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duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
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TDM #22
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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 highrise. 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. Winter is here and snow flurries are common in the Up while the slush collects in the Down. |
 After stepping through the door and participating in orientation, LIERS are assembled together in the Up for a tour of Duplicity in its entirety. Seats are in pairs and randomly assigned to Dominants and Submissives alike. Traveling from Fiddler's Square, the train journeys through various parts of the Up, showcasing society and examples of lifestyle. Along the way, frequent stops are made; a variety of passengers can be seen exiting and entering the doors. A Dominant with a kneeling Submissive takes a seat near the front of the train at one stop. A small group of Submissives board and sit closer to the LIERS at another, all seemingly content in their roles. As the tour continues through the Up, the train passes close to the Market and White Wall Bridge and zips by North Park before heading into the Down and bypassing Red Wall Bridge and South Park. The train makes a "final" stop at Riddler's Square, where inhabitants of the Down are instructed to return to their temporary housing. Those who live in the Up are permitted to stay on the train and revisit the same locations while returning. |
 As a particularly heavy snowstorm blows across the city, Duplicity finds itself blanketed in white. The morning after the storm, many citizens seem to be in a particularly mischievous mood and snowballs are a common sight flying through the air. A projectile meant for someone else may hit you square in the face if you're not careful — and then it's on. Joining these impromptu snow battles is encouraged, no matter a person's designation, and even Submissives teaming up to pelt unsuspecting Dominants with snowballs is generally taken in the spirit of good fun. Not everyone is throwing snow, of course — some are rolling much larger balls and shaping them into lewd snow figures. Those feeling chilled after playing in the snow may experience the urge to warm up with someone else, skin to skin. Whether they're a stranger or a familiar face, holding hands, kissing, or getting down and dirty with the nearest willing partner is invigorating. It might even be the only way to really feel warm again. |
 (cw: aphro, humiliation kink) Want to make some quick cash? After exiting the train in the Down, there seems to be a questionable character hanging about the station. Dressed in a trenchcoat and looking more like a flasher than the businessman he claims to be, this shady recruiter offers easy money in exchange for a simple delivery. Just take a package and drop it off at the address on the label. Really, that's it! Stop asking questions. Should characters decide to open the package themselves instead, they'll discover one of the following: glitter — so much glitter, lube (appears normal, but actually contains hot pepper and will cause more than a mild tingling sensation if used anywhere sensitive), a package of flavored condoms mysteriously labeled "every flavor" (none of them taste good), candy or perfume containing an aphrodisiac that, in addition to the usual libido-boosting effect, will also cause an intense craving for humiliation. It seems to be one of those services that allows one to send anonymous prank gifts, and they're hiding behind LIERs as couriers. There's no return address or company information on or inside the package, except for a card marked Encoded Sin Corp — which does not seem to be a real company if the name is searched. Whether characters end up delivering the package — maybe even to a fellow LIER — or get into some trouble along the way, someone is getting a nasty surprise. |
 (cw: aphro, dubcon, excessive fluids, exhibitionism, public use)A small winter market has been set up along one of the major streets in the Up with stalls selling a variety of goods ranging from knitted hats and scarves, soaps, scented lotions, candles, jewelry, artwork and assorted crafts to hand-dyed bondage rope and kinky leather accessories. Food and drink stands are plentiful as well. Strings of lights crisscross the street between the roofs of the shops, providing a cheerful glow, and there are tables set up in the street itself for people to sit and chat while having a snack — if they can stand the cold. Some of the most popular treats being sold are hot chocolate, eggnog, marshmallow snowmen, and sugar cookies decorated like snowflakes. Of course, their popularity may have something to do with the effects they produce when consumed. • The hot chocolate simply gets one all hot and bothered. • The eggnog may cause heavy production of sexual fluids, a desire to be filled or covered with someone else's cream, or all of the above. • The marshmallow snowmen will make those who eat them want to invite others to use them as they please, desiring nothing more than to be molded into the perfect fucktoy. • The sugar cookies seem to induce all sorts of different cravings — after all, no two snowflakes are alike! These effects tend to last at least an hour and may, in some cases, last up to a full day. One of the jewelry shops sells an unusual selection of compass pendants and bracelets. The compass arrows spin round and round lazily while the pieces are on display. Once worn, however, that changes. The arrow will settle on a direction, but instead of pointing north it will lead directly to another person. Perhaps you should speak to them? You may even begin to feel magnetically drawn to them yourself… In the event that two people have compasses that point them at each other, the attraction will be even stronger — nearly impossible to deny. There is another shop which sells intricately designed pocket watches and small clocks. When these timepieces are stared at for an extended length of time or picked up and handled, characters will feel a brief but strong connection to their past and experience a vivid flashback to some moment that was, in whatever way, meaningful for them. After reliving the memory, they will feel compelled to speak about it to whoever is nearby. |
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 likes it hot, they are a Dominant. If your character prefers the cold, they are a Submissive. 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! Test Drive threads can be used as activity proofs for characters currently in-game. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
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Irving stares back, eyes half-lidded with weary pleasure, and nods slowly. ]
Y-yes, [ His voice is low, quiet, but clear. ] I do.
[ He wants it so badly he probably looks stupid, but Irving remains undeterred, moving toward Jack and pausing only to consider the physical logistics at hand, such as: which way should he face? Irving's instinct is, as usual, to face away, although climbing backwards onto Jack's lap seems significantly more complicated than the alternative, so he relents and climbs on the easy way, facing Jack, since Jack is apparently keen on watching Irving's face while buggering him anyway.
(Which Irving doesn't get at all, personally; looking at others while nude or engaged in anything remotely carnal only makes him want to look away, and being looked at doing same only makes him want to hide. Being looked at while he sits on Jack's cock is somehow even more nerve-wracking to him than the act itself.)
Straddling Jack's hips, Irving avoids eye contact as he carefully lowers his own, guided by Jack's erection bumping itself against the cleft of his ass. The next step, actually fitting inside him, is less straightforward, but Irving manages to figure that out on his own, reaching behind himself to hold Jack's cock still as he aligns himself with the head of it and lowers down about an inch. His other hand, meanwhile, presses over his mouth as his breathing begins to hitch faster. ]
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Jack settles in to let Irving climb on top of him, quickly squirting some of the lube on his cock to make this go smoother. Irving guides him in, and he legs out a shaky breath, swearing with the restrictive heat of him, the slow, torturous descent. ]
Fucking hell...
[ He grabs his ass with both hands, fingers gripping roughly into pale flesh, not forcing him down onto his cock, but making the motion smoother, eyes on Irving's face as he sinks down. Jack's just the opposite, he wouldn't dare look away. ]
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In a way it's felt almost more appropriate that a pirate be the first to debauch Irving this way, get him to do things he never would have on his own prerogative beyond even just the acts themselves, because degeneracy from pirates is normal, expected, plus the fact that beyond these dalliances, Irving has no major vested interest in Jack's opinion of him. Not really. After all, there's never been any respect between them for him to lose.
(All that being said, it also hasn't stopped Irving from finding something about Jack begrudgingly... enticing, even if he couldn't say what. He certainly isn't about to self-analyze that feeling.)
Sitting up on his knees, legs shaking, Irving raises himself up about halfway off Jack's cock the first time before coming back down, rhythm tentative and clumsy, but needy. One hand moves higher to dig into Jack's hair, the other remaining grounded on his shoulder, fingers dug in to give Irving better leverage for rocking himself in place. It's all he can do not to focus on the close proximity of their faces, Irving's as usual conveying every thought and feeling as clearly as a billboard, tensed in a conflicted grimace that still barely disguises his pleasure, his eyes screwed shut to hide the eagerness no doubt shining in them, lips pursed to hold back groans. ]
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There you go, John. You feel good.
[ Why downplay it? Whether there is respect here or not, whether his investment in Irving's feelings and self-discovery are genuine or not, if he's planning on keeping this up, the least he can do is give some praise when it's due. Irving lacks experience, but not eagerness, as much as he tries to deny it. He'll mold him into a proper whore, yet. ]
Grab as tight as you need.
[ He likes it. The hand in his hair, the pushing against him, means the other man's figuring it out. Jack lets him do so, a few slow, rocking ins and outs to get the hang of it before he starts thrusting up into him. His rhythm is more consistent than Irving's, but if he sets the pace, he'll trust the navyman to follow. Reaching up, Jack grabs at his chin, prodding at his lip with his thumb. ]
Don't hold back, I want to hear you.
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No holding back now; he couldn't keep quiet if he tried. ]
You-- [ He huffs, breath hitching sharply. ] You also-- also feel... g-good.
[ The last word is nearly whispered, but he gets it out, just barely, the whole sentence sticking in his throat the whole way for how impossibly difficult it is to say. Irving feels as if, perhaps, he owes him at least that much honesty, for everything else Jack's so far offered him in return (in more ways than one), because it does genuinely feel good in a way Irving never thought sex actually could feel; as much as he's never wanted to "figure it out," right now that's all he wants, to feel and get his fill of all the specific sorts of pleasures he's deprived himself of for so long.
It makes a difference, pushing back while Jack is always pushing forward, magnifying the experience almost overwhelmingly so. His fingers dig into Jack's hair more deeply, gripping and pulling it as Irving rocks in place trying to match the pace Jack's set, all the while gasping and whining and clinging tight against the other man. ]
D-don't stop, [ Spoken between pants. ] Please don't stop.
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And what's in front of him is Jack, fucking up into him and tugging him against his chest, groaning his approval into his neck, where he's leaving rough, biting kisses, getting a good taste of him in case Irving comes to his senses tomorrow and doesn't call him.
Yeah, right. ]
Wouldn't dream of it. [ He growls into Irving's ear, tugging at his earlobe with his teeth. ] You were born to take my cock. You fucking love it.
[ With a hard thrust up, he reaches between them to stroke Irving's cock, easily matching the pace of their hips, the way he's bobbing up and down. ]
Admit it.
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Pain is cleansing, purifying, repentant. Redemptive.
Irving's nails, rough and dulled from having been broken and bitten down, scrape Jack's skin in turn as Irving's grip travels from his shoulder to his back, adjusting himself slightly in accordance to where Jack wants to mark him next, as well as plain need, urgent, desperate, and undignified. By now he's acceded almost fully to Jack's more assertive, experienced pace, rocking his hips down impatiently whenever Jack thrusts upward with his own so as to take him in as deeply as possible each time. ]
No-- [ The word is almost lost in the next hard thrust of cock that turns it into more gasp than speech. ] No, Jack, you know I... I can't. You know why I can't.
[ Despite the punctuation of sharp breaths, moans, whimpers, his voice is soft and agonized, lacking in confidence almost like a plea; like he's begging. Anticipating, perhaps, that Jack will make him say it anyway to prove how much Irving needs him not to stop, which is true, but--
If he admits it out loud like that so plainly (well, not as plainly, he obviously can't bring himself to curse or use words like "cock"), then what?
He covers his mouth briefly, eyes shining, caught squarely in the paradox of (mostly) his own making. ]
Say what you will about me-- call me whatever you'd like, but I am still bound by-- b-by a modicum of... decency.
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Nothing that won't make his brain go flying out through his ears, with the mental gymnastics it takes to maintain it all. ]
You would still claim any decency, while begging me to keep fucking you in the same breath. You are deeply, profoundly disturbed.
[ And Jack is...fascinated, honestly, like he's being faced with a puzzle, the solution for which seems obvious until it isn't. A perfect contradiction to pull apart and terrorize until he can force it to make sense. Until then, he'll force him to bear his marks, accepting the invitation to leave more, and in more visible, vulnerable places. He's raking his teeth against the base of Irving's throat when his grip tightens, pulling his chest up against his and gripping him tighter so he can thrust up into him, rough and unhindered. It is good, despite all of Irving's bullshit, he's tight, hot, and enthusiastic, in deed if not in words. ]
Don't lie to me. There's no decency in there, just your pretty little moans and my dick. You-- mmm. You love the debauchery, don't you?
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There's no arguing that; Irving won't even try. Obviously something is very wrong with him, has been wrong with him, but Duplicity (with help from Jack, of course) has been drawing it right out in him, forcing it up to the surface for him to choke on.
(Not that he is choking, his voice gasping out of him as rough and unhindered as Jack's deep, unforgiving thrusts, pure sound that is neither yell nor cry nor moan but all at once.) ]
Y-yes--
[ He intends it as yes, I must clearly be disturbed, although the lack of any further elaboration may speak volumes to his own confusion about the rest: no, he doesn't. Yes, he does.
Starving men will eat what they're given, he couldn't rightfully say if this is pleasure is because of or despite the debauchery, but not even John Irving is completely immune to the allure of just giving in fully to every temptation; every filthy, carnal urge; every sinful and deviant part of himself that has been starved and buried so deeply within him that now they can't help reaching like plants, wasted and withering in darkness, to turn their leaves desperately toward any sign of light.
And for now that's exactly what he does: he gives in. Submits. Nods his head, lowers it forward contritely, panting feverishly, before: ]
No, I-- [ He really is confused. ] I do not love the debauchery, or else I'd have not spent so much of my life resisting that very thing-- but I've--
[ It's true that yielding to these suppressed desires has not entirely been by his own choice -- aphrodisiacs in so much of what they eat and drink, compulsory quotas, and heaven only knows what other influences at work -- but Irving will also not deny his own role in since letting those desires weaken him greatly now that he's had some opportunity to actually begin to realize them. ]
Now that I've allowed it in, I don't yet know how I'll... [ Another hitch of breath, a quavering gasp, his own cock reacting in spite of himself as he rocks himself firmly on Jack's, body clenching eagerly around him. ] H-how I'll manage to rid myself of it once again.
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[ Jack says it with such confidence, you'd think it was already decided. The idea that Irving could wake up tomorrow morning and say no more, and mean it, is laughable now. Not even a man this delusional could write off a second go within the same day as an accident.
...probably. If anyone could, it would have to be John Irving, but all that time wasted resisting was before Duplicity, and before Jack Rackham. He's saying so because he's going to make sure of it. He'll make himself into a temptation too powerful to resist. The other man isn't even trying to hide his pleasure anymore (or is spectacularly bad at it), so he knows he's close to becoming that for him already. He's just got to pick him apart a little further, and he'll forget how to put himself back together.
Jack's thumb swipes over the tip of Irving's cock, wiping slick precum down the length of him like a stripe, as he keeps jerking him off, determined to watch him come again. To feel it, even more than now, the way he squeezes him tight and his legs shake. He'll look cute, he thinks. ]
You like that, John?
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Well, he's a bit too far gone at this point, too deeply surrendered in shameless, wanton pleasure, to weep over something he can do nothing about right now short of ending it all by leaping off Jack and fleeing the room-- something which very clearly will not be happening any time soon; if he's too weak to have resisted the temptation in the first place, then how could he ever possibly manage to summon the strength to put a stop to it now while so half-mindless and dick drunk he's not sure what Jack could do to him he'd actually say no to.
And on that note: ]
Yes. [ Whispered, his throat hoarse from how much he's cried out already. ] But I...
[ Is there any point in protesting the touch, though? (Is he really about to be brought to finish again, twice in one day?) The rhythmic stroking pulls a soft, needy whine from him, makes him dig his rough fingernails harder into Jack's skin as he clings to him, legs shaking as predicted. His body clenches around Jack's cock, grinding down, tight and desperate, not wanting this to end. ]
Oh... oh-- [ He gasps, teeth grazing Jack's shoulder. ] J-Jack--
[ Shaking more, trembling with every complicated, turbulent feeling that's built up and been locked inside him, caught between too much and not enough simultaneously. Every groan and gasp is progressively raspy, his throat rough and sore, but Irving continues heedless of that fact, letting the noises tumble from his lips as if he doesn't even notice.
Not there yet, but close and getting closer. He accidentally makes eye contact again briefly, eyes fucked-out and blurry like fogged up glass, though he holds them there for a moment before letting his gaze drop again. Somehow his eyes keep finding their way back even against his own will, taking in different details each time they sweep over Jack; his thick hair, his sharply pointed face, his eyes, his lips, features that still fail to come together for Irving into a man he understands even slightly.
(Not that he's entirely sure he actually wants to.) ]
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The hands and teeth digging into him pull a satisfied hiss out of Jack, who raises to the challenge of making eye contact each and every time. He avoided it with Charles, the first couple times, before jealousies inexplicable by any other means forced some level of emotion out into the open, but it's different here. Irving has no power over him, so it becomes an assertion of his own status as the one in charge here.
He's a sucker for a pretty pair of blue eyes, though. Looking at him like they need him. So innocent, and yet glazed over in bliss. Fuck. He's closer than he thought he was. ]
Come on, John. I know you're gonna feel so fucking good coming on my cock, in my hand. Be good for me. You're almost there.
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(Teasing, yes, but Irving can more than handle a bit of teasing; he is a Naval officer in charge of upwards of a hundred rude and vulgar sailors, after all. It's practically like being a full-time babysitter to a school's worth of bratty children sometimes.
And on that note, though he'd never admit this aloud, since knowing Jack, Irving has reluctantly allowed his own feelings about pirates to... not evolve, per se, but expand somewhat, to begin allowing for a slightly more open mind at least while they're all trapped together here; it would do them all more benefit than harm to consider pooling their knowledge and their resources together so that they might stand a real chance of surviving this place.)
It's confusing for him -- troubling, almost, in how it sets his nerves on edge -- enough so that Irving almost wishes he'd be spat on, mocked, called any and all manner of demeaning names rather than this disarmingly keen and enthusiastic coaxing, warm and patient as if he could watch Irving on his cock all day with genuine enjoyment. Why? He's caught greatly off-guard by it, flustered, drawn in deeper.
And yes: most of all, tempted.
Digging his nails in more, scratching light trails across Jack's skin, Irving buries his face in the crook of his neck, nodding and groaning as he grinds down on Jack's lap, rocking in place eagerly and obligingly. His stomach tenses in that telltale way that usually heads off a climax, heat rushing through him in a large, overwhelming wave before he finishes abruptly, crying out hoarsely as every part of him tightens into it, through it, savoring the feeling of being fucked through it. ]
Please, y-you... [ He pants to catch his breath, flushed and overheated, eyes so glassy they seem out of focus. ] You mustn't stop--
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But they're still men underneath it. Irving can learn that lesson or not, it doesn't matter much to him. He only needs to show enough of himself to keep Irving curious, keep him coming back to him when he's got this itch to scratch. ]
Fuck--
[ Irving clenching impossibly tighter around him makes him growl a curse into his ear, grip his hip hard enough to bruise if he keeps it up too long, so he doesn't, raising his hand to the back of his head to keep him flush against him. Jack doesn't stop, keeping his pace as well as he can while willing himself to hold on, keep fucking him until he's done, pulling every last drop of his pleasure from him.
His hand twists in Irving's hair and pulls, yanking his face far enough away that Jack can see the hot flush taken over him, the hazy eyes sinfully glazed over. Jack keeps slamming up into him as long as he can before he finishes, spilling deep with a grunt to the sound of heavy breathing on both sides. ]
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With Jack, however, it still goes beyond even just that, as whatever nuances and depths the pirate holds within him would be of no consequence to Irving if not for this... filthy secret they now share between them, hardly excusable anymore as just a terrible, drug-incited mistake when by now it's happened multiple times. Irving knows all too well how twisted up within himself each encounter has made him feel, but if Jack shares any of this conflict and shame he's managed superbly well at not letting on.
He forces himself to relax, unclench, and it's not long after that before Jack pulls Irving's head back into view and finishes inside him, Irving's eyes squeezing shut and lips pursing tight as he rides out every juddering aftershock of the sensation. ]
M-my God-- [ he gasps, clearly heedless of the sacrilege, voice hoarse enough it nearly comes out a sob. His face is flushed, slick with sweat, fingers still clinging tight -- though with a shaky, now weakening grip -- against Jack's back and shoulders. ] You truly have made a degenerate of me.
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He'll have the grace not to mention the blasphemy, but don't think he didn't hear it, and that it didn't sound sweet as fucking honey. Turning a godly man into a moaning whore was never exactly a fantasy of his before now, but maybe it should have been. Despite the difficulties and tangents and soapbox breaks, something's doing it for him. It's sick. He should be more interested in shooting him than fucking him, but hell. Jack's swallowed harder truths than that in his time here. ]
You're damn right I have.
[ As his pace slows, and finally stops, Jack loosens his grip on Irving's hair, moving to push back the tufts stuck to the sweat on his forehead, moving it out of his face. A helpful, affectionate gesture, or purely a selfish one, eager to watch Irving own up to his own defilement? A mixture of both, most likely, he's not so cruel as to shove him off as soon as he's finished. ]