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Character(s) ⏣ embry moore and you.
Summary ⏣ presidential fuck party.
Warnings ⏣ drugs, sex, violence. please warn for others in individual threads.
Summary ⏣ presidential fuck party.
Warnings ⏣ drugs, sex, violence. please warn for others in individual threads.
TELL ME I'M YOUR NATIONAL ANTHEM
The ballroom boasts a deceptively classy affair, and with many thanks to the tireless staff, no detail goes unturned. Ivy and fern edge the tables and snake the walls, twisting along balcony railings where they waft in the warm breeze. Clusters of berries add splashes of blood red, the lush greenery dotted with slender nightshade, weeping bluebells, and spires of verbena. The dimmed chandeliers cast a glow upon glittering cocktail dresses, though several guests have taken liberties with their presentation tonight — not a problem, since undressing is encouraged. Welcome to a night poisonously alive, where your discretion, sex appeal, celebrity status, or the president’s (brother’s) favor has earned you entry.
Alcoholic drinks and hors d'oeuvres trail down the tables in an enticing display of color: crostinis of all kinds (salmon, mushroom, Marsala fig), good old American sliders, and heaps of local cheeses and bite-sized seasonal fruits — lots of fruit, as requested by Embry himself. You need to keep your sugar up after so many orgasms, you see. Water is available at every turn.
There’s room to dance, to mingle, to drink. Plenty of romantic alcoves for a coy invitation to kiss. The balmy summer night means the balconies are unlocked for your pleasure, gauzy curtains fluttering in the breeze to offer a veneer of privacy. You, of course, were required to sign an NDA to enter, so consider your business safe and sound. Do be careful, though. It’s a long drop down to the lawn, and a cracked skull is a hard thing to come back from.
Venturing further in, you’ll see that it’s perhaps not so classy of a gathering after all, but class is really just a mindset, isn’t it? A vast array of entertainment awaits your selection: gleaming collars, cuffs, clamps, and leashes, perfect for a little correction; whips and floggers of the most exquisite leather; silky bindings for sensory deprivation, and strappy harnesses of leather and metal (and oddly enough, rope, duct tape, and garbage bags); and a large number of vibrating toys of all shapes and sizes, some of them remote-controlled and some waiting for up close and personal use.
Placed around the room are plush, velvety loveseats for canoodling and more, but the central attraction is a lavish bed, made up with silk sheets and lush pillows, leather cuffs dangling from all four bed posts. Those candles and ice cubes aren’t just for decoration, either. Very presidential, that. Convenient baskets of lube and condoms are always within reach, along with a few special treats brought over from the States — ketamine, cocaine, and psychedelic shrooms. The White House says you’re welcome.
Enjoy the night. You’ll find Embry Moore mingling freely among the guests, even as his eye seems to trail jealously after anyone speaking to his brother, Maxen Ashley Colchester. He’s just very protective of the president, is all — and of his relationship with him, to the point that if you happen to stumble upon anything you’re not supposed to see, you might find yourself tangled up in a happy accident. Maybe those shrooms made you think the fall from the balcony wasn’t so faraway from the ground? Maybe you didn’t realize you were mixing so many drugs and drinks? Or maybe your asphyxiation kink just went a little too far. When the party’s going this hard, it’s so difficult to tell.
(ooc: this log is open to all!! whether u have cr with embry or not, please come to the presidential fuck party and misbehave to your heart's content. i've left things pretty general so feel free to be as creative, slutty, chaste, or murderous as you want. THANK U SHARI for the beautiful slutty gif ♥ )
Alcoholic drinks and hors d'oeuvres trail down the tables in an enticing display of color: crostinis of all kinds (salmon, mushroom, Marsala fig), good old American sliders, and heaps of local cheeses and bite-sized seasonal fruits — lots of fruit, as requested by Embry himself. You need to keep your sugar up after so many orgasms, you see. Water is available at every turn.
There’s room to dance, to mingle, to drink. Plenty of romantic alcoves for a coy invitation to kiss. The balmy summer night means the balconies are unlocked for your pleasure, gauzy curtains fluttering in the breeze to offer a veneer of privacy. You, of course, were required to sign an NDA to enter, so consider your business safe and sound. Do be careful, though. It’s a long drop down to the lawn, and a cracked skull is a hard thing to come back from.
Venturing further in, you’ll see that it’s perhaps not so classy of a gathering after all, but class is really just a mindset, isn’t it? A vast array of entertainment awaits your selection: gleaming collars, cuffs, clamps, and leashes, perfect for a little correction; whips and floggers of the most exquisite leather; silky bindings for sensory deprivation, and strappy harnesses of leather and metal (and oddly enough, rope, duct tape, and garbage bags); and a large number of vibrating toys of all shapes and sizes, some of them remote-controlled and some waiting for up close and personal use.
Placed around the room are plush, velvety loveseats for canoodling and more, but the central attraction is a lavish bed, made up with silk sheets and lush pillows, leather cuffs dangling from all four bed posts. Those candles and ice cubes aren’t just for decoration, either. Very presidential, that. Convenient baskets of lube and condoms are always within reach, along with a few special treats brought over from the States — ketamine, cocaine, and psychedelic shrooms. The White House says you’re welcome.
Enjoy the night. You’ll find Embry Moore mingling freely among the guests, even as his eye seems to trail jealously after anyone speaking to his brother, Maxen Ashley Colchester. He’s just very protective of the president, is all — and of his relationship with him, to the point that if you happen to stumble upon anything you’re not supposed to see, you might find yourself tangled up in a happy accident. Maybe those shrooms made you think the fall from the balcony wasn’t so faraway from the ground? Maybe you didn’t realize you were mixing so many drugs and drinks? Or maybe your asphyxiation kink just went a little too far. When the party’s going this hard, it’s so difficult to tell.
(ooc: this log is open to all!! whether u have cr with embry or not, please come to the presidential fuck party and misbehave to your heart's content. i've left things pretty general so feel free to be as creative, slutty, chaste, or murderous as you want. THANK U SHARI for the beautiful slutty gif ♥ )