[MxM & femdom: non-con, kidnap, torture] Hatefuck: DOUBLE-UPS WELCOME

[Sekah]

Please. I really need new non-con stories.

[Sekah]

Bump!

[Sekah]

Bump! I've been away for a long, long time, but I'm ready to get my head back in the game!

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

BUMP

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump.

[Sekah]

You don't have any idea how little I wanted to come back here, to this site. But, bump.

[Sekah]

Bump.

[Sekah]

Added a new version to this plot:


QUEEN & CONSORT [DOM F WANTED]


There are many other races in the Three Worlds, but Crow has never found any that were like himself: shifters who flew. Only one race is known to do that: the Fell; predators who feed on groundlings, destroying their cities and towns, eating the inhabitants, stealing their clothes and possessions, and moving on.

Crow knows he isn't a Fell.

As for what he really is? Trying to find out has gotten him into worse trouble than anything else in his short, miserable life. He's done looking.

Until one day, out of the blue, the truth finds him.

He's a Raksura; more specifically, a Raksuran consort: a fertile male, the only Raksura capable of breeding with a queen. Consorts are supposed to be delicate, sheltered, shy creatures brokered in alliances and never straying far from their home court. A feral one is nearly unheard of - he's automatically presumed to have committed a great and terrible crime, to have been banished. A queen takes him in, then, not out of mercy, or any desire to breed him and further her line, but out of a feeling that a Raksuran consort shouldn't be out here alone, and after all, he's awfully pretty, and indulgently helpless. There are multiple queens in any court, all gathered under the Reigning Queen. Crow is an unwanted, strange oddity, titillated over, a unique fascination, for all the court, men and women who make up the sterile warriors and the fertile but flightless arbora.

Will he sink or swim in a world of politics when last week, it was a struggle just to find shelter and food?

ALTERNATE VERSION OF THAT PLOT:

Taiga is a bratty consort, grown up pampered and spoiled in a court.

But the time has come. A foreign queen is here to solidify a trade agreement, and the rumors of the beautiful consort who's just come of age leads her to agree to him as the consort to solidify the deal.

Only one slight problem.

A few weeks before the queen is due to fly in and take him away, Taiga viciously and unwisely insulted a queen come personally to lend her weight behind creating a powerful trade agreement. That queen is one of the rulers of a court fighting an active war - a court known for its viciousness and bloodthirstiness.

The queen, vicious and bloodthirsty herself, can't shake Taiga's insult - or the way his pretty face looked while giving it - from her mind. Now that he's of legal age, she arrives as well, with the intent to either fight the queen who'd laid claim to him and take him in her stead, a time-honored tradition among Raksura, or steal Taiga - a practice that is looked down upon but fairly common, though it can lead to sparking a war between the courts. What's stealing, you ask? Well. In our world, we'd probably call it kidnapping. Taking a consort without his birth queen's and reigning queen's consent, or when already bound to another queen.



Potential Starter

Starter

What do you do in your final hours at home? Many consorts talk amongst one another on the proper way to say goodbye, when they leave for their new queen's court. Quiet introspection; hugging friends and leaving lovers; preparing one's body to please the new queen.

All warned stringently against this, which was barricading himself in his room in the bower for consorts of his lineage and ignoring any annoyed, weary attempts to summon him to meals and parties, like Taiga was doing now. The reigning queen had decided for him where he was going, as it was done, and Aurora Sea wasn't the worst of the possible options. A gamely sister queen had been drawn to his loveliness and presumably didn't fear his cutting tongue.

It was true he was lovely, with long, soft golden hair like silk and a face that many thought made him look like a doll, a statue, a painting done in careful repose; in both forms he was distinctly lovely, known for it, a fact that had gone straight to the boy's head. He hadn't had to wait long, upon coming into maturity, for his match. It was all very simple, which is how the worst problems come about. He was mature enough to take a queen, now, and he was taken.

He wanted the process done with.

He heard a knock on the door and simply grunted, refusing to get up from his long stretch on the bed, one ankle over the other, hands interlaced on his chest. His pointed chin was tipped back with a fierce scowl marring it.

A warrior with dark blue scales with a crimson undersheen came in, one of Taiga's favorites, Fig, an occasional lover. "The reigning queen wants you downstairs, looking presentable."

"Does she," Taiga said. He hid the flicker of horror that made his heart flutter in his chest. Was she here, so soon? The queen whose face he couldn't recall? His lips twisted up further, angry with himself over that slight tell.

"Taiga. You can't fight her will on this. It'll be infinitely more embarrassing if you're dragged down there to meet them by a queen."

Taiga growled deep in his throat, but the warrior wasn't moved. He crossed his arms stolidly.

Taiga asked, "And why, pray tell, is it any business of yours what I do?"

He saw it too clearly, that they sent his lover. They'd try a clutch mate next, but Fir and Balsam wouldn't move him anymore than a fucktoy, he'd be pleased to report to them.

"It's not your queen," Fig told him, softly. There was no appealing to better nature with Taiga—only appealing to worse. "It's that queen you insulted, the one who couldn't stop staring at you for the rest of the party."

Taiga finally cracked an almond eye and turned his head. "Her?"

"Yes. Wouldn't you like to come down to see the spectacle?"

Taiga paused briefly, trying to decide whether to be offended by his wheedling, his knuckles turning white. Finally he sat up, graceful and languorous. "Very well. Help me with my toilette, would you?"

He didn't just go down. He submersed in the private consort baths as arbora attendants scattered herbs and petals. They swam about him in little whirls of his body, while he shredded the rose petals to bits as he bathed for something to do with his nervous hands, and tried not to see the gentle indulgence in the arbora's faces.

He rubbed his skin with subtle balms, and had his long hair woven into a braid and inlaid with flowers. He put on fresh clothes, briefly had his claws attended to, and was carefully loaded with jewels. He was the youngest consort of the reigning queen's line, and his time of maturity had been only weeks ago; a net of pearls was placed over his hair, his one pierced ear hung with a fang earring that was gifted by his mother after a successful battle against a vicious enemy who he couldn't remember or name. He painted his face subtly, as was the habit in his court, but slapped the wrist of his attendant, batting away the headdress that would have marked him a member of Midnight Sun.

He lost his family today, and he'd not meet either the upstart bitch who he'd delighted in making squirm or his to-be suitor still in Midnight Sun's regalia.

By the time he had come downstairs, the queen's greetings had already progressed to the point that the queen was laid out in the reception hall before his mother.

The wood of the mountain tree in the cavernous reception hall had been burned deeper black and lighter grays, as was Midnight Sun's tradition, into a beautiful mosaic of a Reigning Queen with her wings spread, the model of so many generations ago her name had been lost, as had the name of the artist. He knew from those who'd visited other courts that they were unique for painting with patterns of burning; most courts carved their art onto the boles of the tree.

His reigning queen Dusk was resplendent, a massive copper-bodied queen with bands of yellow threaded through her coat like an adder; of impressive size and lineage, with more consorts born to her and her consort Mint over the years than she perhaps could remember.

By the time Taiga entered, the feasting was well underway, but one glance at his mother from a private viewport of the reception hall as he walked in gave Taiga the impression that Dusk was contemplating eating this queen, not treating with her.

Taiga was just glad to have a vent for his childish anger at the life he was born to lead.

He walked in with supreme self-possession, folding to his knees and bowing to the queen and her party.

"Taiga, of the line of Dusk and Mint," he heard, and started naming the others of his lineage idly in his head, getting to Midnight Sun themselves as he knelt onto the pillow put out for him with his eyes downcast.

"I think we all know what this is about," Dusk said, sounding a bit like her teeth hurt from smiling.

Taiga slit his eyes up at her, cocking one sculpted brow, because he didn't.

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump

[Sekah]

Bump