Filthy Obsessions. A Filthy Collection Of Forbidden Desires

The sex club smelled like sweat, cum, and leather.Sariah stood beside her husband, tight dress clinging to her thighs, panties already damp just from the moans echoing through the dim room. She wanted to feel something. Anything.Keon hadn’t touched her right in months. Their fucking had turned soft, forgettable—quick strokes, no filth, no hunger. She missed being wrecked. Screamed for. Fucked until her pussy gushed.A couple moaned near the back room, the woman tied to a beam, her tits bouncing while some stranger slammed into her soaked cunt from behind.Sariah clenched her thighs. Keon looked away.Coward.This was supposed to fix them. Supposed to remind them what it felt like to want.But so far?She felt nothing. Just the same cold ache between her legs, and the even colder silence between them.“Wanna leave?” Keon asked, quiet.Before she could answer, a voice slid through the shadows.“You’re not here for fun. You’re here because your pussy’s starving and his cock’s forgotten

The new address wasn’t the sex club.It was a warehouse on the city’s edge—quiet, windowless, forgotten from the outside. But inside, it was all velvet and shadows. Lights low and red. Heavy drapes muffling the sounds of moans behind distant walls. The air itself felt like it had been fucked in.Sariah gripped Keon’s hand tighter. Her coat brushed her bare thighs. Underneath, she wore nothing. Her nipples were already stiff under the thin lining. Her pussy throbbed from the memory of the kitchen table—milk on her tits, his cock deep inside her. But this was something else entirely.There was no comfort here.Only rules.Only heat..Now, standing inside this strange red-lit space, her nipples already hard under her coat, her pussy wet just from anticipation… she wondered if she could obey.A woman in a sheer bodysuit greeted them and ushered them forward into the room where Dr. Vale waited.MDr. Vale stood there like a vision in violence.Black leather corset so tight it looked poured

Juliette Marlowe had never been on a plane before.Now she was on a tour bus in a foreign country, her thighs pressed together, her pulse skipping like wet paint, and her sketchbook trembling in her lap.Twenty university art students were on their way to an elite five-day exhibition program in the countryside—private villas, ancient ruins, and a rare chance to create and study in luxury.She couldn’t concentrate on the rolling hills or the dark green blur of the passing landscape.Because Chancellor Wolfe was sitting five rows ahead of her.Chancellor Elias Wolfe.Head of the university.Master of control.And her quietest, filthiest obsession.He wasn’t just their Chancellor. He was their elite art professor too.Sharp jaw. Thick lashes. That dark voice that could make charcoal smudge.He hadn’t even looked at her.But he didn’t have to.Juliette had drawn him so many times—his hands, his mouth, the way he held a piece of chalk.She wanted to feel those hands around her throat.She

Juliette’s thighs still ached as she climbed the stairs.Her skin felt raw, sore, and soaked from what he’d done to her in that gallery.But her face stayed calm.Until she turned the hallway corner—and ran into her.Isla.The girl who’d sneered at her lateness.Pretty. Loud. Always watching.“Rough night?” Isla said, voice smooth and sharp.Then she leaned in closer. “Was it you this time? Did he pick you?”Juliette froze. “What are you talking about?”Isla’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.“Don’t play dumb. Wolfe always finds a favorite. I was last semester’s sketch subject. Late nights. Locked studios. The usual.”She leaned closer. “He’ll tire of you too. Or maybe I’ll report it before he gets the chance.”Juliette’s heart slammed.Isla’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You think you’re special?” she whispered. “You’re just next.”Juliette blinked. “Next for what?”But Isla was already walking away like it meant nothing.She didn’t sleep.She couldn’t.The next morning, she went to Ch

Juliette sat on the cold stone altar, bare legs pulled to her chest.The old abadoned chapel smelled the same—wet stone, melted candle wax, and the ghost of their first fuck.It was where Wolfe had broken her.Claimed her.Made her drip down his cock while begging for more.Now it felt like goodbye.She’d stayed away for days.Let Isla get in her head.Let fear make her small.But this place—the place where she became his Little Muse—called her back.She didn’t hear him enter.Didn’t know he’d followed her until his voice echoed through the stone.“You’ve been hiding from me.”Juliette froze.Slowly turned.Wolfe stepped out of the shadows, black coat soaked with rain, hair wild, eyes darker than she’d ever seen.He looked like he hadn’t slept.He looked like he’d kill for her.“I know why you’ve been distant,” he said, walking forward.She rose from the altar.Her throat trembled. “Isla”“I know.”She stared.“She came to you, didn’t she?” he said, voice sharp. “Told you she’d expose