It's New York City. Caught upon again in another orgy of racially-fueled violence. Protests, rioting, looting, arson. The city’s falling apart; over a year of COVID lockdown, defund the police politicians having their way, and the well-heeled fleeing for less crazy climes have the Capitol of the World rolling back on its heels. And then there’s the racial unrest. The NYPD is out in full force with even desk jockeys from the bow and arrow squad assigned riot duty. It's not an easy row to hoe; the political establishment is generally ambivalent toward maintaining law and order, as the new election year has begun and a slew of progressive candidates want to ensure they maintain their cred with the city's various minorities.

This is Bushwick. Not so long ago this Brooklyn neighborhood was a trash fair, full of minorities, rundown housing, and malfunctioning public works. Now of course, all that remains are the malfunctioning public works, as the neighborhood has been almost completely gentrified. Housing costs are at an all-time high, and affluent young hipsters—those that remain, anyway—dominate the census. Because Bushwick is at a crossroads with one population being displaced by another, it also serves as a flashpoint. White enough to get attention. Black enough to be ignored.

I'm a young and hung cop. Relatively new to the force, no longer a rookie but hardly a seasoned veteran. Six foot one inches tall, 190 pounds, a true gym rat. Hooked up with the NYPD after serving in the US Army. Now as the riots rage all around me and my fellow cops, I'm cut off and surrounded by a group of angry Black men. My instincts are to shoot my way out, but I know department policy essentially prevents that now; nonlethal force is the only method available to me. So I use my taser on one guy, and he goes down, shouting and shuddering.

But then I'm taken to the ground. My radio is torn away from me, and searching hands liberate my pistol and gas mask. I struggle and fight, but I'm flipped over onto my belly and secured with my own handcuffs.

Then I'm carried to a nearby van. One of the men puts me in a choke hold, his thick arms holding me in place, cutting off my carotid arteries. I black out.

When I wake up, I'm buck naked and tied spread-eagle to a bed in some dark, dingy apartment. There are several tough-looking Black guys of all shapes and sizes surrounding me. They're all naked, too. And judging by how hard their cocks are, they're happy to see me...

Kinks: big cocks, blowjobs, throat fucking, anal, high-velocity/high-volume cumshots, hyperspermia, non-con/dub-con, male rape, forced submission, blackmail/videotaping, race play.

I have a long-term, plot-driven story arc to play out here, for those who might be interested in such...along with smut. Ask, and I shall tell.

I’m in the NYC area and play between Monday-Friday, pretty much all day long. I write multiple paragraphs of story-driven sex. You don’t have to match me word for word, but if you should make an effort to bring your skills to the table.

Limits: character-related gore, vore, watersports, scat, feet

Reddit DM only. No Discord, no chat, no Kik. Literate partners highly desired. If you’re a low-effort writer, look elsewhere.