IsabellaRose

I'm not afraid of the dark. It's just not how my brain ever worked. I've always been a woman of rationality and common sense. Darkness is merely the absence of light. The world doesn't change when the lights go out. At least, that's what I always believed before that night, the night the power went out. Nothing has ever been the same since. I was a tagalong, a plus one to a party I never should have attended. In truth, neither of us should have been there, but being attractive and in the wrong place at the wrong time earned Annabella an invitation for two, and convinced me that I had nothing better to do. I headed to her apartment early to get ready together. We would smoke a joint, have some wine, and do each others' hair and makeup. It was a thing with us, a ritual before a night out. When I arrived, Annabella's dress was worse than usual. It barely covered the tops of her thighs and had a deep v cut with spaghetti straps showing so much cleavage that I thought her breasts were going to spill out of it all night. She insisted on dressing me, and chose a nearly matching dress with a ridiculously low cut top that showed entirely too much cleavage and a hemline that threatened to expose me with every step. It was a ludicrous dress for anyone and would likely put my unmentionables on display if I bent over or sat down. I hated it, but Annabella insisted, and I could never say no to her, no matter what she asked. In truth, I was wildly attracted to her, but I had not yet learned to process attraction toward another woman. I wasn't clueless about different sexual orientations, I just assumed I was "normal" and liked men, thanks to my repressive Christian upbringing. The thought of being with another woman was not part of my identity, and certainly not how I pictured myself. I had a lot to learn back then, not only about the world, but about myself as well. You could say that I have broken free from the restrictions of my upbringing now. I understand more fully the vibrance and colorful nature of a world where everyone is who they truly are without shame or judgment. But back then I lived in the dark, about a good many things, and that night the literal dark brought everything to light... so to speak. The party was in a penthouse on Central Park South, even then an elite neighborhood, a place neither of us belonged. We looked like a pair of dolled up call girls, but her invitation got us past the doorman and up the elevator. The suite took up the top two floors of the building and was the most elaborate, lavish piece of real estate I've ever set foot in. The place was packed full of people in clothing that cost more than I made in a month. I saw celebrities, so many of them. Movie actors, television starlets, athletes, rock stars, and I was pretty sure that was the President's daughter who just went into the other room. I did not belong there, especially not in that dress. "So?" said Annabella, as if waiting for me to tell her all my dreams had come true. "We don't belong here," I said, trepidation in my voice. "Come on," she said, taking my hand. I didn't resist. I couldn't resist her. She led me down an open staircase into the main room. I passed the front man of a rock band I'd crushed on as a teenager and he winked. My heart fluttered, but in hindsight it might have been more from her holding my hand than his wink. We were friends, we touched each other all the time, hugs, kisses, helping each other with zippers on dresses, a thousand casual touches without thought. But something in that place, at that time, in those dresses, something made this casual touch of hands as she led me deeper into a party where I didn't belong affect me. I thought it was the atmosphere, the elegance and absurd extravagance of the whole scenario. That kind of thing didn't usually do it for me, but tonight, the stars had aligned in a most fortuitous manner. We found drinks, men who flirted shamelessly, women who flirted even more shamelessly, conversation that went over our heads, and laughter. It was fun and overwhelming. I felt my sense of self being eroded by casual comments as I tried to fit in, and caught myself before I was in as deep as Annabella. Watching her chatting with a Senator, a movie star, and an heiress to an oil fortune, it hit me again. We still didn't belong here. and I had to escape. I should have fled. I should have listened to my instincts. I saw a door to the balcony and I stepped outside for a moment of clarity and to center myself. My nipples turned to diamond studs in my dress and I felt my arms pebble with gooseflesh in the cold wind this high up. I strode to the railing and looked out over the city. The streets below were full of my people, real people, the men and women who lived in the real world. I took a couple deep, calming breaths as I stared at the lights that seemed to go on forever, drank in the sounds of the city below. This was New York. This was what I was used to, the place I called home. That party behind me was a microcosm of fabricated affluent belonging, a group of people who had sold their true selves for fame, fortune, a place in the history books. I shook my head. Why had I even come here? For her, of course. For Annabella. I think that was the moment that I knew it, even though I didn't immediately admit it to myself. That was the moment that I realized I loved her, wanted to be with her, wanted to feel her touch me in ways only men had touched me before. I didn't have time to acknowledge those thoughts, because she was suddenly beside me. and she had brought others. "Kate," she said, her voice a melodic symphony written to be played on my nervous system. "Meet Amadeus van der Gräuel, our host." I turned to see a man so devastatingly handsome my voice caught in my throat and the world seemed to darken around him in contrast to the exquisiteness of his features. I reached out one hand to shake his, but instead he lifted my hand toward his face and held it for a moment, his eyes locked on mine. I felt like I was impaled by power, unable to move as he looked through my eyes and into my soul. I was stripped bare by that gaze as he drank the entirety of my essence like an elixir. It was as if he drained my will, empowered while I was immobilized. When he spoke, his accent was thick and unidentifiable, a musical lilt to his vowels and the ends of many words clipped. It was vaguely eastern European, but also had hints of Chinese. If I had been forced to identify it, I would have failed. He welcomed me, bent low and kissed the back of my hand slowly, holding the pose far longer than was comfortable. It was all I could do to maintain a polite demeanor in the face of his inexplicably off-putting presence. I wanted him to tear off my dress, to feel his hands and mouth upon me, to have him ravish me. I wanted to run screaming in terror from him. I had no idea what I wanted, and faced with what felt like a fight or flight situation, I froze like prey. In hindsight, this was the last moment when I could have changed the outcome of that night, the last chance I had to exert my autonomy before everything went sideways. I failed both myself and Annabella that night. Somehow, I was under his spell, and we returned to the party. He gathered others in his wake and the group of us ended up in the private garden on the roof. The conversation pit was like a small amphitheater, a circle of wide steps leading to flat are in the center. The lighting was strange, a combination of ambient light from the city all around us and flames from braziers lit in a circle between our chairs that surrounded a low, round table. Conversation was quiet and intense in small clusters. A Senator and a legendary actor spoke quietly with each other to either side of me, and I was trapped by their conversation, unable to move closer to Annabella for fear of appearing rude. Annabella was in conversation with a Grammy-winning composer and a real estate mogul who owned half of the city. She laughed and touched their arms, her usual flirtation turned up high. Other groups conversed as well, but our host just sat back and watched. His gaze seemed to linger on both Annabella and me more than anyone else. At the time I thought I was just being self-conscious. I was only half listening to the men to either side of me, nodding at what felt like appropriate times, when a low murmuring song caught my attention. I looked up to see what it was, and all the separate conversations seemed to fade as everyone looked at each other, then at Amadeus. His smile, lit by flames to either side, looked evil, and sent a chill down my spine. He raised one hand and everyone sat silent and motionless as the strange murmur became louder and resolved into some kind of chanting. It was then that I realized that there were people beyond the braziers, dozens of bodies closing in on the circle of chairs. It was the rest of the party, and as they approached, they lit candles one by one, passing a long wooden stick with flame at one end between them. We were surrounded, and the crowd seemed to settle in to their places on the steps that led down to our chairs. A crowd of onlookers staring in at us, their faces lit from below by the candles they held. They chanted, their words in a language I did not understand. It felt decidedly ominous. Amadeus stood, lifted his arms skyward, and if I didn't know better, I'd say the weather responded to him. A breeze picked up, just strong enough to flicker the candle flames. He said something in the same strange language, and I glanced over at Annabella. She stood at the opposite side of the round table from Amadeus, her eyes vacant, staring straight ahead as if in a trance. I had just enough time to wonder what was going on before she stepped up onto the low table and began to dance. She moved slowly at first, her movements gentle and sensual, her hands caressing her own body, exploring her own curves, almost as if someone else were guiding her movements. She was going to embarrass herself. She would never live this down. I had to stop her. But I was frozen just as I was before, unable to move or speak, only a witness to the bizarre sway of Annabella's body in the light of a hundred tiny flames. She was grace erotic personified as she moved, and the entire audience seemed transfixed. My heart was racing, thumping in my chest like a drummer on amphetamines having a seizure. I wanted... something. I didn't want what I should want. My mind still worked even as my pulse quickened. I needed to leave, to grab Annabella by the wrist and do everything in my power to drag her from this madhouse of excess and grandiose debauchery. My heartbeat thudded in my ears as if I were standing beside the speakers at a concert, blocking out all sound, blocking out everything else, even thought. I could only hear the staccato thump thump thump of my heartbeat, and soon it strummed between my legs as well. An throbbing arousal tugged at my body, a need building inside of me as if someone were directly stimulating my clitoris, my nipples, no, my soul... I needed to be touched, needed to touch, needed to be filled, taken, forced to orgasm over and over... I was on the table, dancing with Annabella. Somehow we were both nude except for our jewelry and shoes, and I vaguely remembered undressing her and letting her undress me in turn. Her hands were on me now, a feather light touch of fingertips driving my already aroused senses over the edge. I did the same to her, and heard her gasp and moan in pleasure. We kissed, long, soft and sensuous. The watchers around us were forgotten as our lips and hands explored each others bodies, and the wind picked up, cold and hard, whipping my hair around my face. I had a moment of clarity when I saw Amadeus standing, arms outstretched toward the sky, a look of pure madness on his face, when lightning struck. With a deafening crack, one, two, three blasts of earth-shaking electricity struck the rooftop, sparks showered the brick and stone around us. My hair stood out from my head and I looked around to catch a brief glimpse of flames, the glint of light reflected off of steel, and then there was darkness. The entire city lost power as the wind howled in a tumultuous fury and darkness fell so completely that I staggered. I reached out for Annabella, but couldn't find her in the darkness until a flash of lightning showed me a freeze frame of reality. Amadeus was behind Annabella, a knife to her throat. Reality had reasserted itself in her mind; her eyes were filled with terror as she tried to keep her balance with this madman behind her. I lurched forward to save her, wobbled, fell to my knees on the stone table, catching myself with my hands outstretched before me. I couldn't find her in the complete darkness. I groped toward where I had seen her, reaching futilely toward my friend, and then I felt hands grasp my arms and haul me backward. I was pulled on my back across the smooth stone tabletop, struggling to free my arms, legs kicking ineffectually and there was another flash if lightning. Amadeus held Annabella beside me, the knife still at her throat. She was no longer struggling and seemed to be in the same trance that had taken her before she began dancing. The two men who had been talking to me held my arms, and a woman and man now held my legs as I lay naked and spread eagle on the stone table. The image was gone again, and I heard Amadeus' strangely accented voice in my head more than my ears. He made me an offer then, his words twisted and strange, but their meaning was clear. I could give myself to them like Annabella, or I could bathe in her blood and join them. I wish I could say I chose to stay with my friend. I wish I could say I resisted the transcendental and other-worldly offer from this enigmatic libertine with a knife to my best friends' throat. The next flash of lightning was perfectly timed to show her face, fully aware, eyes begging me to help her, knife pressed hard to the soft flesh of her throat. Darkness again, and the warm splash of her blood on my bare breasts was like a call to those around me to feed. Mouths fell upon me, lapping up the lifeblood of my best friend, flicking over my nipples, sending pleasure through me with the wave of electric warmth that spread through my entire body. They no longer held me pinned, and my hands slid over my own body, slick with Annabella's lifeblood, an erotic and ferociously murderous thrill coursed through the very fiber of my being. The next flash of lightning showed barely human faces staring up at me from upon my own flesh, eyes that reflected red and yellow, faces twisted in the rictus of undeath, teeth like knives grinning horrifically up at me as these creatures, these unknowable things that played at being human lapped up Annabella's blood from my bare flesh, and long with it lapped up my humanity and compassion, devoured my empathy and friendship, feasted upon my lost innocence and goodness. They glowed darker than darkness in that night without power, and once their blood lust was satiated, they began a new ritual of bestial carnality. Each of them thrust into me, into my mouth, my pussy, my ass, over and over, spewing seed that was never meant to take root in human flesh. When they had finished, I was born again in the darkness, the blood sacrifice of my one time friend my ticket to a new life, a soulless unlife. The life I have lived these passed four hundred years. I am not afraid of the dark. I never was. I am the dark.

chocolatey goddess

chewy goodness

Town Center

off topic

Half Guilty. I want a break, but it's Butterfinger or nothing for me! The next poster has had to say "no" to something in RP that was clearly stated in their Preferences as "NO"

hot ones

full belly

no service

my way

Guilty. A cat owns me, the most recent in a long line of feline overlords who have deemed me worthy enough to share their living space. The next person has ridden a camel.

Yeah, guilty. I definitely have an unhealthy obsession with wearing lingerie. I just know it makes me feel sexy to wear lingerie, especially when I have something naughty on under my work clothes. It's like having a naughty secret that no one else will ever know. I know, I have problems. lol The next person has never owned a pet.

That's the whole point of this club, bringing people together to be creative in ways other than just kinky 1:1 private roleplay. If we can get this to fly and there's interest, I will do everything I can to help! There's a lot of people that joined this club, and a good amount who have submitted writing to the challenges. But I also think this is a niche in the greater community. I'm definitely part of a minority who are not here to just flick my bean while writing sexy shit with someone, so a lot of my ideas likely won't appeal to a huge portion of the community. Some of my weird ideas include: An RP where Two Characters are outlined with character sheets/bios/pictures, a first post is made to set the scene, and then people randomly write the next post, as either character. A picture writing challenge on the regular - post a pic, see what it inspires people to write. A cooperative world building challenge where we work together to set expectations, the develop a world with a rich history, detailed locations, and interesting characters that everyone ends up wanting to play in. A challenge/roleplay where the whole point is to invert the trope or stand it on its head in a short scene. Those were just what came out when I thought "what else might be interesting for this club" right now. They may be good or bad, probably require a lot of effort to make workable, and likely don't have a lot of interested from others. But if I'm full of anything, I'm full of ideas. But to reiterate my original point - I'm just here to facilitate people writing more, being more creative, and sharing with the larger community! Whatever form that takes, I'm here to make it happen!

Here's picture for you, WNS! There's a story in there somewhere, and I bet you can tease it out!

I mean, it's one of those things that sounds like a good idea, but probably isn't, in reality, a good idea. Why pay your hard earned credits when you can rp for free? Maybe an auction RP makes more sense. I just threw it out there as an idea in the general discussion and there seemed to be interest, so I started the thread. I won't be hurt if it dies on the vine, but I'll also work to make it happen if people want it to happen.

Challenge 20 is up! Tell us what happened "the night the power went out"...

THE CHALLENGE For this challenge, write whatever you want inspired by the phrase "the night the power went out". Deadline Midnight (EST) Saturday, 29 July, 2023 Limits 1 entry per person ~2,000 words max per entry Prizes 1st Place: 2,000 EcchiCredits 2nd Place: 1,000 EcchiCredits 3rd Place: 500 EcchiCredits

one track

crazy train

early bird

We can pretend it's a charity auction, like a bachelor or bachelorette auction to raise money for a cause. From there you can roleplay the outcome or just call it a win and negotiate a new RP with the person who won.

Me too, to be honest. It seems like a natural for naughty fantasies.

theme song

Okay, fine. I bid 100 EcchiCredits for Old Man Ro.

concurrently works for me. I bid one MILLION ecchibucks for Old Man Ro (said in Doctor Evil voice, with my pinky raised to the side of my face)