Tag Archive | prompter: dahob

Getting Into the Arrangement, a continuation for the Dungeon & Cave Call

Oct24

“Now.” Miss Valeta’s hand stroked over Ivor’s butt. “I thought you wanted to be a good boy.”

Ivor made a noise around the gag. It wasn’t talking – he wasn’t allowed talking, but, then again, he couldn’t talk with this thing in his mouth, anyway. But she still landed a slap hard on his ass. “And yet you keep fighting me. Don’t you want to be good for me, Ivor?”

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to nod. He wanted to, in some way, assure her that he was really a good boy, as good as she wanted him to be, and he would do anything she wanted, if only she would let him down from this thing.

But his neck was held in a collar that was more brace than neckwear, and the rest of him was hung upside-down and backwards from something way too much like a trapeze for his comfort. And the flogger was coming again, god, not the flogger. Ivor whined.

She paused, her hand in mid-air. “Do you know what you did wrong? Answer?”

“oo?” he tried, around his gag.

“Don’t lie to me, Ivor.”

“..eeeh?”

“Were you pushing your limits on purpose?” She took his face in both hands, looking him eye-to-eye, if backwards and upside down.

“…eeeh?” He really had been. He’d wanted to know.

“And did you like what you discovered?”

That was too complex for an answer around a gag. He made a noise that was mostly whine. How to answer, how to not lie, how to… the sound changed from a whine to a sob.

“Easy, easy.” Her fingers were working at the buckles on the gag immediately. “There you go. All right. You can answer, and then I’ll let you down.”

Ivor swallowed. “I like… I like, Miss Valeta, I like being pushed around. And I like knowing the limits. But, um.” He turned his head and coughed, hoping to cover the hot blush he felt trying to come to his already-flushed cheeks. “Um.”

“But you’re not sure you like this particular kind of being pushed around?”

“Um. Yes. Sorry.”

“Surely you didn’t think that you’d like everything?”

“No! No, of course not. I mean… no. That’s part of the thing, isn’t it? I don’t have to like it all, as long as I don’t hate it. And even if I do – I know it ends.”

“Exactly.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Why didn’t you like this part, Ivor?”

Ivor gulped. “I signed up for whatever you want to do to me on the weekends.”

“You did.” Her hand went from petting to gripping. “But I want an answer.”

“I don’t like…” He tried for a shrug. “Being upside down? I didn’t like doing things I didn’t know were wrong.”

She chuckled softly. “You’re a natural sub. Tell me, are you worried that every weekend will be like this, or worried that it won’t?”

“I. Um… Neither?” He wriggled against the belts and straps holding him in mid-air. “What happens happens. When it’s done, I know if I can handle it or not.”

“And if you can’t?” She still had his hair in one hand, but now her other hand was caressing his ass.

“Then… then I don’t do it again.” He craned to look at her. “Miss Valeta – I know this is a year contract. I signed up. I’m not going to complain unless you order me to. I’m not going to try to get out of it.”

“Even if you’re miserable?” Both of her hands went still. Ivor swallowed. “Answer me!”

“That’s what I agreed to, Miss Valeta. I don’t want to try to back out.”

She pushed air out through closed lips. “All right. I’m going to get you down from that contraption, Ivor.” She released his hair and started moving ropes and pulleys. “And then… and then you and I are going to have a talk about safe words and their importance.”

Written to Hob’s commissioned continuation of An Unusual Arrangement and Learning the Arrangement

If you’d like to see more of this story, there is definitely more to be written! Just drop a tip in the the tip handcuffs:

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First three answers to p*rn m*me

Oct21

“I… Oh… My.” Regine let her head loll on the pillow and shut her eyes. “This is not at all what… oh!… what I meant when I suggested we discuss your behaviour.”

“I know.” Between the Director’s legs, Ivette paused in her work just long enough to purr. “But this is what I meant. I’m a succubus, after all.”

“…Quite true.” Regine grabbed the pillow and tried, unsuccessfully to stifle a moan. “Quite the… oh… specimen, too.”

~

“Do you think maybe is we put this tube here…” Kailani frowned over the machine. “It’s quite an invention, but I’m not sure if it will work.”

“Well.” Tairikie found a wild grin on her face, the same one that she’d felt when she climbed the mountain. “I can think of one way to try it out.”

“One way to…” The redhead – what a wild color, speaking of wild! – took a moment, but then she began to grin. “I suppose the way to test sexual aether would be this way, wouldn’t it?” She slipped out of her shirt.

Redheads, Tairikie was fascinated to learn, had pink nipples.

~

“Kneel.” Aviv studied his new Kept – slender, fae-looking, dark-haired, and not his normal type. Male, for one. Addergoole was all about the not-normal, though. He unzipped his fly. “The first thing you’ll have to learn is to serve without argument. Addergoole will -” He fell silent as his Kept’s mouth wrapped around his cock. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

Dark eyes rolled up to look at him, and a noise in the back of the boy’s throat trilled against Aviv’s cock. Aviv groaned. Questions later. He tangled his hand in the boy’s hair and let him do what he so clearly wanted to do.

Meme here – http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/831348.html

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An Unusual Arrangement (NSFW), a story of Addergoole for the Dungeon Call

Oct20

Written to @dahob’s commission.

“You understand what you’re getting into?” Valeta crossed her legs as she studied him. “Of course you don’t, not really, but you understand the idea of what you’re getting into?”

The easy dismissal stung. Ivor titled his chin up and looked her in the eyes, keeping his own feet still. They were meeting in the Library – neutral space, safe space, where no shenanigans would be tolerated. “I’ve seen the collared ones. I’ve watched the way Ana changed, and Yaminah, and the others. I’ve seen the boy that DJ keeps around.”

“You’ve been paying attention.” Her eyes were ice chips, so pale a blue as to be almost white. Her skin was nearly the same color, looking almost green under the Library’s glass-shaded lights. And she was smiling, although he wasn’t sure that was a friendly expression. “Have you done your homework, too?”

“We’re in the Library.” He moved the History reading off the top of his pile of books, and turned the spines so she could see what he’d really been reading. “It’s not the sort of deal one would make without looking into it first.”

She looked up and down the titles. “Most people don’t research. Most people get chivvied into it, one way or another.”

“I saw. Hell Night.” Ivor snarled. “It was not – it sucked. I barely got away myself.” And if he didn’t say he felt guilty about it, he know it still showed. Yaminah had been his friend. “And a lot of people look unhappy. But I’m curious. And my Mentor thinks it’s a good idea.”

Technically, his Mentor had said “I won’t tell you not to do this.” But it was close enough.

“Interesting. My Mentor thought it was an awful idea.” She was smiling very broadly about that.

“Different Mentors? I hope?”

“Is your mentor Sakamoto?”

“No, VanderLinden.” He found himself relaxing a bit, which was probably a bad idea. “So you’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it. Be at my door Friday night at nine.”

~

Friday found Ivor having second, third, and fourth thoughts. In the end, he told one of his friends – a second-year, and in less danger of being ambush-collared – the short version of what he was doing. “If I’m a zombie in classes on Monday…”

“I’ll know why. This is nuts.”

“It’s nuts, but it might work.” Ivor shrugged. “It’s better than the other seven options I’ve seen, and, come on, I went cy’Linden for a reason.”

“Go.”

So he went. He knocked on Valeta’s door at eight fifty-eight and waited, fighting the urge to run away, fighting the urge to bite his lip or twitch or in any way give away exactly how nervous he was. He counted seconds in his head to distract himself.

He’d gotten to one hundred twenty-three by the time the door opened. Valeta was standing there, with an expression on her face that could best be described as predatory and hungry. “Come in. Take off your clothes and kneel by the side of the bed, hands behind your back.”

“I-“

“When you are here on the weekends, you will only speak if told to speak. You will only stand if told to stand; otherwise you will stay on your hands and knees. And you will only wear clothes that I give you to wear. This is your last chance to back out.”

Ivor pressed his lips together and nodded. His heart was going a thousand miles an hour, but this was, after all, what he’d asked for.

“Tell me you understand.”

“I understand, M-“

“Miss Valeta .”

“-Miss Valeta.” He liked that. It had a nice sound, without being Mistress or the ridiculous ma’am.

“And do you want to back out?”

Ivor shook his head no. This was what he’d signed up for.

“All right then. Finish undressing.”

Ivor nodded his understanding and did as he was told. He’d worn things he didn’t mind losing today, just in case. Just in case what, he hadn’t been entirely sure, but there’d definitely been the concern – or hope – that his stuff might get ripped. Placidly taking everything off himself was a bit of a comedown.

But he did it quickly, anyway, and then found a spot to kneel. This was really happening. This was… real.

“I have a contract here, including all the terms that we agreed on. You’ll have no collar and no standing orders Monday 7 a.m. through Friday 9 p.m., but from Friday at nine through Monday at seven, you’re all mine, all the orders I want and anything I want to do with you. I agree to let you do homework and be certain that you’re fed, and to restrain my orders and my control to the weekends. That is all I agree to.”

She handed Ivor the contract. He paused, eyes on her; his hands were behind his back, where she’d told him to put them.

Valeta grinned. “You’re a smart one. You can move your hands to take the contract. And, here, you may take the pen to sign it, as well.”

Ivor’s eyes slid over the words. They were important words. He wanted to focus on them; he understood that he needed to focus. But he was naked on his knees, next to a girl’s bed. Next to a hot woman’s bed. It was hard to pay attention to anything except that.

The words said, as far as he could tell, exactly what she’d outlined. There was a no-blab clause that bound both of them, and a “explain to teachers” clause to that clause, and a couple others, none of which seemed very urgent or very necessary.

Ivor nodded, licked his lips, licked his lips again, and signed the paper.

“You may speak.” Valeta was smiling very widely. He ought to be worried.

“Miss Valeta?”

“The words are important. As bound by the terms on this contract-” she added her signature with a small flourish – “for the remainder of this school year, you Belong to me.”

Oh. Ivor swallowed. “As bound by the terms on the contract just signed, for the remainder of the school year, Miss Valeta, I Belong to you.”

It settled onto his shoulders like a blanket. Ivor couldn’t help but smile.

Luckily, it seemed as is that pleased his new Owner. “This will be an interesting dance. But for the next two-plus days, you’re all mine, boyo.” Her smile was sharp, and her fingernails on his shoulder even sharper. “Let’s have some fun.”


If you’d like to see more of this story, there is definitely more to be written! Just drop a tip in the the tip handcuffs:

Next: Learning the Arrangement

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Strong Enough?

Oct3

“I’m telling you, man, she’s something else. She’s in here like she’s on the prowl, on the huuunt.” Ted drew the word out like he was tasting it. “When’s the last time you saw a chick in here like that?”

“Well, a),” Rick ticked off on a finger, “we haven’t seen her yet, and 2), I haven’t seen a chick in here at all, except Patty the bartender, since Donnie’s wife came in after him. This is a sports bar, bro, and there’s nothing here but a giant sausage fest.”

“And beer.” Donnie demonstrated by slinging his beer back in one giant swig. “And my good friends Jack and Johnny. Think you’ve had too much to drink, Teddy boy.”

“What about you?” The whisky contralto snuck up on them, the sort of voice that tightened their pants and sped up their heart rates. “Are you strong enough?”

To a man, the Tuesday poker club turned to look. She was leaning over some poor slob at the bar, Craig, wasn’t it, the one whose wife had vanished. She wasn’t dressed sexy – white button-down and blue jeans – but she made it sexy anyway, made it deathly hot. “Are you?”

Craig belched blearily at her. “Babe, I’m strong enough for whatever you want.”

“I don’t think you are.” She straightened up, giving them all a glance of her white lace bra. Her eyes landed on Rick. “What about you, sweetheart? Are you strong enough?”

Rick had learned a thing or two from his older sisters. He met her gaze and held it, never mind how the jeans were hugging every inch of her thighs like he’d like to, never mind the white lace bra. “Miss, if you put a challenge before me, I’ll do my best to meet it.”

“Well then.” Teddy was right. Her smile was predatory. “Maybe you will be enough.”

My Dungeon & Cave Call is open!

We all know where this is going, but if you want to see more, drop a tip in, ah, the tip handcuffs:

This story written to @dahob’s prompt.

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Some Jobs Just Aren’t Worth the Risk, a ficlet of Tír na Cali fr @dahob

Aug27

Courier jobs were, sometimes, risky. They were sometimes people who didn’t want messages to go through, sometimes people who hadn’t heard don’t shoot the messenger.

It paid immensely well, however, and Cory was willing to take quite a few risks for the money. Risks like taking packages over closed borders into war zones. Risks like delivering people to and from situations where they didn’t, legally, belong.

Risks like carrying a very lovely hand-written note to a very lovely, rich woman.

Cory swallowed and reminded himself of his Californian-style manners. Look down, smile, stay polite and speak when you were spoken to. He’d prefer the Middle East. He’d prefer North Korea.

“You’re certain this is for me?”

“Yes, your ladyship.” Cory had practiced in front of a mirror. He practiced every time he had a mission.

“And did you read it?”

“No, your ladyship.” Of course not, your ladyship.

“You weren’t even a little curious?” She still sounded bored. Bored was good.

“I’m not paid to be curious, your ladyship.” Which meant he never gave any indication that he cared in any way what was in his messages.

“And you are paid to be polite.” Oh, dear she was sounding amused.

“Very well, your ladyship.” Very, very well, your ladyship.

“Come here.”

“Your ladyship?”

“Come. Here.”

Ten feet separated Cory and the Lady. He liked those ten feet, his standing position and her lounging on the couch.

On the other hand, he knew better than to say no to a Lady in Tír na Cali. “Your ladyship.” Cory bowed, deeply, the way he’d practice.

“You’re cute, and you know your manners. Very cute.” Her hand darted out and grabbed his chin. “I think I’ll keep you.”

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The Present

Jul24

I asked for something fun to write here; this is to the 3rd prompt, from DaHob (She opens the man-sized box)

Zina walked around the thing three times before she starting cutting tape. It was the size of a coffin, not a typical birthday present at all, and labelled all over with caution and fragile stickers.

It was also the only present the northern baroness had gotten for this birthday.

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Switcheroo… Tír na Cali, for @DaHob

Aug10

This is for DaHob‘s prompt in my call for prompts.

Tír na Cali, not in a household currently used in other stories.

Content Warning: dubious consent leaning towards non-con. Bondage. Slavery. Spoiled-rotten royal kids.

Baroness Moira’s son was eager to play with his new slave. The pretty Americana, his bribe to, as his mother said, “settle down and behave,” had been wild and feisty for the first week, but now she was letting him near her without biting, and had actually seemed to warm up to the idea of playing with him.

He wasn’t stupid, whatever his mother might think, so, however willing the girl seemed, he cuffed her to the headboard and tied her legs apart. She could still bite, though, as she reminded him, snapping her teeth, so he gagged her.

The noises she made through the red latex ball were delicious; he barely had the patience to pull off his pants and grab her hips, making a cursory attempt at foreplay (she might belong to him, but he was still a Californian male), licking and nosing at her. She was already wet, writhing and moaning, so he took that for assent and took her.

He had one blinding, blissful moment inside her, before she closed her eyes, and…

…Fionn found himself looking up at himself. The gag stretched his mouth painfully, the cuffs cut into his wrists and ankles, and there was… something… stretching him. Him. Her. Stretching her uncomfortably. She yelled out, terrified, but the gag muffled the sound, made it an unclear groan.

Above her, still inside of her, Fionn-body smiled unkindly. “Shh.” He held up a hand, letting sparks dance across his fingers. “You have a lovely power. Would you like to know what it feels like?”

The Americana was in his body. Fionn whimpered, terrified, and shook her head. No. Please no. “‘eeze…”

Fionn-body, damnit, what was her name? His name… Tacey. Tacey laughed. “Then stay quiet and be a good girl. I’m going to take the gag out now.” Tacey punctuated the comment with another thrust, and Fionn swallowed a pleasure/pain grunt. She didn’t want to get zapped.

Tacey removed the gag. “Now,” he grinned, the leer Fionn was so proud of, “you and I are going to have some fun.”

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Joff Gets a Pony

Jul9

I am taking prompts tonight; this is from @daHob’s prompt “Joff gets a pony.”

Year Six, i.e., after current Addergoole timeline.

Joff looked over his half-sister thoughtfully. “‘Vette…?”

This was the first time since they had been at Addergoole that they’d both been free and unKept, and they were finding it a bit heady, or, at least, he was. It was harder to tell with her. She loved everything, everything that brought anyone near her pleasure. Sometimes, he thought she was a far better succubus than he’d ever be an incubus.

Like right now.

“You said you’d always wanted a pony,” she answered, trying for innocent and almost managing, despite the devil-girl look her Change had given her. “Well, he’ll have to do for now.”

Joff looked at the boy, on all fours next to Ivette, bitted, gloved, collared, and saddled. “This isn’t quite what I had in mind,” he admitted, but, before she could pout at him, he knelt down and took the handsome, sweating cheeks in his hands. “But he looked delicious. Thank you, Ivette. May I ride him for a bit before you take him back?”

“Of course, little brother.” She tapped the boy on the ass with the riding crop; tense and twitching already, he jumped nearly out of his skin. “Lee, be nice for Joff here. Do everything he tells you to, do you hear me?”

He mumbled out an answer around the gag that sounded rather like “yes, mistress;” she smiled beatifically down at him.

“You’re such a good boy, darling. I know Joff is going to have such fun riding you.” She tapped his ass again, making the leather crack loudly, and then passed the crop to Joff. “Aren’t you, little brother?”

He looked over the boy lustily. Smart of his sister to know he’d had his eye on this one since the first day of school. Amazingly thoughtful of her to snag him as a present, and truss him up like this.

“I am,” he agreed, suppressing a giggle. The boy was big enough. Maybe he really would just ride him around the room.

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