A friend
of mine likes her roleplay. I don't. I absolutely suck at it, and
here's why.
Scenario:
A non-consent/reluctance fantasy involving kidnap, bondage, forced
pleasure, etc.
Me:
I
creep into your room on silent feet. I can see you're alone, you're
sleepy, sat in the late afternoon sunlight at your desk. My hands are
clammy from the nerves, yet my gaze is steady, my breathing
controlled and the small cloth in my hand is rich with chloroform. I
get within lunging distance and I move, quick, striking like a snake.
The cloth in my hand clamps down over your mouth and nose, my other
hand grabbing your upper body and keeping you pinned in the chair.
Her:
I
struggle, my nails scratch at you and I fight to get away. I'm
terrified, but I can't breathe without inhaling that smell. The
sudden physical restaint is terrifying, yet I'm aroused. I know I am.
I start to feel drowsy and it's starting to go dark....
Me:
I
exult as I feel you begin to lessen your struggling, knowing the
chloroform is kicking in, knowing that in moments you'll be
unconscious and vulnerable, and then I can do with you as I wish. I
can fuck you. I can use you. There's nothing you can do about it.
Her:
I put
up one last struggle, still panicking, and as I kick my legs under
the desk I can feel how wet my pussy is, but it gets darker and my
brain gets fuzzy. I pass out.
Me:
I
smile, an evil, wicked grin that shows my pleasure at your
helplessness. I release my arm from around you, keeping the cloth in
place for a moment more, and I slowly stand up and turn your office
chair around. My gaze lowers, travelling over your body, the swell of
your breasts under your clothing, your legs and the way your skirt
covers that area that I long for. I swallow, take a breath and then
head towards the door to get my rope and hood.
-PAUSE-
This is
the bit where I get myself into trouble. This is the bit where I
can't do roleplay. It's because I have a sense of humour that's hard
to shut up, and sometimes it takes charge of the fingers when I type.
-UNPAUSE-
As I
walk, I glance back at you over my shoulder. Bad move – I trip,
fall and hit my head on the fire extinguisher. My vision blurs and I
black out too.
Her:
????
Me:
I
wake up in a grey concrete room. I can see I'm on the lower half of a
bunk bed, and as I glance to my left I can see another two bunk beds.
There's a steel door that makes me think I'm in a prison cell. On the
lower bed opposite me is this guy, and he's big, scary, covered in
ink on his arms, neck and head. He grins at me, stands and pulls down
his trousers. Oh, dear god, let me pass out again!!!!
Her:
Idiot.
-END-
I
can't help myself sometimes. I want to throw in the unexpected and
when the ideas strike me, sometimes I type them before I can stop
myself. I know it's breaking the informal rules of the roleplay but
that same sense of humour made Kyle fall off the pier in the Island,
one of my favourite parts of the story. The humour and need to crack
the witty is part of who I am.... and that's why roleplay doesn't
work for me.
Plus, sometimes I feel like a tool.
JJ
Hilarious!
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