I'll see if I can find the time. Victoria?"

Young and ambitious, Victoria Keyes lounges on a divan in a smart but sexy business suit, showing just enough leg to tantalize. She's a shark, a lawyer, and a smart one at that. Keeps the juries wrapped around her pinky finger with little to no effort. She used to think she was a woman in charge, and loved dominating and humiliating both men and women. Until she met Dominic at one of Les's parties. He took her and broke her, and she's his until someone else manages the feat. "Things are quiet on the legal front, sir. A few of our pushers got picked up, but they can stay in county until they've learned their lesson."

"No, get them out. Not you, but one of the junior lawyers in your firm. The blonde, with the ass. I want her to get a little dirty, and the pushers will be grateful. Marcus? How is our new product coming?"

Marcus London is a brilliant chemist with a bit of a problem. He likes to play with people. After serving two years in prison for drugging one of his coworkers and bringing her to a party as a hooker (Victoria was a lot of help during that particular incident), he couldn't work in any lab in the country. Dominic contracted him for his services however, and so there he sits, in an armchair, a  barely conscious seventeen year old girl in his lap, his large, dark-skinned fingers beneath her skirt. "Compound 15 is some of my best work yet. It leaves the user euphoric and suggestible, increasing libido and--"

"Spare me the technical details, I'm glad your making progress. We'll call it Submission. When you're ready to test it, we'll pass out free samples at the college. I'm sure the frat boys can find a use for it. Speaking of distribution, how are things on your front, Kevin?"

Kevin Phillips grew up on the mean streets of the suburbs, a privileged white boy wishing he was ghetto. He always wanted to be a rap star, the next Biggie Smalls, but his rhymes were terrible at best, and no one wanted to give a white boy a chance. That was seven years ago. In and out of prison for drug offenses, he spent years as a small-time pusher for bigger gangs, being referred to behind closed doors as their cracker bitch. He just wanted to live the life, and Dom has given him that. Now he rides in a Mercedes, all the brothers give respect, and anybody who calls him a cracker bitch gets a bullet in the face. "Distribution be fine, Dom. Long as Chuck be bringin' in product and my nigga Marcus--"

"Don't call me that, I mean it." Marcus understands why Kevin does what he does, but there are certain things he won't tolerate from the entitled little wigger.

"My bro Marcus be makin' tha shizzle, I be slingin' it." Somehow, Kevin manages to be a caricature of himself without realizing it, but he does get the job done, and his loyalty is beyond question. Victoria is rolling her eyes, but says nothing. Dominic permits him to speak how he wishes. It makes Kevin a little happier, and more inclined to work harder. His report given, Kevin goes back to flirting with Rose, who shares a couch with him and is glaring daggers.

"Excellent work, Kevin. When Submission is ready, I want you to have people in place. Also, given that a few of your pushers have been arrested, arrange a refresher course, with an example, on how to know their rights and avoid police scrutiny. Work with Victoria as necessary." Glancing at the games on the couch for a moment, Dominic deems them harmless and moves on. If Rose wants him to stop, she'll break one of his fingers. One session in Victoria's dungeon was enough to put Kevin off of her for quite a while. "George, are our shipments coming in?"

George Gamow is the oldest in the room at age 51, but no worse for it. He's from the old school, and wears the finest tailored suits that money can buy. He's settled in an armchair near Marcus, smoking a cigar, his eyes always on Dominic. George used to work the docks for the five families as a capo, but with his kids approaching college age, it wasn't paying the bills. It was Dominic who came to him out of respect for his work, offering to pay their way through school so they wouldn't need this life. It was an opportunity to earn and be a full partner, and all he had to do was what he was already doing. "Import is doing just fine, boss. My buddies in customs aren't seeing a thing. The price from our Asian connection is going up a bit, but fuel is getting more expensive, so we shouldn't quibble."

"As you say. Which brings us to Rose. How is the insurance business, Rose?"

Dominic got his start working protection. He has this way of looking at you with those cold grey eyes and letting you know that he'll burn your life down around you if you don't pay. The police tried again and again, but no one would flip on him. George likes to tell stories about it sometimes, how Dom could make a grown man wet himself at thirty yards just by raising an eyebrow at his wife. Now that he's into bigger ticket industries like porno and drugs, the protection rackets have fallen by the wayside, especially since he doesn't have time to do it personally. But George convinced him to find a replacement, partly because the favours protection and loans can bring in are more useful than money most of the time. So they found Rose McCormack, "Rosie" to her mother and "Oh god please stop please" to her clients. Just eighteen, Rose grew up proving what people say about redheads is true. In and out of juvie since age twelve, she's one of the hardest, dirtiest, and meanest individuals Dominic had ever run across. He found her biting the face off of another girl at one of his community centres which he uses to recruit young people. Rose's wild blue eyes strike a sort of feral terror in people that he rather enjoys, and all she requires in return is a firm hand, like any good dog. "I'm still putting together a crew. The kids that Kevin sent over are all to stoned to be of use. Still, we're steady at three square blocks, and once I get some good people, we can expand. Loans are going better, but I'd like to get us into some of the local casinos, illegal or legal, to extend credit."

"Take whatever steps are necessary to gain access to the casinos, but you aren't getting more people. Scare them straight if you have to, do what you must to get the job done."

She looks sheepishly away, embarrassed. George flashes her a warm glance. He remembers what it was like coming up. She's new at all of this. And he's sort of sweet on the young thing. Dominic notes it with lightning acuity. "George, take young Rose in hand, and help her train her people. Your second can handle the docks for a few weeks." Surveying the room, he acknowledges each of them. These are the pillars of his empire, and it's only going to grow. He's going to be the secret king of this city one day, and nothing and no one will stop him. "All in all, excellent work. Keep me informed, and I'll see you next month, if not sooner." Their meeting adjourned, they leave surreptitiously, using the old smuggler's tunnel in the basement of the building. From his tower, Dominic looks out over the city lights and smiles. Life is good.
The original premise was an undercover cop infiltrating a d/s porno studio in order to bring down a crime lord, secretly sold out by her commander to pay off a debt. But there are other characters in there who could have different stories, and a lot of dimensions to explore, I think.

Futanari Worship
The principal of Chesterton High is a harsh taskmaster both feared and lusted after, and carries a secret underneath her skirt. She has a habit of using this secret to turn unruly students, irate parents, and vulnerable teachers into cooperative members of the school community. It is, after all, hard to talk back with that much in your mouth. I imagine a futanari teacher bringing out the submissive side in a student, teacher, or parent of any gender, taming them to suit her needs.

That's all for now. If you're interested, please pm me.