A short drive beyond the border, rising up from the sea of powdery red dirt and sparse foliage, there stands a monolithic structure; gleaming steel and immaculately clean glass that both reflect the harsh sunlight’s rays, making this 4 story building glitter like a jewel of the desert. It’s architecture is modern, the quality of the workmanship that went into building it is readily apparent, and yet despite all this, so few are ever allowed to actually see it with their own eyes. The building lies on a 7 acre plot of land, and every square metre of that land is surrounded by a 17 foot high wall that could put a prison to shame. Guards take shifts patrolling the entire property, though the state of the art electronic tripwire and security camera system means that they really have very little to worry about. The few trespassers that had ever tried to get in were swiftly dealt with… and it was made sure that they would never try to get in again.

But why all the secrecy? Why the armed guards? Why are the only vehicles that make their way into this facility with any regularity a food and supplies van, and a large, unmarked, white bus? Well those questions have one very simple answer; you see…

“Iiiiiiiiit’s Slave.FM guys, gals and unspecified pals! I’m your host for the 6 till 9-”

“NICE!” Interjects a voice from the producer’s booth.

“-hour.” The host continues without skipping a beat, simultaneously flashing a finger gun of approval at his producer. He has no need to speak into a microphone, as the entire sound-proof studio is rigged with state of the art binaural recording equipment, allowing the listeners to hear a perfectly accurate soundscape of everything that occurs on the show. “That’s right, it’s me, it’s ya boi, Madman Mike, and hoooooeeey are we in for a show today. I want to say a special thank you to those of you tuning in to us live today, your tier 5 subscriptions are… very much appreciated.”

As Madman Mike pauses for a beat, his producer presses a button on his computer and the sound of a cash register opening in that recognisable trademark ‘cha-ching’ comes blaring through.

Mike laughs before continuing with his daily spiel. “I can already see our phone board lighting up, and I guess that can only mean one thing, right Crazy Carl!?”

Carl and Mike simultaneously cup their hands around their mouths and sing in unison, “Listener. Request. Fridaaaaaay!”

“That’s right, loyal listeners and first timers, today’s the day where you have your say. We got the gear. We got the girl. We got every gizmo, gadget and accessory your perverted minds can imagine. And speaking of the girl, let’s meet our lovely lady for today.”

The studio door opens and in walks that morning’s poor sacrificial lamb, already stripped naked, and looking excited, if not a little overwhelmed. Her perky tits jiggle as she walks into the centre of the room, and then does a small pirouette, before taking a seat on a plush leather couch in the corner and crossing one slender leg over the other.

“To the tier 3 subs and up, I don’t need to tell you that she is a looker, but for everyone else, you’ll just have to take my word for it.” Mike continues excitedly. “How we looking on calls, Crazy Carl!?”

“Almost full, Madman, they better get in quick!”

“You heard the man, listeners, limited spots left on our phone-board and there is no guarantee we’ll even get to you. Remember that your anonymity is ensured, and your satisfaction is guaranteed. With that said, we’ll be back with the action in just a moment, but first a quick word from our sponsor... Raid: Shadow Legends?”

As the feed is killed and the advert blares, Mike turns to his producer and whispers, “Christ, they really will sponsor anything, won’t they?”

As the clock on the wall edges towards 9am, a breathless and sweaty Mike stands up on shaky legs and does his best to get back into his full cadence. “Well that’s about… that’s about all we have… time for today… loyal listeners.” He has to speak loudly to be heard over the whimpering sobs of the curled up young girl lying broken and foetal on the floor by his feet. A muscular bull of a man is still balls deep inside of her as a final thick knot of potent seed is fed into her asshole, causing her to moan and writhe away. Her tear-streaked and cum-coated face is reddened and marked, but not nearly as bad as the rest of her body. “Hope you enjoyed today’s show as much as we did. Slave.FM continues after a short ad break in the 9am block with Ava and the Drill Sergeant for ‘Couple’s Therapy’, but from me and Crazy Carl, that’s our show for today. Stay kinky.” And before the studio is no longer live he delivers a swift slap across the young girl’s tits that causes her to yelp, a signature sign-off of sorts.

Welp, there you go. I dunno if this is too unrealistic and bizarre a concept for anyone to be interested in, but basically I’d like to find a partner to help in developing a programming schedule for a hardcore radio station, and playing out what that might look like. It can be as light-hearted or dark as you like, I have no real preference either way, so long as we don’t infringe on each other’s limits. I would like for each show to have a unique spin on it, whether that be a theme, a quirky host, or just the content that it delivers. You would need to be willing to play multiple characters if you want to do this long term, or alternatively if you just want to play out one stand-alone scene in which you’re one of the girls brought in for a show then that’s fine as well. Probably best if we discuss it all via PM’s first though. Please, no short messages saying that you’re interested and ‘am I still looking’, give me something to work with. An excited and literate partner is the biggest kink of all.

Limits: Anything underage, bathroom stuff, feet, excessive sweat-play, gore, and snuff.