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duplicitymemes2021-01-10 07:56 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2021-01-10 07:56 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #16
« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »
» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «
« « « ALL ON DISPLAY
It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy. This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses. To counteract the discovery of the Deceit Gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the L.I.E.S. program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the Deceit Gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from L.I.E.S. after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues. ... and you’re here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity. After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a paper gown to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of orientation. If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You’re a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your high rise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You’re a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you’ll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms. Enjoy your free time until orientation! Participation is mandatory by all new and old arrivals. The weather is rather cold and icy. |
» » » WALKING TOUR
 The cold, icy winter weather has seen to it that there is an unfortunate interruption with the usual city tour for the newest arrivals to Duplicity. Some of the train tracks have a dangerous amount of ice coating them and sections of travel are now unavailable via train. City officials still believe that the tours are important to integrate new LIERs to Duplicity so they have organised personal walking tours held by current LIERs. New arrivals will be paired with their own tour guide; they can take the suggested path or take their barely dressed charge on a more ad-hoc tour. It might be considerate to let them change into something warmer first! Important landmarks and checkpoints like Fiddler’s Square, North Park, The Up and Down Courts, the People Zoo and of course S.L.U.T. need to be marked off on the tours but there have also been fun local stores which have set-ups for free samples and information booklets. What order and how people travel to them is up to them. |
« « « GALLERIA OF SEX
 (CW: exhibitionism, voyeurism, dub/non-con)One of the stops along these new walking tours is a temporary educational art installation that has been set up to display and talk about the rich variety of kinks that are popular in Duplicity. Newcomers are invited to come inside the building, sit on the human furniture to watch and learn or volunteer to participate themselves. Each section has local LIERs and graduated citizens there to help walk those new to the program through the displays, explaining the appeal and draw of each kink. Live demonstrations or performance art are carried out by LIERs who have volunteered, been conscripted or are fulfilling a sentence that would normally land them in the People Zoo. They can and will ask anyone and everyone to step up and be part of the artwork themselves. Some of the displays set up will feature:
We encourage players not to limit themselves in regards to what is on display. There are many more kinks than the ones listed, and Duplicity considers all kinds of sexual acts a form of art. Photo taking is encouraged throughout the exhibition, especially when your own participation is concerned. If you missed the chance to do so, in the moment, you need not worry as the gift shop at the end of the gallery will have many different prints taken over the course of the exhibition available for purchase. Take home a keepsake of your first day in Duplicity. |
« « « ICE TO SEE YOU
 (CW: exhibitionism)Winter does make it harder in Duplicity to enjoy all the pleasures of the flesh that could be on offer in the warmer months. Most who live in the city still need to wrap up with many layers when the weather turns so chilly. But that’s not saying that the city can’t find ways to help keep its residents in the mood. It will first be noticeable to those trying their hand at streaming or posting video footage onto the network. Regardless of a character's state of dress while recording, they will appear completely naked to those watching and no amount of covering up with more articles of material will change that. Others might see it as they set about on their first days getting used to the city’s layout, glancing into a shop window they will notice their own state of undress in their reflection. You might even see it in a particularly shiny bit of ice but no matter where you look, all reflective surfaces will show everyone in their birthday suits, naked as the day they were born. |
« « « BLADES OF GLORY
 (CW: exhibitionism, dubcon, drugging) In a bid to encourage individuals to get out and keep active despite the chilly weather, the city has transformed one of the large tennis courts in the Up into a makeshift outdoor skating rink. In the recreation building attached to the courts-turned-rink the change rooms have been outfitted for people to change into more appropriate clothing. There is also at the front of the building an area to rent skates. Many who get on the ice see no reason to keep apart, as many contracted couples can be seen holding hands or chasing each other as they skate. In the change rooms it isn’t uncommon to see a bit of hanky panky or people getting off at helping others in and out of their skates. There also seems to be a small hot chocolate stand set up inside the building where characters can buy a warm drink to sip on while taking a break from skating. The drink may leave those that consume it feeling especially warm and frisky, with perhaps a bit of extra energy they need to burn off - skating might not cut it. |
« « « MOD & OOC NOTES
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, characters will still have gone through the doors but assignments OOCly are still randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chooses "left" or "right". When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass". This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice. To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide: If your character would rather have a dog for a pet they are Dominant. If they would rather have a cat for a pet they are Submissive. If your character is from a canon that has neither, pick the choice you believe they would prefer more. To Note: Characters can only swap their designation for one of the following reasons: an event occurs that allows it or there are OOC reasons that make it a necessity. Any swap always requires mod approval and each character can only ever switch once. Characters that are being reapped will keep their previous designation but players can choose to use new tdms with different designations for fun! Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have a good time!! |
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As if the volume of Vrenille's voice calls to them, their audience of one grows in number. At least four others watch them now.
No, Mustang isn't aroused by being watched during sex but understands its allure. He enjoys being admired for his looks, from outright stares to the subtler eye contact of people attracted to him. Despite their lack of privacy, he's been more than capable of performing. Embarrassingly so. Hmm. Maybe he likes this, after all.
Something about this place seems to have infected him, he admits. As a scientist, Mustang doubts it's supernatural. Had he been drugged, or is the effect psychological in nature? It hardly matters right now; he feels like he did at eighteen years old, quick to shoot and even speedier to reload. But eventually, he'll have his answer.
"Yes. Harder. Faster. I like it punishing." Roy clenches his teeth, a smile -- in part. "You up to that?" It's just banter, and if Vrenille chooses to take it as aggression, all the better for him.
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"Guess the city got one right when they marked you then," he says, the words a low, throaty growl in the moment before he really lets loose.
If what Mustang wants is punishment, Vrenille is certainly willing and able to oblige him, his hips bucking into the man fast and hard, giving himself free rein for a breathless gallop, an all-out sprint. It's not a pace he'll be able to keep up indefinitely, but if Mustang wants him to feel him really exert himself, he certainly will.
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Mustang already knew Vrenille to be a brilliant fuck, but now, his respect for the man soars.
He’s captured his interest, fascination to be truthful, and Roy’s curiosity about the man redoubles in scope and priority. Until he can find a way to return home, puzzling out Vrenille’s personality, the history behind the breadth of his sexual experience will be an entertaining distraction.
Being controlled by the fisting of his hair, the elbow against his spine contorting his body into a position not of his choosing feels oddly freeing to Mustang. Always has. Even moreso since Ishval. It’s uncomfortable by intent, and he relishes every detail -- the knuckles against his scalp, the cool press of the mirror against the side of his face and chest, being battered against it. Every touch electrifies his body, a dangerous fire pulsating through his cock and balls and everywhere. If he could look down, he’d see a straining, ludicrously engorged erection.
The only problem being that Vrenille’s cock has even easier access to Roy’s prostate now, and it rakes, relentless, against it.
Roy squirms uneasily.
He focuses on their audience. If he doesn’t, he’ll cum too quickly, right now, and he wants to prolong this feeling for as long as he can. It helps, but only just.
The timbre of Vrenille’s voice adds to it, the growl sending shivers up Mustang’s spine. While challenging to speak through the speed of the man’s thrusts, his own curiosity, his stupid brain that never stops makes him ask, sandpaper baritone punctuated by every pounding thrust, “Is that so? Wanting a rough fuck makes me a submissive?”
He tries to shift his stance but is held fast. “Seems like it’d be more complicated than that.”
edited for neurotic perfectionist tendencies
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So it's when his thrusts slow again for a bit of a break that he answers, still grinding his hips, savouring the friction of his cock working in and out of Mustang's ass. And the answer comes with its own new bit of roughness too because now, though he lets go of his grip on the man's hair, it's only to reach around and grab him by the throat, pulling his body back like a bow so that he can speak right into his ear without even needing to lean forward.
"No. Liking to be punished. That makes you a submissive."
His mouth hot, he runs lips and tongue across the shell of Mustang's ear, staying close so the roughness of his breath and the low hum of pleasure at claiming him can be heard, this new shift of angle driving his thrusts directly into the man's prostate, firm but not nearly as fast or hard as he's demonstrated he can do.
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When he hears Vrenille’s what… accusation? His first impulse is to deny the man’s observation. He’d said he liked sex to be punishing, which is technically a very different thing than liking to be punished, but lying would be ridiculous. And obvious. He knows too well what he likes and why he likes it.
The reason behind it remains locked away forever.
When Vrenille forces up him to stand, a hand clutching his throat, Mustang moans pitiably. The act breaks him, so thoroughly exciting, dangerously sexy.
The man’s right -- he is a submissive in every sense of the word. He no longer cares, having come to terms with it quickly, admittedly with Vrenille's help.
The last time he was this close, Mustang told the man, and the urgency he feels needs to be voiced right now. He swallows against Vrenille’s hand. “I need to cum, Vrenille. Soon. Now.”
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"You'll do it with nothing but my cock in you to get you there. And if you cum, don't think I'm gonna stop or give you a break. Not till I'm done using this tight little hole of yours, not till I've dumped my load inside you."
It's the kind of shameless dirty talk that would make a lot of men blush, but it's also part of this little journey they're on together in which Vrenille is, step by step, teaching Mustang both something about the culture of the city and about his own inclinations to submit. And here's another layer of it--Vrenille isn't telling him not to cum. He's not forbidding it. They aren't at a place where his words would--or should--have that kind of control yet. But he is telling him the consequences, what he can expect should he lose control, and he's leaving it up to him how he'll handle that knowledge. Maybe the thought itself will send him over the edge or maybe it will give his body the incentive to last a little bit longer.
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He almost barks a laugh at Vrenille’s comment, if only because he feels very “touched” indeed. Roy almost says it out loud, but he’s too caught up in the other man’s hands and mouth and lips and breath. Vrenille’s a virtuoso, playing him like an instrument, and it feels so damn good.
It’s true enough that Roy was raised to be a gentleman and isn’t accustomed to hearing the sort of raunchy dirty talk that spills from the other man’s lips, even saying the word ‘cum’ has been a little embarrassing, somehow, but it’s exciting, what he says.
Roy hums a little ‘mmm’ against Vrenille’s palm, almost luxuriating in the jolting thrusts and the huff of exertion in his ear. He’s so close now. He doesn’t think he could stop if he tried, and he doesn’t want to try anymore, having ridden the edge of an orgasm for too long -- it’s a wonder he hasn’t gotten a second case of blue balls. It’s just… he doesn’t want to make a mess. Too anal retentive and isn’t that just perfect?
Doesn’t matter now. Mustang’s cock throbs, the tension between his legs urgent and desperate and oh, so hot, and he clutches his erection, pointing it toward a nearby wastebasket, hoping to avoid cumming all over the stall. He shudders as a series of long, severe waves crash slow and steadily through him, making him shiver. It’s a long, hard cum, the ejaculate shooting thick strings across the carpet and into the pail.
He sags a little as endorphins flood his system momentarily and smiles, bracing himself for more and hoping he doesn't end up hard and horny again.
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He drives deep and almost lets himself still through the first couple spurts, not for Mustang's benefit but for his own, savouring the tight constriction of muscles around his cock when the man's balls begin to empty. But then, almost at once, he's moving again--a sharp, rough pounding that's not exactly aimed to satisfy.
"Oh you are cheeky," he scolds. "Maybe now I see the real reason you were given to me in shackles. Not a whole lotta self control." His hips snap mercilessly into Mustang's ass as he speaks, the slap of their skin sounding almost like a spanking, and at just that pace.
"Seems like next time you're gonna need to have your hands bound so you obey. Maybe lock your cock up nice 'n tight so you can't cum at all." Seizing the moment of post-orgasm languor, he reaches around to grab Mustang's arms, pulling his wrists to fold his arms behind his back, pushing his chest and cheek to the mirror once more and holding him pinned so that he can't pull his hands away while he fucks him.
If his words add embarrassment or shame to the posture, that's all the better--Mustang has, in effect, asked for this humiliation by taking himself in hand when Vrenille told him not to, and now he's going to reap the consequences of it.
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What he shows is the flushed, sweaty skin behind an escalating lust that has the potential to tip into frantic need. Roy closes his eyes to shut out everything outside of them. Only he and Vrenille inhabit this place of sex and sin, of searing pleasure and the beginnings of pain, unintentional but erotic. The sound of skin smacking, lewd and delicious, and Roy hardens at the nascent promise of Vrenille’s bruising hips. Opening his eyes, Mustang peers through the soot of his lashes, watching the other man intently through the mirror.
So he’s startled by the sudden clutching of his arms being twisted behind him. He’s crushed against the mirror again, and while Roy loves being manhandled, he’s confused.
Until Vrenille’s filthy, gorgeous mouth opens and explains, suggesting they engage, in vulgar, arousing words, the kind of sex about which Roy’s always dreamt and never experienced.
He hadn’t realized he’d stepped outside the boundaries of a Submissive, thinking Vrenille referred only to his own hands, not Mustang’s. And there’s no way he’ll correct him now, too eager to see and feel everything the other man dreams up.
And to seal the deal, Roy grins against the mirror. “Yes. Sir.”
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If nothing else, for the moment, it puts Mustang in the role of the "brat" and Vrenille in that of the "brat tamer." And if that's the game they're going with, then Vrenille has no trouble at all taking it up.
So as "punishment" for Mustang's insolent disobedience, Vrenille takes the liberty to just fuck him selfishly--really use him like some sort of doll, some sort of sex toy, purely for his own pleasure. After all, Mustang has already seen to himself, why shouldn't he receive the same treatment back in spades?
All that means that he doesn't pound into Mustang as hard or fast as he can. His thrusts are forceful with an extra push right at the top like he's trying to get ever deeper inside the man's hole, even if he very possibly hurts him a bit by doing so, but his pace is steady and measured enough to let him savour each sensation, and for a time, the only sound is the low grunt of exertion at the force of each stroke.
He doesn't really care how tired Mustang is now or how his spent cock swings between his legs, and he's not really paying attention to the amount of time he takes before deciding that just keeping his hands behind his back that way isn't enough. Wrenching him back to put some further distance between them and the mirror, he shifts his grip so that Mustang's arms are stretched out straight behind him, Vrenille's hands gripping his wrists and he hangs forward from them. It gives him just that little extra leverage to drive into him even harder.
"Mmm, that's it," he purrs finally in a low growl. "Good little hole. Why don't you ask for my cum now 'n I'll decide if I'm ready to give it to you," he says it like it's just a suggestion, even though it's most certainly not.
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When Vrenille changes their position, Mustang’s eyes widen in surprise and honestly, he feels the first trace of genuine humiliation. More than a trace. Being called a ‘hole’ isn’t much of a boost to the ego, and with Roy dangling by his wrists, completely at Vrenille’s mercy, this position lacks the dignity the others hadn’t. He couldn’t begin to explain why, maybe it had something to do with the illusion of control, which shattered the moment the man decided to change it up. Or maybe he just feels as though he looks silly hanging there.
Not that it matters all too much. Mustang literally isn’t in the position to reprimand the man. Not yet.
Mustang lifts himself minutely to ease the pull of his shoulders.
Vrenille is fucking him hard, if not fast, but hard enough to hurt him and if he were hornier, he’d be ecstatic. But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it. He keeps his eyes tightly shut to banish their ‘audience’ for the time being, leaving his mind free to concentrate and reach for the beginnings of inevitable endorphins to flood his mind -- his body by now attuned to them.
So when Vrenille suggests Roy ask him to cum, he’s more than happy to do it; more than happy being equivalent to desperate to get out of his grasp. When he speaks, it’s politely, and as sexy as he can manage. “Vrenille, I want you to cum in me. Please, Sir.”
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So there are several long moments more of him just riding the man, but ultimately its in the service of him banishing all thought and just enjoying himself, finding his way right to the final precipice...and then with a last deep grunt, drawing himself until only his head is held in Mustang's ass as he cums, hips still as he pumps into him, the ring of his muscles tight around his glans.
He pumps mostly into him, at least, pulling himself out after the first, hardest spurts to make a deliberate mess over his entrance, the crease of his ass, and then sliding back in, deeply, a few more slow, lazy thrusts before he starts to soften, carrying him through the aftershocks.
It's only once he's truly and fully spent that he pulls out and carefully releases Mustang's arms, first one and then the other, giving him a chance to brace himself against the mirror and a helping hand of support on his chest. Despite the "disobedience" he encountered mid way through, he doesn't look at all displeased.
There's a momentary glance over his shoulder and a gesture for the packet of wet wipes that were brought over earlier to be passed to him, but his proper focus is still on Mustang.
"Well that was educational," he smirks. "Wouldn't you say?"
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On the one hand, Mustang is outraged that Vrenille left him such a mess, but he isn't particularly surprised after everything that's happened. To say he's untidy is being kind, and his face enflames as a dollop of cum rolls down the back of his thigh.
For the most part, Roy isn't a man who cares to reveal his emotions, particularly those that communicate his vulnerability, albeit they occasionally run away with him. The blush on Mustang's face heightens some as he hesitates to take the wipes and clean himself. As cleaning himself afterward is technically a ritual associated with sex, he doesn't want to cross any boundaries. His eyes turn, focusing on the package in Vrenille's hand.
"I can clean myself… can't I?"
Now that both of them are sated, Mustang is hungry. It had been late at night when he was taken, so it's morning according to his internal clock. Stifling a yawn, a thought occurs to him, and he feels the need to ask about it. "Vrenille. Now that we've--" the colonel begins, thoroughly mindful of their audience and wondering how he had managed to perform with so many other people watching, "finished, am I still obligated to "obey" you?"
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With a wetwipe in hand, he cleans himself first and then wipes away the worst of the cum that's left on Mustang's skin, at least stopping any more dripping before he throws that wipe into the bin. There's still more to do though, and Vrenille isn't opposed to Mustang taking over and managing it himself, so he passes him the packet of wipes with an affectionate, if not exactly tender, little swat on his hip, "Knock yourself out."
While Mustang sees to those necessities, Vrenille puts all his own apparel back in place, checking himself in the mirror--you'd really never know that he's just been having sex two minutes before.
Once he's done, he gives his attention back to Mustang and his question.
"According to this place, you're always meant to 'obey,' y'know, more or less. Personally, I'm not such a stickler for it." Then he leans in so his next words won't be overheard, "But if you wanna punch me in the jaw for any of that, I'd suggest waiting till there's no one 'round to see."
He doesn't appear to be terribly worried that Mustang might actually want to punch him in the jaw, or even that he might be genuinely offended. "Now go on 'n get dressed for real--we still gotta find you a coat. And some shoes."
no subject
When it’s over, Mustang takes the wet wipes and finishes up, equally red.
It’s with a strange mix of emotions, a still pool of shame (a lesser shame, but there nonetheless) into which a sudden of fit of humor drops, that Mustang barks a startled bout of laughter at Vrenille’s suggestion.
The smile stays as the colonel finishes dressing, feeling human again instead of the primal, animalistic being he’d been only a few moments ago.
“I don’t blame this place on you. But let me rephrase my question. Submissives aren’t required to ask before they do every-damn-thing.” It isn’t really a question, and as he said, nothing of this mess is Vrenille’s fault. It’s just hard to accept as a daily reality of life, and Mustang genuinely doesn’t--. No. He can do this. He just doesn’t want to.
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He pushes himself to his feet as Mustang finishes dressing, heading out of the changing room and towards the shop's selection of shoes. It's not exactly extensive, but it should do for now, and he'll let Mustang peruse the options while he leans one shoulder against a bit of architecture to watch him.
For him, stepping between the sex act in one moment and the social norm in the next is as easy as stepping around a corner, but he knows it's not necessarily like that for everyone--even here, there are many people who'd be less nonchalant about it than him, less nonchalant about just continuing the conversation as they pass from one area into the other.
"What you do wanna remember's that there's a difference 'tween 'not always having to obey everything' and actively disobeying just to make a show of it. 'Cause that will get you in trouble."
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"Wait a minute. Are you saying that submissives must contract themselves out to Dominants? Isn't that just another way to sell yourself?" The colonel's default frown takes over his face as he waits for an answer.
As Vrenille, his lover for the afternoon, moves from the dressing room into the store, Mustang falls in step behind him, utterly out of his depth, a state quite foreign to him. He stares at the shoes a little vacantly. "These are different than what I'm used to wearing. What would you choose?"
The colonel gives himself a mental shake. He needs to keep it together, at least until he gets to the place where he's been assigned to live.
During a lull in the conversation, Mustang remarks, "When I arrived, I had a pair of boots and a uniform. Will they give them back?" Suddenly, Mustang almost snorts at himself because, for some reason, the word 'they' seems hilarious. "You know, the ubiquitous they. Us and them. It sounds like a paranoid fantasy, but if there were ever a place for such a thing, this would be it."
Bending his knees, the colonel crouches, his arms supported by his legs, to study the shoes shelved close to the floor. He swallows the hard-earned wisdom Vrenille doles out, nodding in agreement. "Thanks, Vrenille. Listen, I know you're not comfortable getting repaid, but as I said, I'm an alchemist. Anything you need repaired, let me know." Eyes scanning the shoes and short boots, Mustang points out a black, leather pair.
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It's a distinction he can certain expand upon if asked, but his initial reaction is simply no.
"Anything you had on you'll be in the room they've assigned you in the Down," Vrenille reminds him. "'They' being LIES--so not that paranoid. They're a bunch of bastards. The city and LIES ain't quite the same, always worth remembering. They got overlaps in their rules 'n such, but contracts are a city thing; monthly sex quota is all LIES."
He's looking over the shoes as he says all this, pointing to the selection of sneakers. "These are popular here--comfortable, light weight, people wear 'em with almost everything."
He has no objection to the leather pair that Mustang picks though, and takes a seat on the bench while the clerk gets some sizes from the back for Mustang to try.
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He doesn’t doubt it. The man knows his way around the human body. Mustang wants to ask how that happened if it happened often, but the dominant is still talking, so he listens. It appears he missed out on a significant amount of information.
“I have a couple of questions. First, how does a person go about getting contracted, or does Lies do it for you?”
The clerk chooses that moment to return with a couple of boxes. Mustang takes the one marked closest to his size, noticing the clerk leering at both he and Vrenille, promptly ignoring him and trying the shoe on. He stands and looks at his new friend. “And what’s the Down?”
He takes a few steps. The shoe feels good enough. Mustang returns to the bench, sitting back down, and pulls on the second shoe, slapping his knees.
“Alright. So just the coat.”
no subject
Unlike Mustang, Vrenille shares a smile with the clerk, totally shameless and unabashed. If the man liked what he saw (or what he heard) from them in the changing room, Vrenille is happy to let him carry the mental image with him through the day. Besides, he's looking after them well, and Vrenille appreciates the good service.
"The Down," he says, as he watches Mustang try the shoes, "is the lower, subterranean part of the city. It's where the public housing for Submissives is. You wanna move outta there, you're probably gonna need a contract to make it happen. The Down's gritty 'n grimy 'n high-crime. But there's a community centre and a free clinic run by LIERs--other people who been dragged to this place. Some people prefer it to the Up, all depends what you're used to, I guess."
And with that, he rises from his seat, looking towards the last piece of apparel they need to find.