A corrupt international espionage organization, an asset gone rogue, and the rookie handler in over her head. It’s a classic tale where you get to play the bad ass, slightly broken spy, falling for the one person who has agreed to help you take your revenge on your former employers, and save the world. With the added bonus of some filthy on the run smut!

Kink wise I tend to play a more submissive role, and this would be no exception. Our “Jason” (this doesn’t have to be a Bourne fan fic, but we can discuss that further), is trying to be an honorable man after a brutal past, but he’ll do what he must to get the information he needs (an interrogation perhaps?), and feel in control. I imagine their relationship would start off tense, maybe even dubious (as in dubcon, or noncon), but they both find themselves falling for each other as they fight against the powers that be. I’d like this to evolve into romance, regardless of how their first encounter might go.

Kinks include: D/s, stern Doms, possessive/protective Doms, praise, bondage, interrogation (pain play, threats, torture, etc), kissing, damsels in distress, body worship, rough sex, manhandling, choking, slapping, oral, orgasm control (forced or denial), and more!

Limits are scat, animal, and pregnancy/birth play.

I’ve started an intro bellow, but we can always discuss and start from scratch!

Nichole Winters fidgeted nervously in her seat, glancing at her watch every few seconds while her coffee went cold in front of her. The Florence summer heat certainly didn’t help, as a sheen of sweat gathered on her forehead. She swiped it away, glancing at the briefcase that sat beside her on the ground. Her left side, as requested. “This seat taken?” A voice asked, and Nichole stiffened. “No, be my guest.” She said glancing up to find him smiling down at her. He dragged the chair to the table behind her and sat with his back facing her’s, saying nothing. They sat for what felt like forever, him ordering a coffee and a sandwich as Nichole grew more stressed. She scanned the street, seeing mostly tourists and a few locals bustling about, a cacophony of shouts in Italian, Vespa and car horns, and reconstruction on the nearby Duomo served to drown out any conversation. Of course, she hardly had an eye for these things. She’d been a rookie handler when she first met him, a glorified secretary in charge of arranging travel, forcing papers and passports, and handing off bags of cash and weapons to assets. It had been a few years since they’d worked together, but he called her for help, and she for some reason decided to risk it all for it. She felt the briefcase leave her side and slide to his. “The documents are all here?” He said, speaking into his coffee cup. “Mmhm.” She said, her lips pressed together. “In 7 minutes I want you to get up and walk toward the alley to your 2 o’clock. Alright?” Her brow knotted. She thought she would just drop off the documents and her part would be done. Still, she felt compelled to obey him. “Yes. But why-“ He was already gone.