** Trigger Warning**
This collection is not safe.
Not for your morals. Not for your comfort.
Inside these pages, you’ll find public degradation, corruption of innocence, voyeurism, cum worship, daddy kinks, strap-ons, virgin ruin, twisted love, and begging that sounds a lot like prayer.
There are no safe words here.
Only wrong men. Wet sheets. And women who stop pretending they want to be saved.
If you’ve ever said “just one more chapter” with a hand between your thighs
Welcome to Filthy Obsessions.
The elevator ride made her wetter.
Sariah had worn nothing under the trench coat except a red lace thong and a push-up bra that barely contained her tits. She’d sprayed perfume between her thighs, tied her hair up the way he liked.
She touched herself in the backseat of the Uber.
Twice.
First was a quick rub against her thigh while imagining his cock slamming into her over the desk. Second was full fingers down the front, pressing her clit hard through her panties until she bit her lip and tasted blood.
But she didn’t finish.
Not yet.
She wanted him to finish her.
If he could still do it.
She was done waiting.
Six years married. Two since he made her scream. Now, she was walking into his office to remind him who the fuck he married.
When she walked in, Keon looked up from his desk. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, tie loose, hair messy. Fuck. He was still sexy. Just… useless in bed lately.
“Sariah?” he blinked. “Everything okay?”
She dropped the coat.
And his eyes went wide.
Her tits bounced slightly with the move, full and firm in the lace cups. Her nipples were already hard, nipples dark through the fabric. Below, her pussy shaved, wet, and barely covered by red strings soaked from the ride over. Her pussy peeked through the tiny triangle of her thong, soaked, creamy, glistening.
“Sariah, what”
“I missed being fucked,” she said, walking toward him. “Thought I’d remind you what’s waiting at home.”
He stood, stunned. His cock was already growing in his pants.
She grabbed his tie, pulled him in, kissed him rough—tongue, spit, teeth. Then she dropped to her knees,
She unzipped him fast. His cock sprang out—already growing, half-hard in her fist.
Thick. Gorgeous. Half-hard.
“God, I missed this dick,” she breathed. “So thick… so fucking good when it’s hard.”
He groaned. “You can’t just”
“Shut up.”
She licked up the side, slow, then wrapped her lips around the head, tasting his pre-cum on her tongue.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You’re gonna make me cum already.”
Her mouth bobbed on his cock, spit dripping down her chin. She took him deep, choking a little, eyes locked on his while her hand slipped between her thighs.
He grabbed her head. “Shit, that mouth”
She licked from the base up, slow, tongue dragging across every inch. Then she opened wide and took him in, lips sealing around his shaft with a dirty slurp.
Keon’s head dropped back. “Shit, baby…”
She sucked him like she meant it. Mouth slick, throat relaxed. She pulled him deeper until he hit the back, until her spit dripped down her chin, until she had to grip the base just to keep from choking.
He grabbed her hair. His cock throbbed. “Goddamn—don’t stop. That mouth… fuck—”
She didn’t stop. Not until she felt it:
That shift.
That slow, dreaded loss of tension.
He twitched… then softened.
Mid-thrust. Mid-fucking moan, his dick wilted.
She froze.
Pulled off. Stared.
Keon looked down in horror. “Wait—I—I don’t know what happened.”
Her eyes were glassy. Her lips still wet. Her hand trembled on his thigh.
“It happened again,” she whispered. “You can’t even stay hard when I’m half-naked on my knees?”
He grabbed her wrist. “Baby, I’m sorry. I want you, I do—I’m just stressed. Work’s been hell—”
“Stop.”
She stood up. Shaking. Furious. Devastated.
“Do you even fucking see me anymore?”
Keon looked broken.
“Let me make it up to you,” he begged. “Please.”
Keon looked panicked. “Fuck—I’m sorry, baby. I swear I don’t know why—”
“Is it me?” she hissed. “Is it my body? My mouth? My pussy? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She stood too—angry, heartbroken, dripping with a need that wasn’t going anywhere.
“I came here to fuck you. To remind you I’m yours. I was ready to bend over that desk, beg for your cock, ride you until we broke the chair”
“Sariah”
“Instead you gave me a soft dick and excuses.”
Her panties clung to her pussy lips, completely soaked from anticipation. Her clit throbbed, desperate for friction. She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or ride the desk lamp just to prove a point.
But then she looked at him.
And he looked… destroyed.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice rough. “Let me try again. Please. Let me taste you.”
She crossed her arms. “No.”
He dropped to his knees anyway.
He kissed her inner thighs, slow. Gentle. His fingers traced the edge of her thong, pulling it aside, revealing her pussy—creamy, hot, slick with frustration.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he whispered.
“Of course I am. I wanted to be used.”
He licked her, soft at first. His tongue dragged through her folds, tasting the mess she’d made for him. She grabbed the back of his head and forced him deeper.
“Eat it like you want to keep me,” she snapped.
He tried. Tongue working, lips sucking her clit, fingers sliding in slow. It felt good. Almost.
But not enough.
“Harder,” she moaned. “Faster. Stop teasing. I need to fucking cum”
He sped up. She rocked her hips, used his face, rode his mouth like a cock. For a second, she felt the edge
Almost there
Then he changed the rhythm. Slowed down.
She snapped.
“Fuck off.”
She pushed him back.
“Stop pretending like you know what you’re doing,” she spat. “You don’t. You used to wreck me. Now you fuck me like I’m fragile.”
“I was trying”
“Trying doesn’t make me cum, Keon.”
He stood. Silent. Broken. His lips shiny from her pussy, his cock still soft.
She grabbed her coat and opened her purse.
“Someone gave me this.”
She dropped a black envelope on his desk.
“An elite sex club. They said it saves marriages. I told them mine was dying. And they said if you can’t fix it…”
She turned to leave.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a black card. One word printed in deep silver: Come.
And beneath it, a handwritten note:
“If you can’t make her cum… I will.
The next morning, Juliette Marlowe was late.Her thighs were sore.Her dress clung to skin still stained by storm water and sex.Her nipples brushed the inside of her bra like they still belonged to his mouth.She tried to hide it.Pulled her hair up. Smoothed the skirt.Pretended she hadn’t been on all fours the night before—cum leaking from her ass as she thanked him with her mouth.But when she slipped into the studio ten minutes late, breathless and quiet, one of the other girls turned and smirked.“You look like you got dragged through the forest.”Juliette froze.A few students laughed.She stared down, cheeks flushed red, chest tight“Miss Marlowe,” Wolfe’s voice cut through the room like glass.The room went still.She looked up. Slowly.“Did you sleep through your alarm,” he said, “or were you wandering around wet again?”Her breath caught.His tone was calm. Cool. But that word—wet. He knew what it would do.She nodded weakly. “I—I’m sorry, Chancellor.”He set his pen down.
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
That night, neither of them slept. And when the sun rose, golden and hot on their tangled sheets, both Keon and Sariah woke up aching, soaked, and already a little scared of what came next. But neither of them said a word. They just packed what Dr. Vale told them to.They arrived separately.That was Dr. Vale’s final command.No kisses. No holding hands. No stolen glances.Just silence. Distance. Obedience.Sariah didn’t ask where they were. She didn’t need to.Her coat was removed the moment she walked in. Her wrists were bound next.Then came the blindfold—silk, tight, and total. The world disappeared.She was guided onto a plush surface—pillows, warm, low to the ground.Her legs were lifted, parted. Ankles strapped to the sides.Wide open. Vulnerable. Dripping already.She didn’t know who was watching. Or who was coming.But she ached.Across the room, Keon sat naked, arms strapped to a chair, his cock already swollen and leaking.He couldn’t see anything. Just the candlelight flic
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
Dr Vale turned to Keon.“On your knees. Face your wife’s pussy.”Keon dropped fast.His mouth hovered inches from her cunt—wet, pulsing, swollen with denial. Her juices dripped down her inner thighs.“You want to taste?” Dr. Vale asked.“Yes,” he whispered.“Tell her.”Keon looked up, shame in his eyes. “I want to taste your pussy, baby. I want to feel you cum on my tongue. Please let me try again.”Sariah’s voice was breathless. “Then do it right.”He buried his face between her thighs.This time, he licked like he had something to prove—long, rough strokes, tongue deep, nose buried in her clit.Sariah screamed.Dr. Vale stood behind him, watching like a god.“Good. Don’t stop until she soaks your fucking chin.”Keon didn’t stop. Not once. His tongue circled her clit, faster, harder, two fingers sliding inside to match the rhythm she loved.Sariah bucked against the restraints.“I’m gonna cum—fuck—I’m”And then she broke.Her scream shattered the silence.Her pussy gushed, soaking Ke
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