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Month: August 2025

Miriam Humiliates the Elven Noble

This story brought to you by /r/DirtyWritingPrompts

The message the elven ambassador exuded with his clothing could not be ignored. Lady Miriam had been reading the subtitles of his resplendent clothing without ogling throughout their conversation. His movements colored the gentle words he shared. His voice was as clear as a bell. The rarest and most unique guest to ever have come to her House of Whipsers. The Elvish ambassador dressed like the eternally cultured, visiting those who lived too briefly to ever truly appreciate it.

Nights with the courtesans always carry the most mundane of political stakes, and this novelty pleased Miriam.

“What you ask will require more than one or two, my Lord,” she said. “None who serve here have ever encountered one who lives as long as you.”

“I understand, Lady Miriam,” he said. “It is so good of you to take the time in this extended negotiation. I hope that all of your kind people accommodate with such civilized empathy.”

“Accommodations are the nature of the House of Whispers,” she put a quill to her lip in thought. “I believe I can convince my escorts to work in a rotation. Thought the cost will be at least five thousand ducats for the time required.”

The ambassador shook his head.

“That is far too much. Already, my entourage has spent so many of our coffers on our long journey,” he said. “And we do not fully know the customs of your land. It is not uncommon among my people to welcome visiting dignitaries with complimentary company on nights of celebration, or upon arrival, you see. Having not known the customs of your great city, I did not expect the same in return. Still, we did not understand the amount of treasures to bring.”

Honey-tongued, vulnerable, and gentle. Did all Elven nobles open with this craftiness? Or was it genuine? Miriam could only treat him like any other noble, and go from there.

“I do not mean to offend, Lord. Only that great cost reflects the majesty of great need.”

Need. That word got him. She could sense the faintest tension in his fingers.

“To see you in such frustration from your long journey -a journey without worthy company- pains me so,” said Miriam. “I fear you will rage like an untamed gnoll if we do not find some agreement soon.”

“Gnolls are filthy,” glowered the ambassador, but he cracked the briefest of smiles. Lady Miriam caught a glint in his eye, too. So Elves were much like human nobles, then.

“My lord, it does occur to me I could discount to four thousand. Though you must agree to additional terms.”

He nodded for her to proceed.

“Gnolls are to be caged. Bound. Sometimes gagged for safety,” began Lady Miriam. The great ambassador leaned in closely to listen.

Later, in the dungeon beneath the House of Whispers, Lady Miriam looked down on the naked ambassador, cock half erect, as he lay on a circular padded disk. Lady Miriam latched the manacles over his wrists and ankles.

“Ready?” She said. He nodded. Lady Miriam turned a wheel on the wall, pulled levers, and the disc tilted up and back, positioning the prone ambassador upright, on his back, or at any angle between.

“That is very comfy,” said the Ambassador.

“Comfy? But this isn’t about you, animal,” said Lady Miriam as she covered his eyes in a leather hood. His cock got harder. “This is for each of the courtesans under my care. This is for their pleasure, safety, and challenge…”

She picked up a gag.

“You’re a pitiful monster who needs taming,” she said. “Declare it.”

“A pitiful monster, who must be subdued and tamed,” he said.

“Perfect. Now shush,” she replied and stuffed his mouth full of the gag. Lady Miriam then opened the dungeon door, and a dozen courtesans entered. Some looked on with surprise. Others whispered to one another. They all went silent when Lady Miriam cleared her throat to speak.

“Ladies, our city has been graced with a special guest. An elf of some great supposed importance.” She said. There were excited whispers. No one in this city had ever seen an elf.

“Each of you will have one hundred and eighty ducats,” she said. “Yet the real gift is him. Suck him. Ride him. Tease him, above all, enjoy him. Only know this, the long-lived elven race may take hours to climax. He would wear any one of you out. That is why I give him to all of you.”

She flicked the ambassador’s cock. Then reached for a box of ducats.

“Therefore, whoever comes to me with his cum on their hands, their lips, wherever… will receive a box of another three hundred ducats. I have but three such boxes.”

The coutesans looked at the box and the Ambassador with excitement. She motioned them forward, and two moved towards the ambassador with curiosity. Lady Miriam stepped away. She shut the dungeon door right as a red-haired courtesan caressed the ambassador’s torso. Another whispered something into his ear.

Upstairs, Lady Miriam enjoyed a civilized bottle of wine while the ambassador screamed and moaned below.

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Kink is Anti-fascist. We have Herd Immunity.

In one of my local communities, a new person outed herself -if even indirectly- as a Trump supporter. Last time I saw her at an event, not many people talked to her and she left. Interestingly enough, there was no public scolding. No coordinated ‘cancelling’ and now hash tag. It was simple. She voiced qualified support for some of the administration’s practices, and then found herself unwelcome in the community. Why did this happen?
I’m generous when I say ‘conservative.’ I honestly think in 2025, after a decade of this bullshit, if you support the GOP, you are at best a Fascist sympathizer. You’re Nazi curious. You know the leopards will never eat your face. You’ve caught yourself a mild case of fascism, and now -perhaps without even knowing it- you’re spreading it to your community.
But it won’t work so well in BDSM communities.
Fascism, among other qualities, believes in a world of slaves and masters. Its violence is non-negotiable. Its hierarchies are rigidly enforced. Roles are essentialized. There is no spectrum of gender. Empathy is considered a liability, as it would lead to moral thinking outside of whatever the master wills. BDSM, by contrast, weaponizes many things authoritarians fear: enthusiastic consent, mutable power dynamics, and empathy.
Consider the following:
  1. Consent Culture as Herd Immunity – Dungeons enforce ongoing, revocable consent like epidemiologists track viruses. This creates social antibodies against coercion. When ‘no’ is sacred, tyranny can’t take root. If a dungeon is run well (yes, I know that’s a qualifier!) they have a policy to deal recognize consent violations, and address consent violations. Fascism cannot even do the first thing.
  2. Power Fluidity vs. Fixed Hierarchies – Even in 24/7 dynamics, submission is chosen daily. Unlike fascism’s rigid castes, our roles shift with negotiation. Tonight’s Domme is tomorrow’s rope bunny – a living rebuke to essentialism. The famous assumption that man = dominant and female = top doesn’t work well in the communities I’m in. Groups that essentialise power on gender (or anything else) don’t find many willing subs.
  3. Aftercare as Collective Care – We ritualize emotional (and empathetic!) processing post-scene. Fascism demands suffering without catharsis; we transform pain into connection. The pleasure of the sadist dom is also caring for the sub. Fascists only want to see others suffer.
Kink spaces are literal laboratories of resistance. Every negotiation teaches skills to dismantle oppression: articulating needs, respecting boundaries, and wielding power ethically.
In developing these emotional muscles and institutionalized habits, we also develop a sense of who does not have them. More importantly, those who might work against them. This is why a person who outs themselves as a boot licker will quickly find themselves incompatible within the community. There need be no direct canceling or collective effort. The ‘conservative’ will find themselves unwelcome, unable to get what they’re after, and discover the exit door on their own.
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