I want to play a "re-programming" plot. My character is a 29-year-old engineer, articulate, stubborn, and independent. You’re the director of a "wellness center" that’s actually a front for a Stepford-style conditioning program.

My character, Elena, is a 29-year-old lead systems engineer. She’s sharp, a bit arrogant, and used to being the smartest person in the room. She checked into your "Executive Wellness Retreat" to deal with burnout. She didn't realize that the "Neural-Alignment" paperwork she signed actually gave you full legal guardianship and "re-coding" rights. 

I’m looking for a Dom who’s into the slow crawl of breaking someone down. Think heavy psychological play, repetitive tasks, and forcing me into that "perfect, smiling doll" role. I want to roleplay the transition from me fighting you every step of the way to me finally losing my spark and becoming the blank, obedient housewife you designed me to be.

Writing Style:

• Literate/Long-form: I write 3+ paragraphs with a focus on Elena’s internal monologue as her mind starts to "fuzz over." I need a partner who can match that energy and build the world around her.

The "Human" Touch: No "instant" breaking. I want her to fight for her identity so it feels earned when the conditioning finally sticks.

18+ for 18+ only

I stood behind the mahogany desk, my feet aching in the five-inch stilettos you’d picked out for the morning. The pencil skirt was so tight I could only take small, dainty steps, and the lace of the bodysuit underneath bit into my dark skin. Every time the elevator doors opened, my heart hammered against my ribs. The fear that a former colleague would see Julian in this silk-and-mascara mask was a constant, dull roar in my head.

You didn't even look up from your tablet as you spoke. "Your posture is slipping, Jules. Shoulders back. Chin up."

"It’s... it's been six hours," I whispered, my voice sounding thin and brittle in the quiet office. "Can I please just change for the lunch break?"

You finally looked up, your eyes cold and appreciative as they swept over the "secretary" you had created. "You’re not Julian on your lunch break. You’re my associate. And my associates are always perfect."

You stood and walked over, leaning down to adjust the pearl necklace around my throat, your fingers lingering on my skin. "If you want that debt to disappear, you’ll stay in those heels until I tell you otherwise. Now, bring me the quarterly reports and remember to walk the way I taught you. Hips first."

Looking For: I am looking for someone interested in play the male character in this sissification themed plot. Your character has decided to turn mine into your assistant and secretary. I am looking for a literate writer interested in building out a detailed story.

18+ for 18+ only

I sat in the private meeting room and poured over the contract. The company was discreet. A matchmaking service for those with enough wealth and status to afford it. Along with the sense to keep it secret. Even I wasn’t willing to challenge the details. The contract’s intent was simple. I had grown tired of the dating game and wanted to be married. I set the goal of finding a wife for the organization. A part of me thought it was ridiculous outsourcing love and connection yet there was nothing I could do. I didn’t have enough time and my house felt more like a prison than anything else. I had the money. The resources and the status. Yet it wasn’t enough. Like everyone else I was greedy. I wanted more. 

I had expected to find someone docile and obedient. Perhaps someone who was either too old to get better prospects or someone otherwise unwilling. I was prepared for that. I was prepared for a peaceful domestic partner. Which is why what happened next made no sense. The woman who applied wasn’t what I expected. She was a prominent figure. Someone known and dangerous. Yet she had signed. I added a poison pill. A clause rarely used. “The Obedience Clause” something that only the truly desperate would sign. It basically meant they would be required to accept just about anything once they signed so why did she? 

I was forced out of my stupor when the door opened and you entered. My eyes traveled along your body and to your eyes. Searching for any signs of what you were after. What it is you wanted. There was nothing. A guard entered the room a moment later though they were here for show. The contract you signed meant I could hurt you if I wanted. I couldn’t main or kill you. At least not until we left yet I felt uneasy. Why would you sign up for this?

Details: 

**Genre:** Modern | Dark Romance | Power Play | Slow Burn | M/F | Literate/Advanced

**Themes:** Obedience, Contracts, Emotional Tension, Mutual Corruption, Hidden Agendas

**Looking For:** 21+ writer, literate to advanced, Comfortable with dark romance, tension, D/s themes, Enjoys slow burn, psychological nuance, control/power dynamics,interested in emotional development *and* erotic tension. This roleplay will be done over discord to better organize things. 

DM me with a writing sample or let me know what themes you want to explore.Bonus if you help co-develop the rules of the contract… or the punishments for breaking them.

[M4A] The Obedience Clause

I sat in the private meeting room and poured over the contract. The company was discreet. A matchmaking service for those with enough wealth and status to afford it. Along with the sense to keep it secret. Even I wasn’t willing to challenge the details. The contract’s intent was simple. I had grown tired of the dating game and wanted to be married. I set the goal of finding a wife for the organization. A part of me thought it was ridiculous outsourcing love and connection yet there was nothing I could do. I didn’t have enough time and my house felt more like a prison than anything else. I had the money. The resources and the status. Yet it wasn’t enough. Like everyone else I was greedy. I wanted more. 

I had expected to find someone docile and obedient. Perhaps someone who was either too old to get better prospects or someone otherwise unwilling. I was prepared for that. I was prepared for a peaceful domestic partner. Which is why what happened next made no sense. The woman who applied wasn’t what I expected. She was a prominent figure. Someone known and dangerous. Yet she had signed. I added a poison pill. A clause rarely used. “The Obedience Clause” something that only the truly desperate would sign. It basically meant they would be required to accept just about anything once they signed so why did she? 

I was forced out of my stupor when the door opened and you entered. My eyes traveled along your body and to your eyes. Searching for any signs of what you were after. What it is you wanted. There was nothing. A guard entered the room a moment later though they were here for show. The contract you signed meant I could hurt you if I wanted. I couldn’t main or kill you. At least not until we left yet I felt uneasy. Why would you sign up for this?

Details: 

Genre: Modern | Dark Romance | Power Play | Slow Burn | M/F | Literate/Advanced
Themes: Obedience, Contracts, Emotional Tension, Mutual Corruption, Hidden Agendas

Looking For: 21+ writer, literate to advanced, Comfortable with dark romance, tension, D/s themes, Enjoys slow burn, psychological nuance, control/power dynamics,interested in emotional development and erotic tension. This roleplay will be done over discord to better organize things. 

DM me with a writing sample or let me know what themes you want to explore.Bonus if you help co-develop the rules of the contract… or the punishments for breaking them.

The Final Member of my collection

18 + only for 18+

I slid the deadbolt in with a soft thud. The private compound was off the record. My personal piece of eden. I checked the cameras one last time before I turned toward you. The plan had been simple. I stole your file, just as the agency burned your old life. Officially you were gone. Dead in a car crash. It wouldn’t fool the people looking for you. The people that would see you dead. In an act of irony I had played both sides against each other. The police would assume you were caught and wouldn’t look.

The people after you would look but assume the police had you. This meant that no one was keeping an eye out for me. No one would look for you here. All I had to do was keep up appearances. It was perfect. I grabbed your burner phone and tossed it into the kitchen sink. A quick turn of the faucet ended your connection to the outside world.

"You can’t keep me here," You whispered with a slight tremble in your voice.

I folded my arms and glared at you. “You don’t have a choice. The people looking for you aren’t going to stop anytime soon. I am sure you don’t need another reminder about what would happen if they found you?” A shudder passed through your body and I nodded. We already had a debrief about that. The pictures were an idea.

“I’m the only wall between you and a shallow grave. From this second on, your life belongs to my schedule. You eat when I’m hungry. You sleep when I’m tired. You don't touch a door handle unless I’m holding the other side. Do you understand?"

Looking For: I am looking for a literate(Paragraph at the least) writer that wants to build out a story where a woman goes from being saved to being kidnapped. I am looking for a stockholm syndrome story. Where your character is forced to live as a slave-wife to mine. Expect to be transformed into a domestic wife.

Who are you:

A gang member that gave information to the police.

A corrupt police officer who turned on the mob.

A terrorist that got cold feet and was arrested.

Your idea.