Notwatch Interrogation Boogaloo

A a cold chamber, the hum of machinery, and the gleam of the interrogation frame. This is no ordinary Netwatch sting. It’s theatre, trial, and surrender all at once.

Panarael sits crowned, watching as Seraph is stripped of her armour and tested by the trio of Inarael, Azurael, and Razael. Each brings their own method: the sting of wax, the shock of ice, the bite that leaves marks deep as loyalty. All while Sioniel watches from her pod. Silent, captive audience, the heart to which Seraph’s every shudder is devoted.

What begins as interrogation becomes initiation, and ends in an eruption of tenderness, fire, and sisterhood.

Performers: Seraph, Panarael, Inarael, Azurael, Razael, Sioniel
Audience pleasures: Interrogation roleplay, sensation play (ice, wax, impact, biting), ritual humiliation, devotion, voyeurism, multi-Dom attention

Three Quick Surrenders

A (nearly) sexual content free BD!

The cedar circle has stood for centuries, but tonight it hosts a different rite. Here, under starlight and moss, Seraph kneels to intimacy itself.

Facing her is Koboru: rugged, broad, working-class handsome, the forest’s chosen son. At her side, Sioniel, watchful, yearning, guiding, rests a hand on Seraph’s shoulder and reaches toward Koboru, weaving them together in a trinity of surrender and desire.

This is not spectacle but hush: the kind of ritual where silence is louder than cries, where the weight of a hand carries more than a lash. Yet within that hush, hearts are bared, roles shift, and the surrender becomes complete. Three bodies in communion with the forest, and with each other.

Performers: Seraph, Koboru, Sioniel
Audience pleasures: Ritual submission, poly intimacy, forest setting, emotional topping, grounding masculinity, tenderness braided with power

Queen’s Subject

The desert has a Queen, and she demands reverence. Queen’s Subject places Seraph at the feet of the imperious Panarael, enthroned in storm and sand. What follows is not a simple audience, but a courtly trial: a series of endurance tests where every gasp, flinch, and whispered answer proves Seraph’s worth.

Guided by Inarael, Azurael, and Razael, Seraph is collared, leashed, and placed before her Queen to suffer, endure, and transcend. From the sting of ice to the bite of paddle, from humiliation to reverence, Seraph shows that submission is its own coronation.

Performers: Seraph, Panarael, Inarael, Azurael, Razael
Audience pleasures: Ritualistic submission, endurance play, pain as poetry, power dynamics, collar-and-leash worship

Trail of the Five Elements

Tagline: Five trials, one soul, and the long road toward surrender.

Hidden deep in the forests of Hakone, the Seraphim gather beneath the lanterns of the Plum Blossom Inn to perform a ritual livestream unlike anything the underground has seen before. Trail of the Five Elements invites the audience to witness not just performance, but transformation: five trials of body, heart, and trust.

The first two trials—Earth and Water—test Seraph in grounding and yielding.
In Earth, Razael welcomes her into a waltz that becomes an act of devotion, binding her to the rhythm of impact and breath. Each strike, each whispered “I love you,” becomes a meditation between pain and grace. Donations become ribbons, ribbons become blessings, and the audience becomes part of the ritual itself.

In Water, Inarael leads Seraph into a cold mountain pool beneath lanternlight. The trial is not about endurance, but dissolution. Shock, breath, surrender, and warmth blur together until the stream becomes a hymn to aftercare and trust. What begins as exposure ends as communion. The moment ends with a highly charged moment that fans of Seraph and Inarael are sure to be extremely pleased by

Sioniel and Azurael join the moment to bring Fire and Water into the mix. Then the group transition to aftercare, a rare moment when the audience is invited to join the troupe’s post-scene tenderness.

Filmed as a fundraiser for the Plum Blossom Inn and Bar KITSUNE, this scroll bridges art, ritual, and erotic surrender. Its beauty lies not in spectacle, but in the small tremors between touch and release—the way devotion looks when it is real.

Performers: Seraph, Razael, Inarael, Panarael, Azurael, Sioniel, Koboru
Audience pleasures: Ritual endurance, submission, sensory surrender, temperature play, impact artistry, water immersion, reverent intimacy, collective aftercare, lovemaking

Seraph

Once fell to Earth during a meteor shower, landing directly on a burning nightclub in Pacifica. When the smoke cleared, she was found kneeling, smiling faintly, as if waiting for someone to collar her. Her wings of firelight only manifest when she surrenders — which, inconveniently, is also the only way she can keep them under control. To prevent the stars themselves from collapsing, she must surrender three times in a single night. Luckily, she enjoys surrender, and each act of devotion feels like a ritual both necessary and desired.

Azurael

Spawned in a koi pond behind a karaoke bar, she emerged fully grown, laughing, and wearing a three-piece suit. When she speaks, her words turn into aurora ribbons, and the local fish leap into the air to applaud her. Known for summoning storms of joy so strong they knock over vending machines, she treats bondage as stand-up comedy for the gods. Each rope knot is a punchline, each gasp an ovation, and the harder she laughs, the stronger the storm. To Azurael, laughter itself is divine punishment, and every ritual of restraint is another chance to make heaven double over.

Sioniel

Accidentally rewrote the ending of human history by doodling in the margins of a library book. Since then, entire civilizations made of parchment have pursued her, begging her to revise them again. She hides behind storms of fluttering pages, each slip containing a secret she once whispered during pillow talk. Ink, she insists, only becomes starlight when written under duress, so she submits to elaborate endurance rituals as a way to keep the cosmos illuminated. Without her trials of pressure and pain, the night sky itself would go blank.

Panarael

Panrael walked out of a sandstorm at age twelve, carrying a thunderbolt she claimed was “a snake that bit the sky.” Since then, she has been immovable, commanding storms to sit and stay like obedient pets. When copper sparks whirl around her, entire deserts kneel. The rope bound at her waist must be “fed” through ritual command-play, and if she fails to boss people around, the lightning sulks and refuses to strike. For Panarael, dominance is not a hobby but maintenance — without her imperious commands, the weather itself would grind to a halt.

Razael

Her silver hair was forged when a factory exploded, molten wire fusing into a crown on her head. She can split a city in two with her glare, but would rather offer tea before unleashing lightning. In the folds of her long coat she carries both punishment and mercy, though she never remembers which pocket is which. Every act of tenderness must be matched with an act of pain, or else her wings begin to rust and fall away. BDSM, to her, is divine bookkeeping: flogging in one column, cuddling in the other, lightning strikes carefully filed under “miscellaneous.”

Inarael

Hair aflame, feet rooted in lotus rivers, she was once worshipped as the goddess of mixed signals. Known to heal with one hand and slap with the other, sometimes in the same gesture, she moves through the world as a paradox of comfort and sting. Behind her walks a shadow that bows constantly, muttering that it “owes her rent.” For Inarael, pain is simply warmth concentrated — a spectrum of sensation she channels into love. She bites, burns, and disciplines with care, because only when others flinch does she hear the river sing again.

Punchin’ Judy

Once a gifted braindance techie in Night City, Judy turned her sharp eye and rebellious code-smithing into an art: editing souls. When she met Seraph and the Seraphim, she saw in them not just performers but myth incarnate, and offered herself as the one who could make their rituals legible to the world. As their manager, agent, and editor, she does not kneel or dominate. She frames, she shapes, she protects.

Her editing hands splice memory and flesh. She places the Seraphim in ritual scrolls, masks their identities, and whispers their legend into the underground circuits. Though she could be courted by any corpo studio, she refuses to sell out. Her loyalty is to the truth of their submission and the fire in their eyes. She believes a scroll is not a fantasy to be sanitized, but a covenant to be honoured.

Every time she presses “render,” she weaves myth and reality together, ensuring that what is felt cannot be erased. If the Seraphim are the sparks, she is the forge, quietly essential, fiercely loyal, and irrevocably part of their legend.

Misty — Keeper of the Keys

Once the quiet mystic behind a small esoterica shop in Night City, Misty has always known how to listen to currents other people miss. Where others see chaos, she reads patterns in smoke, candlelight, and whispered fears. When Seraph and the Seraphim began to rise, Misty offered them her gift for connection, and now she tends their official fan site with the same devotion she once gave to tarot spreads and incense rituals.

She filters gossip from truth, uplifts the voices of the devoted, and frames the troupe’s legend for those who cannot see it live. For the Seraphim she is archivist, moderator, and subtle oracle, weaving together myth, memory, and fan fervour into a living community. Quiet, steadfast, and utterly unshakable, Misty is the one who keeps the flame alight when others drift away.