The optimal strategy in the prisoner’s dilemma yields some pretty fun results.
nanking-decade
“You’re doing a good job being used like a filthy whore, sweetheart.”
When he reassures me like this, even the filthiest stuff somehow becomes sweet and intimate. I feel safe and cared for and brave and loved. Maybe that’s kind of weird, but it makes me happy.
I know we’re not supposed to be all objectifying, but
Standard
—submitted by anon. follower
Don’t worry, she does love the attention.
Oh pshhhhh. As if I’d ever wear shoes like those.
Also, hmph.
“Good. Now repeat to us, very slowly and in great detail, all the ways in which you are a sick, filthy slut.”
I remember when you made me do this just to you.
That alone was humiliating enough.
I still blush and squirm thinking about it.
In this version, when the hero defeats the villain and saves the damsel, she simply passes into another pair of abusive hands.
I dig.
squirmies (n.): A condition of heightened agitation due to situational anxiety, apprehension, or arousal.
Example sentence: thinkivykink tried to hold still, but couldn’t contain the squirmies from betraying her as her boyfriend explained how she’d be displayed in a similar position on their next trip to the dungeon.
Hmph. Bullies.
Her Daddy didn’t let her wear panties for a week.
Her Sir didn’t let her wear pants.
I need to go hide now.
StandardBecause this.
I need some kinky steampunk femsub porn that couches lust and power in the language of class and colonial exploitation. I need obsessively decadent sex in that same Mephistophelean spirit as our pact with the gilded god of Progress, who shoved us blindly into the killing fields of the Somme, and later mocked us with the false messiahs of Bolshevism and National Socialism. I need the positivist and romantic optimism of the Victorian era to be subverted by the horrible reality of hollow men in Darkest Africa. I need martyrdom to be disgusting and putrid with maggots and not painted in heroic primaries by Delacroix; I need youth and beauty to be nothing but fresh fodder for bondage or the bayonet.
My friends, is this too much to ask?
You’re getting kind of specific, babe.
Also,
…maggots?
