Nonconsensual 소설 & 이야기

— The New Topping Book 'That man was a walking sin, could I even say no to him. He could easily over power me, not to mention he carries a gun, he could get angry, kill me and dump my body some place...my family won't even fucking care.' Consent in Special Circumstances (Trauma, Mental Health, etc.) Note:

“Only that?” “Maybe beautiful. Brave.” I swallowed. “Not innocent.” “Why?” “Because clients wanted innocence from me. I don’t want it turned into something sexual.” “Agreed.” “No little girl. Nothing childish.” “Hard limits.” “Yes.” “Touch?” I forced myself not to look away. “Over my clothes first.” “Where?” “My arms. Waist. Back. Thighs.” “Breasts?” My lungs forgot their rhythm. “Maybe.” “That isn’t consent.”

Elena repeated. EARLY RETENTION PROTOCOLS DID NOT CONSISTENTLY REQUIRE INFORMED CONSENT. Sarah closed her eyes. “Helen.” Maybe. Not necessarily only Helen. Claire asked: “Can those without valid consent be suspended without harming them?” SOME. “Can they be given bodies?” SOME. “Can they enter independent continuities?” SOME. Lucas whispered: “This system really likes ‘some.’” Window looked at him. “Reality likes ‘some.’”

"Damon Jones, can you read the eleventh item on the board?" Maybe she didn't have a special ability, but she sure knew how to scare the shit out of a person. "Uh..." My sight quickly darted to the board. I didn't realize my palms were sweating till I slid them over the cuboid-like leather arms of the couch. "Rules..." My mind read the rest of the heading. "Number eleven; Non-consensual sex within the gang is prohibited and punishable." Okay... I think Camilla is in big trouble. My eyes quickly darted through the twenty rules written on the huge board. Most of them were regular rules.

I blurted the words out and quickly slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. The girl leaned in, her dark eyes burning with heated interest. “What did he do? Go on, spill the tea!” She lifted her drink, which happened to be a Long Island Tea, and drank deeply. I followed her lead, coming up for air when the glass was half empty. “He does exactly…” I hiccupped, “…what you said men do. He takes what isn’t his, and doesn’t give a flying crap about consent. How disgusting is that? Like, how can you enjoy sleeping with someone who doesn’t want it?”

I don't want to be in this bedroom any longer than necessary. I lay the files on the desk when we get to my office. Mirela and I start going through one, and the others start going through the rest. At first, my anger doesn't let me process what I'm reading. When I do, I feel nothing but rage. Brock was selling the female cubs to be breeders. I don't see what he did with the males yet, but this is enough for me to know he's dead. It won't be quick. I will torture him myself.

She laughs slightly. “Yeah, scream it while you're pushing yourself back against my cock, moaning in pleasure. Hell, even the CCTV will prove it wasn’t,” I tease, pulling her closer. I feel fine now, calm and refined. “Technically, it is. Just saying, you know. Kind of like manipulation, forced, not giving freedom to choose. You know consent, right? Consent is where someone agrees freely without any coercion or impact on their decision. I have no choice; I have to choose one of you.” She laughs again, and I stare at her. Shit!

In her mind she scolded herself for not just making up a story or something, but she couldn't help that her immediate response was simply to put a wall up and end the conversation. Matt suddenly looked horrified, slowly coming to terms with the implication of the words she left unsaid. "What are you saying, Cam?" he probed, uncertain whether he really wanted an answer or not. "I didn't want you to know," she murmured softly as her tears began to fall now in earnest. "Was it... Are you saying... it was... unconsensual?" he finally managed to ask, trying his best to handle the situation as delicately as possible and avoid using any triggering words. He was struggling to wrap his head around th

"She would not. She needs permission. It would infringe on your rights." "No." Conrad shook his head violently. Water flew from his hair. "No, she can do it. She can see. She knows. She probably already knows." "Conrad, you're not making sense." "I am." He gripped the edge of the sink. His knuckles went white. "I'm making perfect sense. You just don't understand. Because you are big and dumb. Consent does not matter when… Consent does not matter when you are cornered." I leaned against the bathroom wall and crossed my arms. This was bad. Worse than I'd realized. Conrad wasn't just high. He was having some kind of breakdown.

"Right now, across this country, there are submissives losing custody of their children in family courts simply because a judge does not understand the psychology of their private lives. There are professionals losing their careers because a vengeful ex leaked a photograph of a collar. There are people drowning in shame, entirely isolated, because the legal system treats consensual kink as a symptom of instability rather than a legitimate, profound expression of human connection." He locked eyes with Victor, acknowledging the silent, invisible crown they both wore—the crushing responsibility of protecting those who surrendered to them. "Consent is not a crime. Surrender is not a sickness. An