Veroes Idea Box 2.0 (New and Improved)

The Consolation Prize
Game Concept: A Choice was Made-part 2

Jason and his girlfriend Anna sat in the park atop a spread blanket a picnic basket between them. It was lunchtime in July but they were under a line of trees that gave them a good deal of shade from the hot summer sun. Before them was the large pond in the park and the ducks floated on the water in front of them. The breeze was cool but not strong and the insects weren't bothering them. All in all it was a perfect summer day for a picnic.

Jason had mixed feelings about being there. He wanted to spend time with his girlfriend but it'd been a week since his last game with Cassandra and he hadn't seen her since. She'd contacted him throughout the week through text messages containing new instructions for him, but they were not at all what he expected.

Anna thought it was a spontaneous idea to have a picnic in the park, but it was not. This morning he had gotten one last text saying:


They were all instructions from taking her to the movies for a Sunday matinee to taking Anna shoe shopping at the mall for the whole day on Tuesday to making spaghetti and meatballs with Anna and binge-watching Stranger Things on Netflix last night. All were not his ideas but instructions from Cassandra. She was playing some sort of game here with him. This was something different than all the other games she'd played with him before.

He was left nervous and anxious and paranoid about it all. Was Cassandra finished with him? Had he bored her in playing her games? He had tried his best and committed as much to it as he could to them. She couldn't just cut him off like this, could she? Or was this somehow her sick way of targeting his and Anna's relationship?

He didn't know. He just did not know, for sure...so he was jumping all over the place trying to play along to whatever game Cassandra was playing, but afraid of the consequences if Anna somehow discovered the truth. If she learned the truth...his life would be practically over.

In some weird way he was not too concerned with the fact that he was cheating on his girlfriend. Somehow the two were separate issues to him. He was Anna's boyfriend, and he also played these erotic and naughty games with Cassandra. And the two different versions of himself did not really cross worlds, except now.

He liked Anna, in a lot of ways she was one of his best friends since he had been eleven after all. He liked just hanging out and doing stuff with her, but it had been a week-seven days-since the being jerked off on Anna's car seat in the parking lot of Panucci's restaurant. That long without playing with her and Jason was surprised with how it was affecting him. He was masturbating more and more fantasizing about her next game. Texting Cassandra like a whiny bitch needing her attention-she never replied. He was jumpy and irritable. Anna knew something was bothering him, but let it go waiting for when he'd open up to her about it-like a great girlfriend would.

He pulled out the Tupperware containers of leftover spaghetti and setting them on the blanket between them.

He couldn't go on like this. If Cassandra wanted it over with between them, then fuck her. He'd tell her he was through with it all as soon as he got home. He'd show her to leave him hanging like this.

Just then the burner phone she had given him began buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out to find Cassandra had just sent him a new text.

Anna watching him furrowed her brow. "When did you get that phone?"

"Don't worry about it," He told her reading the text Cassandra had just sent. It was a new set of instructions.


Trembling hands slid the phone back into his pocket. Their neighborhood was on the other side of town from this park. With traffic at this hour it would take him something like forty minutes just to get home. And that was with him driving like a madman. She was giving him very little time to wiggle out a think of a softer way to do this to Anna.

He got up and Anna looked up at him quizzically, "Jason, what are you doing?"

He turned and began jogging off towards his geo.

"Jason," She said coming after him, "Where are you going?"

He ran faster. Reaching the geo and hurriedly climbing inside.

"Jason, why aren't you saying anything to me," Anna shrieked after me, "Where are you going?"

Fumbling fingers put the keys into the ignition and started the geo. For once the engine-such as it was-came to life without a struggle.

Anna beat on his window. "What are you doing? Where are you going? Jason!"

He pulled out of the parking spot trying not to look at her. He felt terrible about how he was treating her. With his car still at the shop getting the seat cleaned Anna had ridden with him to the park. So now he was stranding her out in the middle of the park.

He was such a pussy-whipped asshole for doing this. During the whole forty minute drive through thick lunchtime traffic he swore and berated himself, but he never turned around. Never picked up Anna's frantic calls on his actual phone. He kept going all the way to Cassandra's door.

With no time to spare he was knocking on it. It opened and he saw Cassandra smiling at him.

"That was a shitty thing to make me do to Anna," He told her. She wore sheer red silk pants over a jangling belt with a narrow sheer red halter top straining to constrain her breasts. She was dressed like a genie, or some woman in some sheik's harem or something.

"But you made your choice, Jason," She explained ushering him inside and handing him one of her infamous yellow index cards.

He read it as he stepped inside her house.


She gave him some Viagra and a glass of water. Then she put a costume-shop turban onto his head and took him by the hand. Cassandra pulled him into her living room. All the furniture was gone except for the big recliner. Twelve other women stood in the room waiting for him. All were dressed as a harem girl just as Cassandra. There was Kimberly, Latoya, Veronica, Crystal, Sarah, Lauren....and so on and so on.

They led him to his throne and he sat down. Some of the girls lounged over the chair around him hands touching, rubbing, tracing over his skin. Exotic bellydance music began to play, with a driving sensual beat as six of the girls began to dance for him stripping pieces of clothing from themselves and then his own save the turban in the process. They fed him by hand let him lap up the wine from their bodies as they poured it out of the bottle over breasts, buttocks, or pussies.

Then came the felatio contest-the great sultan of course was the judge and subject. His harem divided into two teams for it led by Cassandra and Crystal chosen in turns. Each choice one captain made was only accepted when approved by the great sultan. Cassandra chose first picking Latoya for a trick she did with her tongue when taking only a cockhead into her mouth. Of course she had to demonstrate before he could approve her pick, and so it went with every pick Cassandra and Crystal made. After eleven girls had demonstrated their finest skills upon his already rock hard cock Jason was already about to burst. Then they had him scoot his bare ass to the very edge of the chair his thighs spread wide across the arms of the great sultan's throne.

They had him flip a coin to see who's team went first. Crystal's team won and seven girls knelt before him and set to work, trading off his meat between them. Sarah and Crystal worked in tandem as Kimberly cheeks hollowed sucking with his cockhead between her lips, tongue performing miracles over it as she did. Rosie and Maria and Dinah somehow contorted herself between them to suckle upon one of his balls and rim his asshole. Under that he lasted all of two minutes.

They spent the next several minutes passing their prize between them.

When the great sultan was ready once more it was Cassandra's turn. He lasted longer than two minutes this time. Cassandra seemed to think the object of the contest was how much pleasure the great sultan had from the experience rather than how fast his orgasm came. Happily agreeing with her he decreed her team the winners.

None complained. Every word was "Yes Great Sultan," or "If it pleases you great sultan". So here for the next forty-eight hours he was king...the great sultan. He did as he wished and no one stopped him. Indeed they encouraged him to be the sultan over them all. Nothing was barred to him.

Time passed, but it was all a blur to Jason. Somehow Anna and what a dick he'd been to her had taken a backseat in his forty-eight hours of unending and eager pussies, mouths, and asses for the great sultan's cock, fingers, or tongue.

It was a wet dream Jason never wanted to wake from.

One Night as the Dark Goddess Within Black Rose Manor



IC: Monica Park

"What the hell am I doing," Monica asked herself.

"Ma'am," The driver of the car she was riding in the back of asked in response. She could see his eyes flash up in the rearview mirror.

"Oh...nothing," She murmured to him biting her bottom lip.

She looked down at the items in her hands. One was a heavy parchment sheet of paper within an opened envelope with gold embossed script proclaiming.


She had received that courier early that morning answering the door in her pajamas. The man dressed in an expensive suit with a black rose pinned to his lapel handed her the package and a clipboard asking her politely to sign for it before opening.

She hesitated with the pen in hand before shrugging and scribbling her name onto the paper.

The man thanked her before turning to leave in his Mercedes.

"Wait," Monica called after him, "What did it mean 'any and all commands'?"

"Don't get cold feet now," The man turned to look back at her, "You already know what it means. You wouldn't have signed for the package if you weren't willing to comply with it."

He returned to his Mercedes then, "Have a good day. I shall look forward to demonstrating to you just precisely what 'any and all commands' means during the festival, Ms. Park."

Her imagination was starting to run away from her with fantasies of her own Christian Grey and sinful nights of titillation.

She opened the box and found the afore-mentioned non-disclosure document detailing all the many many things that may occur should she answer the summons that weekend. It also promised her an eight figure reward once the festival ended.

She looked at what else was in the box. There was a fancy and expensive and elegantly revealing evening gown inside cut scandalously low to reveal quite an eyeful of cleavage. Also was a garter belt and fishnet stockings. There was also a pair of black open toed heels that looked sky high. There was a mask pure white with a plume of black feathers spreading out from the top. Then there was the black leather collar.

Trembling her fingers traced over it. Images from the things she'd read in the NDA swarming through her mind. She needed the money. Student loans and credit cards were haunting her bank account. They probably knew all about her financial state right now which was why they had probably sent her that invitation.

There was lastly a note at the bottom of the box.


She broke out of her reverie when the car came to a halt. The man that had delivered her box opened the door for her. He offered his hand to help her out. She looked out of the car to see a sprawling English mansion. She took his hand and stepped out of the car the other hand adjusting the mask over her face then tracing the collar around her throat.

Was she really doing this?

"Your NDA, Ms. Park?"

"Oh yes," She turned back to the car and snatched it from where she had left it on the car seat and handed it to him.

He opened making sure she'd signed it. Then folded back up and then pulled something from his pocket holding it out for her. It was a chain, a leash, she realized with a shock.

"Take this and connect to your collar, Ms. Park," He told her in a tone that would brook little room for her to equivocate to the command.

Nervously Monica swallowed to wet a suddenly dry throat as she connected the leash to the collar around her throat.

"Follow me," The man said walking towards the doors swinging open to reveal a foyer filled with men in tuxedoes and many other women wearing beautiful dresses like she was all masked and collared like her.

The pull from the leash got her moving towards the mansion and her dark and depraved adventure as a Goddess within the Black Rose Society's manor.

Prisoner of the Succubus Queen (Intro)



IC: Vasheena Lilitu

In celebration of the legions' great victory conquering the kingdom of Caramore she had proclaimed a grand orgy to honor the triumphant heroes return with their spoils of war. The royal slavepens had been opened and the slaves had been chained to the walls or columns around the breadth of the palace. Now her courtiers, the officers of her army and even her own acolytes were doing such nasty and filthy and depraved acts to those slaves and eachother as well. The halls were filled with a raucous din of screams and sighs and groans and moans as men and women committed every kind of sin imaginable to one another. It was debauchery unfettered. It was the palace of Asaria. The palace of the Succubus Queen.

The air crackled with carnal energy as men and women copulated flailed and devoured. Instruments played a raucous sinful, titillating beat egging the participants to ever deeper lows of debauchery.

Vasheena sat upon her throne basking in her power over this once just nation, soaking up the lust and perversion propagating about her. Her throne was specially made for her. Normal chairs were uncomfortable for beings with wings and tails. Her throne was a statue of solid gold of a man bent over backwards. So its hands and feet rested on the floor of her throneroom to support it as its body arched lifting its pelvis high into the air. Over the pelvis was a cushioned saddle-like seat she sat upon. Through the cushion rose a golden phallus that parted and penetrated her sex as she sat upon the golden throne of Asaria. She lifted to the tip and sank back down. Not being real it did little for her, but make her hungers more ravenous. She reached down and stroked her fingers over the golden statue of the face locked in a frozen grimace whether in ecstasy or agony or both was a subject of much debate among her court. She patted the golden cheek blowing a kiss to the replica of her dear husband as he was in his last moments of life before his unfortunate death in their bed just hours after being crowned Asaria's king.

That was when they brought her newest trophy before her. He was surrounded by some of her best soldiers in chains. One, her victorious general clapped his fist over his heart in salute announcing, "Your majesty, this was the leader of the enemy during the siege of Caramore city."

She regarded the man bound in chains and her breath caught in her lungs at the sight of him. He was not a normal man that much was clear at a glance. To her demonic eyes all mortals had an aura of energy surrounding them, infusing and flowing through them. Indeed it was the very thing she fed off of from them. But this man...this man shined as bright as the sun. She wanted him terribly. Vasheena's motions driving herself on the tantalizingly unreal phallus imagining the moment she would feed off that massive amount of pure uncorrupted energy within this man.

To the general she said, "Approach me."

When he came up to her she handed him a silver key. "Find my acolyte named Malena, and tell her she will be your reward from me tonight, general." The key would unlock the chastity belt Malena was forced to wear, leaving the raving nymphomaniac free to fuck the general silly.

He took the key gratefully and hurried off to find Malena.

With a flap of her wings she vaulted off of her throne to step before the man. She cupped her hand under his chin so she could look into the man's eyes. "You're a handsome one. I could eat you up right now."



He looked positively delicious standing on her presentation dais, muscular, strong, virile, godlike in his manliness. Part of Vasheena wanted to lick every inch of him, worship every contour. Another part wanted to use her cruelest whips and flails to flay that perfect flesh from his bones. It was because this man was more than just a mortal man. This man had been touched by divinity, so much that his body radiated the power of their aura, it beckoned to her pulling her in closer and closer no matter how she resisted its pull like a moth drawn in to the flame. She needed to devour it, suckle on it until she was gorged off of him like a leach.

She was a demon though, so at the same time it drove her with the overriding imperative to defile and mar or otherwise corrupt the perfection, the example of the divine, this man represented.

“Do what you will demon," This man in chains defiantly declared, "Enjoy your moment for the time being…”

"Oh I intend to, toy," She nodded to the Royal Guards fastening his chains tightly to the base of the dais. "Leave us."

The bowed to her before turning to leave as well as those engaged in the copulating and debauching with one another. In a matter of moments she and her new trophy were the only two people left in her grand throne room.

Instantly the hand cupping his chin forced his head back so he was staring at the murals she had painted on the ceiling depicting an invasion of the realm of light by her brothers and sisters, the denizens of the underworld. Precisely the image of the most hated, for Succubi anyway, Erana, the goddess of love, being forced over into a terrible contorted position as eight hideously deformed demons ravaged her. The eyes of the goddess looked down helplessly, powerlessly, upon where Andaric stood.

"Do you curse them, toy," She whispered into his ear as fingernails sharp as knives scratched down his exposed neck and chest. They went lower over the rolling hillocks of abs and down down down... "Or perhaps you have failed them so terribly..."

Fingers curled over his cock beginning to stroke expertly guiding, coercing it to erection, "...Why else would they have forsaken you now to leave you here helpless in my clutches?"

Bloodlife (V.5)



IC: Isabel Armin-Renault

Isabel stood at the end of the line as she and her cousins waited their turn to step inside. The door opened and two servants came out with a medical gurney between them. Yet another body lay on top of it. Her cousin, Christian Renault. She remembered growing up with him. They hadn't been friendly towards eachother. Their master's frowned upon such things in the twelve families they funded and oversaw. Christian had been a rival as all her cousins were. If he excelled in an exam Isabel and all the others were punished for failure if she excelled in a demonstration of skills he and all her other cousins in the family were punished. So they had competed against one another to please their masters more. Studying longer, practicing harder, reading and learning faster. Faster. Faster or suffer for their uncompromising masters' disappointment in their progress in the program.

That had been the whole of their relationship. Isabel had never known friendship. Isabel had never known family-not the way the outside world thought of those terms. Now she never would.

She and all her cousins were members of the Renault family. A family started by the Vampire governing council to provide the finest trained slaves to be purchased by Vampire masters centuries ago. A family the Council has decided it no longer equitable to continue funding.

So here she stood waiting her turn to step inside the room at the end of the hall and relieve the council of the financial burden for paying for her life and education. The servants carried the gurney past her and down the hall. Isabel noted how Christian looked peaceful. Their masters had told them it would be quick, efficient, and painless. It was a kindness they need not have committed really.

If her masters decided they desired to kill her. She would happily comply to fulfill that desire as she'd been taught to all of her life. She wasn't being suicidal. No, she wanted to live. She wanted to please her masters. She wanted to please the master that would've eventually have purchased her, but that decision was not her place to make, and it had already been decided upon.

The door opened and Christian's little sister, her cousin, Allana, stepped inside. The line stepped forward. Minutes passed. The servants with the gurney returned. The door opened once more. Allana's dead body passed her down the hall. The door opened and her uncle, Stephan, Christian and Allana's father, stepped inside. She stepped forward in line closer to the door and her own execution.

There were no guards. She could've turned around and ran for her life, but Isabel didn't. It never occurred to her to do so. Master Argus had told them all not to run, so they all obeyed that order as they were raised to do all of their lives.

After her uncle Stephan her other cousin, Valerie, only six years old stepped inside the room. Isabel stepped forward. She stared at the door before her. After Valerie was killed it would be her turn.

Minutes passed with Isabel staring at the door. The door opened. Little Valerie was carried out of the room and down the hall.

It was her turn now. When she stepped inside her life would end. She didn't feel fear only disappointment with herself for not being enough to please her masters. She didn't deserve to live if she could not fulfill her purpose in that.

Her foot lifted to carry inside the last room she'd ever be in.

"Hold," Came a masculine voice from down the hall, "I have decided to purchase this slave."

Training the Emperor's New Loveslave



IC: Asherran Dahl

The boat bobbed and swayed anchored off the white-cliff shear shore of the long-fabled continent the Imperial Armada had crossed the great sea to conquer. They debarked the seven legions of the Invincible Vaelkorran army. Now six months later the kingdoms of this accursed continent were now under the banner of the Emperor, and the armada was preparing to cross the sea carrying the treasures and slaves plundered from the conquered kingdoms.

It was morning, too early in the morning, but Asherran's personal servant, Syri, was insistent that he woke up. He rose up from his bed groggily. "Master," His young adolescent servant said, "The honorable General Varha is assembling this continent's fairest princesses for your selection."

"Help me wash up." He removed his bedrobe and Syri poured some flower scented water into a wash basin.

Asherran was Vaelkorran nobility, albeit by a tenuous claim through a distant cousin, but he had made his name and fortune in the trading of high quality slaves, more specifically the finest of slaves for harems throughout the Empire. But he had made the great mistake of falling in love with his last slave, Anemoria, Syri's older sister. He had trained her with all his knowledge of the erotic arts, and had delivered her to the Imperial harem. A few days later Anemoria was found dead of poison, a victim to the viperous intrigues of the Imperial court.

Heartbroken he and Syri had retreated to the country until he was summoned before the Emperor who commissioned him with one last task. Asherran was to go with the Armada to this gods-forsaken continent and find the finest of the daughters of the rulers of that land and train her as the Emperor's personal concubine. If he succeeded he and Syri would be set for life, though even with his heart not in it since giving up Anemoria to be murdered at court.

Turning his back on Anemoria had ripped him open, had stripped his heart right out of his chest. Now he was left hollow and empty, a shell of a man waking and living on day after day since the woman he loved and left was taken from this cruel and undeserving world.

With Syri's help he finished washing up and put on a new robe and belt. "Go to the galley and fetch some breakfast." He told Syri, "And be quick. I do not like how some of the sailors cast eyes upon you." Syri was fast approaching the blossoming of womanhood, and by the looks of her she would be as fetching as her sister was. He would have to train her in order to keep any unscrupulous men from taking advantage of her untarnished innocence.

He opened the door to his cabin and let Syri out for the ship's galley then came out into the hallway and climbed the steps onto the top deck. There were seven women chained and collared tight in a row.

General Varha nodded towards him. "Good morning Lord Dahl."

Asherran surveyed the women more closely. They were all beautiful, exotic, and spectacular. "They have potential."

"Yes fine bitches."

"General do not be so crass," He admonished the soldier, "These are high-born ladies of fine breeding."

He stepped closer looking at the tall blond. "They're clothing remove them."

Varha's men removed the tattered dirty clothes they wore bearing their feminine flesh to the gaze of everyone on the top deck. Being sailors there was some whistles and cat calls.

"General," Asherran asked casually taking a hand to squeeze the blonde's bosom. "Do not your men have duties they should be undertaking now?"

Within moments the sailors were harangued by their officers back to their duties. Asherran shook his head. "This one carries too much weight, take her below with the rest of the common slaves."

He proceeded to examine each of the women casually but expertly like he was negotiating for horses rather than people. He knelt inspecting the shapeliness of leg and thigh, the curve of hips, the swell of breasts, the weight, their responsiveness. While all would be exceptional, beautiful, none were what he was looking for. Asherran dismissed one after another.

Then he reached the last of the princesses. He ran a hand up the length of her leg noticing the tightness of the muscles underneath. "This one likes to run." his hand slid over her hip to run over her buttock. "Not much flesh on her rump, though that is not a prerequisite according to our Emperor's, may his reign last for years more, tastes in concubines. Let's see how responsive she is." He pinched the swell of a buttock hard.

His other hand dragged up her stomach to her breasts. He stepped in front of her and placed both hands on her breasts cupping them, squeezing, weighing and judging them. "A decent handful here, perky. I think they'll resist sagging for a score more years."

He took her chin by his hand and peered into her eyes, "Exceptional beauty in her face, radiant even." He forced her mouth open. Peered inside to inspect her teeth, the length she could extend her tongue, its dexterity. "She has a mouth made by the gods for giving pleasure."

He lifted her chin while stepping behind her. His free hand began to run through her hair. "She desperately needs to wash and care for her hair, but that is more your fault General than hers. Nevertheless once washed and mended her hair will be silken and luxuriant against our Emperor's skin."

Then he noticed the odd shape to her ears. "What is that, some deformity," He asked with supreme disappointment. This one had such promise to her.

"She is from a people called Elves my lord. The pointed ears're what sets them apart as well as longer lives."

"An elf," he said running a fingertip along the pointed ridge of her ear, "I thought such creatures were only from old maid's tales. Do you know if they can accomadate a man?"

Varha nodded though not without some embarassment, "According to my men, they can."

Asherran knelt before her and placed his hands over the soft fur covered mound, "I will have to shave her, but she seems receptive and compatible enough." He slipped a finger inside, and found a true treasure, "A virgin."

"This is the one, General, she will be a truly unique and an exquisite treasure for our Emperor, may his reign last for decades to come." He stepped away from her. "Have your men bring up the bath tub from my belongings, and tell the chefs to heat some pots of water for her bath." I will have her bathe while I take my breakfast."

Master of the Succubus



IC: Anaqashka (Ana)

Ana was sitting on her throne in hallowed halls of the realm infernal. Here was her kingdom. As far as the eyes could see was a writhing throng of her siblings the succubi and incubi reveled in the dark and depraved orgy going on. She smiled surveying her subjects.

This was good.

She felt the pull of the spell long before it dragged her up from lower rings of pit of sin and torment into the physical realm. It had been so long since she walked the place called Earth. So when the sulfurous smoke cleared it took her a moment to learn to focus eyes to see, to use lungs to breathe in air again. Slowly and unsteadily she raised up on her feet.

Where was she? By the musky smell in the air she decided she had been summoned somewhere underground, the basement of some building or other place. But where was the one that had summoned her?

Wings stretched out behind her and recoiled when the air crackled with energy when they tried to cross the border of the summoning circle that contained her like an animal inside a cage. Interesting-the barrier was decent enough but she could already sense areas where it was weak enough that if she pushed hard enough she'd be able to break free with only moderate damage to her physical body.

Perhaps later.

She could tell the moment her summoner laid eyes upon her without seeing it. The rise of sexual interest was like a guttering candle in a dark room to her. Behind her. A wicked smile raised her lips as Ana shifter her weight so her well-toned ass stood out for him, tail curling up the back of one long shapely leg. Arms raised to lift the crimson red-the color of sin-hair up above her head to give her so-called new master a buffet for his eyes to feast upon.

"You have dared to call me up from the realm I reign supreme," She said with a dangerously seductive tone, "Am I everything you hoped me to be when you decided to chalk this circle onto the floor, mortal?"

She had not yet decided what form of vengeance on this insolent cur would take. "Hurry and slake your pedantic lust with me. I grow tired of you already."

"I did not mark the circle you are confined within just for a one night stand," His reply came back, "Turn and kneel before your master."

"As if one such as you could ever-" She glanced over her shoulder to get a glimpse of him and dropped the hair back at the sight of him. She gasped out loud collapsing to her knees at the magnitude of the power held within this mortal.

How? How could a mere boy have such magical power. She noted too that the circle she was confined in was perfect too? How? The summoning circles were never perfect like this one. Many were good or at least adequate and she would wheedle through the imperfections it would invariably have and break free to turn the tables on her would-be master. No mortal in thousands of lifetimes could amass the knowledge, the exacting precision and skill displayed by this one.

How?

Swallowing eons of pride the uncontested queen of the pit of sin and debauchery prostrated herself before saying in words like bitter ash over her tongue, "Command me...master."

Wicked Intentions



IC: Olympia De Luca

Feeling frustrated and bored Olympia took another drink of her prosecco. She was here at this bar to meet a client. An elderly gentleman that was worth over nine figures-he'd have to be to afford her for the weekend. He had been referred to her by one of her regulars. Carlo was a sweet man and tender lover, and generous. The knockout red dress and the jewelry she was wearing, even the Mercedes parked in the parking lot were gifts from him. But the problem was his friend was running late, leaving Olympia sitting idle.

Olympia did not do idle.

Impeccably manicured fingernails drummed on the table top. She wondered how she'd make this man pay for his tardiness. She wondered what she would do in the meantime. More to the point Olympia wondered who she would do.

Being a high class escort was more of a calling for her. She was not the kind of woman who dreamed of meeting prince charming then living happily ever after with white picket fences and four kids hanging on her arms. No way in hell. Olympia had always been the bad seed. She'd always been the kind of woman every mother feared their son would meet.

She saw a server lead four people to a table overlooking the same view of the Monaco skyline. Her eyes narrowed turning a cool experienced Escort's eye on the foursome. Two older and judging by the casual familiarity between them they had been married for many many years. The third was a young woman and judging by the way the older man had his arm protectively over the younger woman in a non-possessive or sexual way, Olympia would say she was the older couple's daughter. Which left the younger man, a brother or perhaps the younger girl's boyfriend? There was a ring on his finger. A husband or fiance' perhaps?

She leaned forward watching them, reading their lips as they talked. They were speaking English and talking about the sights of Monaco as if this was their first time here or anywhere in Europe. Interesting...she'd guess they were Americans. Olympia loved Americans...so much machismo hidden underneath centuries of sexual puritanical repression.

The corner of her lip turned up into a wicked smile as a naughty evil idea came to mind.

Fuck it. She pulled out her business phone and took a quick picture of the young man. Then she texted the no show of a client.


She put up her phone and smiled evilly as the young man got up from the table and headed for the restroom. It was time to introduce herself to the young man she was going to fuck the-how do Americans say it-ah yes-fuck the shit out of this weekend.

An old thread I'd like to revive as a one on one with multiple characters being handled by my cowriter and myself.

The New Neighbors at Redhill House

IC: Thomas Dennison

The Sun was setting and the gates opened to allow the guests inside the grounds of the mansion. The men-apparently serveants of some sort to the new owners of Redhill house-were dressed as Eunichs straight out of Aladdin or Arabian nights. They began accepting the invitations and ushering the people to look on the extravagant garden and front exterior of the mansion.

Thomas Dennison climbed out of his old red VW bug he had parked across from the mansion in front of Old lady Jenkin's house at the corner of Darrow Lane and Redhill Street that morning to keep an eye on the place. OLd Lady Jenkins had bitched about it to him but nothing more than an hour of her annoying empty threats to hose him off her property. He was glad to find that the crazy old bat had paid heed to his advice and wasn't going to the party-if only some of the other neighbors listened to him about his bad feeling about these new owners of Redhill house.

He limped across the street to join the throng of his neighbors straightening out his old tuxedo. With it on and his hair slicked back he made a good likeness of James Bond-Sean Connery-the only Bond as far as Tom would ever be concerned-though he doubted Bond would ever be so un-debonair-like to ever show up at such a shindig with a ketchup stain on his only good suit from eating his lunch in the cramped confines of an old red VW bug.

Once again he wiped at the red stain on his lapel and cursing that damned ketchup packet. That and several hours of wasted surveilance of the old house hadn't improved his mood in the slightest. He'd watched the house all day and until an hour ago when the serveants arrived at the front gate he couldn't tell if anyone had moved in to it-cemetaries had more life in them than this house during the day.

Still, it didn't hinder his gut feeling about these new people. He'd first gotten it seeing those black cars with windows tinted black move down the main street of their subdivision and through the gates he was walking through now. He had no proof of course, no evidence what so ever, but something about these people wasn't right-wasn't on the up and up-and Tom was determined to find out what.

The serveants only heightened that gut feeling. They never spoke more than what was necessary, never anything more than a "This way please," when someone wanted to stop to smell the flowers or oggle the statues in the fountain in front of the mansion's front door. They just did their jobs like a robot or slave with little or no emotion on their face. It made that gut feeling Tom had about these people do somersaults and jumping jacks screaming "Something's not right here."

He stayed at the back of the group as they entered the house and was led through a long hallway to a huge fucking ballroom-the grand old gilded kind from castles and palaces in Europe not little old pissant Redhill Meadows subdivision.

So where were the proprieters of the house?

To one side was a table with various high-class party foods-canapes, Patte', and those disgusting tiny gourmet finger sandwiches. A Band of men similar to the vacant robotic men who ushered them inside started playing a waltz. Some of the more foolish of his neighbors started dancing. Tom began to investigate his surroundings. surveying the room noting the balcony above and a chair like a fucking throne for a fucking king at the far end of the room.

Something wasn't right here, he knew it, he just didn't know what yet, but he could smell the wrongness he just needed to find the garbage swept under the rug. Tom saw a wet bar and stepped up to it and giving his killer Connery imitation, "Vodka Martini, shaken not stirred."

The bartender didn't flinch, didn't smile, didn't laugh, didn't even bat an eye at the flawless Connery delivery. He just began to make him the martini he asked for.

Tom blinked, What red-blooded male on Earth didn't respond to James Fucking Bond yea or nay. He took the finished drink and sipped it looking twice at it. There was something off about its taste.

"Tell me," He asked the man, "When are we going to see your employer?"

The bartender pointed to the balcony, "The master will reveal himself to you now."

--------------------------X

IC: Lucian Allistair Descartes

"How do I look," He said as the serveant finished adjusting his costume to the assembled members of his coven. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and cloak, face plastered with cake make-up, and hair slicked back like Bela Legosse's Dracula-a heavy handed ironic joke but an apt one, and it would mean he'd be able to show off his fangs and the poor little fearful sheep below would think it merely another facet of the costume rather than the truth.

He'd seen and done everything in the many millenia he had walked the face of the earth and such games were among the few things remaining that truly amused him now. He reveled in the teasing, titilating, stalking game and the shocked expression on their prey's faces when the truth was finally made apparent to them before he drank their life's blood from their veins. Such was the few amusements left to him now.

Another serveant entered and knelt before them, "Masters, the guests await in the ballroom."

"Has the sun set," He asked barely paying the lifeless husk of a man any notice as he adjusted the droop of his costume's cloak.

"Forty-five seconds ago, Master."

"Then we will go look upon our assembled meals," He stated leading the way down the second floor's hallway to the balcony overlooking the ball room. His eyes raked over the assembled examples of humanity. One or two caught his interest and made his fangs itch and that implacable hunger deepen for the first time in years. He smiled, again an action he hadn't made in years.

"So many to choose from," He whispered with a glint to his companions, "We may become gluttons by morning."

He waved a hand out and immediately the band stopped.

"I am Lucian, the new owner of this property and these are my companions," He gestured to the others around him, "Be polite and introduce yourselves to our guests."

After they had finished making their introductions he began to make for the staircase down to the ballroom floor. "Please continue dancing, make merry. Mi casa es su Casa."

"Go, mingle, have fun, and play with your food." He told his coven-members with a wicked smile showing the all too real fangs to any and all who paid attention.

The Demon in Amber Jones

IC: Nicholas Denton

Nicholas was a student at Bayridge University, a college with a grand reputation for academics, and he was failing here-not that he couldn't keep up with the studies. It was just that he didn't want to even be there, but his father was adamant that he go to Bayridge. His father was the largest donator to Bayridge so he got a free ride through his first year in school. However that changed when his prick of a father cut him off this semester until he earned his grades-like that was going to happen.

So he was forced to get a job on campus working in the library. That decrepit old bitch Mrs. Hopkins, the head librarian, didn't even recognize who his father was and constantly was on his back about actually doing the fucking job putting worthless books on the shelves. So he half-assed started shelving books just to get the old witch to shut up. He had finally gotten through half of them when a really old and really worn one fell onto the floor and opened to a page with a sketched picure on it of a naked woman.

"Holy Fuck," He exclaimed as his eyes were immediately drawn to the rather attractive tits and ass of the woman in the picture. He received glaring stares as the dumb-ass students actually studying were disturbed and that stuck-up bitch Mrs. Hopkins shushed him and ordered him in a whisper to finish shelving the books.

He hurriedly agreed with her and picked up the worn out book and moved himself and the cart of books to an unoccupied corner of the library. There he opened the book to oggle the picture in the comfort of solitude. But upon further examination he discovered the girl in the picture had horns curling back over the top of her head. She had a pair of bat wings on her back and a pointed tail from the curves of her uncovered ass. What the hell kind of porno-book was this?

He flipped some more of the pages and discovered to his frustration that was the only picture anyone could call hot or porno-worthy. It was a book about how satanists in the middle ages called up demons ro earth to do their bidding. Nicholas was particularly interested in the ritual to summon the super-hot demon chick the book called a succubus. He looked around finding himself still alone and looking over the long list of steps needed to do it. Most of the ingredients were easy for him to get: Chalk to draw a pentagram on the floor, the fresh blood of a goat-like Rocky the golf team's mascot, a virgin's blood-since he'd never gotten past third base before the girl he'd gotten drunk enough to go all the way with either passed out or barfed on his shirt or something-he'd have no problem providing, and some dirt...

Was he really going to try this? This would be a waste of time. Demons weren't real. He'd have bled himself stolen a fucking goat for nothing. However...what if it actually worked? He couldn't get it out of his mind.

So applying himself for the first time since arriving at the university he set to work gathering the ingredients and working over the words in fucking Latin he'd have to say. Getting the goat wasn't hard sneaking it inside the library under that bitch Mrs. Hopkins nose was, but he finally managed locking it in the boiler room in the basement.

He was the most helpful to Mrs. Hopkins he'd ever been finally convincing the old bitch to let him lock up that night alone. he impatiently waited as the hours crept by, and people began to trickle out of the library. Finally it was closing time and Mrs. Hopkins left actually complimenting him on his new attitude. He watched the old bitch leave unable to say anything.

He hurriedly turned off all the lights, and locked up all the doors. He was supposed to leave one unlocked until he left, but fuck that. He raced down to the basement and began drawing the pentagram on the floor. placing the old sesame street bowl he had lying around in the center. He put the dirt in the bowl, the rolled up tree leaves, the bit of blood from Rocky, and finally winced as he nicked his finger and let a drop fall into the bowl before putting on the band-aid. He poured on the vodka and lit it with a cigarette lighter. Foul smelling smoke drifted up.

Finally came the latin. Nicholas fumbled through the words wincing as he raced on. The smoke was getting thicker becoming more and more a solid shape. It was working! He hurried through more of the incantations. Fuck! It was alot of fucking Latin to say. Why did they have to make it have so many fucking words he had to say?

He was almost to the end now. The smoke was forming into a shape that looked more and more like the Hot demon chick from the picture, and then the basement door burst open and a girl stumbled through it.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed as the smoke dissolved and wafted past her through the doorway. He looked at her then down at the pentagram the sesame street bowl with burnt stinking stuff in it, Rocky the goat with a bandage on, and back to her. "Uhm...I can explain...uh...well...I...Uhmmm," Then a thought crossed his mind, "Wait, what the hell are you doing in here?"

Freedom Among the Stars

IC: Reese Lancaster

The planet Percival was a commercial shipping hub due to its location within the galactic hyperspace gateway network rather than its stubborn dedication to maintain its more provincial heritage, but it was a major stopover for any freighters carrying goods to or from the heart of the Empire. So the when the Light Freighter Morning Glory exited Hyperspace outside the eclyptic of Percival's system Reese wasn't surprised to find a lot of orbital traffic on his sensors. However, he was surprised to find an entire Imperial Navy Assault Carrier group over the moderate climate bands of the planet.

"They haven't noticed us, Glory," He asked the ships computer, "Can we still bug out back into hyper without them noticing."

[Affirmitive Captain Lancaster] Came the cold emotionless banal voice from the ship's computer in his head. [Estimate 12.8 seconds until Imperial Navy Battle Group Sensors discover this vessel.]

Reese shook his head biting his bottom lip, "I need to make good on this job, after having to dump the last cargo to avoid customs. I'm lucky they haven't sent hitters after me or my family." He could easily have just thought it, he was the only one on the bridge of the Morning Glory rather he was the only person on the ship at all. But he found it was better to keeping his sanity traveling alone like this if he talked out loud to Glory as if it was another person, even though it was a rather piss-poor conversationalist.

[Insufficient Data to estimate the Company's probable threat level to your personal safety or that of your family members, Captain Lancaster]

"Though with my family," He chuckled, "It would probably be worth having the death mark over my head."

[Insufficient data to formulate a response, Captain Lancaster.]

He laughed. That was the computer's idea of tact. Reese was a Lancaster one of the oldest of noble houses in the Empire, the youngest son of the late Duke Gilroy Lancaster.

Great, right?

Unfortanately his mother was the Duke's personal assistant not the Duchess. Still the lecherous old bastard had been at least a responsible lecherous old bastard he had put his mother and him in an apartment in the city and recognized Reese as his son, which drove the jealous conniving Duchess wild with resentment towards them both. Reese had grown up as a social paraiah wherever he went, and then with his unlamented father's mysterious death, quickly followed by the tragic freak lift accident that had lead to his mother's death. He could connect the dots. The Duchess was crossing names off her list of enemies and his was certainly somewhere on it. So Reese had ran, joined the Imperial navy which lasted just as long as it took to stop laughing at the thought of him in a starched bone-stiff navy black uniform. So he'd been dishonorably discharged from the Imperial Navy-The admiral's daughter said she was eighteen honest-and then was recruited by the company.

The company was the euphamism for smuggling cartel, though everyone knew it was really ran by the nobility, but in the Earthsphere Empire what wasn't. They kept the profits and let the criminals do the dirty work, again nothing surprising there.

He was one of those dirty old criminals trying to make enough to finally pay off the company and take his ship and finally be free. Just him, his ship, and the vast expanse of space.

[Captain Lancaster, the Imperial Navy Battle Group is firing on the planet's surface.] Before his eyes a holographic screen showed the battleships launching missiles on the cities.

"Atleast they're not using Nukes or kinetic strikes or anything but conventional ordinance."

[Estimating at the rate of bombardment 40% of the population of Planet Percival should the battle group follow standard operating procedures survive the bombardment]

So 60% of the population was what, an object lesson. That was one reason he was so happy to have been booted out of the navy. Any profession That used mass murder and oppression as standard operating procedure was not one he wanted to be a part in, and people thought those that worked in the company were the dregs of society.

Well, it wasn't his problem.

"Glory, plot least time course to the southern polar region of the planet, maybe we can use their preocupation on murdering cities and towns to slip in and out without them noticing."

[Yes Captain Lancaster.]

It was forty one minutes of slow roundabout maneuvering but eventually they had snuck into the atmosphere of Percival and was approaching the Company's enclave under the ice sheet of the southern polar region of the planet. The Morning Glory splashed into the frigid water and began the deceleration towards the submerged outpost.

[Captain Lancaster, detecting a civilian submersible docked at the outpost]

"The Company's man we were supposed to meet?"

[Insufficient data to formulate a response to your query, Captain Lancaster.] Glory stated, [Detecting one life sign: 99.8762% probability it is human female.]

"We were supposed to meet with a man." Reese rubbed his chin in thought, If it was a trap it couldn't really be sprung with one person. The Morning Glory slipped into the lone loading quay of the installation. The airlock sealed and the loading locks as well.

"Send out the loading drones for the cargo."

[Yes, Captain Lancaster.]

He got out of the Captain's chair and moved over to the arms locker. He pulled out a plasma pistol and checked the charge. It was a full charge. "I'll have some words with our uninvited guest."

He moved down the airlock towards the crew section of the underwater station. Pistol in hand he entered into the lounge and found her in the lounge not even trying to hide. "Hello," He said standing in front of her so she could see the weapon in his hand, "Mind telling me what you're doing here in this supposedly secret station?"

The woman was dressed in expensive clothes with long blonde hair flowing down luxuriously from her head. When she looked at him he suddenly had a flash of recognition. She'd been on every news cast and arrest bulletin since she'd gone missing. He'd have to be the dumbest most ignorant rube not to recognize that pretty and famous face looking back at him.

He stepped over to her, his gun never wavering from pointing straight at herr. "Well, Princess, never thought I'd hold royalty at gunpoint."

Paraxysms of Love and Sacrifice



IC: Marcus Leander

Marcus Leander was a young man he had just celebrated his twenty-second birthday by getting released from the Legion's hospital for an extended convalescence leave. He Straightened his dress uniform. The two new medals gleaned in the sundrenched light from the villa's portico. They were heavy weights as well on his chest. The Imperial Eagle, given only to those in the legions that displayed exceptional courage beyond the norm for those called to serve the glory of the Reisan Empire. The other the crossed heart given those that had been wounded in that same service to Empire and Emperor.

The leg was coming along, he could walk without the crutches or cane now-if with a pronounced limp. The medicus said it too would fade in a few weeks. The ribs were healing a little faster. Though slipping the sleeves of the uniform's jacket over his arms and shoulders lit his sides with a fire that almost brought him to his knees. Other than that he was fit and healthy with a lean athletic figure.

Ahead one the General's house slaves was vacuuming. She stopped and bowed her head as he passed like Marcus was someone important. He was an orphan from a farming province who joined the legions as soon as he was old enough-anything to leave that armpit of nobodyness. He had served even been selected to go to the Imperial war-college. There he met the house slave's master, and the one man he respected most in the world.

He opened the door to the villa's balcony. From it he could see the skyline of Reise the Imperial city. The high skyscrapers, the tall belltowers of the temples in the city even the Imperial Colliseum in the distance. They were supposed to be holding gladiatorial games celebrating their victory in the conquest of the Dharizan barbrians adding yet another land and slaves for the bloated Empire. Above the arena Marcus could see the goodAnnos blimp circling over it for the television audience.

He hoped those Dharisian bastards suffer before the gladiators finish them off.

"Ah Marcus," The voice came from the corner of the room. He turned to see the General, Gaius Antony Cicero, behind his desk piled high with papers and files from the master of the house being away from it for months. He shut down the computer and turned the wheelchair he was confined to for the rest of his life and rolled it out towards him. Marcus limped forward to meet him halfway in the middle of the room. So the general wouldn't have to push himself that far,

Other than being in the wheel chair Gaius was a handsome dark and tall man-if he could stand to his full height. With dark hair greying a bit from seeing the dawn of his fifth decade. His face was lined with some wrinkles that only showed when he laughed or cried.

"I have something to tell you," He said looking up at Marcus, "But let us talk of it out on the balcony."

Marcus nodded and limped behind him pushing the wheelchair out through the open glass doors into the bright autumn sun. Below one the general's house slaves was cleaning the villa's pool another was tending the gardens riding one of those zero-point turning lawnmowers. In the far distance he could see a car, a sleek and fast and mean and expensive-looking black Gladius Guiardo 500 coming up along the road that wrapped around the Villa's grounds.

"Expecting company, sir," He asked gesturing to the oncoming sportscar.

"I invited a special someone to come and get her opinion on you," The general nodded, "I haven't seen her in so long. I need to see her to..." He trailed off looking up at him.

"Marcus," The General said, "I'm going to tell you this as straight as I can. You know I never married? And so I have no sons?"

Marcus nodded in answer curious as to where he was going.

"The medicus said I will be in this wheelchair until the day I die," He stated, "Shrapnel from that RPG in Dharisan...some of it hit me low in the back...that grenade would've killed me if you hadn't shielded me..."

"Sir, you don't have to thank me," Marcus shook his head, "I only did what my duty to you and to the Empire needed me to."

"...I can't feel anything below my waist," Gaius told him he looked down at himself, "Nothing, not my feet, not my legs, nothing...I need someone to help me just to take a shit or a piss. And I will never have a son. The name of Cicero ends with me. I can not allow that."

"You can adopt a son," He put in.

"Yes, I can," He nodded looking up at Marcus expectantly, "But I do not wish to raise a child. I would be a poor father."

"Don't say that, sir," Marcus said feelingly, "I never had a father, but if I had one..."

"Marcus, I want to name you as my heir."

Marcus took a moment looking down at the man he had always seen as the father the gods had never blessed him to have. "It would be an honor sir, but surely you should look for someone more worthy than me to bear the name of Cicero."

From beyond the doors they heard someone walking down the hall to the door. What was that? Metal against the marble floors?

"Think it over Marcus, I understand its a big step and you'll need time," Gaius said turning the wheelchair to face the door, "But now there's someone I want you to meet. Someone very special."

Marcus heard the sound of the metal footsteps stop just beyond the door. The doorknob turns and the door opens. One of the houseslaves his head and eyes downcast is at the door but behind him stood a figure, a woman...she was wearing an old style black cloak that ran the length of her body from her shoulders down to just above her ankles hiding any appraisal of her figure. He could see the reason why her footsteps had sounded so metallic. She was wearing leather boots with high heels, solid metal ones that ended at a sharp looking point. But that wasn't the most eye catching thing the woman in the door way wore. It was a black mask covering her eyes with gold and the lower half veiled with sheer lace. Marcus could see her full lips deep red and luscious-made by the gods for kissing-under the sheer material.

Marcus had heard of her, or at least what she was. Descriptions and ribald stories of what she was and did were passed between randy legionnaires many times, but honestly Marcus thought what she was had gone all but extinct.

This masked woman was a priestess of Belerephus, twin sibling of Belerephina, the goddess of love, but the brother Belerephus was the dark and twisted evil patron of that. He was god of lust and pleasure, need, obsession, and pain, all the darker passions.

She stepped inside looking at Gaius but not saying a word. The houseslave carried a heavy black bag inside the room then shut the door behind her. She stood there watching Gaius without saying anything.

"Domina," Gaius said lifting himself from the wheel chair to fall onto the floor.

"Sir," Marcus exclaimed bending down to help him. He glanced at the woman noting with some anger that she made no move or reaction to a man falling out of a wheelchair. But then she lifted one boot and placed it forward. The cloak pulled up to her shin.

Gaius tried to drag himself over to her and pushing Marcus away, "Help me over to her. I have to kiss my Domina's boot."

"What," He asked looking up to the priestess who still stood there watching Gaius expectantly. She wasn't going to lift a single finger to help the general one bit.

Ignoring the surge of agony from his leg and ribs Marcus did as Gaius had asked dragging the old soldier over to the woman.

Gaius finally placed his lips on the toe of her boot. It wasn't a quick peck either lasting several beats before the woman slipped her boot away from him.

Gaius started babbling then, "Forgive me Domina. Forgive me for disobeying your last order to me. I came back to you from war, but I did not come back whole and healthy."

Marcus rose up to look the woman in the eyes. She had stark blue eyes that he would have said were pretty if he wasn't so upset at her. She was looking at him rather than at Gaius.

This was all too much to take in. Gaius' offer to name him his son...the general...a Belerephite...a worshipper of the dark god...this woman who forced a parapalegic to drag himself across the room just to kiss her boot.

Marcus glared at the masked woman-not the safest thing to do if the reputations of Priestesses of Belerephus had any truth to them, but he didn't care. How could she have been so cruel.

"Well say something," He asked-no demanded-of her.

I haven't been able to post reliably to any of my threads lately. My situation at work has gotten too hectic and exhausting for me to do much writing if at all. However when the situation finally settles itself out I hope to regain my momentum.

For any of my cowriters still patiently waiting for me to respond to thread I beg your forgiveness and forbearance until things change.

Call-Girl and the Beast



IC: Alexa Connelly

Deborah: You just started. Are you sure you are ready for this?

Alexa: Turning tricks pays well but my Mom's getting sicker. I need the money.

Deborah: I have other whales. A couple weekends with a few of them will equal the same amount he'll pay you without the risk.

Alexa: I want the Beast.

Deborah: I don't know. Maybe after you've had a year or so of seasoning. Honestly I don't think you're ready. The Beast is a test for even my best girls.

Alexa: I want to be your best girl. I enjoy what I do, but I want to get better at it. I need to be stretched and challenged for that. I need you to set me up with the Beast.

Deborah: I'll send you an address and time. I hope you know what you're doing. You have tons of potential. I would hate to see you scared off by that man girl.

Alexa stood in the elevator watching the numbers climb on her way to the penthouse atop the skyscraper. Deborah's regular client referred to by the girls as the Beast was a very wealthy man. A man with very particular tastes and needs.

She felt nervous. This man had a reputation that scared even girls that worked as escorts for years and had tons of horror stories.


(WIP)

Highway to Hell and Back




IC: Mara Soirressei

Mara strode into the biker bar, Ace of Spades, sitting just off the offramp to the highway to hell. Licking her lips she searched the collected patrons inside. Disregarding the ones that were too fat, too high, or too drunk. Those were already eliminated, even before she began to look with her third eye, the secret eye, the eye of a Succubus that has seen centuries of humanity. She'd seen their strengths and triumphs, and their flaws and defeats. Through it she saw everything she'd want to know about her prey tonight.

It was slim pickings being a weeknight. Only a few were sinful enough to enjoy right away. She was looking for fast food tonight.-the equivalent of a simple happy meal. She really didn't have the time or the energy to invest her time properly seducing and corrupting an innocent soul.

Feeling frustrated Mara ordered a bottle of beer at the bar. Maybe she should call tonight off, go home, get some sleep. She might even get up early tomorrow and get some real work done on her painting. It would be shame though. Her master didn't let her have much in the way of free time these days. There were always more would be allies to reward with a night under her wickedly tender ministrations, or to punish with her not-so-tender but still wicked ministrations. There were always new recruits for her to seduce, new enemies to assassinate. From the shadows her master turned the wheels of the world's powers that be using her as the grease.

She enjoyed it of course, she was a succubus from Hell originally, but....a girl needed her freedom, and she hated him for enslaving her to his slightest whims. Yet what else could she do but obey the man that literally held her soul in his hands.

She had to obey him. Creatures such as her didn't have tales of rising to the top to comfort them when the boot was on their necks. No, she lived on the bottom-the very bottom. It was her world, full of her kind of people. She could grovel in the muck and shit with the best-or rather the worst-of them. She could obey and worse even convince herself it was what she wanted. As if she had any choice in it at all.

But not tonight. She was given a rare night where she could do what she wanted for once. And what she wanted most was to drown her woes in large quantities of liquor. Find an appropriate piece of meat to fuck to death, and feast on their soul in the morning.

But alas there were no appropriately big and naughty dicks to lure here to their last and greatest night of their short and ordinary lives tonight. She'd have to cast her hook in the water elsewhere.

Without bothering to pay for her the now empty bottle of beer she got up and walked out the bar for her bike when someone reached out to grab her arm. "Hey you gotta pay for that."

"Get your fucking hands off me, mother fucker," She roared balling her free hand into a fist and throwing a punch for the asshole's face. It made a satisfying sound as it connected. The man landed swearing viciously at her on the floor. Another began to rise from his seat nearby-whether to help him or just to get out of the way-she didn't care. She picked up his pitcher of beer and smashed it over his head. Kneeing another in the crotch-it was a tiny and useless thing to her anyway.

A barroom brawl wasn't her preferred method of exorcising her frustrations. She much preferred a nicely bruising round of hard rough and tumble fucking, but tonight she'd take whatever sort of violence she could get.

Just then two strong arms wrapped around her pinning her arms to the side and pulling her against a hard-muscled body, but that wasn't the thing that caused her breath to catch in her throat. Her tight denim covered ass pressed against his crotch, and she knew dick-sizes by feel and whoever had her from behind was hung like a minotaur.

Fighting shivers of desire for the howitzer her asscheeks were copping a feel of Mara wiggled managing to get a good look at her captor over her shoulder. A good look with her succubus' eyes.

Fuck her shitty luck tonight!!!

Being a monster, such as a succubus, one learned to stay out of the way of knights in shining armor, and here one had her in his arms.



(Was a bit bored with the trope of a damsel in distress in stories. So this is my attempt to put that stereotype on its ear where the knight in shining armor has to rescue a damsel that isn't innocent and virginal and isn't in the traditional kind of distress.)

A group thread idea

A what if alternate history story of Avatar: The last Airbender. The premise is this. What if Aang didn't run away from the Southern air temple? What if he never got caught in that storm and ended up inside that iceberg? What if Monk Giatso showed up earlier and stopped him? What if Giatso took him away from the air nomads so when Sozin's comet came and the Fire Nation made that devastating surprise attack the Avatar was not there? What if the Avatar was there for the world at the start of the war?

This will start six years after the genocide of the air nomads. The Fire Nation has invaded the western coast of the Earth Kingdom and is expanding their footholds into new colonies. The Earth Kingdom army is rallying to push them back to the sea and the fighting is getting more and more intense with every skirmish.

Aang is now eighteen years old and has finished learning water bending from the water benders of the Southern Water tribe. He is now preparing to go to the Earth kingdom capital of Omashu to learn Earth bending alongside his childhood friend Buumi.

The Southern Water Tribe has not yet been attacked by the Fire Nation navy. They hope to stay out of the war between the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom. Outside of helping the Avatar master water bending they wish to avoid the Fire Nation's ire.

That's about to change: Crown prince Azulon has vowed to stop at nothing until he has ended the one true threat to the Fire Nation's victory. He must capture the Avatar. So he and a fleet of Fire Navy warships have massed to deliver another devastating first strike to cripple the water tribe and give him a chance to take the avatar into custody.



Available characters

Good guys:

Water Bending girl similar to either Katara or kora perhaps that has trained alongside Aang in water bending the last six years.

An 18 year old Buumi once we get to Omashu, that will train alongside Aang to master his Earth bending.

Water tribe warrior similar to Sokka.

Kyoshi warrior similar to Suki.

NPC: Good guys

Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, monk Giatso, and Aang's eventual Earth bending teacher Siulin.

Fire Nation:

Fire bender similar to Azula and the betrothed of Prince Azulon.

Chi blocker similar to Ty Lee.

Combustion Bender similar to Combustion man or P'Li.

Kuzan: childhood friend of Aang's and now an accomplished member of the fire nation navy and a crafty swordsman similar to Sokka's master in swordsmanship, Master Pien Dao.

Fire Navy Commander similar to Uncle Iroh and member of the white lotus.

NPC: bad guys: Firelord Sozin, Crown prince Azulon, and a fire Navy admiral similar to Admiral Jao.

Star Trek idea

This thread will be set 80 years after the era of the Next Generation. The once monolithic Romulan Empire has dissolved into a chaotic bloody state of civil war with as many as 12 different factions and 8 or more revanchist former subject races vying for dominance over the empire. One of the great superpowers of the Alpha quadrant is disintegrating into a realm of barbarity unending internal warfare.

For the Federation the last six years the empire has become a humanitarian and diplomatic crisis. The security along the old neutral zone has been violated several times with refugees seeking sanctuary from the fighting or from the partisan elements resort to piracy to supply themselves by crossing the neutral zone and raiding Federation colonies for supplies and resources then back over the neutral zone .

The Enterprise H has just finished its shakedown cruise and is now heading for its first assignment to the fleet massing at starbase 162 under Admiral Cortez to help secure the area and render humanitarian and pursue the marauders.

Then they were diverted to respond to an urgent distress call from the nearby Federation planet of Varrianna VI. They are being raided by Romulan warships and the Enterprise is the closest Starfleet ship.

Every Rose Has Their Thorns



IC: Lane Eastman

Lane was successful in the business world trading on the markets worldwide. So successful that he didn't have much time for dating but a year ago he had tried making a profile on some dating site and it matched him with a woman. They had dated for the past few months, and surprisingly it was going very well. He enjoyed talking with her, being with her, just doing the little things in the day with her.

But there was just one problem. The man she had seen so far was only half of the picture that was him.

A couple days ago he had taken her to the one room in his apartment that she had never seen, his playroom. For he was a dominant that was interested in showing her that side of him as his submissive. He had let her touch and examine every whip, chain, restraint, and toy lining the shelves on each wall of the playroom. Helped her test the pillory, the st Andrews cross, the bed with the many eyebolts to restrain her.

He had told the woman he hoped to forge a life with that this was a big decision, and she needed to take some time to consider whether she wanted to be a part of his life without reservations or boundaries. Only to return to him if she was willing to kneel at his feet as his slave.

Lane was drinking from a glass of scotch looking out at the lights of the city that never slept when a knock came at his door. When he answered it was her.

He let her walk in asking, "Does this mean you have decided to be my submissive?"

In response she lowered to her knees in front of him.

Lane let out a breath he had not known he was holding. He bent down to claim her lips in a kiss that spoke his gratitude for the trust she was placing in him. He straightened back up looking down at his girlfriend, his submissive, the woman he wanted to be with perhaps for the rest of their lives together, and said, "Let us begin."

Seven Nights in the Sultan's Harem

IC: Rohan

Rohan as a child had grown up in Toruka village in the mountains of the East. He and the youngest daughter of the village elder, named Arisa had been inseparable. They were the best of friends...perhaps even more than friends. But then a great noblemen came to the village and the elder offended him. As a punishment the village elder was executed and his wife and children was sold into slavery, and they were all powerless to stop it. Distraught Rohan ran away eventually to join the Great Sultan's army.

That had been eight years ago. In that time he had become the best spearmen in the army. During the last campaign the Great Sultan had been surrounded by the enemy. His royal guard fell one by one until he was alone. That was when Rohan rushed in to rescue the Sultan. It had been a reckless and heroic act. He'd lost half of his men just reaching the sultan and barely escaped with the wounded monarch carried on his back.

The sultan was extremely grateful, and now that they were celebrating the victory at the Sultan's palace.

Bandaged from his injuries the Sultan clapped him on the back as they shared wine. He handed him a golden key. "You have saved my life, young spearman. For that I can never fully express my gratitude."

"Every soldier I have ever known only wants two things when they return from war." He said as Rohan examined the golden key he had been given. He gestured to the tables of food he and the assembled courtiers were currently enjoying as well as the musicians playing a gleeful melody. "The first is revelry and the second is to reaffirm life in the most basic way known to all. That is the key to my harem and starting tonight you will be gifted with seven nights as my honored guest within my harem."

"And to give you a taste I give you my jewel." He announced rising as the doors opened allowing a woman to enter the banquet chamber, "Arisa, the finest girl in all of my harem. Come dance for my savior, my jewel."

Rohan's jaw dropped open. The woman strode up before him was the girl he had known from Toruka village.

Threads I'll be interested in reviving.

Genre:

Three of a kind-This is a sci fi space opera dealing with a threesome romance. I'll play the two women and will need one male RPer to play the role of CK's partner and Aurora's rescuer.


Batman: year Two-This is a tragic romance between Bruce Wayne during his second year operating as the vigilante known as the Batman and a detective on the GCPD task force to investigate and arrest him.

Femdom:

The Vampire Queen's Servant-This is a femdom romance story inspired by the book series by the same name. I'll want a male RPer interested in playing the submissive but able to play a character that is not a natural submissive.

Salvation-A femdom romance story between a man that is a lost soul finding his salvation as his Mistress' slave.

Succubus:

Summoning and Taming a Succubus-A thread where I play a grey-mage that summons a succubus from hell to assist him in maintaining the balance between the forces of good and evil in a fantasy world to keep either from gaining dominance.


Prisoner of the Succubus Queen-A thread that's a hybrid of my interests in femdom and Succubi. I'll play the Succubus Queen and I'll need one RPer to play her prisoner.

These Games We Play



IC: Michael Foster

Michael had just gotten out of a messy divorce because his wife-ex-wife-had started cheating on him with his former best friend. When he caught them she had told him she had done because it he was boring in their sexlife. A year later and bloody divorce hearing he was interested in having just a fun, uncomplicated, relationship with a woman that was confident in her sexuality. A woman that would help him open up and be more adventurous in the sack.

So he went to a dating site that catered to the more sexually adventurous people in the city and made a profile. He was not prepared for the bevy of responses he got. It was too many. He didn't respond for days until he came across her.



Veronica was the only name she gave him. They hit it off and went out on a date, but what he doesn't realize is that the mysterious Veronica is not a normal girl, not even in the world of kink he wanted to dip his toe into. She's twisted, a high functioning sociopath. She is a woman that likes to toy with men by putting them further and further through more risky sexual games until either they give up or the games reach their natural conclusion.

Most have gotten off the ride to pick up the pieces of their lives. Others didn't have what it took to go all the way with her. None had reached the end of the games with her. In the end she always won.

The Domme's Bodygaurd



IC: Morgana

"I can't stop working, and you know it, Vic." Morgana pouted. She didn't like pouting. Her southern accent came out when she did, and that always gave away her white trash trailer park turned stripper origins.

Victor, her boss, shook his head, "No, you won't. Mistress Natalya was attacked and left for dead. It's a miracle she's recovering in the hospital and not currently on a slab in the morgue."

Morgana had been a dominatrix in the Dark Waters-Victor's BDSM club for the better part of four years. She was now the best pro domme in New Orleans only rivaled by Natalya. She was scared for her friend-no that wasn't right-frenemies-No that either. Natalya and her were never friends or enemies. They were more competitors that respected the other's work.

"I can't stop working," She said resolutely crossing her arms. Even in casual comfy-jeans and her Drew Brees jersey she could manage a very dominatrix like 'don't you dare defy' me air, "You know I can't cancel on my clients. They run this town. I cancel on them over this and they start panicking, and that's gonna be really bad for business for you."

"I know," He deflated, "But it happened on my watch...here..."

"It's not your fault," She told him reaching out to take his hand, "Natalya took too many risks taking in first-timers and I know she snuck in people who didn't go through your vetting process."

"That doesn't make me feel less guilty about her being beaten near death right under my fucking nose," He said low, soft, hurt.

"Well," Morgana sat up, "It's settled then...I keep working like normal."

"Fine," He said but looking into her eyes, "But you'll do so escorted by a bodyguard from my security team at all times until my friends in the NOPD find the son of a bitch that did this."

"I have a black belt in both karate and Aikido," She protested, "And am studying krav maga. I can take care of myself."

"Oh no you don't," Victor rose up out of his chair glaring down at her, "You take a two weeks vacation. Your clients can survive that."

She set herself in her chair, "One week. I'll stay home all locked up with no need for some muscle bound lunkhead following me around."

"One week," He nodded, "But your security stays with you at all times or do I need to repeat the message written on Natalya's wall in her blood?"

'All sluts will burn in hell'

She shook her head. "Whoever he was he wanted you afraid. He wanted us afraid. We can't give in to the fear."

"What else can we do, but take steps to be safe," He said pointing to the door, "Now go enjoy your vacation, I'll have your bodyguard meet you at the door."

-------------------------X

Morgana's house in the suburbs was her pride and joy. She had bought last year and been happily remodeling the interior ever since. She pointed to the sofa under an old bedsheet with the rest of the furniture for her living room along one wall.

"Sorry I was in the middle of painting when I got the call about what happened," She told her bodyguard, "You can sleep here."

She turned back to face her nuisance. Her bodyguard wore black jeans and black boots, a red T-shirt stretched across his broad chest. He had a good tan and short dark hair and a handsome face-handsome in a rugged sort of way with half a day's stubble and soulful eyes.

She recognized the bearing of a military man in his stance and the way he swept his eyes around searching for possible threats.

He was really too tempting. Why did Victor set her up to be guarded by someone so damned edible to her? Especially when it pissed her off to need somebody to guard her. She was a big girl now, independent, capable of taking care of herself.

"I'm gonna head upstairs for bed," She told him, "You're not allowed up there, got it?"

Wicked Intentions

IC: Morgana Pierce

Morgana was mad. She was known to be the best dominatrix in all of New York. Even at the young age of only thirty Domming had afforded her enough money to live comfortably doing what she loved, and on the side she had made the foray into writing about her experiences in her first novel. It had even gotten reviewed by a very well-respected book reviewer in the paper, named Maria Stanton. Only Maria Stanton had eviscerated her book in black and white all over her column. That would've been fine she knew she wasn't Shakespeare or Tolstoy, and an Erotica novel from a first-time writer was probably not going to get a fair shake from one Maria Stanton.

But the thing was Maria Stanton had not given her book a shake fair or otherwise at all. She had not criticized her writing technique, or the emotional and thematic subtext to the novel. No, Maria Stanton had used her book to go into a scathing diatribe about how perverted and sick all her lovely kinksters were for expressing their sexualities so liberally.

Morgana could take her criticism of herself, but her friends...no way in hell was she going to let that stand. So, it was then she had decided to get even with Maria Stanton.

The internet was a wonderful tool for those on a righteous campaign for justice. A few hours of googling found that Maria Stanton was the over-bearing helicopter mother type for her young son, Christopher. He was celebrating his nineteenth birthday today. More googling and reconnoitering her prey for a few more hours and a plan for revenge was starting to form in Morgana's head.

Maria Stanton thought all the kinky people in Morgana's lifestyle were sick perverted monsters...so she'd seduce her dear doted on son and make him one of those sick perverted little monsters. That would show her.

So here Morgana was walking up to him in a coffee shop outside the university he attended's grounds. She pulled out a chair next to him and sat her shapely ass down. She regarded him with a cool eye. He sat looking in surprise at the beautiful woman that had just taken the seat next to him. He was young, and cute, in a clean cut choir-boy or boy-scout kind of way. She may even have some fun turning him to the kinky-side of life.

She held out her hand for him to take. "Hi, my name's Morogana, nice to beat you."

Group thread idea

War of the Cabal

The Cabal is an organization made decades ago by a gathering of supervillains to combat the superheroes and the governments of the world's alliance to capture and bring them all to justice (think the legion of doom).

This thread is not about the superheroes however. This thread's about the power dynamics between the older members in positions of power and those of the younger generation and others that want to wrest control of the Cabal from the old guard.

The Cast:

The oldgaurd (Those in control of the Cabal's leadership):

1.) Mastermind: The founder of the Cabal. Now a brain surgically removed from his body and interlinked irrevocably to an A.I. program. Capable of predicting probabilities and planning long-term strategy with a god-like reliability. Controls and designs the Cabal's long-term strategy to sow chaos and unrest in the governments of the world so they'll fall from within for the Cabal's new world order to take over.
Superpower: Extreme intelligence
Direct threat level: Low
Indirect threat level: Extreme
2.) Doctor Lazarus: A mad scientist, and eighty-seven years old. Enclosed in a cybernetic suit of armor that keeps him alive and packed with tons of beyond cutting edge weapons of super-science. Designs much of the gear used by cabal mambers.
Superpower: High Intelligence
Direct threat level: High
Indirect Threat Level: High
3.) Lady Shinokaze: The enforcer of the cabal's leadership. Leader of the Shinokaze ninja clan. Provides many of the ninja assasins used by cabal members. Master of martial arts and ninjutsu.
Superpower: Superspeed
Direct threat level: Extreme
Indirect threat level: High
4.) Adam Omega: An old experiment of Doctor Lazarus'. A genetically engineered man with power capable of matching the hero: Ultraman's powers (think someone capable of going toe to toe with superman). The leadership of the Cabal's ultimate enforcer. Very few members could defend themselves from him if Adam Omega was ordered to execute them. The only disadvantage he might have is that he was genetically engineered to have no will of his own and to obey only the commands of Doctor Lazarus or Mastermind.
Superpowers: Flight, Superstrength, Invulnerability, Heat vision, Superspeed.
Direct threat level: Extreme
Indirect threat levl: Low

The newgaurd (those that want to wrest control of the Cabal from the oldgaurd)

1.) Deathshead: Once the sidekick of the hero: the Shadow (think Robin to Batman), but encountered Black Mercy and was seduced and/or brainwashed into turning his back on being a superhero for the life of a supervillain named Deathshead and now her lover. (think what if Nightwing turned his back on superheroing and became Deathstroke). Master of martial arts and deadly with several weapons.
Superpower: none
Direct threat level: High
Indirect threat level: Moderate
2.) Black Mercy: born and raised by Cabal members. Developing staggering levels of power in telepathy, telekinesis, and pyrokinesis. The superheroes joined together and though suffering losses and ravaging the country of Bolivia during the fight managed to incapacitate her and she is being held under constant sedation in Thorncage detention center for superpowered threats. (Think the dark phoenix)
Superpowers: telepathy, telekinesis, and pyrokinesis
Direct threat level: Beyond the scale
Indirect threat level: Beyond the scale
3.) Open
4.) Open
5.) Open

The first event in the thread's plot will be Deathshead's team breaking into the prison to rescue Black Mercy from thorncage. In the process they free the other inmates and thus giving the thread more factions to play.

The Loose Cannons: When the Cabal was just forming Four teenaged brothers and sisters ran amok through the world as the Calamity Kids. This was until the heroes banded together to stop them and send them to Thorncage where they've spent their days until Deathshead's attack lets them resume their rampage. Now they'll travel the world like Bonnie and Clyde again taking whatever they want, killing whoever they want, doing whatever they want, and daring the world to stop them again. Their powers are elemental based.

1.) Windshear-Oldest of the four siblings. She is capable of generating and controlling winds of up to Hurricane strength with find degree of precision.
Threat level: High
Indirect Threat level: Low
2.) Rockslide-Second oldest of the Siblings. He is capable of generating seismic vibrations of up to six on the Rictor scale and with pinpoint precision.
Direct Threat Level: High
Indirect threat Level: Low
3.) Sunstroke-Third oldest of the siblings. He is capable of engulfing his body in flames without burning himself and shooting those flames (Think the Human Torch)
Direct threat level: High
4.) Coldsnap: Youngest of the Siblings. She is capable of generating extreme Cold and blasting Icy beams of that extreme Cold from her hands. (Think Killer Frost or Iceman)

The wildcards. Members of the Cabal caught by the heroes over the years and detained in Thorncage until Deathshead's attack on the prison freed them.

1.) Gatekeeper: Former low-ranking member of the Cabal. Capable of creating portals but only to places within his line of sight. Considered a joke. Easily defeated and incarcerated and not worth rescuing by the Cabal's leadership. However his power was actually extremely powerful, and only blocked by his lack of mental focus and emotional instability. During the years of his incarceration he studied yoga, meditation, and zen philosophy broadening his mind and opening his senses to access the true breadth of his power. Now he can access his true range and beyond the silly limitation of needing to see where he was forming his portals. Now that he is free he will have his vengeance on the heroes that incarcerated him, the so-called allies that left him to rot, and reconnect with the daughter (Black Mercy) that he did not get to see grow up.
Superpower: Teleportation portals
Direct Threat Level: Extreme
Indirect Threat Level: Extreme
2.) Open
3.) Open
4.) Open

Of the Characters I'd want to control Mastermind, Doctor Lazarus, and Gatekeeper for plot purposes.

Slave to the Succubus






A new supernatural Femdom romance idea.

Millenia ago a succubus was summoned to the mortal plane by a sorcerer. While in the world the demon bred with many and bore offspring before being banished back to hell by an ancient priest, but the children remained.

Time passed and the children grew up discovering they had the same powers and hunger for life energy through sexual intercourse as their mother and so with their children and their children and so on. Over the centuries since while living in the world the children of the succubus developed a society in secret to coexist with mankind. Among their efforts they codified a system of sexual magic. To keep from leaving a trail of drained one night stands. They select one human (man or woman) to be their lover (slave) and form a magical bond with them that changes them on the inside to feed and survive sex with their master/mistress.

Details of the bond: It changes the human subtly in ways, giving them the stamina for marathon sessions with a master/mistress that has the libido of a sex demon. It makes them capable of feeding their master or mistress life energy without dying or being seriously incapacitated. Finally it grants them a telepathic link between them and their master/mistress.

I don't have much planned for the plot of this yet. So I'd like to work on that with my cowriter on this.

Also I don't want to restrict this to any gender for my partner. So anyone man or woman can write with me for this.

For an example of the flavor I want here's a link to a thread I've done in the same genre. The Vampire Queen's Servant. Also this has a good example of how the telepathic bond will work too.

Too Hot for Lit

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