u/taraaahhh

Friday afternoon. You arrive as a repairman. Once the door closes you drop the act, overpower me, bind my wrists and ankles, force a thick gag into my mouth, and the real work begins. By nightfall I’m already marked, bruised, and learning how little my struggles matter.

Saturday morning finds me suspended in the living room, arms wrenched high and back, toes barely scraping the floor. Permanent marker covers my skin in filthy words. The ropes dig deep every time I shift. One of you wakes, swings me like a toy, then decides I can be useful while you take a piss. The day stretches long and mean—more men, more use, no rest.

By evening I’m on the floor, zip-tied, used until I can barely move. You casually mention the next party will be three times larger. You’ve already emptied my accounts. The only way to lighten the load is to call a friend. You make me do it, coaching every word until she agrees to come over.

Sunday she walks into the trap. I spend the day listening from the next room as they break her worse than me—choking, counting blackouts on her stomach in marker, keeping her up all night. The house is stripped of everything valuable while we are both still being passed around.

Monday morning you leave. Both of us remain bound and gagged in separate rooms, doors barricaded with chairs. Lights off. Windows and outer doors locked. Phones gone. No way to call for help. The only hope is that someone eventually notices the silence and forces their way in.

-----------------------------------------------

Hello DPP,

Anyways, back to the plot. My ADHD mixed with my love for being a director got me carried and I just kept writing so if you want to understand this in short. TLDR: Two girls live in a shared house; one gets home invaded at night forced to bring in her other friend. They both get invaded at Friday Night, and over the course of the weekend they are both fucked and tortured in their own house by 6 men. On Monday morning the men leave the girls after robbing them of all they had both with money and their bodies in separate predicaments that will lead them to death if they try to escape. So their only hope is that someone finds them in a house that has telephone lines cut, windows and doors locked from inside, bedrooms where the girls are barricaded by chairs, and all lights off.

Now that you have made it till here I think you are really into this. So, let me clear off a few things. This is a fantasy I have and I want to play this with a partner who respects this fact. I have a few scenes in my mind which I want to play so if you are someone who does not cares about feedback or what the other person wants please you can stop here. I will love a quick brainstorm session before we move on to the actual fun part. I don’t mind shorter replies but I would love to see effort from your side, you cant use that as excuse.

Brownie points and a chance to standout from the crowd if you had seen stuff from BoundGangbangs by Kink. And do mention your fav shoot from there.

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, Body writing, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Scat and Fart), forced incest is what I love

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome, Animals are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like “hi” or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord

So, hello DirtyPenPals,

I hope you are having a great day. I usually do this at the end of my write up you know explaining my writeup as a plot. But today I am really horny and short of words to write a whole as scene and then explaining it to you all. So, this time I am gonna just share my idea out for you guys to just read. So, the idea is

My aunt now has been facing this problem for now about for year handling both her husband and her Owner (You). She had been cheating on her husband since marriage and no one in the family knew.

She wants to leave her master now and wishes to focus on her life. But here comes the sad part. Her Owner has put this deal up, you bring him a new slave for him and she can leave. She could have got anyone in the world but her Owner had one already fixed in her mind. It was her niece (my character) who he saw in her wedding and felt he needed to own her. When He proposed the idea of bringing me as a slave into the house. It was immediately rejected by my aunt but she was helpless.

Eventually she gets me one day after I come out my college and walking my way back home. She makes me sit in her car and gives me some spiked water to drink. When I wake up, I see nothing but darkness, I feel I am tied to a chair and gagged, naked. For what felt like months. After 2 days finally I heard a sound of the door opening.

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So, this is the idea like ofc from here there is going to be a lot of gaslighting and training is required for my character to become your slave. My aunt wants to help me but she cant do anything but just advise me not to fight this. I want her character to be assigned of the role to train me. And you can be the judge of how well she had trained me.

This is a very rough idea so there must be many inconsistencies which I would love to discuss. Like I really wish to know how can my abduction be performed in a better way. Please don’t jump away with a continuation straight away, talk to me about the characters what you feel about them, what do you think can be their arcs. I would like you to play both the Owner and my aunt, but we can even share the role of the aunt and to be honest I want to discuss on that.

English is not my first language so I am sorry if you see punctuation errors or grammatical errors. I would like someone to have a Dynamic response style, I don’t want you to write me 5 paragraphs when we are having a conversation. I like my responses to be 1-3 paragraphs, yeah the scene starters need to be longer to establish the scene.

Additionally this is more of BDSM and training based roleplay so don’t expect a lot of Sex from it I am more into the mental aspect rather than the physical aspect of it.

Talking of kinks and limits

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, Body writing, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Piss Play is what I love

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome, Animals and no personal pics of mine are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like "hi" or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord or telegram.

The door clicks shut.

For a long time, I don’t move. My cheek is pressed against the rough weave of the blanket, damp with tears and spit from my screaming. The silence is absolute, a physical weight pressing down on my eardrums until they ache. He’s gone. He’ll be back. The cycle is as reliable as a heartbeat I can no longer feel in my own chest.

I push myself up slowly, every muscle protesting. The room hasn’t changed. Four walls of some dull grey soundproofing foam, a single bulb hanging from a wire cage in the center of the ceiling, a plain wooden chair pushed against the wall, a small chest of drawers with nothing in it but more of these shapeless cotton shifts I’m forced to wear, the bucket in the corner for my waste, and this narrow bed. No window. No mirror. Nothing that could reflect a version of me that isn’t broken.

My Master.

The words echo in the hollowed-out space of my mind. I said them. I gave him that. A hot wave of shame washes over me, followed by a colder, more terrifying numbness. What’s one more concession? One more piece of myself handed over to make the hunger stop, to keep the light on, to postpone the utter blackness of being alone in the dark with only his voice in my head?

I curl my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my shins. The position is childish, a feeble attempt at self-comfort. It doesn’t work. The questions are back, swarming like insects under my skin.

What if he’s right?

I remember a sun-drenched park. I remember the smell of cut grass and the sound of children laughing. I remember holding hands with someone—a blurry face, a feeling of warmth. I remember a crowded café, the clatter of dishes, a friend’s voice saying something that made me snort coffee out of my nose.

---------------------------------------------------------

Hello DPP,
I hope you guys are doing great. Well its me Tara again and here is a new plot heavily inspired from the Hungarian movie ‘Feels Like Home’ where the main character of the story was kidnapped and was forced to accept that her past life was a lie and whatever her captor says is what his life is. I am not spoiling the entire movie for you all.
But I am taking a slight twist. Instead of covering the story around the family which has abducted our Main Character. I am planning to keep it more focused on the BDSM and slavery aspect of it. I am planning to have not only the guy but his wife too who owns me in my new life as their slave.
TLDR:
A captive wakes up in an empty room bound and gagged only to be told that whatever life she has lived in her past is all lie and her real past was serving his captor and his wife as a slave.
Talking of kinks and limits
Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, Body writing, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Scat and Fart), forced incest is what I love
Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?
But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome, Animals are the ones where I draw the line.
Casual replies like "hi" or one-liners will be ignored
I write in first person and play on Discord or telegram.

I have a few additional ideas in this which can take the story a little different turn from what you just read. But, its not a crazy hell and heaven change. But I would like to listen from you about what you feel about that. I want you to be a part of my fantasy as much as I am part of this...

“Please… somebody…”

My voice cracked.

I swallowed, took a breath, and tried again.

“HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!”

Nothing.

I screamed until my lungs hurt, until my throat felt raw, until I could barely force another sound out.

“HELP MEEEEEEEE! PLEASE! SOMEONE, PLEASE!”

Silence.

I collapsed against the bed, crying so hard that I could barely breathe.

There was never an answer.

I don't know how long I've been here anymore. Days? Weeks? Longer? There is nothing in this room that tells me. No window. No clock. Nothing beyond a bed, a chair, a drawer, a lamp, and a bucket.

The walls are soundproof.

He made sure of that.

Sometimes I am gagged. Sometimes he removes it. I don't get to decide when I can speak.

I don't even know when it is daytime anymore.

I know only because he comes.

The door opens, and suddenly I know that another stretch of time has passed.

He always comes the same way. He walks in, comes around behind me, crouches down, and puts that notebook in front of me.

“Read.”

I stare at it.

“I don't want to.”

“Read.”

“I've read it already.”

“Then read it again.”

I hate that notebook.

Every page is about me.

My name. My birthplace. My life.

Or what he insists was my life.

He tells me I was homeless. That I had nobody. That I was desperate for someone to care about me.

“I took you in,” he tells me.

I remember looking at him the first time he said that.

“You're lying.”

He simply shook his head.

“No. You're the one who doesn't remember.”

Then he points at the notebook.

“You asked me to take care of you.”

“No, I didn't.”

“You begged me.”

“I never begged you for anything.”

“You became my slave willingly.”

I don't answer.

He turns the page.

“You loved serving me.”

“That's not true.”

“You loved having a purpose.”

“Stop.”

“You were grateful for everything I gave you.”

“Stop!”

“And when you did something wrong, you accepted your punishment.”

“I SAID STOP!”

He doesn't.

He just keeps reading.

According to him, I eventually asked him to become my Master.

According to him, I was happy.

According to him, everything was perfect.

Until he decided to marry someone else.

He says I couldn't accept it.

He says I became jealous.

He says I left the house while he was away and disappeared.

And then, somehow, he found me.

“You came back to me,” he says.

“No.”

“I found you.”

“You kidnapped me.”

His expression doesn't change.

“I brought you home.”

“This isn't my home.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn't.”

He taps the notebook.

“You just don't remember.”

That's what he always says.

I don't remember.

I don't remember.

I don't remember.

The words have started following me even when he isn't here.

What if I really don't remember?

What if everything I believe happened before this room is wrong?

I remember people.

I remember places.

I remember laughing.

I remember crying.

I remember having a life.

I remember people who mattered to me.

But what if those memories aren't real?

What if I invented them?

What if every person I remember, every relationship, every moment of happiness, every moment of sadness—all of it was somehow a lie?

The questions never stop.

And there is nothing in this room to drown them out.

Eventually, the door opens again.

I know what comes next.

He puts the notebook in front of me.

“Let's see how much you remember today.”

I don't answer.

He waits.

“What's your name?”

I tell him.

“Where were you born?”

I answer.

“What was your life like before you met me?”

I stay silent.

He sighs.

“You're making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I don't know what you want me to say.”

“You know exactly what I want you to say.”

“I don't.”

He opens the notebook.

“Then we'll start again.”

“No.”

“Read.”

“I said no.”

He closes the notebook.

“Fine.”

My stomach drops.

“You know what happens when you refuse.”

I stare at the floor.

“You don't eat until you're willing to cooperate.”

I don't respond.

“And if you still refuse?”

I already know the answer.

“Then you don't drink either.”

My eyes fill with tears.

He gets up.

“And if you continue?”

He looks at me for a moment.

“No food. No water. No light. And eventually, no visits.”

The door begins to close.

I panic.

“Wait.”

He stops.

I hate myself for saying it.

“Please.”

He turns around.

“Please what?”

I look at the notebook.

“Just…”

My voice breaks.

“Just ask me again.”

He smiles faintly.

“What's your name?”

I answer.

“Where were you born?”

I answer again.

“And who was I to you?”

I stare at him.

My mind screams at me that the answer is impossible.

But he waits.

“My Master,” I whisper.

“Good.”

He opens the notebook again.

“Now we're getting somewhere.”

---------------------------------

Hello DPP,

I hope you guys are doing great. Well its me Tara again and here is a new plot heavily inspired from the Hungarian movie ‘Feels Like Home’ where the main character of the story was kidnapped and was forced to accept that her past life was a lie and whatever her captor says is what his life is. I am not spoiling the entire movie for you all.

But I am taking a slight twist. Instead of covering the story around the family which has abducted our Main Character. I am planning to keep it more focused on the BDSM and slavery aspect of it. I am planning to have not only the guy but his wife too who owns me in my new life as their slave.

TLDR:

A captive wakes up in an empty room bound and gagged only to be told that whatever life she has lived in her past is all lie and her real past was serving his captor and his wife as a slave.

Talking of kinks and limits

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, Body writing, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Scat and Fart), forced incest is what I love

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome, Animals are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like "hi" or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord

“HELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPP MEEEEEEEEEEEEE……PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SOMEBODYYYY HEELLLLLPPPPPPP…………” I ended up crying screaming for help but there was nothing but silence. I don’t know how long I have been kept in this room. Its an empty room there is nothing but a bed, a chair, a drawer, a lamp and a bucket. The walls of the room are sound proofed hence he gags me or ungags me when he wants me to talk. I have no idea of day or night, its him when he cruelly wakes me up. I truly rely on him trusting him that its day or night.

He comes to me everyday crouches behind me and forces me to read his stupid notebook. The notebook is simply nothing but tells everything about my life till the point I woke up here in this room. My name, my place of birth, how I was his slave and how I loved everyday of serving him, and being punished by him when I did something wrong. He says I was a homeless person, who craved for love and care and he took care of me and hence eventually I myself asked him to be my Master. According to his story I could never take that he was getting married to someone else than me and hence I left the house in his absence and never came back. Until one day when he found me and got me back ‘home’ to serve him and his wife and be the happy family he wanted us to be.

Complete bullshit, how can I come to terms with the fact that all of my life which I lived was a lie? all my memories? All the relationships I had? The moments of joy and sadness is everything a lie? The questions eat my head every day in the darkness of this room. How can I avoid them? How can I not let them eat my head. When I am made to answer his questions from the book everyday before I eat every meal or drink water or before I sleep. He says the faster he realizes that I have remembered everything from my past life I can get out of the room and serve him and the more defiance I show the longer I stay here and gradually I will be cut off from water, food, light, and slowly no one will show up to my room.

-------------------------------

Hello DPP,

I hope you guys are doing great. Well its me Tara again and here is a new plot heavily inspired from the Hungarian movie ‘Feels Like Home’ where the main character of the story was kidnapped and was forced to accept that her past life was a lie and whatever her captor says is what his life is. I am not spoiling the entire movie for you all.

But I am taking a slight twist. Instead of covering the story around the family which has abducted our Main Character. I am planning to keep it more focused on the BDSM and slavery aspect of it. I am planning to have not only the guy but his wife too who owns me in my new life as their slave.

TLDR:

A captive wakes up in an empty room bound and gagged only to be told that whatever life she has lived in her past is all lie and her real past was serving his captor and his wife as a slave.

Talking of kinks and limits

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, Body writing, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Scat and Fart), forced incest is what I love

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome, Animals are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like "hi" or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord

“HELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPP MEEEEEEEEEEEEE……PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SOMEBODYYYY HEELLLLLPPPPPPP…………” I ended up crying screaming for help but there was nothing but silence. I don’t know how long I have been kept in this room. Its an empty room there is nothing but a bed, a chair, a drawer, a lamp and a bucket. The walls of the room are sound proofed hence he gags me or ungags me when he wants me to talk. I have no idea of day or night, its him when he cruelly wakes me up. I truly rely on him trusting him that its day or night.

He comes to me everyday crouches behind me and forces me to read his stupid notebook. The notebook is simply nothing but tells everything about my life till the point I woke up here in this room. My name, my place of birth, how I was his slave and how I loved everyday of serving him, and being punished by him when I did something wrong. He says I was a homeless person, who craved for love and care and he took care of me and hence eventually I myself asked him to be my Master. According to his story I could never take that he was getting married to someone else than me and hence I left the house in his absence and never came back. Until one day when he found me and got me back ‘home’ to serve him and his wife and be the happy family he wanted us to be.

Complete bullshit, how can I come to terms with the fact that all of my life which I lived was a lie? all my memories? All the relationships I had? The moments of joy and sadness is everything a lie? The questions eat my head every day in the darkness of this room. How can I avoid them? How can I not let them eat my head. When I am made to answer his questions from the book everyday before I eat every meal or drink water or before I sleep. He says the faster he realizes that I have remembered everything from my past life I can get out of the room and serve him and the more defiance I show the longer I stay here and gradually I will be cut off from water, food, light, and slowly no one will show up to my room.

-------------------------------

Hello DPP,

I hope you guys are doing great. Well its me Tara again and here is a new plot heavily inspired from the Hungarian movie ‘Feels Like Home’ where the main character of the story was kidnapped and was forced to accept that her past life was a lie and whatever her captor says is what his life is. I am not spoiling the entire movie for you all.

But I am taking a slight twist. Instead of covering the story around the family which has abducted our Main Character. I am planning to keep it more focused on the BDSM and slavery aspect of it. I am planning to have not only the guy but his wife too who owns me in my new life as their slave.

TLDR:

A captive wakes up in an empty room bound and gagged only to be told that whatever life she has lived in her past is all lie and her real past was serving his captor and his wife as a slave.

Talking of kinks and limits

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, Body writing, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Scat and Fart), forced incest is what I love

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome, Animals are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like "hi" or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord

Friday afternoon. You arrive as a repairman. Once the door closes you drop the act, overpower me, bind my wrists and ankles, force a thick gag into my mouth, and the real work begins. By nightfall I’m already marked, bruised, and learning how little my struggles matter.

Saturday morning finds me suspended in the living room, arms wrenched high and back, toes barely scraping the floor. Permanent marker covers my skin in filthy words. The ropes dig deep every time I shift. One of you wakes, swings me like a toy, then decides I can be useful while you take a piss. The day stretches long and mean—more men, more use, no rest.

By evening I’m on the floor, zip-tied, used until I can barely move. You casually mention the next party will be three times larger. You’ve already emptied my accounts. The only way to lighten the load is to call a friend. You make me do it, coaching every word until she agrees to come over.

Sunday she walks into the trap. I spend the day listening from the next room as they break her worse than me—choking, counting blackouts on her stomach in marker, keeping her up all night. The house is stripped of everything valuable while we are both still being passed around.

Monday morning you leave. Both of us remain bound and gagged in separate rooms, doors barricaded with chairs. Lights off. Windows and outer doors locked. Phones gone. No way to call for help. The only hope is that someone eventually notices the silence and forces their way in.

-----------------------------------------------

Hello DPP,

Anyways, back to the plot. My ADHD mixed with my love for being a director got me carried and I just kept writing so if you want to understand this in short. TLDR: Two girls live in a shared house; one gets home invaded at night forced to bring in her other friend. They both get invaded at Friday Night, and over the course of the weekend they are both fucked and tortured in their own house by 6 men. On Monday morning the men leave the girls after robbing them of all they had both with money and their bodies in separate predicaments that will lead them to death if they try to escape. So their only hope is that someone finds them in a house that has telephone lines cut, windows and doors locked from inside, bedrooms where the girls are barricaded by chairs, and all lights off.

Now that you have made it till here I think you are really into this. So, let me clear off a few things. This is a fantasy I have and I want to play this with a partner who respects this fact. I have a few scenes in my mind which I want to play so if you are someone who does not cares about feedback or what the other person wants please you can stop here. I will love a quick brainstorm session before we move on to the actual fun part. I don’t mind shorter replies but I would love to see effort from your side, you cant use that as excuse.

Brownie points and a chance to standout from the crowd if you had seen stuff from BoundGangbangs by Kink. And do mention your fav shoot from there.

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, Body writing, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Scat and Fart), forced incest is what I love

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome, Animals are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like “hi” or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord

Well the title pretty much says what I want from my partner for this play. Well I will keep the story simple. It’s a classic Home invasion. If you don't wanna read it all there is a TLDR at the end in bold, but I would really recommend you to have a read. And the back story goes like.

Two young college girls (Natasha and Alyssa) in their early 20s are doing their masters in the state of Cleveland living in a same shared apartment.

While Natasha has her live like messed up like wires. Alyssa on the other hand is more sorted. Both the girls like their lives have completely contrasting social lives. While Natasha had sex 2 years ago and has been avoiding that after her breakup, Alyssa on the other hand had a relationship now for 2 years.

When on a fine night. Alyssa finally managed to convince Natasha to go on a date  installing Tinder on her roommate’s phone and match her with the first hot guy she saw on the app. Natasha was not happy at first but she finally said yes to the plan.

It was the day. Both the girls, were helping each other to finalize a dress for each of their event. While Natasha was going for a date after 2 years, it was the 2^(nd) anniversary of Alyssa and her boyfriend. They both left the house. Alyssa dropped Natasha to her date and left for her boyfriend’s house. She was about to pick her after her date.

The date was a disaster for Nightmare. Natasha soon understood something was rotten around Denmark. Woman had strong instincts. The man, Ethan was being too good to be true. Things took the awkward turn when he wanted Natasha to join him and his friends for drinks. Natasha had to refuse the offer multiple times to make Ethan understand that she is not willing.

Natasha wanted to leave as soon as possible. She was doing the most awkward short talks, she has made her mind. And then comes a bomb, Alyssa can’t make it tonight to pick her up, she needs to take a cab. As she was standing outside the café Ethan offered a ride to home as an act of making up for being a jerk and ruining the date. Natasha thought for a while and got in the car. But she quickly realized it was a bad decision, Ethan throughout the trip tried to touch her thighs, or hands despite refusals. At times it was being visible he was having a boner with Natasha by her side. Natasha just wished to reach home safely. At least he was taking her home according to the route she said him too.

It was a cloudy night and as soon as Natsha reached her home it started to rain. She held her handbag to her head covering it and dashed towards the door. Ethan said a bye but got no reply as Natasha entered the house without even acknowledging him. A few hours later when Natasha was home alone she heard a knock, which was getting aggressive with time. She partly opened the door till her door chain allowed. Outside was a man who claimed his Car crashed a few streets behind and showed a broken phone at Natasha saying he needed to make a phone to his wife. Natasha had to act in panic and as a human being she decided to help. Little did she know as she will open her door and turn to get her phone from charging 6 men would climb over her placing a zip bag at her face and sealing that with a ziptie and add zips around her ankles and wrists. Making her struggle for breath, making her squirm for a fish out of water. She was just going to go unconscious but just before that the last words she heard were “Never say no to a man, Natasha”. And the world went dark.

-----------------------------------------------------

Hello DPP,

No I am not killing Natasha. I know this in real life would lead to death but for this I am just making Natasha unconscious. I just found this too hot when Gus did this to Arturo in Better Call Saul.

Anyways, back to the plot. My ADHD mixed with my love for being a director got me carried and I just kept writing so if you want to understand this in short. TLDR: Two girls live in a shared house; one gets home invaded at night forced to bring in her other friend. They both get invaded at Friday Night, and over the course of the weekend they are both fucked and tortured in their own house by 6 men. On Monday morning the men leave the girls after robbing them of all they had both with money and their bodies in separate predicaments that will lead them to death if they try to escape. So their only hope is that someone finds them in a house that has telephone lines cut, windows and doors locked from inside, bedrooms where the girls are barricaded by chairs, and all lights off.

Now that you have made it till here I think you are really into this. So, let me clear off a few things. This is a fantasy I have and I want to play this with a partner who respects this fact. I have a few scenes in my mind which I want to play so if you are someone who does not cares about feedback or what the other person wants please you can stop here. I will love a quick brainstorm session before we move on to the actual fun part. I don’t mind shorter replies but I would love to see effort from your side, you cant use that as excuse.

Brownie points and a chance to standout from the crowd if you had seen stuff from BoundGangbangs by Kink. And do mention your fav shoot from there.

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, Body writing, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Scat and Fart), forced incest is what I love

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome, Animals are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like “hi” or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord

Hello all, I am F(21) and am currently in discussion with a partner M(23) over trying our fantasies of BDSM. One of the fantasies he has is 'Claustrophilia' for which the literal meaning goes like finding comfort, pleasure or love in extremely small, confined, closed in spaces. I am ok with trying out being tied and gagged in cages, car trunks, suitcases, duffle bags etc.
What safety measures should we keep in mind before starting our adventures??

Hello,
My name is Emma, and the worst day of my life began like any other—with me ignoring my alarms. I hit snooze three times before the fourth one finally forced me out of bed. I was a mess: tripping over my own clutter, finding my toothbrush in a jacket pocket, searching for my keys in the refrigerator. My roommate Hannah, who basically functioned as my keeper, had to tell me they were on the table. Again. I rushed out, forgetting my laptop, my phone, my coffee. It was just a Tuesday. The last normal one.

Hannah always said my love life was hopeless. I could get dates, but I never said yes. Guys were too boring, too arrogant, or reminded me of a teacher. To get her off my back, I finally downloaded an app. I matched with Ethan. He seemed funny and normal. For our date, Hannah made me wear a black dress that made me look like I actually tried. The date started fine. He was easy to talk to. But when the check came, he asked about going back to his place. I said no. He pushed, acting hurt, saying I was making it a big deal. I held my ground. Afterward, it was raining, my phone was dead, and I had no ride. He offered to drive me home, all fake apologies and chivalry. I didn’t want to, but I was stuck. The ride was silent and tense. When he dropped me off, he said, “Maybe next time you’ll trust me more.” I knew there wouldn’t be a next time.

Life went back to normal. Then, on a Friday night, Hannah and I had plans for a movie night. An hour before, her sister called with an emergency. We got into a huge fight about her always bailing on me. She left, slamming the door. I was alone and angry, trying to distract myself with chores, when the doorbell rang.

It was a man asking to borrow a phone charger. He said his car died. It seemed like a harmless favor. I said yes, turned my back to get a charger, and that’s when he attacked me. A bag went over my head. I was forced to the floor, my wrists and ankles bound before I could even scream. As I was suffocating, fighting for air, he leaned close and whispered, “Remember me, Emma?”"

-----------------------------------------------------------

Hello DPP,

So now that I look back at what I have written I kinda hate my ADHD, since I got into a zone of writing and it was very difficult to get back from that zone.

I hope this clears on the context story. The men who have attacked me are Ethan and his friends. I have an idea on how I want the story to continue. So I wont open everything up right here.

So go ahead drop me a text on what you feel about the story. A thing I would warn you is there will be snuff in the end of my story. So if you are ok with that I am very open. Additionally I would require you to play different men as I can play both Emma and Hannah…

My inspiration for this roleplay will be scenarios from ‘Bound Gangbangs’ from Kink

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, Body writing, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Scat and Fart), forced incest is what I love

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like “hi” or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord

https://preview.redd.it/lpizb1b6g3gh1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=798feb8b754f1aa86266dc6c349063f75e2b976d

Same as the title

its a long read, I hope by the end of it you will love it

"People think the worst day of your life starts with screaming. Mine started with my fourth alarm."

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I ignored the first one.

The second one became part of my dream.

The third one? I slapped it so hard it almost fell off the nightstand.

The fourth one finally convinced me I was about to miss my 9 a.m. journalism lecture.

I shot out of bed, tripped over yesterday's jeans, found my toothbrush in my hoodie pocket don't ask and somehow ended up searching for my keys inside the refrigerator.

"Emma!" A scream came from the dining table.

That was  Hannah.

My best friend.

My roommate.

And, if we're being honest, she is the only reason I hadn't accidentally burned the house down.

"They're on the dining table."

"No, they're not."

"They're literally on the dining table."

...They were on the dining table.

  Hannah liked to say living with me was like living with a golden retriever that shared the rent.

I barely made it out the front door before realizing I'd forgotten my laptop.

Then my phone.

Then my coffee.

I wish I could tell you that morning felt different.

That I had some gut feeling.

That the universe tried to warn me.

It didn't.

It was just another Tuesday.

If I'd known that was the last normal Tuesday of my life...
I think I would've stayed in bed.

 Hannah had this theory that my love life was a lost cause.

Not because I couldn't get dates.

That part had never really been the problem.

Guys flirted with me at the coffee shop, classmates found suspiciously creative reasons to ask for my notes, and every now and then I'd catch  Hannah rolling her eyes as another stranger worked up the courage to say hello.

The problem was... I almost always said no.

"Too boring."

"Too full of himself."

"He called himself an entrepreneur. He's twenty-two and unemployed."

 Hannah's personal favorite was the guy I turned down because he reminded me of my high school chemistry teacher.

"Emma," she'd sighed, "you're gonna die alone with twelve plants and a suspicious number of coffee mugs."

"I like plants."

"You don't even water the one you own."

"...That's not the point."

So one Thursday night, partly because  Hannah wouldn't let it go and partly because I was tired of pretending she didn't have a point, I downloaded a dating app.

A few awkward conversations later...

I matched with Ethan.

Funny.

Easy to talk to.

Normal.

Or at least... that's what I thought.

 Hannah spent twenty minutes deciding what I should wear.

I spent nineteen convincing her it wasn't a fashion show.

"Emma, first impressions matter."

"So does showing up."

"You're impossible."

"I've been told."

She ignored me and pulled out the black dress from my closet.

Not the one I usually wore when I wanted to disappear into a crowd. This was different.

A simple black dress with a fitted shape, clean lines, and just enough edge to make it look like I actually cared. It wasn't flashy, but it had a confidence I usually didn't bother with. The kind of dress that made me stand a little straighter the moment I put it on.

 Hannah held it up with a satisfied smile.

"This one."

I looked at it.

"It's just dinner."

"Exactly. You're allowed to look like you tried."

 Hannah wasn't done. She left my hair down in loose waves, fastened a pair of small silver hoops, and brushed just enough makeup onto my face to hide the fact that I'd slept through three alarms that morning. A little mascara, a soft nude lipstick, and suddenly I looked less like a sleep-deprived journalism student and more like someone who actually belonged on a Friday night date. She stepped back, folded her arms, and smiled. "Go. And don't spend the entire evening interviewing the poor guy."

I laughed, grabbed my keys, and left.

Honestly...

The date started better than I expected.

Ethan was exactly how he'd seemed over text.

Funny.

Confident.

Easy to talk to.

For a while, I actually enjoyed myself.

Then, somewhere between dessert and the check...

The conversation changed.

"So..." Ethan smiled. "What happens after this?"

I looked up.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged.

"Your place. My place. Doesn't really matter."

I laughed, thinking he was joking.

He wasn't.

"You're serious?"

"Come on, Emma."

The way he said my name felt different.

"I mean, we've been talking for days."

"Over text."

"Still counts."

I smiled politely.

"I don't go home with someone on the first date."

He leaned back, studying me.

"Why?"

"Because I don't."

A small smile appeared on his face.

"You're making it sound like I'm some random guy."

"You are."

The smile disappeared.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Then he laughed.

"Okay. Wow."

"What?"

"Nothing. I just thought there was a connection here."

"There can be a connection without that."

"Sure. But you're acting like I'm asking for something crazy."

"I said no, Ethan."

That should have been the end of it.

It wasn't.

A few minutes later, he tried again.

"Just come over for one drink."

"No."

"You don't even have to stay long."

"No."

He looked away, frustrated.

Then he took a breath and smiled again.

"Okay. Fine."

The switch was almost too quick.

"I'm sorry. I got carried away."

Outside, the rain had started coming down harder.

My phone showed three percent battery.

No rides available.

Perfect.

Ethan noticed.

"I'll take you home."

"I'm okay."

"Emma."

His voice softened.

"I know I messed up."

"I just want to make sure you get home safe."

I didn't want to sit in his car.

But I wanted to get home more.

So I nodded.

The drive was quiet.

He apologized once.

Then again.

I didn't really answer.

I just watched the streetlights pass by and waited for the moment the car would finally stop.

When we reached my house, I opened the door.

"Thanks for the ride."

He smiled.

"Maybe next time you'll trust me a little more."

I paused.

Then I forced a smile.

"Goodnight, Ethan."

I stepped out.

And by the time I locked my front door...

I had already decided I was never seeing him again.

A few days passed.

Then life got busy again.

Classes. Assignments. Coffee shifts.

Ethan became nothing more than an awkward story  Hannah occasionally brought up.

It was Friday night,  Hannah and I had plans.

Movie night.

Takeout.

A night where neither of us had to worry about deadlines or responsibilities. No lectures to prep for, no shifts to cover, nothing but the two of us and a couch and whatever terrible rom-com  Hannah would inevitably pick.

I'd been looking forward to it all week.

Then, an hour before, her phone rang.

I watched her face change the second she looked at the screen. That specific tightness she got whenever it was her sister.

She answered, stepped into the hallway, came back a minute later already reaching for her jacket.

"Emma—"

"Don't."

"She needs help with something, I have to—"

"You're kidding."

"I know. I know. I'm sorry."

"You promised,  Hannah. You promised me this one night. Do you have any idea how long I've been looking forward to this?"

"It's my sister. What am I supposed to do, tell her no?"

"I want you to keep your word for once. This is the third time this month you've bailed."

"That's not fair."

"No — you know what's not fair? Me sitting here every single time, making plans that mean nothing the second your phone rings."

She stopped, one arm already in her jacket sleeve, jaw tight.

"I don't have time for this right now."

"Of course you don't."

"Emma."

"Just go. Go help your sister. I'll be here. Like always."

She looked at me for a long second, like she wanted to say something else, something sharper — and then just shook her head instead.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"Sure we will."

The door closed behind her harder than it needed to.

The house went quiet.

Too quiet.

I stood in the middle of the living room for a second, furious and a little ashamed of how furious I was, then decided the only cure was to keep my hands busy. I turned the radio on. Turned it off. Started loading the dishwasher for no reason other than it gave me something to do that wasn't replaying the argument on a loop.

I was drying my hands when the doorbell rang.

I went still.

I wasn't expecting anyone. For one hopeful, stupid second I thought it might be  Hannah, back to finish what we'd started, and some small part of me wanted that.

I checked the peephole, the way she always nagged me to.

A man stood on the porch. No uniform, no clipboard, nothing official about him at all — just a guy in a plain jacket, hands in his pockets, looking mildly embarrassed.

"Hey, sorry — really random question," he said. "Do you have a phone charger I could borrow? Just for a minute. My car died down the street and my phone's about to go with it, I need to call someone."

It was such a small, forgettable ask. The kind of thing you'd say yes to without thinking twice.

"Yeah, hold on."

I opened the door and turned back into the house, already heading for the kitchen drawer where the spare chargers lived.

I never heard him step inside. I never heard the door move.

What I heard, half a second later, was a floorboard creak that was too close, too fast — and before I could even turn my head, something dropped over my face from behind. Plastic, cold and thin, yanked tight against my mouth.

My hands flew up on instinct, clawing at it, and I tried to scream — it came out thin and swallowed, gone before it reached my own ears. Someone caught my wrists. A second pair of hands wrenched my arms back, and a knee drove into the back of mine, folding my legs out from under me.

I kicked. Hit something solid. It didn't slow anything down.

My wrists were bound before I finished falling. Then my ankles, cinched so tight I could feel my own pulse against the plastic.

The world narrowed to the roar of my blood and the desperate, useless heave of my chest, trying to pull in air the bag wouldn't let through. Gray crept in at the edges of everything, soft and patient, like the world was quietly getting foggy and blurry. I struggled for air.

And through it, close to my ear, a voice I knew.

Calm. Amused. Like he'd been waiting all night just to say it.

"Remember me, Emma?"

Everything inside me froze.

The door slammed shut behind me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello DPP,

So now that I look back at what I have written I kinda hate my ADHD, since I got into a zone of writing and it was very difficult to get back from that zone.

I hope this clears on the context story. The men who have attacked me are Ethan and his friends. I have an idea on how I want the story to continue. So I wont open everything up right here.

So go ahead drop me a text on what you feel about the story. A thing I would warn you is there will be snuff in the end of my story. So if you are ok with that I am very open. Additionally I would require you to play different men as I can play both Emma and Hannah…

My inspiration for this roleplay will be scenarios from ‘Bound Gangbangs’ from Kink

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Shit), race play, forced incest is what I love and desire

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like “hi” or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord

its a long read, I hope by the end of it you will love it

"People think the worst day of your life starts with screaming. Mine started with my fourth alarm."

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I ignored the first one.

The second one became part of my dream.

The third one? I slapped it so hard it almost fell off the nightstand.

The fourth one finally convinced me I was about to miss my 9 a.m. journalism lecture.

I shot out of bed, tripped over yesterday's jeans, found my toothbrush in my hoodie pocket don't ask and somehow ended up searching for my keys inside the refrigerator.

"Emma!" A scream came from the dining table.

That was  Hannah.

My best friend.

My roommate.

And, if we're being honest, she is the only reason I hadn't accidentally burned the house down.

"They're on the dining table."

"No, they're not."

"They're literally on the dining table."

...They were on the dining table.

  Hannah liked to say living with me was like living with a golden retriever that shared the rent.

I barely made it out the front door before realizing I'd forgotten my laptop.

Then my phone.

Then my coffee.

I wish I could tell you that morning felt different.

That I had some gut feeling.

That the universe tried to warn me.

It didn't.

It was just another Tuesday.

If I'd known that was the last normal Tuesday of my life...
I think I would've stayed in bed.

 Hannah had this theory that my love life was a lost cause.

Not because I couldn't get dates.

That part had never really been the problem.

Guys flirted with me at the coffee shop, classmates found suspiciously creative reasons to ask for my notes, and every now and then I'd catch  Hannah rolling her eyes as another stranger worked up the courage to say hello.

The problem was... I almost always said no.

"Too boring."

"Too full of himself."

"He called himself an entrepreneur. He's twenty-two and unemployed."

 Hannah's personal favorite was the guy I turned down because he reminded me of my high school chemistry teacher.

"Emma," she'd sighed, "you're gonna die alone with twelve plants and a suspicious number of coffee mugs."

"I like plants."

"You don't even water the one you own."

"...That's not the point."

So one Thursday night, partly because  Hannah wouldn't let it go and partly because I was tired of pretending she didn't have a point, I downloaded a dating app.

A few awkward conversations later...

I matched with Ethan.

Funny.

Easy to talk to.

Normal.

Or at least... that's what I thought.

 Hannah spent twenty minutes deciding what I should wear.

I spent nineteen convincing her it wasn't a fashion show.

"Emma, first impressions matter."

"So does showing up."

"You're impossible."

"I've been told."

She ignored me and pulled out the black dress from my closet.

Not the one I usually wore when I wanted to disappear into a crowd. This was different.

A simple black dress with a fitted shape, clean lines, and just enough edge to make it look like I actually cared. It wasn't flashy, but it had a confidence I usually didn't bother with. The kind of dress that made me stand a little straighter the moment I put it on.

 Hannah held it up with a satisfied smile.

"This one."

I looked at it.

"It's just dinner."

"Exactly. You're allowed to look like you tried."

 Hannah wasn't done. She left my hair down in loose waves, fastened a pair of small silver hoops, and brushed just enough makeup onto my face to hide the fact that I'd slept through three alarms that morning. A little mascara, a soft nude lipstick, and suddenly I looked less like a sleep-deprived journalism student and more like someone who actually belonged on a Friday night date. She stepped back, folded her arms, and smiled. "Go. And don't spend the entire evening interviewing the poor guy."

I laughed, grabbed my keys, and left.

Honestly...

The date started better than I expected.

Ethan was exactly how he'd seemed over text.

Funny.

Confident.

Easy to talk to.

For a while, I actually enjoyed myself.

Then, somewhere between dessert and the check...

The conversation changed.

"So..." Ethan smiled. "What happens after this?"

I looked up.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged.

"Your place. My place. Doesn't really matter."

I laughed, thinking he was joking.

He wasn't.

"You're serious?"

"Come on, Emma."

The way he said my name felt different.

"I mean, we've been talking for days."

"Over text."

"Still counts."

I smiled politely.

"I don't go home with someone on the first date."

He leaned back, studying me.

"Why?"

"Because I don't."

A small smile appeared on his face.

"You're making it sound like I'm some random guy."

"You are."

The smile disappeared.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Then he laughed.

"Okay. Wow."

"What?"

"Nothing. I just thought there was a connection here."

"There can be a connection without that."

"Sure. But you're acting like I'm asking for something crazy."

"I said no, Ethan."

That should have been the end of it.

It wasn't.

A few minutes later, he tried again.

"Just come over for one drink."

"No."

"You don't even have to stay long."

"No."

He looked away, frustrated.

Then he took a breath and smiled again.

"Okay. Fine."

The switch was almost too quick.

"I'm sorry. I got carried away."

Outside, the rain had started coming down harder.

My phone showed three percent battery.

No rides available.

Perfect.

Ethan noticed.

"I'll take you home."

"I'm okay."

"Emma."

His voice softened.

"I know I messed up."

"I just want to make sure you get home safe."

I didn't want to sit in his car.

But I wanted to get home more.

So I nodded.

The drive was quiet.

He apologized once.

Then again.

I didn't really answer.

I just watched the streetlights pass by and waited for the moment the car would finally stop.

When we reached my house, I opened the door.

"Thanks for the ride."

He smiled.

"Maybe next time you'll trust me a little more."

I paused.

Then I forced a smile.

"Goodnight, Ethan."

I stepped out.

And by the time I locked my front door...

I had already decided I was never seeing him again.

A few days passed.

Then life got busy again.

Classes. Assignments. Coffee shifts.

Ethan became nothing more than an awkward story  Hannah occasionally brought up.

It was Friday night,  Hannah and I had plans.

Movie night.

Takeout.

A night where neither of us had to worry about deadlines or responsibilities. No lectures to prep for, no shifts to cover, nothing but the two of us and a couch and whatever terrible rom-com  Hannah would inevitably pick.

I'd been looking forward to it all week.

Then, an hour before, her phone rang.

I watched her face change the second she looked at the screen. That specific tightness she got whenever it was her sister.

She answered, stepped into the hallway, came back a minute later already reaching for her jacket.

"Emma—"

"Don't."

"She needs help with something, I have to—"

"You're kidding."

"I know. I know. I'm sorry."

"You promised,  Hannah. You promised me this one night. Do you have any idea how long I've been looking forward to this?"

"It's my sister. What am I supposed to do, tell her no?"

"I want you to keep your word for once. This is the third time this month you've bailed."

"That's not fair."

"No — you know what's not fair? Me sitting here every single time, making plans that mean nothing the second your phone rings."

She stopped, one arm already in her jacket sleeve, jaw tight.

"I don't have time for this right now."

"Of course you don't."

"Emma."

"Just go. Go help your sister. I'll be here. Like always."

She looked at me for a long second, like she wanted to say something else, something sharper — and then just shook her head instead.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"Sure we will."

The door closed behind her harder than it needed to.

The house went quiet.

Too quiet.

I stood in the middle of the living room for a second, furious and a little ashamed of how furious I was, then decided the only cure was to keep my hands busy. I turned the radio on. Turned it off. Started loading the dishwasher for no reason other than it gave me something to do that wasn't replaying the argument on a loop.

I was drying my hands when the doorbell rang.

I went still.

I wasn't expecting anyone. For one hopeful, stupid second I thought it might be  Hannah, back to finish what we'd started, and some small part of me wanted that.

I checked the peephole, the way she always nagged me to.

A man stood on the porch. No uniform, no clipboard, nothing official about him at all — just a guy in a plain jacket, hands in his pockets, looking mildly embarrassed.

"Hey, sorry — really random question," he said. "Do you have a phone charger I could borrow? Just for a minute. My car died down the street and my phone's about to go with it, I need to call someone."

It was such a small, forgettable ask. The kind of thing you'd say yes to without thinking twice.

"Yeah, hold on."

I opened the door and turned back into the house, already heading for the kitchen drawer where the spare chargers lived.

I never heard him step inside. I never heard the door move.

What I heard, half a second later, was a floorboard creak that was too close, too fast — and before I could even turn my head, something dropped over my face from behind. Plastic, cold and thin, yanked tight against my mouth.

My hands flew up on instinct, clawing at it, and I tried to scream — it came out thin and swallowed, gone before it reached my own ears. Someone caught my wrists. A second pair of hands wrenched my arms back, and a knee drove into the back of mine, folding my legs out from under me.

I kicked. Hit something solid. It didn't slow anything down.

My wrists were bound before I finished falling. Then my ankles, cinched so tight I could feel my own pulse against the plastic.

The world narrowed to the roar of my blood and the desperate, useless heave of my chest, trying to pull in air the bag wouldn't let through. Gray crept in at the edges of everything, soft and patient, like the world was quietly getting foggy and blurry. I struggled for air.

And through it, close to my ear, a voice I knew.

Calm. Amused. Like he'd been waiting all night just to say it.

"Remember me, Emma?"

Everything inside me froze.

The door slammed shut behind me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello DPP,

So now that I look back at what I have written I kinda hate my ADHD, since I got into a zone of writing and it was very difficult to get back from that zone.

I hope this clears on the context story. The men who have attacked me are Ethan and his friends. I have an idea on how I want the story to continue. So I wont open everything up right here.

So go ahead drop me a text on what you feel about the story. A thing I would warn you is there will be snuff in the end of my story. So if you are ok with that I am very open. Additionaly I would require you to play different men as I can play both Emma and Hannah…

My inspiration for this roleplay will be scenarios from ‘Bound Gangbangs’ from Kink.Com

Well, if you ask me what I am into. I got to say Abduction fantasies comes at first. The core concept of sexual slavery with abduction mixed in it, I just love it. Cage, Hoods, Blindfolds, chains, shackles just the basic stuff. Uniforms and outfits attract me as well. Additionally, you know forced orgasms, orgasm denials, overstimulation, being recorded, being watched, objectification, humiliation, Hair Pulling, Watersports, Toilet Play (Except Shit), race play, forced incest is what I love and desire

Limits : I'm your kidnapped rapeslut. What the fuck do you care about my limits?

But to be honest permanent physical damage, blood, cutting, gore, scat, vomit, pregnancy, Stockholm Syndrome are the ones where I draw the line.

Casual replies like “hi” or one-liners will be ignored

I write in first person and play on Discord

https://preview.redd.it/wcimwroc60fh1.png?width=1280&format=png&auto=webp&s=cbd0c8ffc75533b967ecb94cd65d35a5accaea1e