Thread: Flassche’s house of perversion. (M/F, M/M, M/O)   Under maintanance

RE Flassches house of perversion. MF, MM, MO Realism Realistic settings. Enough said. The Barbarians Wife See more The year is AD 255. The roman imperium is stretched to the breaking point its authority and might challenged along every border. The greatest thread lies in Persia to the east, where the massing forces of the eastern empires mass for a grand campaign. In an time of constant warfare and strive, Rome ruins it very soul due to the constant plotting and political backstabbing. Once great families now fight for power as the emperor himself steers the realm to a slow and painful death. In an attempt to bolster their ranks and renew the once mighty war machine, clans from the north are rewarded citizenship and rank if they add able bodies to the war machine. Barbaric tribes currently loyal to Roma submit to the demands of the emperor. Their second born sons and a fifth of their warriors in exchange for Romes continued protection and the right to citizenship. One of Romes proud legions is accompanied by a thousand loyal barbarians of the north. The legions mission is to demonstrate once more that Rome is strong and stands ready for its numerous enemies. Among the many barbarians many second sons and proud warriors roar as they fight for the glory of their forefathers. One of them, a youth, is sent to the eastern front at the age of fifteen to strengthen the grip of Rome and reclaim lost honor. A barbaric youth, whos name itself means beast, stands first amongst his people to fight for the honor of Rome. That was eight years ago. The Germanic warrior was at the edge of the boat. The arrowhead position, it was the most dangerous position someone could take. In a direct line of fire the warrior grinned. He was naked from the waist up. His broad shoulders were now sun beaten brown. His large 63 was an impressive sight, even without all the small scars earned in a previous skirmish battle. He let his hands grip the hilts of the long sword and his dagger, as he slid them out of the scabbards and let them slide in again. He was ready for war, He needed it. It was in his blood after all. His long blond hair danced in the wind as his deep blue eyes took in the sight before him. A small fortress stood in front of them, garrisoned by the Sassanids, outnumbering them by three to one. thump The tip of the boat connected with the land, as it slowly slid upwards. Immediately the men rushed out as one fleshy wave. Pouring out of the ship like a ocean of death and destruction. Some men foamed from their mouths as they rushed towards glory. Most of the barbarians were intoxicated by mixture of ale and tonics that induced rage and bloodlust. Wulfbraht was one of them. His muscular frame raced across the beach as he dodged clumps of dead limbs. He heard his fellow warriors chasing him and he tried to go faster. .. Run faster Wulf! .. He thought. He stumbled over a trailing branch, but using his momentum, kept himself upright. Warriors burst into the moonlit clearing around the fort. Wulfbraht cringed in disgust of men hiding behind walls, yet knew fully well that it was tactically superior. He recalled his fathers words before he left the safety of the ship. Glory to the first. He glared wide eyed at the broad-shouldered men surrounding him. He recognized some of them from the gathering a half moon ago, others were with him in the boat. The scent coming off the men was strange. Sweat and other human liquids combining with the sweet ale they had drunk. As a whole they charged, frantic for the first kill. Wulf charged with his war brothers, losing himself in the dance of death. Had he known that in six months he would be shipped back to Rome for an arranged marriage to an old house, he might have forced himself to dance slower and let death lead him. MaleFemale, Interracial, Barbarian vs Sophisticated, Culture difference, Size difference, Younger maleOlder female, twisted romance, Political scheming Santas magic lap See more 15 more minutes Bob said to himself as he lifted another brat of his leg. These fucking children are getting fatter by the second he told himself as he placed another soon to be obese project on the ground. He was wearing a large Santa costume and was wearing the traditional itchy white beard. 30 days of community help, because of a few drunk and drive episodes. He noticed the store was getting empty and most of the shoppers were going home as well. 5 more minutes and he'd be able to get out of the suit, lock op the place and go home. He smiled wide as the last one in line came to him. He thought she looked a bit old to still believe in Santa Clause, but parents these days. He smelled her hair as she sat down on his lap on his manhood, her body was already entering the delicious phases of womanhood. Soft Forced obedience, Oblivious to sex, mistaken identity, blackmail, Naveinnocence, obedience, gullible The Missionary from hell. See more Its been six months now since I was sent to this god forsaken piece of dirt. The man spat out as he climbed out of the car. Feet dragging through the sand as he made his way towards another village. Speaking with the local chief got him some direction. The medicine man, the white god, the healer all names these backwatered superstitious people called him. Seeing as he was the only real doctor in this region of Africa he would be in charge of food and medical supplies. The UN had send him here, fresh out of college, to lead the station there. Only three nurses were at his disposal, two of them incompetent. Opening the last tent and stepping inside brought him face to face with a kneeling mother. Her hands clutching her daughters hands. A worried some expression on her face. Yes yes he muttered as he walked toward the bed and checked out the girls health again. After a few minutes he quickly diagnosed her as a diabetic, a harmless chronic condition back where he was born, yet here it meant death. She needs Medicine.. Yes.. the round things They cost a lot of money. And thus the begging and pleading began. She would do anything for the white one, the cure giver. Why do I need to work for all these savages... and get nothing In return... I should get something... Looking at the mother who was now kneeling next to her daughter, he started grinning. I know Forced obedience, Evil male, Younger maleolder female, interracial, superstitious female, drama, blackmail, religion abuse The Target See more Peell pressed his shoulder firmly up against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest, the rapid beat echoing loudly in his ears. It surprised him how he still felt so exhilarated every time, feeling the adrenalin race through his veins like a drug, sharpening his senses. Thick drops of blood were dripping down the small stainless-steel knife he was holding in his right hand, his digits grasping it tightly, the metallic surface gleaming. The room was silent, not one sound could be heard, even his breathing was shallow, forced, keeping his position as concealed as possible. A small cloth appeared in his left hand, shifting towards the small blade, cleaning it in an automated fashion. He glanced sideways, intense light grey eyes scanning his surroundings with a hawk like precision, a procedure he had repeated countless times before. The room was dark, the night and broken lamps making it so, but enough eerie moonlight still existed to see a few objects, only the corners were completely shrouded in black, hiding all in the shadows. Moving forward cautiously, each foot placed lightly with agonizing precision. The air became silent as the commotion subsided as quickly as it had started, the atmosphere now becoming one of deafening suspense. The minute he had ended the targets life, he had heard a feint noise, footsteps even. A flash of light flickered, causing Peell to glance upwards. Again it flickered and Peell squinted, seeing that the mirror before him was reflecting the light off an object. A small smirk widened on his face as he saw the reflection of a tall youth in it, his own blade catching some of the light. The 62 tall frame was clad in dark clothing, dark enough to blend in with the shadows, yet colorful enough to blend in with a large crowd. His short cut dark brown hair was blending in with the dark room. The only thing that really stood out were his perfect bright grey irises. Peell finished cleaning his blade and sheathed it, hiding it in a small slot between his right shoe. Exhilaration coursing through his veins as he moved around the corner. Within seconds he had blended in with the shadows and disappeared completely. Day..1 Peell rushed towards the building as the screech of a siren cut through his reflection. Lights flashed outside and flooded the streets with a blinding glare, the glow of crimson red and dark blue, searching for answers, searching for him. And here he was standing a mere foot away from a dozen police officers, even casually talking to one of them. Come one.. What do you mean you are not in a liberty to discuss the wellbeing of the occupant? I just watched them clear out a corpse in a body bag! A filthy glance was al he got in return. The scene changed quickly as more and more people crowded the streets, police men, neighbors, reporters, forming a cesspool of curiosity. Peell fiddled the badge he was wearing around his neck, supported by a metal chain. The private detective role offered him some jurisdiction and awe in the eyes of the citizens, yet he was frowned upon by the average policemen. The death of Judge George Lindsay Kingsly was a huge media sensation. The body was found a few hours ago, stabbed to death by an unknown person. The private security personal and surveillance cameras offered no answer to who this assassin was. It appeared he had emerged into his house and vanished into the depths of the night. The d corpse was still warm, yet the media vultures had already pried up enough dirt to make a satisfying story. Corruption, prostitution, blackmailing, all these things where small things compared to his link with his disappeared brother, Senator Lucas Adam Kingsly. Peell calmed his own heartbeat as he inspected his surroundings. A small black car was heading towards the crime scene. And I see the first piece as arrived at the board A small childish grin appeared on his face. Gods this feeling of insecurity was the best. He formed his poker face and remembered his role he would be playing. Infiltrate and advice the pieces, as they move across the board. And when the time would be right The senators eyes would grow dim as his spark of life would be extinguished by Stiehl, his blade. Younger maleolder female, Strong female, Rape, Alter ego, Mistaken identity, Evil male, drama, Murder, Crime, detectives work Suck in the name of the LAW! See more Meet Dave, a thirty year old police veteran of a small backwater town in the east. In his earlier days he had been a well-respected detective in Chicago, yet the pressure soon became bad for his health. He got himself transferred to a small town and soon found his health increasing again. His reputation quickly brought awe in the eyes of these simple town folks seeing as he was a big name in Chicago. The little police department where he works at feels empty and unfit for a real police station, so a quick call to the mayor got him the permission to hold interviews. Wanting above all else to protect his calm and peaceful life, he decides to pick the best candidate suited for his lifestyle. In high respect of him, quick to follow orders, gullible and extremely innocent. Soft Forced obedience, size difference, Oblivious to sex, trainingconditioning to sex, Mistaken identities The Treatment See more Three years after the third world war, mankind was at the brink of destruction. Overpopulation, corruption, famine, war, pollution, the list went on. Mankind was a flawed design, yet one that could be altered into perfection. The drug they came up with had many names Stabilization drug, the SE-hk192, the limiter. Yet most people simply called it the cure. After a few years of testing the drug became mandatory, refusal would be met with a swift execution. The drug proved ineffective within a certain percentage of the population 0,02 These individuals either had a weaker effect from the medication or were completely immune. Most of these immune people quickly rebelled against the path mankind was heading to, only to be met with execution. People who had a SE-Hk192 effective rate of 98 and higher were deemed cured, a 1 lower was considered flawed. The drug would reduce negative emotions to almost non existing levels. Due to the decrease in that type of emotional behavior mankind slowly started correcting itself. The decrease of pride, lust and envy were the first noticeable symptoms from this cure. In the next few centuries mankind was slowly correcting itself. Strict rules were implemented, preventing people from having more than one offspring, while only people with a good genetic background were allowed to reproduce. Slowly the overpopulation was slowing down to a more manageable state while disease and genetic flaws were simply being bred out. Great scientific advancements were made in several fields allowing this new world to shape itself in a perfect utopia. Slowly former cities were being converted into more modern designs, housing was made similar and distributed evenly among the population. People were being located to certain locations simply because it was more efficient for their work. School and education reached a new high, classes finally reaching a 98 attendance worldwide, only illness kept it from reaching 100. Yet with all the advancement mankind made they also lost a lot. The drug also had some side effects in the long run, only noticeable after several years of intake. Joy, excitement, sexual attraction and pleasure, artistic nature, creativity, all these things began to decrease as well. People only sought a partner because of the need to reproduce and efficient housing options. Artist slowly dwindles until finally art became a taboo. Humor became a word used only during history lessons, comedians and funny movies were soon forgotten. Mankind simply became a well-oiled efficient machine that felt nothing. Eventually humanity decided on the plan to stop execution people who scored lower than 98, now sending them towards stabilization camps instead of execution. Within those camps people would be forced to adjust to the society at all cost. Mankind decided this would be more beneficial than simply slaughtering people. Within the ranks of the Humanity a promising young male has been rewarded a position in the Stabilization camp. Although young and lacking experience his methods of curing people are effective. His latest assignment was already being transported to the facility he and his coworkers were currently located at. Effective Cure rating of 97 He said coldly as he browsed her file. He smiled briefly as he felt the surge of emotion. He always found it funny how a person who was Immune to the drug could achieve such a high position. The reason people never found out about his little secret was because how well he blended in with people. For years he had been one of them, following the same boring routine he did every day. When puppetry had hit him, the drug began to lose effectiveness, finally doing nothing at all when he reached the age of twenty. He licked his lips as he walked towards the examination room. Ironic how an incurable one was curing others. The young twenty three year old moved towards the window as he peered outside. In the distance two large vehicles were making their way towards the facility. Each would hold around twenty people, captured or willing volunteers. Usually the facility produced about a 23 cure rate. The ones who did not achieve the necessary stabilization percentage would either die during the treatment or executed after a term of two years. The young male took a step back as he stared at his self, a reflection cast back from the window. A tall male, around six feet. Short dark brown hair and bright green eyes that usually had a stern cast to them. Wearing his white lab coat he made his way towards the separation quarters, briefly flashing his ID card in front of the scanner before stepping inside. He took his place next to his colleges and waited for the infected to make straight line in front of them. Lance Erilius II, you have the first pick. One of his colleges told him in a monotone voice, not a single trace of emotion in his tone. Indeed Lance told him as he stepped forwards. Line up. He said flatly, his eyed searching the crowd. Soft Forced obedience, Political power play, medical play, Oblivious to sex, trainingconditioning to sex, Mistaken identities Persuading a nurse. See more NameLance Drfos. Age 21. BloodtypeA- Height 189cm. Weight 89kg. Racial status Caucasian. Known illness Healthy. Date arrival 1634, 28-01-2012. Diagnosis Broken ulna and radius. Intervention Surgery and three weeks internal stayLong term ward. Suggested treatment 2x a day fysi- Lance sighed as he threw down his chart, hearing it fall on the ground with a small clatter, his hand moving towards his short dark brown hair, clutching it tightly for a second. He had read the chart at least three times now, each time getting more and more upset. Three weeks in a god damm hospital!! He knew damm well why he was staying three weeks here, his old man was one of the chief surgeons here, a famous one in fact, so he had pulled some strings. Lance could hardly refuse, seeing as he was practically helpless with only his left arm. He needed his right arm to make a living, being a writer himself, much to his fathers disapproval. Although he was well established for a relatively young age, the old man thought it was a hobby, a faze he would grew out of. Stubborn old goat could curl up and die for all he cared. He leaned back in his pillow, closing his eyelids to hide his bright green eyes. He knew the three weeks rest would do him good, seeing as he had just published a new novel and was feeling the writers fatigue. He needed some relaxation and inspiration. His next project would be a story about forbidden romance between the strangers. He wanted to do some hand on experience somewhere in Miami or perhaps even Europe. Relax his tired mind while putting his body to work. He had already packed his bags and everything, only needing his approval from his boss and he was good to go. He could still remember that day, 28th of February. His boss had simply grinned at him when he told her off his next project. She knew damm well what he was planning. She knew as much about him as he knew about himself. She had scouted him in college and was impressed about his work. His first book was based on a work affair he had shared with her. Although she found it peculiar that she was his inspiration, she could hardly ignore the book sales. So, each time he had a new project coming up, she would agree to his strange... habits. She had given him that I know look and simply waved him off, wishing him a pleasant trip. Ten minutes later some random guy bumped him in the back, sending him crashing down a flight of stairs. So now he lay here, at St Jeffersons hospital. It was a well renowned hospital, famous for its location and excellent care, if not a bit overpriced. He stared at his cast again, before peering down at his new robe, leaving his rear end exposed like some baboon. He sighed deeply before grabbing his pen in his left hand and began sticking it behind his cast, trying to get rid of the itching sensation. How the hell was a guy supposed to find relaxation an inspiration in a place like this. The only thing that was a relief for him was the fact that thermometers were now used in the ear instead of the rear. He heard footsteps in the hallway, no doubt one of the nurses coming to check on him. Ever since his father came in last night to supervise his care, he had been treated like royalty. He had three extra pillows he did not ask for, nor for the two extra blankets. He was offered to be fed twice a day, due to his arm being in a cast. He tried to put on a warm smile, one infused with a rebellious touch only young males could create. The door opened and he was confronted by his new nurse, at least the nurse that would be in charge of his care for this week. Morning. He smiled casually as he shifted his position in bed, giving him a more of a sitting position. He eyed his case file on the floor and swallowed, feeling his throat get a bit dry. It- it fell, clumsy me. This ward offered many beds, so a lot of nurses and interns ran the place, offering care and service to the patients, no doubt she would be in charge of his case. Malefemale, Malemale, Oblivious to sex, Nave partner, Washing and clothing, Innocence abuse, Willing service, Medical play.