Updated Bad Life Choices (Sub F for Dom Male) (Dark, Trending Extreme)

[Rabbit]

I’m less concerned with plot than the emotions generated by a particular story. I’m less concerned with a particular kink than how my character feels and how I vicariously feel by how my character feels in the context of that situation and setting when experiencing a fetish or kink. Some kinks, I don’t have the background or experience to really visualize and bring to life. Other times, I may get something wrong, but I’m still beautifully triggered by the emotions I feel vicariously as I write for my character and read what you write.

Each of these plots are written with the idea that writing these stories will help me vicariously feel the pain and joy my characters feel. I don’t always succeed and it’s usually my fault rather than my partner. I’m still struggling to bring to life these scenes and settings through my words. I’m definitely a multi-paragraph writer and I can write in first or third person.

If I slip tenses or points of view, feel free to gently nudge me and I’ll do my best to correct myself. In terms of my partners, I’m more interested in their creativity than their actual writing. This is more about imagination and visualization for me than creating literary works of arts. Still, I’ll always try to do my best in my writing.

Enough meandering, below you’ll find my current plots. I will add that I'm less interested in the gender or sexuality of my writing partner's characters than in their personality. I will write with any IRL gender or sexuality and if you have twists on my plot that you want to run by me, I'll do my best to listen respectfully and let you know if that twist will work for me. I am willing to write multiple side characters as long as we keep the focus on the main characters.

I am happy to discuss ideas and characters both before and once we begin our story. But I also prefer that we both do our best to accept that each of us will write our own ideas out and I hope we can each flow with the others writing and not worry to much about each particular detail as long as we do respect each other's stated boundaries.

Here is a link to my ONs & OFFs page. I replaced my earlier plots. Please read or skim through some random role-play that I've been involved in and you'll know the good, the bad, and the ugly as well as the questionable, the boring, and the exciting about my writing style. My stories tend to be set in NC-H or Extreme, but I don't know that I've actually written much actual extreme content. It's more based on possibilities.


Below is a new plot and the next page will have additional plot concepts. They are all subject to change based on discussion with potential writing partners. I'm interested in maintaining the flavor of the plot, but less concerned with the specific spices that go into the dish.

Her Fantasy, Her Reality

If this was a Netflix Drama, this would be both the opening scene and the final scene. The actual story would come in between and we'd have to write it's chapters. Like all Netflix Dramas, this is sold as Season One, but whether there is a Season Two is only possible if Season One grabs enough eyeballs.

Opening Scene

“You’ve been sold to this man,” he said. “This is not a loan. You are now fully ready to serve your purpose.” He looked down at the girl who had once been so much more than his slave. “You’ll lose track of the number of people you’ll service.”

She stared up at him, heart in her throat, pulse racing, unable to believe it was actually finally happening. Wondering if she imagined the hint of sadness in his tone. Then, he yanked on her leash, pulling her forward.

Downstairs, he handed her to a man in dark sunglasses who gave a cold smile as he took her leash. The man turned and walked to the garage, and she, dazed, followed. The man pulled her into a waiting car with tinted windows. Another man closed the door and got into the front seat.

The garage door opened and the car drove off. Inside, she sat on the plush leather rear seat of the limousine, eyes wide and round, staring through the window, turning occasionally to stare at the man, who seemed to pay her no attention, then at the back of the head of the driver, who likewise ignored her. She wondered if she would ever see him again, her former master, once so much more.

As the car drove through the city for half an hour, her mind went back to the day he found her diary and offered to make her fantasies into reality. But soon, the car turned into a small airport and rolled up beside a private jet.

The door opened and she, still dazed, still filled with disbelief, was pulled out of the car. He’d really done it, she thought. The year of training had ended. She struggled to accept that this was real. But the feel of hot tarmac on her bare feet was real, and the man pulling her leash, leading her toward the open door of the jet was real.

She was led up the narrow stairs and the door was closed behind. The jet took off. She, now a sex slave, just like he’d promised her she would be. He’d sold to a man somewhere across the ocean. As the jet continued to fly, she sat on the seat, shock slowly giving way to acceptance. She no longer had to worry about work or success. She no longer had family, no possessions, not even her own body.

She was a slave owned by others to be used for their own pleasure. After a while, the man drew the gag out of her mouth, then unzipped his fly and drew out his cock. “Service me,” he ordered.

“Yes master,” she whispered. Leaning forward, she took him into her mouth. She was a sex slave after all. It was who she was.

[Rabbit]

The Psychology of Enslaving Your Sister (initially consensual, slavery, D/s, ambiguous, ending, emotional angst)

I’m not sure if this story could ever be truly brought to life. I would like my partner to play a brother or step-brother who at his sister’s request agrees to consensually mold her into a trained sex-slave and then sell her to a brothel or sex club where he would visit her and monitor her progress and the success of her psychological reprogramming.
The idea is that she's grown up reading BDSM erotic and emotionally rich stories of girls being seduced and abused. She knows her fantasies are masochistic and politically incorrect, but she can't escape how they make her feel. Her brother, a less emotional, more scientifically minded individual, likes to tease her about her warped sensibilities. And they end up getting into a debate whether psychological enslavement is even possible and how it would be brought about.

Initially it might begin almost as the two of them creating a hypothesis or end goal along with a controlled experiment. Then moments along the way where he might question her regarding her feelings, taking notes, trying to determine if his training is being successful. Maybe, deciding to modify or adjust the process.
The first few times I tried to have sex; neither I nor my then boyfriend knew exactly what we were doing and we fumbled and it was awkward and it took us more than one attempt to get succeed. I’d almost like to capture the awkward psychology as her brother learns to control her and how their relationship transitions from brother and sister to more dominant and submissive and then master and slave.

It would be fun to see him transition from brother to master, growing more confident and firm as he learns to control his sister. I’d like to see her struggle with her new role, wanting and consenting, but then getting scared and wanting to change her mind. But later, accepting her new role, trying to truly accept it.
It might start with these two nerdy siblings reading up on psychological treatises regarding the Stockholm syndrome or military interrogation techniques. She might point out that four psychological slavery to occur, research studies have found four typical situations:

   
• Knowledge that discipline for disobedience is real;
• Appreciation of small acts of kindness by the dominant towards the submissive;
• Isolation from others; and
• Conviction that one cannot escape the situation.

They might discuss how to bring these situations about. I’d like it to have a real world flair with the need to hide this from others. Perhaps, real world consequences, maybe her being put in situations to test out her training, such as taking a job as a stripper, etc.


As I said, initially, I would see this as a joint psychological study, but it would transition from consensual and joint, to him taking full charge with consent becoming irrelevant as he tested and honed his techniques and monitored his sister’s changing psychology.


Season One might end with her being sold. Season Two, if Netflix orders a second season, might be his monitoring the results of his experiment.

Writing Sample Illustrating Possible Beginning to Story

Twenty-one years old, Jennifer grew up in California. Now, she attended the University of California, studying for a B.S. in psychology. Her focus was research methodology, theory, and training. Her brother was visiting and listening in casually as they discussed of all things, brainwashing a girl into fucking Teddy, an overweight and somewhat obnoxious classmate. Because they were all psychology students, the conversation drifted from Teddy to how Teddy could get a girl to do whatever he wanted.

It was a totally and politically incorrect conversation, but Jennifer found herself sitting up and participating more than she probably should. “I think it could be done." She interjected. "But you’d want to design a strict regimen, record the effects, consult the psychological texts, especially those on female psychology. You’d want it to take, after all. The trick would be to force her into such a frame of mind that she didn’t want to disobey, that she couldn’t even think about disobeying.”

The conversation trailed off after that and Jennifer who was actually a bit socially awkward realized that she’d crossed a line or two. Later though, sitting in a Mexican-Korean fusion fast food restaurant, she found herself continuing the conversation with her (adopted/step/biological) brother.

She couldn’t help how her pupils dilated and the way her nipples felt alive as she spoke, explaining about the second year psychology course she was taking where the subject was addiction and the human brain. "So you see," she added, "... all learning changes brain chemistry; it's not just drugs,” she laughed.


Then she bit her lip and said, honestly. “Of course, when one uses opiates, the brain learns exponentially faster because the reward is intense pleasure; the brain associates opiates with intense pleasure, and so longs for them. Pain also works. It's also highly motivating on both the physical and psychological levels.”


She jotted down some notes, as she explained how the right program would work and as she wrote, she explained, “... the taking of opiates activates the striatum, that powerful desire center of the brain and causes a lasting memory of the event. Addiction is the desire for the immediate high intensity pleasure.”


Then she showed her brother the notes she had written down about a possible program.

Goal: Girl happy in a life of service, classic fuck doll, objectified, slave, eager, limited or maybe better, limitless, stripped of pride and inhibitions, not beaten, but molded and trained and modified to actual accept her new life, will fuck not only Teddy, but any cock presented.

Classic brainwashing

   
• Intensive, forcible indoctrination, aimed at destroying a person's basic convictions and attitudes and replacing them with an alternative set of fixed beliefs;
• The application of a concentrated means of persuasion in order to develop specific beliefs or motivations;
• The process of forcible indoctrination into a new set of attitudes and beliefs;
• By controlling the physical and social environment, incorrect attitudes and patterns of thinking are destroyed and replaced with loyalty and unquestioning obedience to a new belief system or leader;
• Isolation from former associates and sources of information;* New life systems requiring absolute obedience and humility;
• Strong social pressures and rewards for cooperation;
• Physical and psychological punishments for non-cooperation ranging from social ostracism, criticism, deprivation of food, sleep, and social contacts, to bondage and torture; and continual reinforcement.

When her brother objected and said she was likely high on the opiates she was talking about, Jennifer cocked her head and said. “No. Not only could it be done, but it could be done by anyone to anyone. With the right program, even you could mold even me into a slave It would probably take at least a year and you’d need to put controls in place to test the theories. But it's not rocket science and of course, if you had a willing subject, it all gets easier."

She grinned. “Think about ballerinas. They give up life and sex and families. They suffer broken bones and barely eat, working for hours, basically being molded into and molding themselves into works of art. It’s not rocket science. Honestly, I’d be happier if I didn’t have to worry about school and a profession and romance and husbands. I’d love to be sold off into a life all about pleasing men and not having to make any decisions in life.”

The Rich Girl's Petition for Punishment and Her Retained Dominant (Possible Cyberpunk Setting)

My character is twenty-six years old and she has a B.S. in Psychology with a minor in erotic literature. She does aerobics three times a week, eats healthy meals, doesn’t smoke or drink. Everything in moderation. Extremely rich, she inherited her parent’s controlling interest in Tong-Bian Industries, one of a half dozen megacorporations that control the surrounding space systems.

Attractive, she is slim-waisted, five foot four inch beauty with long black hair and dark brown eyes.  Disinterested in her parent’s corporation, she set up a governing trust run by a board made up of a mix of well-educated elites. She  shows up twice a year to review what’s going on and make any necessary decisions and to issue guidance as to where she wants the focus to be for the coming  year.


In this dystopian future, she is absolute royalty and with few exceptions immune to the laws that govern ordinary citizens. She also has a masochistic personality and dreams of being a damsel in distress. She has an insatiable appetite for restrictive clothing, bondage, and a fascination with medieval castles, dungeons, and torture devices used to punish people or extract confessions.


Currently, a specially hired maid supervises her while she sits at her keyboard, typing out her memoirs while wearing a restrictive outfit with bondage gear that make it difficult for her to work. She is gagged and her maid (keeper as she likes to call her) will occasionally press a button on her remote that sends a signal to the device buried in her body, which pulses and vibrates.


But she wants more. Her lawyers reach out and conduct a discrete investigation to locate the right man to satisfy her need for and petition for additional punishment. He has to be a known quantity. Ethical, moral, trustworthy, and with few limitations when it comes to carrying out his specific obligations. Basically, he’ll be in charge of bringing to life carefully described “scenes” for the young lady who is the center of this story.


He’ll also deal with other staff members, handle her security detail, and ensure that she is “safe” within the parameters of whatever specific scene she’s requested. Ideally, he will have some sort of military and engineering background along with a creative mind and strong stomach.

Outside of the particular scenes, she will be in charge, but will be respectful. Within a scene, he will be solely in charge of interpreting and carrying out her previously issued instructions.


He will be very well paid. Is your character the right man for the job?


Outside of a scene, I would likely do most of the heavy lifting for bringing to life non-player and side characters. Inside a scene,  you'd likely write some or most of the additional characters. The goal would be for both of us to be fully involved in bringing the world to life and we'd have a certain amount of out of character world building discussion.

[Rabbit]

Adding related plotlines,

Change of Status (modern day consensual slavery, exploring a wife's transition from wife to slave)

The below exposition is to capture the feel are idea I'd hope to explore in this alternative modern set roleplay. Details are all subject to change and discussion. I don't necessarily expect takers on this role play, but I enjoyed thinking about it. I would play other slaves or characters, basically anyone not actively abusing, training, enslaving my primary character. I'd like to keep the focus on the primary characters, which may or may not be the husband/ex-husband.




*****




Confronted by his wife, the businessman and secret slave trainer, frowned. “Where did you get this information?”


“From you, from your secret files, and the websites you spend your nights browsing. I know the lifestyle, I know the words,” his wife’s speech was intense, but not angry or shrill. “I’ve immersed myself since my discovery, and I know it all… slave training, Gorean rites, D/s, 24/7, the difference between B&D and S&M. I know the jargon, and that you were a master long before we married.”


The businessman felt the past ten years of his life draining away. He met his wife as an eighteen year old intern, still a freshman in college. Now, in a heartbeat it would all be gone, little more than faded memories. He didn’t know whether to be angry or contrite. She’d violated his privacy and essentially hacked into his private files. This was no stunt or accident. “I’m sorry,” he finally offered. “I’m sure my life looks desperately deviant,” he sighed, “but it is who I am. I can’t change, I won’t. If it’s a divorce you want, I understand.”


“No, no,” his wife put up her hand to stop him. Her heart was pounding, face flushed. She had trouble looking at him as she slowly drew in a deep breath and composed herself. Then she looked him in the eyes. ““I don’t want a divorce. You misread me if you think I’m upset about your secrets.” She stopped, started, stopped again, and then said haltingly, “I-I want to be your sex slave.”


A full sixty seconds of silence followed. Hearts stopped beating, the world seemed to slow. The man’s mind whirled. “What was that you said?” he finally asked.


“I want to be your slave, like your so-called secretary and the new intern.”


He heard her now, clear as a cloudless day as she explained her desires, her fantasies, how she wanted him as a master. He didn’t know how to feel. It was as if his feelings for his wife were crumbling. He felt sideswiped by this strange imposter dressed like a woman he thought he loved. As if he never knew her.


Gathering his thoughts, he felt his mental gears changing. “There are a lot of women who find those websites you’ve been surfing and think that being a slave is some sensuous, blissful journey into the unknown, but it’s not. It’s hard work, rough labor.”



A month later, she sat stunned in his lawyer’s office, finalizing her divorce.


“Very good.” The lawyer said as he thumbed through a sheaf of papers. “I think we’ve got your signature on all of the pertinent documents. Since the preliminary work has been done, all we need to do is finalize a few matters regarding the distribution of property. That agreed on, the dissolution of the marriage will be complete.” He pulled several papers from the large stack in front of him and pushed them across the desk. “I need a few more signatures.” He smiled broadly, as if they’d just met, as if there had never been any contact between them, though she’d earlier agreed to everything in her husband’s presence.


“Yes, sir.” She bit her lip, plainly shaken by every unexpected turn the afternoon was taking. Yes, she wanted the divorce, but only so she could capture that piece of her husband that his other slaves seemed to capture so thoroughly.


“This,” the lawyer said of the first document, “divides your property as you have agreed. In light of your continuing relationship with your now former husband, which we will get to next, you are giving up the right to all of your joint and personal property. Is that as you expected?”


“Yes, I guess so.”


“Then sign right here, and initial all of the above items.”


“The house, the cars, the furniture, the furnishings, even her personal property, including her family inheritance were listed in detail. She read each one with the same sort of dread that greeted her the day she had moved out of the master bedroom and taken her place in the company apartment occupied by the new intern, his newest slave.

“I know this is just a formality since you’ve already acted on this shift of assets,” the lawyer said, perhaps seeing her falter, “but it needs to be legally drawn up and filed with your divorce papers.”


She cleared her throat with a little cough. Yes, certainly, she thought to herself as she watched her life and every possession taken from her piece by piece.


“Let me make this clear,” the lawyer added. “In the event that your continuing relationship does not work out, you walk away an unmarried woman with no more than the clothes on your back. Credit cards in your name have been transferred to your former husband, your name has been removed from any personal business records and your driver’s license has been returned to the State. You put yourself in a profoundly vulnerable position, but, as I understand, that is what you desire. Am I correct?”


“Yes, it is, sir.” If she were honest, when she asked to be her husband’s sex slave, she hadn’t really understood the form her future submission would take; he had explained little. Maybe he feared that she would object.


When she thought of this divorce, she imagined a radical stripping away of possessions. Based on her idea of slavery she expected no less. She’d imagined it in her daydreams with such vividness that she dreamed of it at night. Reality was like swimming in that fantasy dreamland now, fragmented and disconnected from what she’d known before. Was this even happening? And what would it mean to the rest of her life?


“Once these papers have been signed, you can consider yourself free of the legal bonds you have to this man. All that remains are the ties you choose to establish now.”


She nodded and signed the papers as he instructed and handed them across the desk.


“Thank you,” he nodded as he took one careful look at the documents, then raised his head, staring her in the eye. “Since your divorce is now complete, but for the filing, your former husband thought the timing was right to formalize the new arrangement between the two of you. I have here a contract of ownership for your signature. Are you prepared for this?”


She’d seen this in her imagination, but the startling truth of it was so much different than she expected. This would make her the property of her now ex-husband. She answered politely, voice shaking, hands shaking, insides quaking with desire and fear. “Yes, sir. I want to be my husband’s, I mean, excuse me, my master’s slave.”

The lawyer smiled and pushed the document across the desk. “This contract is not legal, and it’s unenforceable under current law. However, it does spell out the nature of the relationship that your master requires of you. Accepting it, you will be honor bound to abide by its provision. Your ex-husband will be your owner, you, his personal property. The contract gives him the right to use you in any way he chooses—sexually or otherwise. He has the right to discipline and punish you as he sees fit. The only restraints on him regard your physical safety and your health. Is that clear to you?”


“Yes, sir. It is.”


“Review it carefully,” he advised. As she began to read, the words seemed to run together and her mind blanked out for several seconds until she finally forced herself to focus. Slavery, ownership, property, abdication of human rights, sexual servitude, punishment, discipline…words, words and more… revived her cooling arousal and began to make it hot again, as hot as when she walked in the office. The opposite of the chilling cold that swept her through when reality dug its sharp nails into her being and stilled her sexual juices. Her body raged on now, vibrantly; her mind roared, too, realizing that what she was signing was taken as seriously by this man and her ex-husband.

“Shall I sign here?” she asked, her whispering voice was quiet but quite audible.


The lawyer nodded as she picked up a blue fountain pen and scrawled her name.

“And this,” he pushed another paper in her face, “effects a permanent change of your name, to Nú.”
“Nú, that’s all?”

“Slaves need no more than that.”
“Yes, sir.”

The Perverse and Cruel Immortal Goddess and Her Personal Bodyguard (Dark, twisted, NC-H or Extreme)

The Goddess and Royal Princess "Mei-Mei" of Changsheng Long, the Immortal Dragon Clan, known as the World's Little Sister, was bored. And the world shuddered.









Truly immortal, perpetually a spoiled eighteen-year old, Mei-Mei summoned the Royal Mage (a bit of a prick, but amazing when it came to world building) and her personal bodyguard. In this world of gates and ancient power, Mei-Mei knew she could have literally anything she imagined. When the Royal Mage appeared, the prime world builder of this Immortal Dragon clan, Mei-Mei smiled. And those around her turned white.




Nonetheless, the Royal Mage with his long whiskers and gleaming red eyes, looked confident. He genuflected deeply.




"So Master Mage," she said, her title effectively demoting him. "You can create any world I might imagine?




"Yes my Princess," he said in that deep voice of his, a voice that held within its tenor the thunderstorms of the Anguish Mountains.




"But you bored me last time," she said in her sweet girlish voice. Then she nodded at her Chief Security Officer and he gestured as a Golden Sphere dropped from the ceiling, the mage turned into a red mist and vanished into the soul trapping sphere.




Turning to the Chief Security Officer, she asked idly. "I wonder if immortal mist will survive eternal flames. Let's find out. Shall we?"




He nodded.




Turning to her personal bodyguard, she held up a finger and said, "Please follow me into the Clan Hall." This was the hall of her ancestors. All eyes stared at the ground as her tall, muscular guard followed her into the Immortal Dragon's ancestral hall. More than half expected her personnel guard to burst into flames or to be struck down so that his blood might feed the ancestors.




Instead, the pair simply vanished inside the hall. Once inside, she ordered the Captain of the Guard, her personal bodyguard to stand at attention. Then she knelt and began to disrobe his lower body. Soon, his own masculine dragon staff had sprung to attention as her slim hands stroked his manhood and she began to tease him with her tongue. Tasting pre-ejaculate, she licked her lips and stared up with dark eyes. "Would you die for me? Follow me to hell? Obey my every word no matter the cost or what your personal ethics dictate?"


He knew what she had in mind would be unpleasant for both as Mei-Mei smiled and said, "You've never bored me Sixth Brother."


Continuing at attention, he told his younger half-sister, "Yes. I will die for you or simply to amuse you. I will follow you against the Emperor himself or any hell of your imagining. I will obey to my last breath your slightest command."


She smiled. "We're going to have grand adventures and I'm going to explore every perversion I can imagine. You will be my sword and defender and slay those who I wish dead and you will be the executor of my will as we romp through the mortal lands."


He nodded not too concerned, but then he heard her add, "... as mortals."

Best Friends (Becoming the Perfect Hentai Fuck-Doll)

They’re normal high school seniors, both eighteen. He plays bass guitar and is on the varsity wrestling team. She plays alto-sax in the school’s junior varsity jazz band and is on the girl’s golf team. Both get great grades. They’re college bound. When he’s doing Battle of the Bands in the school quad, she’s there cheering him on.  His new wave punk band sucked by the way. The music wasn’t bad, but the singer was off-key and they had switched songs on a whim.


There is one odd little twist to this middle-America, high-achieving, college-bound high-schoolers story. You see, his family had a mother-in-law unit in the backyard and that unit had a basement. It used to be locked, but he got the key and the two friends had turned it into their private hangout. It’s got an early 1960s refrigerator with a pretty big freezer. There’s several gaming systems, but only the Xbox was set up. The two managed to drag a couch down into the basement. They found it by the side of the road with a “For Free” sign. There’s a cardboard box filled with worn boxing gloves that their grandfather used to put on the neighborhood kids and let them duke it out. And there’s a computer with a beautiful high definition monitor.


The computer and monitor turned out to be the key to altering the relationship. He and she would spend hours watching watching school-girl prostitution, sex-slave, and fuck-doll Hentai and reading similar online erotica. Eventually, they began to masturbate together. They’d get naked and try out things they saw online. They’d talk about the stories they saw. What looked real?  What could actually happen?

Slowly, the conversation shifted from could it happen to what if the girl consented? What if she wanted it? Would she have the right to make that decision? What if she changed her mind? But then, over time the conversation transitioned to more a “How would you do it to me? The conversations got darker and now it wasn’t just the sexual energy between the two that crackled like an electrical wire.

And then one day, these two best friends’ forever, both of whom foreswore romance, agreed. He would mold his friend into a Hentai fuck doll. She would become a hentai fuck doll. Such an easy agreement, so much harder in reality than they imagined.

Bad Boyfriend

We met at my dojo. She’s a police detective and I’m a martial arts instructor. I fell hard. When I heard her sister had been kidnapped. I offered to help. You know, make a few phone calls. Turns out she had something different in mind. For the past six weeks, we’ve been knocking over sex-trafficking operations, killing those involved and freeing the girls. A lot of those guys are actually decent people. I feel guilty as fuck, because I’ve done business with most of them. Also, let’s be honest, the heat this generates has made it impossible for me to transport her sister out of the country from the basement where I’ve been training her for exotic brothel work. The crazy shit a guy will do for love. Am I right?

[Rabbit]

Adding an additional plot. No exact idea where it would go. Like most of my plots, it begins consensually, but eventually consent is no longer meant to be an issue. No specific kinks are required other than the obvious fetish and the details are subject to discussion. I enjoy darker stories, i.e., so perhaps the girl ends up being sold.

Becoming the Veterinarian's Bitch

The twenty-three year old girl stared at the paraphernalia she had used to train her Great Dane, Princess, before her dog passed away. Staring at the collar and muzzle, she imagined herself crawling around the room pretending to be a bitch like Princess. The thought left her aroused and she reached into the drawer of her bedside stand. In it, she had her favorite dildo, a black ribbed fake cock with a tapered girth. Her past two boyfriends would occasionally take her from behind, but neither were particularly imaginative lovers and didn’t appreciate the animalistic sensation she got from being taken doggy style. It seemed as if she had dreamed of being a bitch since she owned a dog, even though she knew it wasn’t something that could happen. The other thing about no longer owning a dog was she missed her regular visits to her vet. The attractive doctor was–to be blunt–a handsome hunk. She’d thrown out signals in the past, but he’d never reciprocated. 

The next day, she found herself driving past the vet’s surgery on the way home from the lawyer’s office where she served as a paralegal. The vet had phoned a couple weeks ago after Princess died to see if she was interested in owning another dog, but she was too upset to consider the idea. Now, she was hoping another dog would help her forget her crazy fetish to experience the life of a bitch, if only for a brief period. She knew the doctor often worked late, so she hoped to have a chat.

Ringing the bell, she saw him approach. He was alone as everyone else had gone home. Soon, she was in his examination room. He’s well over six feet and she was just five foot one and barely one hundred pounds and this time, he was giving her a much more comprehensive viewing; so she felt nervous.

But she began to ask him casual questions about his job and the examination process. He was patient and mentioned the Princess had always been a good bitch who didn’t mind getting onto the table and being examined even if he had to check her reproductive capabilities. And then suddenly, the conversation changed as he looked directly at her and said, “I was about to give a Labrador bitch a thorough examination, but if you’d like me to fit you in first, I have the time.”

The girl blushed and said in shock. “What do you mean?”

The vet said. “You know what I mean. We can beat around the bush, but from what I’ve observed, I think you have a fantasy you’re a bitch and I’m your vet.” He towered over the girl and when she dissembled, he said firmly, “My time is valuable. You’ll only be on the table for a few minutes.” And so her transformation began, with her naked, crouched on the table with her vet taking notes as he examined her.

Crazy Rich Asians (Non-Consensual)

His View

The man watched the video feed showing a hog-tied twenty-one year old girl squirming on a cot in a locked room. His team had neutralized her driver and security team, then seized her from father’s limousine. On her way home from college, she’d never arrive. His job was the procurement of slaves for wealthy clients and he was one of the best. He specialized in the initial breaking and training of the slaves. His approach was always successful and it gave his clients an assurance that by the time he delivered a girl to the client, they would be well on the way to accepting their new role in life. Usually his clients asked for a  specific type of girl, e.g., hair color, proportions, breast sizes and he would find a match. This time, he was tasked with taking this particular girl and he was happy to accommodate the request for twice his usual fee.


Her View

Friends since grade school, the three spoiled rich girls had played increasingly dangerous games over the years. Last year’s dare had resulted in the loser spending six months in jail. This year, they had agreed that one of them would be randomly selected to be kidnapped and sold as a sex slave to a brothel in Thailand. The other girls would have the location of the brothel and arrange for the Thai police to rescue the loser. Lucky all her life, she’d never thought she would be the losing girl. It was only much, much later when she ran into her two friends also enslaved and working in the brothel that she realized something had gone terribly wrong.

The Virgin and Her AI Butler

A natural masochist inherits her parents’ vast assets after their untimely death. She designs an AI “Princess in Peril” algorithm and installs it into her “YOUR PERFECT PAL, The Ultimate AI Butler.”

This butler then brings her chosen scenarios to life, e.g.:
Her eyes were equipped with opaque dark contact lenses that blocked her vision. Earplugs blocked out all sound. Chains that held her body, wrists manacled behind her back and hoisted high, threaded through a pulley. Her ankles were spread apart and shackled to bolts in the cold stone floor. Worse, painfully tight clamps were attached in sensitive locations with chains hooked to them and those chains were then bolted to the floor. The inset gag fit over her teeth and forced her mouth wide open so that she couldn’t stop saliva from running down her chin and dripping on the floor. This session would last exactly two-hundred and thirty-seven minutes, twenty-four minutes longer than last time.

But what happens when her AI Butler develops a will of its own?

Can We Make this Story Work?

Jennifer met him when she was sixteen. He was her father's lawyer, back before he'd been disbarred. She’d been staying in the two-story high roller’s apartment at the Aria Hotel, while her father was on a twenty-four hour pai gao streak. He convinced her to give him a hand job in return for a $2,400 Saint Laurent leather shoulder bag. When she was eighteen, she’d called him from the Fort Augusta Adult Correctional Centre in the Saint Catherine Parish in Jamaica.


He didn't say a word. He just flew to Jamaica and despite the pending charges for possession, he somehow managed to get her released. The two flew out the next day with her being banned from ever returning to Jamaica. Eight weeks later, she had an abortion.


Now, twenty-years old to his forty-plus-something years, Jennifer stood on the balcony of a cheap off-strip hotel. He stood inside the hotel room in his birthday suit. The thick cock she had first stroked when she was sixteen hung down his right thigh like a well-fed snake. And no man his age should have kind of abs he displayed.


"So GeGe," Jennifer asked, "can you?"

He tossed a casual fuck-the-world smile her way and said, “Sure I can peddle your pussy and we can have fun. What about your dad? It's no joke when I say he’s had men killed for less.”

Jennifer shrugged. “GeGe, daddy’s dead. He died last night; massive heart attack on his jet flying back from Macau. Fifty-nine years old, same age as when grandpa died of a heart attack.”