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The Butcher’s Slut 1

Author: Layo
last update Last Updated: 2025-09-07 23:27:07

The bell over the door jingled when I pushed it open, loud in the nearly empty butcher shop. The smell hit me instantly— raw meat, iron and smoke.

It was late. I knew he was closing soon, but I wanted to catch him. Wanted to see him.

The butcher.

He was behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, forearms streaked with blood he hadn’t bothered to wipe away. His apron hung low on his hips, stained, and when his eyes lifted to mine, I felt it all the way between my legs.

“Cutting it close, sweetheart,” he said, voice gravelly, deep enough to vibrate in my chest.

I smiled, pretending innocence even though my body was already betraying me. “Couldn’t resist.”

His gaze dragged over me—slow, careful, like he was deciding which part of me to carve first. I shivered under it, clenching my thighs as heat pooled low in my belly.

He strode to the sink, rinsing his hands under the warm water, letting the blood wash away slowly before turning back to me, eyes dark and hungry.

“You come here a lot,” he s
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  • Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires   Daddy’s Slut

    Ava’s fingers trembled as she pushed the door open, every nerve in her body on fire. Hours of imagining this moment hadn’t prepared her for the heat radiating off him—the dark smolder in his eyes, chest partially bare, muscles flexing with effortless strength.“Finally,” Matt said, low and deliberate, stepping closer. “Took you long enough.”“Traffic,” she whispered, cheeks flaming.His smirk was predatory as his hand closed around her wrist, tugging her inside. “I can *smell* how wet you are. Been teasing all day, haven’t you?”Her thighs clenched. “Maybe…”“Maybe?” His thumb brushed over the curve of her ass. “Daddy doesn’t do maybe. You *are* mine tonight.”“Yes… Daddy,” she breathed.He tilted her chin, eyes dark, commanding. “Strip. Now.”Her hands fumbled at the zipper, but he was faster, peeling her dress down and letting it drop to the floor. His hands devoured her body immediately, pressing over her ass, sliding against the slick heat between her thighs.“Good girl,” he murmu

  • Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires   Daddy’s Slut

    The night stretched long, the glow of Ava’s phone lighting up her face as message after message rolled in. She couldn’t stop—didn’t want to. Every time Matt’s name appeared at the top of her screen, her body reacted before her brain caught up.Matt: Spread those lips for me again. Show Daddy that pussy.Her thighs trembled as she angled the camera, snapping a photo with two fingers pulling her open. She sent it, biting her lip.The reply was immediate.Matt: Goddamn. Look at that. I’d ruin you. Hold your throat while I fuck you until your eyes rolled back.Her pussy clenched around nothing. She typed back, teasing but already desperate.Ava: You talk a lot for someone who’s not here.Matt: You’d rather I prove it?Ava: …Yes, Daddy.Her stomach dipped as she hit send, realizing how badly she wanted it.Her phone buzzed again—this time, a picture. Matt’s cock, thick, long, heavy in his hand. The angle was calculated, arrogant. He knew exactly what he was doing.Her mouth went dry.Matt:

  • Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires   Daddy’s Slut

    The first time they matched, it was almost by accident. Ava had been scrolling through the app on a lazy evening, swiping without much thought, until his profile stopped her.Matt, 36. Software engineer. A simple photo of him in a fitted black T-shirt, soft smile, and glasses that made him look more serious than the playful glint in his bio suggested.“I build code by day, ruin brats by night.”Her lips curled into a grin, thumb hovering before she finally swiped right.Match.The chat opened instantly.Matt: So… you like older men, or am I just a lucky glitch in your algorithm?Ava: Older men have their perks. More experience. More patience. Usually.Matt: Usually. But I’m not very patient.Ava: Oh? What are you, then?Matt: Direct. You’ll learn that quick.She laughed softly to herself, tucking her phone closer as she stretched across the couch. There was something about the bluntness that made her stomach flutter.Ava: And what do I call you, Mr. Direct? Matt?Matt: Call me Daddy.

  • Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires   My Cock’s New Roommate 2

    Part 2Work was a bruise. Every chair felt like it had a ridge carved to remind me I was awake, and the fluorescent lights hummed in rhythm with the voice in my skull. He didn’t shut up. He didn’t need to. He had a front-row seat to every twitch, every little betrayal my body made.“Move your leg,” he said once, as if he were bored. “People will notice.”I clenched, shifted, prayed for an emergency email to pull me out of the room. Nothing came. My cock throbbed against denim like it had a pulse of its own. When someone bumped my elbow, something hot slid through me—jealousy? need?—and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making noise.At noon the voice nudged practical. “Go to the bathroom,” he said.I told myself I was going to the bathroom to puke, or to call my mother, or to check a stupid app. I told myself anything but the truth: that if I stayed in the open I’d either come in my pants or lose my job because I’d scream. The back restroom was always empty, no windows

  • Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires   My Cock’s New Roommate 1

    I hadn’t slept in three nights, and it was entirely my fault. A week ago, half-drunk and feeling cocky, I’d dug through an old thrift-store book—the kind of dusty, leather-bound thing that promised secrets and curses—and read one of the rituals out loud. It was supposed to summon a lust demon, a joke really. I imagined some sultry female spirit appearing, something I could fantasize about. I didn’t expect it to work.But apparently, I was wrong.Every time I closed my eyes, that presence slithered into my skull, curling around my thoughts like smoke. At first, I told myself it was stress, that maybe I was losing my mind from lack of sleep or too much porn before bed. But then it started saying my name.“Wake up, Ethan.”I shot upright in bed, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling. My room was the same—messy, cramped, stale from last night’s leftover pizza. Nothing out of place. But the voice wasn’t out loud. It was inside me. Male. And not in the sultry, fantasy-demon kind of way I’d

  • Crave: A Collection Of Wicked Desires   The Butcher’s Slut 2

    He didn’t give me a second to breathe. His hands were everywhere—gripping my hips, kneading my ass, dragging me back until my chest pressed flush against the cold, blood-streaked counter. The smell of raw meat mixed with his sweat, his heat, his musk, and it made me shiver and moan before he even touched me where I ached.“You’re dripping for me,” he growled, teeth grazing my shoulder, lips brushing the curve of my neck. “All over the counter, all over me… look at you, so fucking wet. You want this, don’t you? You want me to ruin you.”I gasped, nodding as he flipped me over, fingers clutching his apron, desperate for more. His lips trailed down my chest, teasing my nipples, brushing my collarbone, finally finding my pussy.“Oh fuck,” I whimpered as his tongue teased me through my soaked panties, dragging, tasting, licking me until I was trembling.“You’re teasing me,” I breathed, hands tugging at his hair.“No teasing,” he growled, yanking my panties aside and sinking his tongue full

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