bakerstreet | Is it Thursday? Must be Mid-Fuck!

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Is it Thursday? Must be Mid-Fuck!

Are you tired of building up to the act? Do you sometimes wish for a chance to skip the conversation and go straight for the scenario you've always wanted to experience?

In that case, rejoice! This meme was made for you.

THE RULES:

Post with your character in the middle of having sex.
Any scenario and level of description is allowed!
Other characters reply as your character's partner in that fuck!
Keep going and finish the act.
Go for another round or have fun with cuddling and afterplay.
Have fun!

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[ I'm interested in dub-con/coercion & ritual/exhibitionism from your list. I can start below with a more vague setup and we can go from there? If you want me to change some details, too, let me know. I am canon-blind for Seymour, BTW. ]

"To go through all of this trouble, there must be something you dearly want out of this."

C.C. was growing rather tired of this backwards kingdom. She was a wanderer by nature, but wandering this direction had been a mistake. Her distinctive appearance had the locals branding her a witch from the moment she arrived. When they tried, and failed, to kill her, the locals felt as though the proof was in the pudding.

For some time, they kept her locked away. It seemed to C.C that they wanted to prepare a way to deal with her, but they had nowhere to start. They sought aid outside of their kingdom, and that was perhaps how Semour Guado became involved. This put him in the position to offer her a deal.

C.C. had been escorted to this room, and now they were alone. They'd brought her here in nothing but a thin white robe, hanging untied. Her back was to Seymour, and she looked over the room from over her shoulder. Large, warm, and well-stocked. C.C. hardly recognized these items that would be involved in the coming ritual. (Though she couldn't miss the presentation of what was likely to be her choice of outfits, and they were all as revealing as they were ornate.) C.C. was a outsider here, as much as Seymour also appeared to be. It was troubling.

"You know, these people truly do believe I'm a witch," she went on. "I can only trust you knowing that I have no other choice."

[OOC: Any interest in following on from the text convo?]

( sure thing! their bantering fuels me. throw something at me :] )

"You wound me," He began, approaching her. One abnormally long hand fell upon her shoulder and wrapped there warmly. "Is it not enough that I wish to help you?"

His fingers were tipped with long, sharp nails, and these pricked her chin as he lifted her beautiful face to the wall of windows before her. On the other side sat some dozen men, all in carnelian-red robes, their expressions shuttered. The cardinals, there to watch, and confirm, the proofs of her purity which Seymour would render.

"I am... concerned for you."

His voice was surprisingly high for such a large man, and tender. He towered above her, behind her. When he bent forward a thick lock of his blue hair fell over her shoulder, just as his hands slid down to part her open robe. Slowly, with all due care for precedent, he revealed her to the audience.

"I would not wish for one so beautiful to come to harm."

His stature had been harder to gauge when she was behind a cell. As he stood presently, it was impossible for her not to notice. She twitched as he he touched her face. At the reveal of the men, she pursed her lips, then kept her expression straight and impassive. She had to pretend like this was nothing.

"There's only so much any woman can endure."

Her body was slender and beautiful, but there was a large, jagged, and unique red scar under her left breast. She trusted Seymour so far as not to cover herself in front of the cardinals, who looked on.

"And I am desperate enough to endure this, and choose to believe you for the time being. However… you might as well tell me what the worst of it's going to be while you have the chance."

C.C. could act like she was used to this kind of treatment, but she wasn't. She was proud, and her need to rely on the man behind her made her squirm inside as much as the gaze of the red-robed men. It was impossible to ignore both.

His hands were warm. Indeed, heat radiated off his frame, and it licked the slender curves of her body as the robe fell to the floor. But the hands in particular, as he cupped her right breast and lifted it. His thumb rubbed over the peach-pink nipple. A softness crept into his voice, cooling his irony. He spoke just for her, below what would be caught by the cardinals beyond the glass.

"You must forgive me, my lady. It is critical that you demonstrate surprise, at the right moments."

A witch would not be afraid. A witch would not be surprised by any indignity visited upon her. One who offered herself freely to dark powers could not possibly be shocked by anything that a high priest could do to her. No matter how inventive he was.

C.C. would see a pair of cardinals shift in their seats as Seymour encompassed her left breast as the right, drawing it gently up, exposing the scar. He felt it, rather than saw it. He could sense the unevenness of her fine fair skin. With both hands he plucked her nipples and pinched them, hard enough to hold as he ground them between thumb and forefinger.

"Cry out," he suggested, mildly, with his smooth lips close to her ear.

[If you're only open to m/m, how about male!mc?]

( oh man i never even expected an mc to be around. femc is more than fine! )

[I couldn't resist the lure of a character with multiple canon love stories, so I made the account yesterday ^^; Here we go!]

[It wasn't as if she didn't know Jumin was into control -- even the way he conducted himself in the chatroom suggested a man who knew exactly how much power he had and exactly how to use it. It was one of the traits that had initially appealed him to her, honestly; she never quite craved the BDSM lifestyle, but she couldn't deny that it crept into her porn stash every now and again.

And then there was the real Jumin, every bit as poised as he was online, until they were behind a locked door. Zen had warned her that all men were beasts, but Jumin was anything but; he was a creature of logic, and knew that the reward was sweeter the longer someone waited to have it. And he was going to drive the lesson home for her with frustrating patience.

Her hands were bound together behind her back with a black silk cloth at her wrists, and a similar cloth wrapped over her eyes meant she couldn't see or touch anything. She was on her knees on his bed, body sloping downwards so her head and shoulder were pressed into the firm mattress. Her breasts hung low enough that her nipples brushed the textured sheets whenever she squirmed, which was often. Her neglected sex was swollen and red, desperate for attention that Jumin gave sparingly.]

H-Hah... [She gasped, trying so hard not to beg him to touch her clit, which burned with the need for friction. Even if he would just get on with it and fuck her, she would be fine with any relief. But she knew begging only meant a longer wait. Her master was stern, but fair. Always fair.]

C.C. understood and kept her own voice low. Her face did not betray a slowly growing impatience, or her discomfort. She understood. Taking orders didn't suit her, and she hated that his voice was soft and that the grip of his hands was warm. But this was about survival.

She forced herself to watch the reactions of cardinals, as if to learn something. But she still didn't know down from up. That she was in the dark was the worst part of this. Her body was being toyed with, so suddenly, and Seymour was offering her nothing but the barest instructions.

When the time came, C.C. did cry out. Her back muscles tightened, and her instinct was to elbow back at Seymour somewhere that would hurt. She put the flash of anger into her performance instead, and it added a rawness to her voice. An uncomfortable tingle dashed across her exposed skin.

"Is this how a gentleman treats a lady?"

[ He had everything set up long before she even arrived--he always had everything set up, but the setting just always happened to be a little different somehow. Last time it was all lace and soft things, set up to make her feel particularly feminine and light. The pink had been a little grating on his eyes but she had looked lovely settled back against the pillows, so much so that he couldn't hate the color anymore. She had been a princess. That was the last time.

Tonight... ah, tonight was the other side of the coin. Tonight was ties and sensory deprivation and complete control. She wasn't even allowed to move, save for her futile wiggling. The command was more verbal than anything, his trust that she would obey speaking volumes of how highly he placed her. And she was doing a splendid job of it so far. Jumin lounged on the bed beside her, leaning up against the headboard with a perfect view of everything she had to offer him. The noise made him smile and he tilts his head, running his fingers lightly over the curve of her raised ass, the cheeks tinted pink from earlier abuse.

A pause, and his hand cracks against it, the smack echoing around them and leaving behind a red hand print. ]

Look at you...

[ It's the perfect view. She looks so beautiful. ]

[Some kinks here for ideas.]

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