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Glam Kink Meme Post #1

The Glam Kink Meme Post #1 is now open.

Have fun prompting, writing, reading, and feedbacking. :)

ETA: All prompts are listed here.

ETA2: All filled prompts are archived here.

ETA3 This post is now CLOSED to new prompts.

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Page 26 of 311
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(Anonymous)
Aug. 16th, 2010 02:04 pm (UTC)
Filled - Clause One-Twenty. 1/3 Hard R
This went very au. So while I think I got most of the prompt I'm not sure it was what the OP was probably looking for. Sorry!

Warnings for Angst.

*~*

The hammer goes down and silence ensues seeming to ring in to the spaces where they had been cat calls and taunting only moments before.

“Sold to Mr Lambert.”

And the bottom drops out of his world, what's left of it. He would have taken anyone, anything but that. He's been trained to take anything – but that doesn't mean he won't go without a fight. Won't use the only weapon he has. Lifting his head he meets steel blue eyes across the floor, he can almost hear the intake of breath from the crowd at his defiance even before he opens his mouth; as though they know what's coming. As though his and Adam's past is out there for all to see. “Sub's Clause one-twenty.”

The noise that breaks out crashes over silence like a storm, whipping waves of sound into the air – a cacophony of voices that echo off the walls bouncing back on each other drowning each other out. So all there is is the roar and the silence of Adam's eyes, holding his in that moment before he turns and walks away full length coat swirling round him like the coats of old - back in the day when this really meant something and wasn't the cattle show it had now become. When there was real respect and understanding, not just fucked up sex games for the masses.

*~*

The silence is different this time when he kneels on the block, it holds a heart beat of anticipation weaving in amongst the throbbing beat of sex that seeping from the walls of this building. A building that had seen much in it's time and seen it all come full circle.

It had seen the riots that raised subs to free men, seen the back door and back street sex trade that had resulted when people didn't know what to do with those who had been born to this, trained to this – wanted this with every living fiber of their being. Had seen the slavers who had ruled this place feeding off energy of the people who came through it's doors, perverting their needs and desires from something natural and pure to something that had be hidden and kept away from the light. Seen when government decided it wanted a piece of the pie under the guise of cleaning things up with the Emancipated Subs Act.

And now saw the people who were trying to reclaim this place and at least bring it back to if not to what it once was to what it could and possibly should have been.

The silence was different this time because it was waiting – waiting for that first step. Waiting to see if people had really learned.

*~*
(Anonymous)
Aug. 16th, 2010 02:09 pm (UTC)
Filled - Clause One-Twenty. 2/3 Hard R

The hairs on the back of his neck rise as soft foot falls carry a man who'd once been his friend across the floor of the hall. He'd half expected the heavy fall of jackboots it would have been Adam's style to be ostentatious and flamboyant about this as he was about most other things in his life. But instead he got bare feet with black painted toe nails, a touch of glitter in the polish. Probably Silver or some other semi-precious metal no doubt, because undoubtedly Adam had had it made especially for the occasion. A subtle reminder of another time and another place.

“Mr Lambert, you understand that the Sub Mr Ratliff has invoked clause one-twenty of his contract.”

“I do.”

“Do you understand what that means?”

“I do.”

The words affirming Adam's understanding, tell the crowd sat silently baying for his blood nothing. All it tells them is that Adam has to break him in this ring in front of his peers. It doesn't tell them that this won't be the first time he's felt the kiss of Adam's whip, it doesn't tell them that he knows how the stretch and burn of Adam's cock feels, nor how in the dark the images from those days feed his dreams. And it certainly doesn't tell them that he knows the euphoria of wearing Adam's collar of calling Adam Master. That is their past and not for anyone else to see.

“Mr Ratliff, you've invoked clause one-twenty of your contract do you understand what that means.”

“I do.”

“You understand that should Mr Lambert break you, you will effectively become his property giving up all rights as a freeman for the length of your contract.”

“I do.”

“You understand that should the a fore mentioned take place that your safeword will be assigned over to Council and will only be used for your protection if you are in mortal danger.”

“I do.”

“The floor is yours Mr Lambert. You have one hour.”

*~*
(Anonymous)
Aug. 16th, 2010 02:12 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled - Clause One-Twenty. 3/3 Hard R

It took longer than he thought it would fifty-eight minuets and ten seconds to be exact, but then again he'd always been a stubborn and the years hadn't changed that.

Adam? Adam though had changed - had learned, really learnt. This wasn't the novice who thought this was a game any more. No more the young man who didn't understand and couldn't give him what he needed even if knew how to give him what he wanted. Their time apart it seemed had been good for Adam, even if it hadn't been quite so good for him.

This Adam understood that breaking him - literally bringing him to his knees wasn't just about putting him on them it was about him wanting to be there. And while he easily defy the sting of the whip - turning the pain in against himself using it to hold the door closed rather than open it. He couldn't defy the web that Adam wove for him; a web of words whispered in his ear, of dark promises breathed over his skin interspersed with words of praise that warmed him, had him wanting to do nothing more than eat from Adam's hand.

And in the end he went to his knees because there was no other place he'd rather be, because Adam was what he needed and not just what he wanted. And maybe just maybe there was a flicker of hope starting to smolder in some corner of his soul, tiny but there. That maybe they could put this right.

*~*

You see that is the point of clause one-twenty to give those who didn't seem to have a choice exactly that a choice. Yes the cost of that choice might have been higher, but the Act said that every sub had the right choose their own Master. And the floor of the hall was exactly the right place to sift those who understood from those who just knew.

~end~


(Anonymous)
Aug. 16th, 2010 02:34 pm (UTC)
Don't you realize porn/fapping material>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> a real persons grief?
eloiserummaging
Aug. 16th, 2010 02:42 pm (UTC)
Re: always-a-girl!Adam/Lady Gaga
Um, this is a brilliant idea!
neednotwant
Aug. 16th, 2010 02:59 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled - Clause One-Twenty. 3/3 Hard R
A really really interesting verse :) Any chance you'd want to explore it further?
argylepiratewd
Aug. 16th, 2010 03:03 pm (UTC)
Filled: Like Chewing on Pearls (1/3)
Title taken from Lady Gaga's "I Like it Rough."

He wasn't lying when he strutted around like nothing about sex made his cheeks flush with embarrassment, like he owned the fuck out of his sensuality, and it was never a secret that performing turned him on, but this? Oh God, this made even him squirm, made his insides twist and his face grow hot, even as his cock went hard. Not even Adam's closest confidants knew about this, about the flicker in the back of his mind whenever he shamelessly ground his erection against a firm metal stand, about what it really meant inside when he curved his long fingers around the hard length of a microphone and stroked it like a lover's cock.

It wasn't the first time the thought had flashed across his mind, nor the second, nor the third. It was a bad idea from the beginning—he also wasn't lying when he said he was a bit vanilla or claimed he liked the top. Oh, he had experience with vaguely similar things—he'd been fucked quite a lot, thank you very much, and he'd used his fair share of toys over the years, but this was too different, too wrong. The shape was almost right, but in practice, too awkward, and the one he had now was adorned with rhinestones. But it never did leave his mind, and as the tour went on, wearing him down, that familiar shape became more and more interesting.

Late in the tour, the mic stopped working in the middle of "Music Again." The techs replaced it quickly, and afterward, they declared it a lost cause. Adam claimed it for his own, then regretted it almost instantly and hid it deep within his belongings, unable to look at it without blushing. None of the others noticed his sudden attack of prudishness; if they had, he would've gotten rid of it. He would never hear the end of it if word got around that Adam Fucking Lambert had a different sort of problem with microphones.

It didn't help that he was horny as hell, that each night he spent getting wilder and wilder with Tommy onstage was taking its toll in private. Whenever he went out to have fun, it was splashed all over the internet later, or the boy left him hopelessly unsatisfied, or both, and he imagined it would be worse to see "I topped Adam Lambert" spread all over the place. So he spent most nights alone, whether on the road or in yet another cookie cutter hotel room, touching only himself, his hands bringing relief for the body but not for the mind. He needed something else, something different.

As he mechanically dug through his bag for lube, his fingers brushed against something else, something familiar. He jerked his hand back, as if he'd been burned, and searched elsewhere for the small tube, but he could still see it, could still see the gems on the microphone sparkling in the dim light, teasing him. He glanced toward the door to be certain it was locked, then blocked it with a chair, just to be sure.

No one was going to interrupt him tonight.
argylepiratewd
Aug. 16th, 2010 03:04 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled: Like Chewing on Pearls (2/3)
He took his time, laying his supplies reverently on the bed, ignoring the insistent urgency that consumed him like a fever. His hands shook as he let go of the microphone, and his stomach jumped and his cock twitched, his body alight with nervous anticipation and desire. He took his time, couldn't bring himself to be fast as he pulled his shirt over his head, letting his fingertips skim over his skin before he trailed them more deliberately across his belly and up to linger on his chest, enjoying the intense jolts that shot through him as he toyed with his nipples 'til the metal bars through them felt almost white hot. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a moan and bucked against the air. He almost could have come just from that, from the press of tight friction in his jeans and the touch of his fingers on his sensitive nipples and the overwhelming anticipation, but it wasn't what he needed, wasn't enough, so he slid his hands down and freed his desperate cock, let his jeans hit the floor and crawled onto the bed.

He sprawled across the cool sheets, and for a brief moment, the relief of a soft bed beneath him felt almost as good as hands on his lust-hot skin, until he slicked his fingers with lube and wrapped them tight around his cock. He arched into his touch as he stroked his length, legs spread wide, his hand moving with maddening slowness as the sweat beaded on his skin, as his hair tangled against the pillows, as his breaths turned ragged and his heart grew quick in his chest, as he let out quiet little moans as he pictured what came next and forced his hand away from his cock, tried not to let his impatience get the best of him as he covered his fingers in more lube and slipped the first inside.

He moved his finger gently, getting the tight muscles used to the presence, then slid in a second, a third, a fourth, all wet with lube and so close to enough as he moved them, deliberately brushing against that place inside, until finally, when he'd nearly reached the edge of reason, he fumbled for the microphone and carefully, slowly pushed it in.
argylepiratewd
Aug. 16th, 2010 03:05 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled: Like Chewing on Pearls (3/3)
His other hand clutched the sheets, and oh God, oh fuck, it was different, so, so different from the sleek, familiar shape of a cock or a toy, so, so different from anything else. It was cold and unyielding, not quite rough but not smooth at all, and so perfect in its difference, so much like he'd imagined but so far off. His body burned around it, stretched and painful and tearing apart, but oh God, beneath the hurt, as the electric burn died away...

He threw his head back and moaned, and it was too much, too much. He froze and tried to will time to stop. If he moved, if he breathed, if he thought, it would all be over, and he wanted it to last, wanted to drown in the intense pleasurepain consuming his nerves and his blood and his brain. His world stood on a razor blade's edge of too much, too much, too fucking much, but not enough, either, and he dared to push the microphone deeper, dared to pull it out again, moved it in and out until he was fucking himself on it, and it was just what he'd tried not to imagine, but more, so much more, so real and so overwhelming it stole his needed breaths and consumed his every cell.

And then he loosened his tight grip on the sheets and wrapped his free and shaking hand around his cock. "Oh, fuck!" he breathed, and he had to slow down again until he could take it no longer, until the slow pace became torture and he needed more, faster, harder, needed both hands moving, and he pulled the mic out one last time, let it fall from his nerveless fingers as the world turned to blinding white and he came apart.

He fell back against the sheets and laid there, still and boneless, relearning how to breathe. For the first time in months, nothing crossed his mind, and he lingered in the blissed-out peace as he drifted down from the high.

"Wow," he said, when he could finally think again. "Wow."

As soon as he spoke, the spell was broken. With a reluctant groan, he heaved himself off the bed, and he staggered to the bathroom to clean himself. He'd be sore in the morning, but it was worth it. He felt more weightless than he had in such a long time, even as reality started creeping back in and he remembered all the reasons why he shouldn't have done it, though none of them seemed quite as important as they had before.

Still, when he cleared away the mess and climbed into bed, he told himself never again, though he'd never been good at denying himself pleasure.

So he didn't throw the mic away.
neednotwant
Aug. 16th, 2010 03:09 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled: Like Chewing on Pearls (3/3)
Whoa.
xbeyondinsanex
Aug. 16th, 2010 03:21 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled: Like Chewing on Pearls (3/3)
0_0


...


I'll be in my bunk.
maroontalic
Aug. 16th, 2010 03:22 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled: Like Chewing on Pearls (3/3)
Aw.
dumblesinwinter
Aug. 16th, 2010 03:28 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled: Like Chewing on Pearls (3/3)
...I enjoyed this immensely
dawnmyst
Aug. 16th, 2010 03:35 pm (UTC)
Re: Filled: Like Chewing on Pearls (3/3)
holy sweet jesus O.o


uum ... i'll be over there >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> fapping
(Anonymous)
Aug. 16th, 2010 04:37 pm (UTC)
Adam/Tommy
Tommy has a fear of heights, but he's never revealed to Adam just how bad it really is, he also gets off on fear a bit. Adam & him end up fucking on top of a rooftop, cliff, balcony wherever. I would like it to focus on the differing sensations, fear vs. adreline rush. (I saw the idea on twitter awhile ago, I don't know if anyones written it yet)
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