A Dominant Masochist? That won’t work...right? 👀

[Nefoedd]

Hello! I’m brand spanking new! Not to life, too many wrinkles for that shit, but to Elliquiy and roleplaying.

As such I don’t have enough experience or knowledge to create a fancy request thread as seems to be the norm for you very talented, wonderful people. I’m sure/hope I’ll learn! I have an avatar now, so I won that battle! Yay! I just hope I don’t stick out like too much of a sore thumb.

Right, so I am Nef, hi, nice to meet you. I’m a female of a certain age and I like to hope 'adequate' writing ability. I have no history and you can’t search me because, well, I’ve not written anything here yet. I now have a post in an actual roleplay so you can check it out and see if you think my style would be a good fit for you!

Hopefully, that will change very soon as I'm already talking to a couple of incredible writers and hoping I can lure them into taking me out for a spin, popping my cherry, and various other euphemisms that mask my nervous apprehension with humour.

I have a story arc that I’d quite like to try out with a like-minded writer. I’m hoping it in itself will serve as something to give you an idea of how I write and my style and proof that I can indeed put words together in a way that is pleasing? (She asserts, hopefully)

So they say if you can’t define your story in one sentence, you don’t know your story well enough:

Masochist, looking for a fix, drags tentative sadist down a path of depravity and self-destruction.

How’s that?

Right so how would you fancy writing a story in which the Sub/Dom tropes are turned on their head, or tossed out completely. A game of sadism and masochism, where the masochist is the driving force in the depravity. An assertive, beautiful young woman who doesn’t just like pain, she’s addicted to it, hunts it like a drug. He’s always been into a bit of sadism, but he’s never met somebody who craves pain like she does. Never satisfied, she wants more and more. It’s a dangerous game, she’s covered in bruises - all the time, he’s hurting her, and by god does he fucking love it, but he knows what he’s doing to her is monstrous - she’s got the marks to prove it. He might be ‘on top’, but she’s no submissive and she’s unlike any sexual partner he’s ever known. Push, push, push. More, more, more. As things go deeper, does he want to pull back? If he doesn’t hurt her, he knows somebody else will and he can’t guarantee they’ll be careful - after all, they won’t love her like he does.

I love power struggles in stories and I think a great dynamic to play with is younger woman/older man. Especially being an older woman myself, I think there’s a power to being an attractive young woman that you don’t even realise you have at the time. It’s not until you get older that it sort of clicks into place. Or at least, that’s how it was for me.

There’s something about those dangerous, forbidden relationships that really spark my excitement. Especially with elements of submission and dominance skirting around the edges. Masochism and sadism is something I love playing with in that dynamic, because if I’m a masochist and you’re hurting me, are you dominant or are you just doing what I want you to do? It’s those sorts of power blurs that I love, when the lines get so crossed and intense that the world turns upside down.

Consent is key. As is passion. Love? Meh, that’s kinda boring, I’ll take mutual Obsession with a capital O, please. The kind that drives characters to madness, to depths and mistakes that in their right might would just...never happen.

So, this is sample blurb that I wrote out for this idea purely because I find it easier than trying to explain what I want. If you’re interested let me know in the usual fashion. I’m not sure what that is here yet, but I’m sure I will find that out too!

Trixie's Maiden Voyage

She brushed her hair behind her ears, gaze firmly fixated on the floor, toes of her shoes pointed inwards, utterly uncomfortable with the scrutiny of his gaze. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to attention. She was a prominent member of the drama club, she was in her church choir, she passionately stood up for causes she believed in and had no qualms about speaking out when needed. People looked at her, a lot. This was wholly different. Here, alone, in his office, she was laid bare. Figuratively of course. She touched her knees together, shifting her weight. Arms crossed in front of her stomach, masking the subtle glimpse of skin between the top of her skirt and T-shirt, arms covered by a dark woollen cardigan which hung to below the backs of her knees.

“Beatrix, I’m going to need to call somebody.”

“No, please.” Her green eyes snapped up to his. He perched on the edge of his desk. His eyes were full of concern, moderated by discomfort. He didn’t want to be here either, that much was obvious. God, she prayed that the ground would swallow her up.

“The marks...” he started and she pressed her thighs together instinctively, feeling the sting of healing cuts which both grounded her, and sent the most unwelcome trill of arousal pulsing through her.

“They’re not what they look like.” She insisted, just wanting to find the magic formula of words that made all of this go away. She had been stupid, a moment of impulsive, childish temptation. All she’d wanted was for him to look at her, to see some glimmer that he found her attractive. Everybody else did, but he was different, so much more than a mere boy. He was grown. Her teacher. A man. Why would he look twice at her? She’d spent seven months in his class, multiple times a week, daydreaming, fantasising, utter nonsensical, impossible fantasies. All she wanted was to maybe feature in one of his, even just a glimmer that he may want her - in some other world, in some other life. She’d let her skirt ride up her long legs as he spoke from the front of the classroom, she’d forgotten, for one second, one stupid second, who and what she was.

Seconds, thoughtless irretrievable seconds.

He had looked.

His eyes had locked on her legs and trailed upwards, there had been an explosion of triumph. Then his eyes widened, then narrowed and his face froze. She’d realised her mistake then, but by the time she had pulled down her skirt and crossed her legs, it was too late. He’d watched her for the rest of the class, like somebody might watch a spider, out of the corner of their eye, scared it would scurry away if you took your eyes off it. He’d ended the lesson early, dismissed the rest of the class, commanded her to stay. She didn’t have to stay, he had no real power over her, yet Beatrix was innately beholden to authority. Besides...she needed to mitigate the damage of her own short-sightedness.

“You have cuts and bruises all along the inside of your thighs. As a teacher we are trained in warning signs for abuse. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me about it, but I need to pass this on. Beatrix you have to talk to somebody. There is help-“

“I don’t need help.” She could have cried. Right then and there. Her eyes were already wet with the unshed tears of mortification. “I promise. It’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like significant bruising and thin lacerations along the tops of your thighs.”

She swallowed thickly, prepared to interject with more begging protests, but he continued first. “I’d hazard a guess that they aren’t the only signs of trauma on your body. I am truly sorry I didn’t notice something amiss sooner.”

“There’s nothing amiss!” She cried, finally, dropping to the floor, legs crossed. Her skirt fell between them modestly, but the bruises and cuts where fully on show. When she looked back to him, he was looking at them. “Can I just go? You don’t need to tell anybody. I won’t tell anybody.”

“Is that a handprint?” He stepped forward. Trixie looked down, fingers ghosting over the fading finger-lines almost tenderly. It wasn’t a big handprint, not much bigger than her own. He dropped to a crouch in front of her. “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re not in trouble. But I am obligated to report this, to help you, to make this” he gestured vaguely to the marks on her legs “stop.”

“I don’t want it to stop.” She all but whispered. Resigned green eyes met those of her teacher, his face a mere breath away from hers. “I asked for this.”

“Nobody asks for this, you’re seventeen, no matter what happened this isn’t your faul-“

“No.” She said more firmly this time. “You don’t understand. I...this...it was consensual. Nobody wanted to hurt me, I...I m-made him.”

The silence between them was so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife. He remained crouched before her, unmoving, she didn’t dare look up from the floor lest the judgement and horror condemn her. Was this worse than abuse? She could imagine the phone call to her parents.

‘Hello, Reverend Bellis? Your daughter is a pervert and a freak, better call the exorcists.’

“Can I please, please go?” She choked out eventually. His answer was a slow nod, as if shaking himself from his own stupor.

“Erm, yeah, yes. I mean, yes. You should go.”

Should. Not may. He was disgusted with her. How was she supposed to walk back into his class on Monday morning going now he knew her most shameful secret? Would he tell all of the teachers? Her parents?

She scrambled up and ran all the way to the toilets where she was violently sick.

She could be such a stupid, stupid girl.

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Themes for this story; forbidden romance, crossing lines you know you shouldn’t, battling with own desires, almost negative character progression in that both characters start out in a good place but end up regressing.

I do not want the age-difference to be the main plot contention, I do not want it to be predatory or a kink of the male. He isn’t turned on by teenagers, he doesn’t go out looking for young naive women (ew), there’s just something about her. Nor do I want a finally, this dom has found what he's always wanted storyline. She's the driving force behind the sado/masochism want. He will be a sadist, but unpracticed, the kind of guy that sometimes looks in the mirror after brutalising her and nauseous at his ability to even get off at it, worse still, for wanting it again and harder. Their drives are equal, their opinions and needs are equal and their sexualities crash together like two tidal waves hitting each other at full force. At the end, there will be destruction.

Equally she is not a teenager mentally, I have chosen the scenario based on the opportunity for repercussions. In the UK a 17-year-old would be in college, probably holding down a job, doing their own thing. I am willing to swap the setting to the USA or countries where she would still be in high school but I am not interested in regressing her. She will be mature for her age, have gone through enough that she doesn’t get bogged down in silly immaturities of youth. She knows what she wants, isn’t impressionable and whilst may be naïve at times, isn’t submissive, meek or innocent.

For her, the consequence to her desires are physical. For him, they’re legal. Both have everything to lose and can’t stop.

She isn’t looking for a daddy. She’s craving something she’s never found, good sex, what I want her to get is a headfuck in infatuation that turns everything her and her fellow protagonist ever thought possible onto their head.

He can be anything you want. A family man with unfulfilled needs, a serial romantic who's never quite found what he wants, general simple stuff. An abusive, borderline alcoholic who wants to help her but also has a temper?  He could be darker, darker is better. But I'll leave something up to my partner since I think that's sort of what this roleplaying malarky is about.

They’re falling down a well into damnation, but they’re falling together and as long as they don’t let go, they can delude themselves that all will be ok.

She will get a thrill from the fact that he has some authority over her, love sneaking around, revel in the thrill of getting caught and want to make him happy in a way that only a person in the very first throes of love can.

Overall, give me a forbidden dynamic with two strong-willed characters battling head to head through a mind-boggling and butterfly inducing mutual obsession and I am in.

Otherwise thank you for looking and I am sure I will see you around!

*runs and hides*