25f4M - A Dark God and his Slavegoddess trade wicked, depraved letters.
For setting, I like science fiction, fantasy, actual “literature” (what a silly name for a genre), oh...everything, really. I don't have too many genres that can't strike my fancy, and none that I can think of offhand. My request can fit into any number of combinations, though naturally because of the kinks involved, some sci-fi/fantasy angle is probably going to be included. That's great! Think big and bold. I want to reward your unique ideas by loading them with lusty rocket fuel and making them shoot off for the rest of your life.
I find special kinks in power and rape and breeding (and breeding that brood, and breeding THAT brood) and mind control and incest and lactation and abuse and all manner of evil, nasty stuff. I take pleasure in imagining whole worlds being snuffed out of existence for a moment's pleasure for us. I like to imagine myself calling you Daddy, not because you are my actual Daddy (though that's fun too), but because you're so obviously intrinsically more of a Male than any other human that no one else deserves the title. I like daydreaming about murdering or kidnapping for you, or you for me, either because we have to or just because it's what we do for fun. I'm not a bad person. I'm just drawing myself that way.
So, after reading what I have below, what I would like is for you to be drawing on my kinks, even if it's not completely in line with what I've written below. Include your kinks, your particulars. Show me the world that you arrive in when you close your eyes and stroke your cock at home, when you can't watch tv or play videogames or read books for a single second more without sliding your shaft into your hand and stroking beautifully, letting your imagination run wild. Strange settings. Unique surroundings. Weird coincidences leading to furious, mind-breaking sex. Space ships. Mile-high towers. Stadiums full of finger-fucking cock-starved angels and forests thrumming with lactating nymphs pulsating in mad rhythms in the worship of your holiness.
Try me.
The set-up:
What I am suggesting is probably something different than you've tried in the past. It's a sort of dialogue that I take great pleasure in with sophisticated, well-written and well-read partners I've had, where we write messages to one another completely in character, to the point where we “recall” shared memories with one another, or relate completely fictional activities of the day.
This would be in stark contrast to what perhaps you are used to, which looks something like:
Partner 1 writes Post Partner 2 writes Reply Partner 1 writes Reply-to-Reply And so on forever. Which is great! It's just not what I would like right now.
The premise that I am imagining is that the two of us are separated for some reason, and thus have begun to write one another letters in our absence. My initial feeling is that you are busy slowly-but-surely dominating the world. Destroying one business here, taking over another corporation there, annihilating a politician here and force-fucking a young starlet there. Your personal retinue of servants would be jaw-droppingly gorgeous women—preferably actual supermodels (and fuck if you have thoughts on that—using supermodels for play-bys/avatars—please please message me) who you have pumped full of your strangely powerful seed and who generated hot young daughters to serve you in turn—all of them becoming emotionally, mentally, and physically mature so quickly, in mere months, perhaps.
So! For example, I might write to you:
My Darling GodHusband,
Today was terrible. I know you sent me to this continent to convert the masses to the worship of your cock, but truth be told so very few of them are worthy. The Valkyries are working night and day to destroy the inferior, but their patience wears thin.
Their cunts ache with the need to consume this land with your righteous nuclear fire.
I impress upon them regularly the importance of never destroying even one viable breeding cunt for your uses.
Of course, that's nothing new. What was terrible was how, as we flew over a small village, I saw through the spy lens how a man held a picture of me in his hands. His cock was out and he was cumming uncontrollably. His skin was loose, like he had not eaten for days. Another man walked by, catching half a glimpse of the picture, and suddenly he was inconsolable. On the ground, ripping at his eyes and his cock—very aware of how unworthy he was to witness my divinity.
Can you believe their insolence? I had the whole village flooded with acid to teach them a lesson. Nothing will grow there for ten thousand years. Perhaps once plants return, you'll allow me to make it a private execution area?
There, you see? Erotic. Dark. Terrible. Completely subservient to you, and yet utterly in command of my faculties—and totally assured of the divinity of my beauty and my position as the premiere slavegoddess to your cock.
The Two of Us
So, the basic gist of who you are is just a fucking impossible stud. You're hugely muscled (four hundred pounds of solid muscle mass? drool I don't give a fuck about realism), taller than tall, smart, brutal, rich, and hung like a beast. You know what you do to women, and you love it. You love breaking up their insignificant partnerships; you love forcing them to give themselves miscarriages when they find out they're holding the product of another, lesser man's seed; you love choking them so hard on your cum that they don't survive past the next day. You love beating them within an inch of their lives and hearing them thank you for the privilege.
You don't give a fuck who lives or dies, because why would you? You can always breed some newer, better bitch to take the place of one you murdered. “Rape” is almost a misnomer for what you do to the female body; sometimes it might take a few sessions, but they always beg for more. You've stopped paying attention to words like “no” or “stop.” They don't apply to you. You get everything you want.
The basic gist of who I am is the most impossibly gorgeous babe you could ever imagine; the kind who gets everything she wants just by hinting at it, who is arrogant, vain, and insanely cruel to everyone she views as beneath her (who is, incidentally, most everyone), and gets away with it because I'm just that fucking hot. Men and women both like to watch me get away with stuff because of how gorgeous my smile is.
I am the luckiest woman alive. Born not only perfect, but perfectly suited to your complete dominance over my body. I am the royally elegant beauty you transformed (or did I volunteer?) into your perfect mate; one of a very small cadre of women who offers you counsel, who coos and cheers you on as you sink into ever more depraved actions; who sucks you off gleefully, even, when you return home with other women and snap their necks for not sucking your cock as well I do.
I won't be your bitch and definitely not your whore. I'm more than your fuckpet and more than your slave, though of course I am those things (what woman isn't, when faced with your indomitable cock?) I'm the extension of your will; the living embodiment of the beauty you deserve cheering you on at every possible moment of your life. I'm the perfect, obedient partner and (future, if not presently) wife, your scheming empress aching to stroke you off as you enter the launch codes to a nuclear winter that only our progeny and empire can survive.
I love all sorts of terrible things that nice ladies often don't. You can read my other posts for details. I show AND I tell there. I'm rather terrific at both. I won't involve myself with anything regarding toilet play, any sort of play with age, or bestiality. Anything else, ask and find out.
Confidence turns me on. Conviction turns me on even more. Those with wishy-washy attitudes will be thrown in the laundry and forgotten. Those without manners face a similar fate.
Thank you for reading all that. I hope to hear from you soon!
Posted Aug 12, 2015, 3:27 PM UTC