And what are the 7 deadliest ones?

  • Sophie [she/her]
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    4 years ago

    intercourse for the sole purpose of procreation

  • Rem [she/her]
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    4 years ago

    Either being tied up or tying someone else up, but we definitely shouldn't both be able to move, too much to keep track of.

  • SweetCheeks [he/him]
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    4 years ago

    femdom, foot sniffing, incest, sleeping, pantyhose, 1-piece swimsuits, hip long thick hair, mind control, time stop.

  • SoyViking [he/him]
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    4 years ago

    Just normal stuff for a leftist guy: Crossdressing, bi stuff, light BDSM, being a sub.

  • WetAssPossum [they/them,ey/em]
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    4 years ago

    I'm into bondage, but I'm also a really gentle person and I like being loved gently. I'm not super into cuffs and stuff, but rope bondage intrigues me, I'd like to try it out some day, preferably with rope that's fun colors/matches our outfits.

    Dressing up in various costumes/cosplay is always fun. Wearing matching outfits is great.

    spoiler

    I have a thing for tentacles, it's all the best aspects of group sex without having to involve multiple partners. Consentacles are the bestacles.

    I'd consider myself pretty vanilla, but a lot of things considered pretty normal really turn me off. A lot of dirty talk is mildly degrading and I'm just not into that.

    I don't know what the 7deadlyfetishes are, but I miss him.

    • VolcelPolice [any]
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      4 years ago

      This will all be incredibly valuable for our operations, by now all these perverts have been logged in our volcel database. Never forget that the volcel police have eyes everywhere

  • Sen_Jen [they/them]
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    4 years ago

    So here's my dream scenario: I am a stranger to you. We meet on the streets and you can tell instantly what needs to be done. You blindfold me, cuff me, gag me and strip me. Then you force me to do what you want; you also force me into your unmarked white van with a bag over my head. I am transported hundreds of miles across land and sea until, days later, covered in human filth and starving, the van is opened. I glimpse daylight for the first time in God knows how long. You drag me to the foreboding building that lies in front of me: it is guantanamo bay detention center. I am thrown in a dingy tiny room and made to wait days for food, only receiving bowls of water. After a week, I am dragged out of my cell and into a brightly lit chamber. You beat me savagely and scream at me, demanding to know all the information I have on Antifa. I stubbornly spit on the ground and you get an idea . You drag me over to a bucket of water and waterboard me, taking sadistic pleasure in my suffering, all the while screaming at me. I refuse to talk. This goes on for years until one day I am brought outside and shot dead. My family, friends and co-workers never know what happened to me. A missing persons report is forever unfulfilled. I rot, forgotten to the world, existing only as a name in the CIA's pocket diary.