Veroes Idea Box 2.0 (New and Improved)
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Veroe
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Idea starter:
Her new husband, the king, is dead. She'd gone from a newlywed queen to widow inside a week. Her husband was assassinated, and those that killed him weren't likely to stop there.
The king was dead. His kingdom, her kingdom now, remained on the tip of the knife,
Her new husband, the king, is dead. She'd gone from a newlywed queen to widow inside a week. Her husband was assassinated, and those that killed him weren't likely to stop there.
The king was dead. His kingdom, her kingdom now, remained on the tip of the knife,
Veroe
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Femdom romance threads I'd like to revive someday.
The Vampire Queen's Servant
Divine Trinity
Wicked Intentions
Prisoner of the Succubus Queen
Slave to the Succubus
Lady Pheonix Reborn
The Vampire Queen's Servant
Divine Trinity
Wicked Intentions
Prisoner of the Succubus Queen
Slave to the Succubus
Lady Pheonix Reborn
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Veroe
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Veroe
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She likes to play games
This story is intended as an erotic thriller.
Micheal is a successful executive who becomes involved in a relationship with his new secretary named Caroline. Caroline is a mysterious and seductive woman who enjoys engaging in various power games and sexual challenges. As their relationship develops Micheal finds himself drawn into Caroline's world of erotic games which ultimately tests the boundaries of their relationship and their own personal limits.
This story is intended as an erotic thriller.
Micheal is a successful executive who becomes involved in a relationship with his new secretary named Caroline. Caroline is a mysterious and seductive woman who enjoys engaging in various power games and sexual challenges. As their relationship develops Micheal finds himself drawn into Caroline's world of erotic games which ultimately tests the boundaries of their relationship and their own personal limits.
Veroe
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Batman; Year Two
IC: Katelynn Davis
Today was her birthday. She hated her birthdays now. Had ever since that one where her entire world was ripped away from her. But it came like clockwork every year, another reminder of what she had lost here in the most crime-riddled armpit of Gotham City eighteen years ago.
The sun was setting in the area of the city colloquially and historically known as Crime Alley, and though the efforts of GCPD had made it somewhat safe in the daylight hours once night actually fell this area won't be safe even for a Police Detective like her. But here she was, as she was every year on her birthday...it was dumb, and morbid, and fucked up and more than one way. She stood on the curb outside an infamous alley remembering the people she'd lost. This was where it had happened where a panicked desperate man destroyed her world and ripped away the people she had loved and depended on. No one remembered Harold and Gloria Davis despite being part of a momentous night in the history of Gotham. Their deaths were overshadowed by the loss of those with money. It wasn't fair of course. Thomas and Martha Wayne were by all reports nice and charitable people with all their wealth, and then there was their son. Bruce Wayne was so different from her. The events of that terrible night hadn't sent him into the system languishing away year after year in an underfunded orphanage like she had but she still remembered sitting beside him at the police station eyes wide in utter shock at a world in ruins without either of their anchors in it any longer.
A car pulled up, It was a big black Lamborghini. The driver side door lifted open and a man stepped out carrying a bouquet of roses. She hadn't seen him, they lived in two very different worlds, but she'd heard that Bruce had returned to Gotham last year after several where people had assumed he'd been dead. Since then she'd seen in the supermarket rags his dalliances with supermodels and vapid socialites.
She was face to face with Bruce Wayne, the so-called Prince of Gotham. She watched him walk into the alley where the same man had devastated his world. She walked in after him and watched him place the flowers where his own parents had died. This upset her.
"Hey you rich asshole," She called after him, "You don't remember me, I know, but I got something to say to you."
"I don't get you," She pointed at him, "Anyone who went through what we did that night should be trying with everything they have to make sure no one else goes through what we did, but you waste your whole life driving sports cars and chasing women around the globe as if it never even happened to you." She turned her back on him and began raging out of the alley calling back, "Your parents would be ashamed of the man you've become, Mr. Wayne."
With that said she made to leave him behind in that alley that had ruined both of their lives staring after her, but was stopped by his hand on her shoulder. She spun around glaring, "What?"
IC: Katelynn Davis
Today was her birthday. She hated her birthdays now. Had ever since that one where her entire world was ripped away from her. But it came like clockwork every year, another reminder of what she had lost here in the most crime-riddled armpit of Gotham City eighteen years ago.
The sun was setting in the area of the city colloquially and historically known as Crime Alley, and though the efforts of GCPD had made it somewhat safe in the daylight hours once night actually fell this area won't be safe even for a Police Detective like her. But here she was, as she was every year on her birthday...it was dumb, and morbid, and fucked up and more than one way. She stood on the curb outside an infamous alley remembering the people she'd lost. This was where it had happened where a panicked desperate man destroyed her world and ripped away the people she had loved and depended on. No one remembered Harold and Gloria Davis despite being part of a momentous night in the history of Gotham. Their deaths were overshadowed by the loss of those with money. It wasn't fair of course. Thomas and Martha Wayne were by all reports nice and charitable people with all their wealth, and then there was their son. Bruce Wayne was so different from her. The events of that terrible night hadn't sent him into the system languishing away year after year in an underfunded orphanage like she had but she still remembered sitting beside him at the police station eyes wide in utter shock at a world in ruins without either of their anchors in it any longer.
A car pulled up, It was a big black Lamborghini. The driver side door lifted open and a man stepped out carrying a bouquet of roses. She hadn't seen him, they lived in two very different worlds, but she'd heard that Bruce had returned to Gotham last year after several where people had assumed he'd been dead. Since then she'd seen in the supermarket rags his dalliances with supermodels and vapid socialites.
She was face to face with Bruce Wayne, the so-called Prince of Gotham. She watched him walk into the alley where the same man had devastated his world. She walked in after him and watched him place the flowers where his own parents had died. This upset her.
"Hey you rich asshole," She called after him, "You don't remember me, I know, but I got something to say to you."
"I don't get you," She pointed at him, "Anyone who went through what we did that night should be trying with everything they have to make sure no one else goes through what we did, but you waste your whole life driving sports cars and chasing women around the globe as if it never even happened to you." She turned her back on him and began raging out of the alley calling back, "Your parents would be ashamed of the man you've become, Mr. Wayne."
With that said she made to leave him behind in that alley that had ruined both of their lives staring after her, but was stopped by his hand on her shoulder. She spun around glaring, "What?"
Last edited:
Veroe
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A new idea for my old Succubus Queen thread. That was a group thread, but this will be a one on one Erotic thriller set in a medieval Game of Thrones style fantasyland between the aforementioned Succubus Queen and a young man that dedicated his life to serving her enemies the gods of light.
Married to the Succubus Queen
First the backstory:
It has been one hundred and thirty-six years since an apprentice wizard summoned the Succubus, Ana'akashka, up from her infernal home in the underworld tormenting the souls of the dead condemned there upon their death in the mortal plane.
It has been one hundred thirty-two years since she deceived and betrayed her summoner and was able to walk freely away from him and among the mortals here in the mortal world.
It has been One hundred and twenty-eight years since Ana'akashka posed as courtesan serving the nobility in Palasol, capital city of the Kingdom of Asaria. There she gained the attentions of the notorious womanizer, and favorite customer of the brothels in Palasol, Enneric Aleveras III, crown prince and heir to the Asarian throne.
It has been One hundred and twenty-two years since Crown prince Enneric married the courtesan who in reality was the Succubus, Ana'akashka.
It has been one hundred and fourteen years since the mysterious death of Crown Prince Enneric's father and his ascension to the throne with the woman who in reality was the succubus Ana'akashka by his side as his queen.
It has been one hundred and eight years since the unfortunate demise of King Enneric in his bed one night. Having no heirs his wife who in reality was the succubus, Ana'akashka, took the throne of Asaria, and became its Queen.
It has been one hundred and six years since its queen enacted new laws making sweeping changes that would lead to the shifting of Asarian society towards a much darker more sinister bend leading to the broad legalization and acceptance of prostitution, gambling, drug dens, slavery, and widespread corruption. Turning away from the teachings of the gods of light and adopting a cult like worship of their queen herself.
It has been one hundred years to the day that Asaria's Queen revealed her true form as the Succubus Ana'akashka to her adoring subjects and to celebrate the first statewide orgy and human sacrifices were held.
It has been ninety-one years since the armies of Asaria crossed the borders of its nations to conquer in the name of gaining glory and slaves for their Succubus Queen, Ana'akashka.
In the ensuing decades Asaria has gobbled up kingdom after kingdom. The slave markets in Palasol has been filled with prisoners to be auctioned off into slavery.
The Archduchy of Reindell is a small but rich kingdom that did not have an army strong enough to repel the Asarian onslaught so your character's mother sought to protect her realm through diplomacy and appeasing the Succubus Queen. She offered money and resources in tribute paid yearly, only to be met with Ana'akashka's indifference. No, the only thing that got her interested in making a deal to protect Reindell from invasion was when she offered the hand of her youngest son in marriage to her. Your character will be that young prince. However, it's not something you're looking forward to. No, you've pursued a religious education studying in the temple of the gods of light and the tales of the sin and debauchery that goes on in the court of the Succubus Queen is dreadful.
This is a story of the corruption of a good man not just into sexual perversion, but surviving in a place where he'll have to learn to hurt or betray others in order to live or to save others.
Married to the Succubus Queen
First the backstory:
It has been one hundred and thirty-six years since an apprentice wizard summoned the Succubus, Ana'akashka, up from her infernal home in the underworld tormenting the souls of the dead condemned there upon their death in the mortal plane.
It has been one hundred thirty-two years since she deceived and betrayed her summoner and was able to walk freely away from him and among the mortals here in the mortal world.
It has been One hundred and twenty-eight years since Ana'akashka posed as courtesan serving the nobility in Palasol, capital city of the Kingdom of Asaria. There she gained the attentions of the notorious womanizer, and favorite customer of the brothels in Palasol, Enneric Aleveras III, crown prince and heir to the Asarian throne.
It has been One hundred and twenty-two years since Crown prince Enneric married the courtesan who in reality was the Succubus, Ana'akashka.
It has been one hundred and fourteen years since the mysterious death of Crown Prince Enneric's father and his ascension to the throne with the woman who in reality was the succubus Ana'akashka by his side as his queen.
It has been one hundred and eight years since the unfortunate demise of King Enneric in his bed one night. Having no heirs his wife who in reality was the succubus, Ana'akashka, took the throne of Asaria, and became its Queen.
It has been one hundred and six years since its queen enacted new laws making sweeping changes that would lead to the shifting of Asarian society towards a much darker more sinister bend leading to the broad legalization and acceptance of prostitution, gambling, drug dens, slavery, and widespread corruption. Turning away from the teachings of the gods of light and adopting a cult like worship of their queen herself.
It has been one hundred years to the day that Asaria's Queen revealed her true form as the Succubus Ana'akashka to her adoring subjects and to celebrate the first statewide orgy and human sacrifices were held.
It has been ninety-one years since the armies of Asaria crossed the borders of its nations to conquer in the name of gaining glory and slaves for their Succubus Queen, Ana'akashka.
In the ensuing decades Asaria has gobbled up kingdom after kingdom. The slave markets in Palasol has been filled with prisoners to be auctioned off into slavery.
The Archduchy of Reindell is a small but rich kingdom that did not have an army strong enough to repel the Asarian onslaught so your character's mother sought to protect her realm through diplomacy and appeasing the Succubus Queen. She offered money and resources in tribute paid yearly, only to be met with Ana'akashka's indifference. No, the only thing that got her interested in making a deal to protect Reindell from invasion was when she offered the hand of her youngest son in marriage to her. Your character will be that young prince. However, it's not something you're looking forward to. No, you've pursued a religious education studying in the temple of the gods of light and the tales of the sin and debauchery that goes on in the court of the Succubus Queen is dreadful.
This is a story of the corruption of a good man not just into sexual perversion, but surviving in a place where he'll have to learn to hurt or betray others in order to live or to save others.
Veroe
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I'm interested in either a cheating wife or hotwife that cuckolds her husband with another man. So I'm looking for one Role-player to play her. You can decide which scenario i.e. whether or not her husband is aware of her actions and approves or disapproves. I want her to be a trophy wife of a wealthy man though, and this is when she steps out of that role and indulges her pent-up sexual urges her husband won't or can't help her with. I want her to either have some sexual experience or a whole lot of things she wants to experience with him for that first time.
I'll play her target, a young and handsome blue-collar man...maybe her driver or mechanic or groundskeeper at her house or maybe a contractor working on her kitchen or bathroom. She'll seduce him and have a wild affair with him and then in a few weeks it'll be over his job will be done and she'll return to her husband and all this built up pressure of her sexual desires would have been released, at least that's the plan.
Perhaps feelings will start to grow to threaten her comfy life of being a rich man's trophy wife, or maybe the feelings would be completely one-sided and he's fallen head over heels and she just won't or can't go be with him for good...or maybe she can.
As you can see, I only have a general idea to this and would welcome collaboration from my roleplay partner in this to firm up the idea. So please, if you're interested please send me a message in the conversations tab of Lit.
I'll play her target, a young and handsome blue-collar man...maybe her driver or mechanic or groundskeeper at her house or maybe a contractor working on her kitchen or bathroom. She'll seduce him and have a wild affair with him and then in a few weeks it'll be over his job will be done and she'll return to her husband and all this built up pressure of her sexual desires would have been released, at least that's the plan.
Perhaps feelings will start to grow to threaten her comfy life of being a rich man's trophy wife, or maybe the feelings would be completely one-sided and he's fallen head over heels and she just won't or can't go be with him for good...or maybe she can.
As you can see, I only have a general idea to this and would welcome collaboration from my roleplay partner in this to firm up the idea. So please, if you're interested please send me a message in the conversations tab of Lit.
Veroe
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Veroe
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Veroe
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The Vampire Queen's Servant
IC: Lorelei Morrigan
Lorelei had come to New York for business, and in four days the tedious negotiations and maneuvering and dithering over little ridiculous details was over. She had one more night in Manhattan before she made the return trip back to her home and her husband, Korin, and all the bothersome business with a once staunch ally and dear friend to her falling slowly to madness. She had one last night in the Big Apple to finally let loose and enjoy herself.
At five feet and six and a half inches Lorelei was not physically the tallest, but in terms of persona there were very few who matched her. She commanded the room, any room, whenever she entered one. She couldn't look into a mirror, but she really didn't need to. She knew how she looked. She had long dark black tresses down to her back, pale unblemished alabaster skin, sinfully kissable red lips, and deep piercing blue eyes. She had long lean legs a tight backside and cantaloupe sized breasts. She was a dark goddess, a creature from the most sensual of naughty dreams made flesh.
Lorelei was hungry tonight. She wanted a meal, preferably muscular, a man whose long powerful body would beg her to push it to the limit as she took his blood. She would hold him down, drink her fill and ride him hard. Take him deep, making him give up his rich life-giving blood and his hot seed into her body at the same time. She'd push him to exhaustion, beyond rational thought. All those wonderful muscles would be taut and slick as he pounded into her with primal urgency, his most primitive instincts making him into a fierce, beautiful rutting animal she would ride and command at her will.
Just imagining her plans for the lucky stud she'd choose tonight made heat shimmer over her skin and her poor neglected pussy grow both wetter and more impatient. She hadn't felt this sort of need to hunt in centuries. Lorellei was a Vampire, and like the vast majority of Vampires her need for blood triggered her need for sex. The two were usually inseparably linked, and like most Vampires the genetic instincts of a predator was deeply embedded into her need to possess and dominate her prey.
The Vivant was a dance club on the upper east side. She walked inside and immediately heads started turning. She had dressed to impress or to lure the attention of everyone in a black backless minidress thin enough to reveal every detail underneath like the outline of the barely concealing thong she wore over a smoldering and impatient pussy. Other than that she wore open-toed heels high enough that it made the back of her legs taut and her ass stick out accentuated with a purposeful gait that swung hips and displayed the length of her legs to its fullness. The heels were the type the laced up all the way up to her knees like gladiator sandals. The last thing she wore was a long leather coat that bounced and fluttered with each hip swaying stride she made.
The music was loud and the lights were throbbing revealing bodies of young human men and women in the revels of ancient courting rituals known as dancing. Lorelei began sifting through the crowd looking for her lucky prey. Perhaps the young college kid in the group to the right. He had some strong-looking hands. She spotted a cute little redhead casting bashful glances at her. Too bad. She was in the mood for hard cock tonight, otherwise the redhead would be a done deal. There were several boys that would match her criteria, but they all were already engaged with a human girlfriend and Lorelei did not want the drama of breaking up an already established relationship.
No, she may be a Vampire, but she wasn't that much of a heartless monster when looking for a one-night stand.
She spent the next few minutes searching for just the right kind of prey. Handsome, tall, strong, and unattached. She was beginning to despair her poor luck. This club was full of men, but not one good enough. It looked like she'd have to settle for the shy redhead after all. In a huff she headed towards the bar.
Lorelei stopped wondering what drink she'd order. Vampires fed off of blood of course, but that did not mean they could not enjoy the taste of regular foods. She decided on a simple martini she'd sip while deciding on whether to advance on that redhead. She looked up to the bartender and froze looking into those eyes. A long pregnant moment passed between them.
She was the oldest Vampire in the world. In the fourteen hundred years she'd been alive she was constantly running into the reincarnated soul of her very first servant. His voice echoed once again in her mind.
"I will find you. In the next life or the one after that I will not rest. I will search the breadth of the world for you, My Lady. I will always be your servant."
Those were Cairn's last words to her before dying with her in his arms. In the next fourteen hundred years men with new lives but Cairn's face and spirit kept crossing paths with her at least a dozen times. All of them searched for her without ever knowing it.
She shook herself. She hadn't intended to run into Cairn's next reincarnation tonight. She was only looking for a big hard cock and a night of fun and fucking and feeding. It wasn't fair to put her through losing him all over again. Everytime in the past they ran into eachother before he left to die valiantly in battle, or to take final vows as a catholic priest, or to do one more raid before being caught and executed. All of them searched for something greater than themselves to serve whether it be his nation, or his cause, or his god. They all were already claimed by those masters before ever running into her.
No, not again. She couldn't tell Cairn, goodbye once more. Curse fate for continuing to put her through this torture again and again. However...looking into those soulful eyes, those hands meant to hold her, those lips meant to gasp her name when he came inside her...
She may one day forgive herself for putting her through this once more, but she couldn't turn away from Cairn...not now.
To him she smiled. "A Martini would be divine right now."
She watched him as he worked his craft making her perfect divine martini. On his arm was a tattoo she recognized. It seems this incarnation of her first servant had served in the military, but since he was now employed in this club, no longer. She didn't see a wedding ring on his finger either. Perfect. Also he kept glancing at her with a intensely puzzled look on his face.
When he finished her martini she smiled to him. "You feel like you've seen me before but can't remember that, haven't you?" She lifted her hand for him to take. "My name is Lorelei...what's yours?"
IC: Lorelei Morrigan
Lorelei had come to New York for business, and in four days the tedious negotiations and maneuvering and dithering over little ridiculous details was over. She had one more night in Manhattan before she made the return trip back to her home and her husband, Korin, and all the bothersome business with a once staunch ally and dear friend to her falling slowly to madness. She had one last night in the Big Apple to finally let loose and enjoy herself.
At five feet and six and a half inches Lorelei was not physically the tallest, but in terms of persona there were very few who matched her. She commanded the room, any room, whenever she entered one. She couldn't look into a mirror, but she really didn't need to. She knew how she looked. She had long dark black tresses down to her back, pale unblemished alabaster skin, sinfully kissable red lips, and deep piercing blue eyes. She had long lean legs a tight backside and cantaloupe sized breasts. She was a dark goddess, a creature from the most sensual of naughty dreams made flesh.
Lorelei was hungry tonight. She wanted a meal, preferably muscular, a man whose long powerful body would beg her to push it to the limit as she took his blood. She would hold him down, drink her fill and ride him hard. Take him deep, making him give up his rich life-giving blood and his hot seed into her body at the same time. She'd push him to exhaustion, beyond rational thought. All those wonderful muscles would be taut and slick as he pounded into her with primal urgency, his most primitive instincts making him into a fierce, beautiful rutting animal she would ride and command at her will.
Just imagining her plans for the lucky stud she'd choose tonight made heat shimmer over her skin and her poor neglected pussy grow both wetter and more impatient. She hadn't felt this sort of need to hunt in centuries. Lorellei was a Vampire, and like the vast majority of Vampires her need for blood triggered her need for sex. The two were usually inseparably linked, and like most Vampires the genetic instincts of a predator was deeply embedded into her need to possess and dominate her prey.
The Vivant was a dance club on the upper east side. She walked inside and immediately heads started turning. She had dressed to impress or to lure the attention of everyone in a black backless minidress thin enough to reveal every detail underneath like the outline of the barely concealing thong she wore over a smoldering and impatient pussy. Other than that she wore open-toed heels high enough that it made the back of her legs taut and her ass stick out accentuated with a purposeful gait that swung hips and displayed the length of her legs to its fullness. The heels were the type the laced up all the way up to her knees like gladiator sandals. The last thing she wore was a long leather coat that bounced and fluttered with each hip swaying stride she made.
The music was loud and the lights were throbbing revealing bodies of young human men and women in the revels of ancient courting rituals known as dancing. Lorelei began sifting through the crowd looking for her lucky prey. Perhaps the young college kid in the group to the right. He had some strong-looking hands. She spotted a cute little redhead casting bashful glances at her. Too bad. She was in the mood for hard cock tonight, otherwise the redhead would be a done deal. There were several boys that would match her criteria, but they all were already engaged with a human girlfriend and Lorelei did not want the drama of breaking up an already established relationship.
No, she may be a Vampire, but she wasn't that much of a heartless monster when looking for a one-night stand.
She spent the next few minutes searching for just the right kind of prey. Handsome, tall, strong, and unattached. She was beginning to despair her poor luck. This club was full of men, but not one good enough. It looked like she'd have to settle for the shy redhead after all. In a huff she headed towards the bar.
Lorelei stopped wondering what drink she'd order. Vampires fed off of blood of course, but that did not mean they could not enjoy the taste of regular foods. She decided on a simple martini she'd sip while deciding on whether to advance on that redhead. She looked up to the bartender and froze looking into those eyes. A long pregnant moment passed between them.
She was the oldest Vampire in the world. In the fourteen hundred years she'd been alive she was constantly running into the reincarnated soul of her very first servant. His voice echoed once again in her mind.
"I will find you. In the next life or the one after that I will not rest. I will search the breadth of the world for you, My Lady. I will always be your servant."
Those were Cairn's last words to her before dying with her in his arms. In the next fourteen hundred years men with new lives but Cairn's face and spirit kept crossing paths with her at least a dozen times. All of them searched for her without ever knowing it.
She shook herself. She hadn't intended to run into Cairn's next reincarnation tonight. She was only looking for a big hard cock and a night of fun and fucking and feeding. It wasn't fair to put her through losing him all over again. Everytime in the past they ran into eachother before he left to die valiantly in battle, or to take final vows as a catholic priest, or to do one more raid before being caught and executed. All of them searched for something greater than themselves to serve whether it be his nation, or his cause, or his god. They all were already claimed by those masters before ever running into her.
No, not again. She couldn't tell Cairn, goodbye once more. Curse fate for continuing to put her through this torture again and again. However...looking into those soulful eyes, those hands meant to hold her, those lips meant to gasp her name when he came inside her...
She may one day forgive herself for putting her through this once more, but she couldn't turn away from Cairn...not now.
To him she smiled. "A Martini would be divine right now."
She watched him as he worked his craft making her perfect divine martini. On his arm was a tattoo she recognized. It seems this incarnation of her first servant had served in the military, but since he was now employed in this club, no longer. She didn't see a wedding ring on his finger either. Perfect. Also he kept glancing at her with a intensely puzzled look on his face.
When he finished her martini she smiled to him. "You feel like you've seen me before but can't remember that, haven't you?" She lifted her hand for him to take. "My name is Lorelei...what's yours?"
Veroe
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Veroe
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Veroe
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Veroe
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Veroe
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Veroe
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The capital City of the Kingdom of Caramore was Caer Palevan located on the main artery of trade through the heartlands of the continent of Larellan, the Marduin River. There located on a bend in the mighty river was a high bluff was the royal palace of Caramore overlooking and guarding the Eastern banks there. Flowing down the hill and emerging from the castle gates was the thick and tangled streets of Caer Palevan proper to the waterfront district and the docks where the barges carrying ore downstream from the Dwarven forges in the Iron hills to the North. Caer Palevan and lumber from the Verdant forest on the Western Banks across the river, was beneficial one. It turned out it made the kingdom's capital a crucial crossroads for traderoutes heading south and eastward. It was commonly noted that the river flowed south rich with the clinking sound of golden suns against eachother all the way to the mighty port city of Thyce itself, and despite it's favorable location the kingdom of Caramore only was able to claim forty percent of that trade in taxes. No, the bulk of all the coin flowing downriver was claimed by the two bitterly competing mercantile superpowers the Thycan Trade Union and the Bressean Regime's commercial hegemonies.
That said, Caer Palevan's location roughly in the midway point of both the Marduin and the highway east to the Holy Templelands made the city an island of wealth and luxury in a kingdom best with the worst ravages that hopeless poverty can inflict upon its ever-downtrodden subjects. The city was fat with foreign merchant factors and poor local laborers. There was also the unspoken trade in Caer Palevan. Its central location made it an excellent hub for mercenary bands.
That was why Sidrick Val Allan, Commander of the Black Tower mercenary band, made it his home. He was an old man with several decades filled with successful missions behind him. He had thinning hair and beard rapidly turning white on his dark face and patch strung over an eye claimed in some scrap in his youth over some fool who thought he could cheat him at dice. His armor and weapon sat on a table of this room. Here at Madam Tourelle's he could afford such laxness. They had just completed their part in a mission, and his lads were spending their pay in the traditional manner. As to say, all of it on ale, dice, and whores below. His boy's were old favorites of Madam Tourelle's girls-especially when thier pockets clinked with sound of Golden Suns against eachother.
Speaking of which the Madam herself entered his room and shut the door. Lucretia Tourelle was a woman well past the blossoming of her beauty, but still clung on to it like the great generals of old waging a valliant defense against the ravaging onslaught of age's advance. Her still had an alluring luster though much had turned grey, and her skin once smooth and flawless was pale and wrinkled with crow's feet and laughlines. She wore a dark green dress displaying a wealth of bosom that still remained very impressive to this day. She regarded him with her typical measuring eye.
"You have done well, Commander," She said crossing over to the bed her eyes never stopping to size him up, "Congratulations are deserved. The Bresseans have their suspicions of course, but your band left them no proof or witnesses to point any fingers to us in front of the Temple. Have your men leave the warehouse by midnight tomorrow and we'll have all the iron ore you procured for us removed from your hands by morning the next day."
"And we'll get the other half of the agreed upon amount-another thirty thousand Suns?" He regarded her silently for a moment. Tourelle was undoubtedly an agent of the King of Caramore based on the missions she hired him and his boys to do for her, not that he'd ever let such a deduction slip his lips. A mercenary that asked such questions uttered such insights about their clients' true identities was one soon to find himself out of work. No, maintaining a client's anonymity and discretion was the lifeblood of a successful mercenary's career. They were paid to be nothing more than mere deniable and ultimately expendable pawns on a gameboard between nations after all. Thinking and asking too many questions about their lot was not conducive to keeping their bellies full or their throats unslit. He and his boys had quite a few jobs in the past where they were required to ultimately silence another band that had the temerity of inconveniencing the clientele in just that manner.
"Of course," She smiled, "With another twenty to retain your services in the near future."
Lucretia's business of running her vicehall combining a tavern, a gambling den, and whorehouse in one was an excellent cover for an agent of the crown to hire mercenary bands to discreetly wage war against the kingdom's competitor's. She was in constant easy contact with them all after all since no self-respecting mercenary with Suns to spend would go patronize anywhere else in this miserable shithole of a town.
"Do you have something specific in mind," The eyebrow over his one good eye arched.
"No, nothing yet," She said settling down on the bed, "But something is sure to come up and soon...so get your troops ready, Commander."
WIP
That said, Caer Palevan's location roughly in the midway point of both the Marduin and the highway east to the Holy Templelands made the city an island of wealth and luxury in a kingdom best with the worst ravages that hopeless poverty can inflict upon its ever-downtrodden subjects. The city was fat with foreign merchant factors and poor local laborers. There was also the unspoken trade in Caer Palevan. Its central location made it an excellent hub for mercenary bands.
That was why Sidrick Val Allan, Commander of the Black Tower mercenary band, made it his home. He was an old man with several decades filled with successful missions behind him. He had thinning hair and beard rapidly turning white on his dark face and patch strung over an eye claimed in some scrap in his youth over some fool who thought he could cheat him at dice. His armor and weapon sat on a table of this room. Here at Madam Tourelle's he could afford such laxness. They had just completed their part in a mission, and his lads were spending their pay in the traditional manner. As to say, all of it on ale, dice, and whores below. His boy's were old favorites of Madam Tourelle's girls-especially when thier pockets clinked with sound of Golden Suns against eachother.
Speaking of which the Madam herself entered his room and shut the door. Lucretia Tourelle was a woman well past the blossoming of her beauty, but still clung on to it like the great generals of old waging a valliant defense against the ravaging onslaught of age's advance. Her still had an alluring luster though much had turned grey, and her skin once smooth and flawless was pale and wrinkled with crow's feet and laughlines. She wore a dark green dress displaying a wealth of bosom that still remained very impressive to this day. She regarded him with her typical measuring eye.
"You have done well, Commander," She said crossing over to the bed her eyes never stopping to size him up, "Congratulations are deserved. The Bresseans have their suspicions of course, but your band left them no proof or witnesses to point any fingers to us in front of the Temple. Have your men leave the warehouse by midnight tomorrow and we'll have all the iron ore you procured for us removed from your hands by morning the next day."
"And we'll get the other half of the agreed upon amount-another thirty thousand Suns?" He regarded her silently for a moment. Tourelle was undoubtedly an agent of the King of Caramore based on the missions she hired him and his boys to do for her, not that he'd ever let such a deduction slip his lips. A mercenary that asked such questions uttered such insights about their clients' true identities was one soon to find himself out of work. No, maintaining a client's anonymity and discretion was the lifeblood of a successful mercenary's career. They were paid to be nothing more than mere deniable and ultimately expendable pawns on a gameboard between nations after all. Thinking and asking too many questions about their lot was not conducive to keeping their bellies full or their throats unslit. He and his boys had quite a few jobs in the past where they were required to ultimately silence another band that had the temerity of inconveniencing the clientele in just that manner.
"Of course," She smiled, "With another twenty to retain your services in the near future."
Lucretia's business of running her vicehall combining a tavern, a gambling den, and whorehouse in one was an excellent cover for an agent of the crown to hire mercenary bands to discreetly wage war against the kingdom's competitor's. She was in constant easy contact with them all after all since no self-respecting mercenary with Suns to spend would go patronize anywhere else in this miserable shithole of a town.
"Do you have something specific in mind," The eyebrow over his one good eye arched.
"No, nothing yet," She said settling down on the bed, "But something is sure to come up and soon...so get your troops ready, Commander."
WIP
Veroe
Maestro/Truthseeker
- Joined
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Veroe
Maestro/Truthseeker
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2009
- Posts
- 62,549
IC: Jessica Harper
"Oh fuuuck, yesss," Jessica whispered into her lover's ear as she lay atop him and pushing back to take more of his magnificent cock within her once again.
Jessica had basically given up on dating. She had thought that romance just was not in the cards for her. She thought prince charming only existed in fairy tales. She had all the sex and excitement she could want in the Circle. So why bother going out and going through the exhausting effort and heartbreak of looking for the one she was meant for. That was until she had gone out dancing in the club with her girlfriend Chloe and just ran into Brandon. They had danced and danced. He was nice. He was funny. He was a good dancer, and a great kisser. So why not?
She and Brandon had gone home and made love that night. It was just supposed to be a fling, a one-night-stand that would be over in the morning, but one night became two became three and on and on for the next ten and half weeks. They didn't just fuck. No, they went out and did things. Danced at clubs, went to concerts, saw movies, played mini-golf together, went out to eat at restaurants. Unofficially their series of one time flings became actual dating. And Jessica loved it. She loved, Brandon.
Which was a complication, because there was a part of her life her new lover had no idea of, and keeping it secret from him was starting to crush her.
She sat up on him and stared down into his eyes. She could lose herself in those eyes. Fuck she became such a raging nymphomaniac when she was with her Brandon. She couldn't get enough of him. Biting her lower lip she ground her clit against his pubic bone making figure eights with his cock reaching all the right places inside her needy little pussy. God, she loved fucking Brandon Lee.
She captured his hands with hers, fingers threading through his. They gave her perfect leverage as she lifted up to his tip and then crashed back down to his root. Making an exultant, "Oh goddess...fuck...yesss..."
She rode him for a good while, like a cowgirl breaking in a bronco. Hands joined, leaning over him so her breasts swung over his face. If he could catch one he could he could kiss, lick, nibble, suck all he wanted. Right now she'd deny him nothing. For her part, Jessica was chasing her orgasm, like a jockey at the derby with Brandon beneath her as her racehorse. She had almost caught up to it.
Almost there. Almost there...
When Jessica came her soul opened up and she cried, she shook, her whole body trembled, her happy little pussy pulsing and squeezing around her lover's cock as it throbbed and pulsed within it. Then she collapsed panting atop him. His arms closed in around her, holding her as she caught her breath and came back down to earth.
She should probably break up with Brandon. Having a steady boyfriend while part of the Circle would get very very complicated. He would be a liability to the veil of the Circle's secrecy that was always most important to ardently maintain...but fuck...she loved fucking Brandon...and she loved...
Into his ear it came out as a whisper, "I think...I...I'm falling in love with you..."
She kissed his cheek tenderly, "That may be a problem though...I want to share everything with you."
"There's a whole part of my life you have no idea about...no one does...." She raised up to look into his eyes, "I'm in a club...a secret club...we have sex...and stuff."
She gauged his reaction as she added, "Brandon, do you want to maybe go with me and learn more about it?"
Veroe
Maestro/Truthseeker
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Elizabeth Sommerset looked calm on the outside. Appearances were greatly deceiving, however. On the inside she was a simmering pot about to explode with nerves and excitement and at long last a sense of need and anticipation. This was the night. After a week of interviews and preparations this was the hour Edward Wellington was going to officially claim his ring, and become her master. Oh, it was all she could do to contain herself. She wanted to dance, to sing for joy. She truly believed Edward would be just what their order needed, and she only hoped as his First Servant she could help him through it all.
She was in the dressing room with several of the other siblings getting prepared for the ceremony. Her older half-sister, Catherine, Master Alexei's First Servant sat beside her with Ilse Master Akiko's First. Across from her was Isobel Professor Bryant's First servant down the row was her best friend Madison who was absolutely failing to contain her own excitement. She was bubbling over enthusiastically talking about how amazing it would be when she was going to serve her new master, Edward. Professor Merchant who sat next to her nodded stoically to Madison's ramblings. She knew Elizabeth would have to remind Madison that she would not be allowed to approach or offer herself to Edward until Elizabeth as his First gave her permission. She was only there to fulfill the required number of servants for the initiation ceremony. She loved Madison, but seriously, the girl had a one track mind when it came to her serving Master Edward.
...Master Edward....
The words sounded so right in her mind. She was getting wet just repeating them in her head.
...Master Edward...Master...Edward....Master....
She wished Claire would get back from visiting her parents already. As the girl selected to become Master Edward's Whip keeping Madison and all the other siblings, but mostly Madison, obeying the rules was supposed to be her job. However as his First Servant helping maintain order so everyone got the chance to be with Edward, to serve him equally was her primary task as well. But tonight and until she deemed he was ready for another girl, Master Edward, was hers to service completely...once the ceremony was completed of course.
the last two spots needed to fulfill the requirements of the ceremony she'd invited Sarah. One of professor Bryant's servants she didn't know too well, older than all of them except for Professor Merchant though you wouldn't be able to tell by looking at her. On the outside she looked short petite even waifish...far far too young to be as much an experienced sibling as she was.
And last was Shaylee the bookish redheaded nerdy type, shy and quiet, and easily overlooked in a room filled with other more beautiful and flamboyant siblings. She knew Edward would delight in the buried treasure in her just hiding under the surface if he only took the time and effort to dig for it with her.
Oh, she was running out of time...she'd need to hurry if she wanted to be perfect for Edward for his big night.
She removed her T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. She then pulled off her glasses and put in her contacts. Normally she did not like wearing them, but wearing them over the ceremonial mask she'd have to wear for the cermony was too much of a huge hassle to deal with for her. So she put up with the contacts. Then she applied her makeup and doing her hair, fussing over both for several precious minutes. before moving on to removing her bra and panties and slipping on the pristine white silk cloak. Then she slipped on the dangerously high high heels. Before opening the box and staring at the mask she'd wear for the ceremony. It was full face mask, the lower half alabaster white and the top from the nose up was golded embroglio with tiny black pearls embedded in the mask. The great fan of black feathers sprouting out from it would contrast strikingly with her golden locks. Catherine helped tie it on for her.
And then she was done. She stared at herself through the eyes of her mask in the dressing room mirror letting her mind drift to the young man that even as she sat here was getting dressed as well. Did he feel the same nerves she was? Was Edward just as excited? Was he looking forward to when he owned the ring and told her to kneel at his feet just as much as she was? She sure as hell hoped so.
Finally it was time. They all filed out of the dressing room on the dangerously high high heels to the main hall where Professor Bryant had set up to host the ceremony. Many masters were there dressed in cloaks and masks a throwback to the ancient style of the order where everything was much more regimented and ritualized than it was now in the Society's modern era. But this would be the first initiation of a new master from the outside world in over a hundred years. For those who could not make it here one had a camera and would upload to a private server only members knew about.
Elizabeth and the other siblings stood in a circle as the ritual music began playing. This was it. The ceremony was starting. The eerie haunting melody came out of the speakers as conversation quieted and Professor Bryant stepped inside dressed in the Master of Ceremonies Red robes and golden mask. In his hand the rod of devotion. The other placed his obsidian black Master's ring, soon to belong to Edward on a golden pedestal before him. He gestured to Elizabeth and the other siblings. They all dropped to their knees as the vocals began the dark chanting in ancient Sumerian.
Professor Bryant began pacing looking each sibling over judging each with an exacting eye. He tapped the floor with the rod of devotion to make Madison correct her posture. Kneeling with her back straight chest out under the white cloaks and eyes cast down to the blood red carpeting. Professor Bryant finished his inspections and corrections and returned to the pedestal and the black ring as the doors opened for Edward being escorted by Professor Alexei and Master Akiko.
Alexei nodded to him as he stepped forth. He passed her entering the center of the circle. He was now facing Professor Bryant the pedestal and the ring between them.
"I now fade away. No longer one of the one hundred." He announced the ancient oath of a retiring master not heard in a century or more, "I give of myself to this one exemplary among all others, my wealth, my power, my place, my ring."He took a step back and rapped the floor with the rod of devotion. Elizabeth and the other siblings bowed forward hands on the red carpet smoothing out until the masked forehead pressed against the floor.
To Edward he asked, "Do you cast assent to the power of life independent. Mastering yourself and others with equal devotion. Cherishing the sacrifices made in devotion to you."
When Edward assented, he rapped the floor and Elizabeth and the other sibling straightened back up. "Then Edward Wellington...take what is yours." He rapped on the floor again and Elizabeth raised up gracefully back on her feet.
She came forward when he turned the ring, his ring, now on his finger. Her master, now and forever more. Through the mask and his, her eyes locked with his. She hoped he could see how proud, how excited, and how aroused she was getting just seeing him wearing his ring was making her.
Professor Bryant rapped the rod on the floor again and she leaned forward turning her head to press the lips of her mask against his. The next rapping of the rod against the floor and she lowered to her knees pressing the lips of the mask to his ring.
Number 37 it said, but number 1 in her heart now.
The next rap of the rod on the floor the hand with the ring reached down to untie her cloak. Something she knew Masters Akiko and Alexei had expressly told him to do before hand. With a deft tug it came undone. the next rap of the rod and she rose back to her feet shimmying her shoulders to let the cloak fall down in a puddle at her feet. Elizabeth now stood before her master, Edward Wellington, in only the dangerously high high heels and her mask and her white Sibling's ring.
"Master Edward," Came Professor Bryant's voice from behind them. "Take what is yours now."
