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Test Drive Meme: The Overflow, Part Deux!
 THE OVERFLOW, PART DEUX! Since the last post is again fast approaching 3k comments and getting laggy for some of our players, we have decided to go ahead and stick up the overflow post, even though there's just a little over a week to game start. Please continue your threads or start new ones here if you'd like. To make this easier on those continuing threads from the last meme, here's a handy form: Please remember to let your thread partners know you've bumped your threads over here as well! We started the meme early to give you plenty of room to do just that. With the City of Ariel grand opening only a month away, we are holding our first ever test drive meme. Tag in and see how your character would settle in the game. You're a fresh face in the city, newly processed, and arriving at a bustling time. The city is expanding and you are greeted first in the re-education center by your helpful counselors and then directed out of the building to a large festival. Be puzzled, make friends, have sex, or whatever you want! There are no restrictions on thread types played out here. Your first awareness that something has gone wrong comes during a groggy moment of semi-lucidity when you look around yourself and find that -- instead of wherever you remember being last -- you're in a chair, in a room with a man you don't recognize. He's sitting behind a desk whistling to himself and sorting paperwork. The whole atmosphere might remind you of a high school guidance counselor's office, only with far more comfortable chairs. You were brought to Ariel during a very special time! There's a large festival going on celebrating the new expansions to the city and everything is decked out for it. Everything is bustling and vibrant in the city today because of the celebrations. There are decorations up, food vendors set up all along the streets, kissing booths, games, and just about anything else you can imagine an event like this would have! The people of Ariel are out and about as well, some are in vibrant costumes and others are just checking out the sights. Some of the more exhibitionist types are even having a little more fun out in public than you may be used to seeing back home. As soon as the grogginess from your arrival passes, you are allowed to leave the re-education center and see it all for yourself. Upon exiting, you are even handed beads of various colors, several of each so you don't worry about running out. Each color has a special meaning listed below: pink - toys These are to aid you in making a connection with others. Show your interest in others and tell them exactly what you would like to do with them by sharing the beads. If you would rather take a different approach, feel free to walk around the festival and see what (or who) catches your eye. The point is to relax and get settled in your new home. | |
| TAG IN - Post your character's name, canon, and preferences. - Set up an opener in your comment or leave it blank. - Tag around and have fun! | USEFUL LINKS: [Premise] [Rules] [F.A.Q.] [Locations] [Local Citizens (NPC)] [Taken] [Wanted] [Reserves] [Application] [Main] [Logs] [OOC] |
Please note that all CR in this meme can be carried over when the game starts between characters that are accepted into the game.
Threads can also count towards third and first person samples on the application, just provide links.
Take a look at our OOC Meet and Greet post! Meet. Greet. Make friends. Have fun!
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This is not a sort of admiration Thrawn has ever experienced.
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"I was curious to find out what else you're good at."
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Thrawn holds out a hand. "A bead," he says. "Or your request. And tell me your rules." This city greatly values consent, and while Thrawn is extremely experienced in all sorts of ... persuasion, he thinks in this case it may serve him more to adapt to others' desires.
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With his free hand, he toys with the two beads.
"And the thought of a crowd?" he asks. "Does that excite you?"
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"Yeah, it does..." He's a little surprised to find himself saying that. True as it is, it's still not something he tends to blurt out to strangers. "I don't mind being watched."
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"Could I make use of your demonstration area?" he asks.
No more than a minute of perusing the items on offer, and Thrawn selects three things. There are others where his eyes linger, but first thing's first.
He selects a collar, a slim and plain one, and buckles it on Dean's throat himself. "Your shirt, off." Then a carabiner through the ring at the front, and a chain, attached to it, wrapped around Thrawn's hand.
He gives a yank on the chain, transforming from mild preparation to authority in the blink of an eye. "On the bench," he commands, maneuvering Dean to lie back on a leather bench with places to cuff hand and foot. He doesn't bind him, yet.
Once Dean is down, he wraps a blindfold around his eyes. Let him be watched; let him be aware that eyes are on him, and he cannot look in return. After all, the act of seeing is power itself, and Thrawn can see this play is devoted to power first, and then pleasure.
His fingers press on the underside of Dean's chin, tilting his head back, exposing his neck. And then his touch trails down, pausing at his breastbone.
"If you tell me to stop, I will," says Thrawn. "There will be no safeword beyond that. Do you understand?"
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He doesn't even hesitate when he's commanded to lose his shirt. It's pulled off and tossed aside in short order. When Thrawn yanks on the chain he stumbles obediently into place, another shiver running through him. The part of him that tries to keep him alive in spite of himself is desperately trying to convince him to call it off, but it's rapidly being drowned out by arousal that can't entirely be blamed on this place.
Dean lays back on the bench when he's told and his breath catches as his sight's taken by the blindfold. There's something very vulnerable about being watched without being permitted to see. He tips his head back and bares his throat without question, staying where he's left until he's told to do otherwise. The only undirected movement he makes is his hands gripping the edges of the bench just to have something to hold onto.
"I understand," he answers, voice low and thick with anticipation.
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He steps away from Dean a moment, and then returns. The pad of his thumb brushes against Dean's nipple, worries at it until it's hard -- and then, with no warning, he takes it and twists it and sets a clamp on it, to keep it that way.
He works on the other next.
"When you saw me," he asks, conversationally, "did you imagine that I would do the same to you that I did to her? My hands alone, to drive you to distraction."
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His hands stay where they were put, but he can't stay still when he feels that twist and the clamps clipped into place. A short breath passes his lips, but no other sound. It hurts, but it's not a bad hurt and god knows he's had much, much worse.
It's a struggle to focus on Thrawn's words when his other nipple's being similarly tormented, but he manages. He gives a slight shake of his head. "Not really. You don't seem like the type to be content with repeating yourself."
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Pink and grey beads...
He lets his hand trace up Dean's body. His skin is soft, clear, though the way he moves speaks of a life well-lived. A contradiction. Tonight, now, this is Thrawn's canvas. Fingertips like the brush of wind, like the shivery sensation of surface tension on a pool of water.
"I don't bind you, this time," he says, his tone light with the promise of future times, if Dean impresses him -- "because you take this step willingly. You give your control to me. Prove yourself worth it, and perhaps I'll let you release it entirely."
This is a strategy, of course. Convince a human that they made a choice themselves, and they are far more likely to decide that way in the future. Make that choice important, pleasurable, and profitable, and you have already made a leash.
Speaking of --
He has the chain of the leash pool on Dean's breastbone. "Don't let this fall," he advised. If Dean thrashes too badly, moves too much, it will.
He slides on a glove, takes a proffered sample of lubricant, and reaches between Dean's legs. Smears it over that tight ring of muscle, wondering idly how much a human body can take. He is very interested in this species, the one that resembles his so much.
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Well, he's not being careful right now, is he?
Dean listens carefully to the instructions and shivers again when the chain pools on his chest. He's already a little heated and the links feel like ice on his skin. That's going to make things difficult. He's going to do his damnedest to make sure it doesn't fall, though.
It's hard to lay there, still and blind to what's happening. He can hear murmurs from whoever's watching. He can hear Thrawn moving around. It's tempting to try and turn to the sounds, but he knows he'll have to be still to obey the commands he's been given.
A quick, sharp breath escapes him when he feels the cool touch of the lube and the gloved finger. It's not as if he didn't expect to be touched, but it manages to catch him off guard a little. He doesn't like not being able to see and anticipate what's going to happen, but he wants this.
Dean breathes out a slow, deep breath and makes an effort to relax his muscles to let the finger do its work. He lets his focus drift to the tension of the clamps on his nipples and the slight, throbbing burn they produce. Each breath shifts them slightly and increases the ache. His skin's cool in the open air, but the chain on his chest is beginning to warm as it rests against him. All the sensations, the surrendering of control, and the knowledge he was being watched was enough to have him half hard already and eager for more.
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This, in contrast, is simplicity itself. The crowd wants a show. They watch with eagerness, held breath, keen arousal. They are simplicity itself to satisfy. Because of this, Thrawn turns his focus on the man who has given him the gift of body and obedience. It is not his to share in submission or danger, now, unlike a Chiss battle. It is his to fulfill.
As he stretches Dean's body, meticulously, he touches, adds a tactile impression to his judgment of Dean's body. He makes physical contact with the expectation that his skin is open, a gateway to sensation, not a barrier between a submitted man and the world outside. Dean is exposed not just to his skin but beneath it, to his passion.
He draws the line of his nail up the inside of Dean's thigh, momentarily creasing the skin. Adds a second finger inside him, and painstakingly works in a third, even though he's not quite stretched enough for it. An almost incidental nudge of his hand has Dean's leg maneuvered open and out, giving the crowd a clear view.
"So many eyes on you," Thrawn murmurs, "and you take them so greedily."
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A slight groan passes his lips as the third finger pushes in before he's entirely ready. It burns and aches, but even the pain is taken in eagerly. It mixes with the pleasure zinging across his senses and makes every small touch feel that much more intense. His hips want to roll, but he stops the motion almost as it starts when he hears the chain shift on his chest. Damn it. So difficult to just lay still.
His skin flushes more deeply red when he feels that nudge, but he doesn't resist it. His legs part more, spreading himself out for the eyes he can feel but not see. There's a touch of shame, but mostly arousal in his reddening color.
"Isn't that the idea?" he answers, not sure if he's supposed to. He hasn't been told not to speak yet.
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A show of reluctant loyalty, of attention given when it is demanded, will gain Thrawn a measure of devotion. It's a good first step, at the least. It could lead to something even better.
The flush, a subtle change of skin color. Red blood moving to the surface, veins dilating. Physical arousal, though Thrawn has seen it most often associated with anger or shame. Car'das wasn't one to exhibit much desire, though, especially not around Thrawn.
He slides his fingers in deep, to the root, to the point of strain for Dean.
"Would you...?" he asks the shop owner, quietly. "No -- yes, that one." His fingers are slack for a moment, and then they withdraw; as his fingertips slip out of Dean, the curved tip of a smooth vibrator pressin in instead. It's narrow, stretching Dean less than the three fingers did.
It's already lubricated, and without ribbing or texture, Thrawn can press it in deep quickly and smoothly. He pulls back, and there's the sound of gloves being peeled off, set aside. A cool hand touches to Dean's forehead. Chiss body temperature, of course, feels somewhat lower than human, a virtue of evolving further on an ice planet.
"You flush," he says. "Not from humiliation, I think." And, with the remote, he dials the vibrator up to the first setting.
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He's not entirely sure what his limits are. They've never been pushed to that level.
Even so, when the fingers are withdrawn he feels an almost crushing sense of loss. It surprises him how fast and deep the ache is and how much he doesn't want this to end. Not yet. Not for a while.
Then he's entered again, although not nearly as completely as before. The toy goes deep, but it's thin and for a second there's disappointment with his relief. It's tempered greatly by the touch of the cool hand on his forehead and he turns automatically into the touch, craving it even though it's cool and still foreign.
"No," he murmurs in response. Definitely not humilation. Need, want, and excitement, but the natural shame he'd otherwise be feeling is being kept away. By the chip or by the deft handling, he isn't sure. All he knows is that his body is completely open to Thrawn's ever whim and his mind's following rapidly behind it.
The first, low vibrations aren't enough to startle him, but they're good and he moans softly, hips shifting slightly. His legs stay spread; he knows his part in this is to be the show and he's not going to hide his reactions. His muscles clench around the vibrator and he feels his cock twitch against his belly, fully hard now and aching for touch he can't give.
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"It's exquisite."
And he steps away again. Dry, cool hands repositioning Dean's hips, ever-so-slightly. He draws Dean open, exposing him to Thrawn's view. And -- now the second vibrator, cool plastic touch pressing in next to the other. He thumbs that one on too, pulse instead of vibrate, knowing that the frequency differences would produce an interesting, irregular effect inside Dean. He presses his fingers into Dean's abdomen, just above his length, as though he could feel it under the skin. And -- maybe he can.
"How do you feel?"
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His legs move easily with the positioning, his knees bending, feet bracing on the bench beneath him to hold himself open. For now, he's all but forgotten the crowd. His world's narrowed to the touch of cool hands and orders he's struggling to remember to obey.
A sharp gasp, almost a strangled sound, catches in his throat when he feels the second vibrator pushing in beside the first. It stretches him more than the fingers had. When it's completely inside, he feels incredibly full and tight. It's just outside of uncomfortable, but nothing he can't handle. Until the pulses start, that is, and his brain threatens to melt inside his skull.
He moans again, shuddering until he feels the chain move on his chest and he forces himself to freeze. It's then that he can't stop a desperate, almost helpless sound. Fuck. It's a helpless feeling, yes, but it's one he's freely given himself over to. He won't stop now.
Dean's breath comes in sharp, jerky gasps as he struggles to control himself. He licks his lips and tries to formulate an answer to the question. How does he feel? It's not as easy as it sounds.
"Like I'm falling," he breathes, but it's not completely right. His brain's having a hard time focusing on words. "Aching. Almost too much."
That's the part he doesn't want to admit. He wants to please. Wants to give everything and get back the validation he craves so badly.
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He gathers the chain off of Dean's chest, drawing it taut between the collar and his hand. Only a slight tension in the chain, not enough to pull Dean any direction. "I have you," he reassures. Even paces that take him to Dean's hands, and, as reward for his candor, Thrawn wraps the chain around Dean's wrists and the post his hands grip, securing him. An anchor.
Pulls the chain around once, twice, and then he touches Dean's hand, uncurling his fingers and placing the chain in his palm. He is the one who will keep himself bound, here, but now he'll be able to twist and struggle if he wants. He has permission.
He crouches, so that these words will be heard by Dean only: "I always reward truth." A stroke through Dean's hair.
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Then he feels Thrawn's hand in his hair and his breath against his ear. A shiver runs through him and he tips his head into the touch, relaxing into it almost as much as the words themselves.
"Thank you," he murmurs before he can even think to stop himself. It's as good as an admission of how much he needs this. It leaves him more naked than simply removing his clothes. His body is easy to share, his need is less so.
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He enjoys that little courtesy. Give, and return; ritual words.
Thrawn begins to toy with the two vibrators, working them apart, sliding them out, then back in again. He watches Dean, looks for his reactions, for the angles that make him shake. He'll exploit then when he brings in the third.
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His body rocks, pushing into each thrust and twist of those toys and moving to seek them out when they're withdrawn.
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He takes the last vibrator between his fingers, knowing that this will hurt. Slicks it thoroughly with lubricant, so that at least that much will be made easier, and then he angles the two currently inside Dean to press up, at the most pleasurable angle -- and then he presses the third to Dean's entrance.
"Control your breath," Thrawn instructs.
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The momentary doubt doesn't last. Dean's got the chain binding him in his hand, he can free himself if he needs to. He can still say 'stop'. Pain isn't something he seeks in sex, and he's pretty sure this will hurt, but it's far from the worst pain he's ever felt. And there's something almost... rewarding... about pain with a purpose. Instinctively, he knows this isn't being done solely to hurt him. It makes him curious to see what will come after.
He takes a deep, calming breath as he's instructed and settles, willing his body to relax into the new intrusion.
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Until, finally, all three are inside him.
He switches on the last vibrator.
"Can you release on command?" asks Thrawn, a tint of curiosity in his tone.
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