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 Keon’s face, her thighs shaking, breath gone.
Dr. Vale smiled.
“Now that… was a fucking orgasm.”
Keon fell back, soaked, panting.
Sariah hung from the straps, trembling, cum dripping down her legs.
Dr. Vale walked between them.
“Next session,” she said, “you switch. He gets tied down. And you ride until he cries.”
Sariah looked up, wrecked and smiling.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t make me wait long.”
************************************************************************
The morning light bled through the blinds like a secret trying to spill.
Sariah stood by the kitchen island, robe loose, nipples still sore from last night. She hadn’t slept—not really. Her body ached in all the right places. Her pussy still throbbed, sensitive, twitching every time she shifted. She could feel her husband’s cum dried along her thighs, even after the shower.
But it wasn’t the orgasm that haunted her.
It was the look in his eyes. The shame. The hunger.
And that note.
“If you can’t make her cum… I will.”
She didn’t write it. Didn’t even know who did. But the way Keon looked at her when he read it? Like he might fuck her or leave her forever.
She poured herself coffee, hands trembling.
Then came his voice—low, warm, but edged in something tight.
“What did that message mean, Sariah?”
She turned.
Keon stood in the doorway in a fitted tee and gray sweats that barely contained the weight of his morning cock. Hair messy. Eyes still swollen from sleep.
He stepped closer.
“That card,” he said, voice tight. “The one from the sex club. The note inside. ‘If you can’t make her cum… I will.’”
She swallowed. “I told you—I don’t know. Someone handed it to me.”
“Who?”
She shook her head. “A woman at the gym. We’d spoken once. I vented. She said they help couples. I thought it was like… therapy.”
Keon stared at her. His jaw flexed. His voice dropped.
“She knew I was failing. She knew I couldn’t fuck you right. And she wanted to take you from me.”
Sariah stepped closer, but not too close.
“I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t know what that note said until you opened it.”
Keon’s chest rose. Then fell.
Then he stepped forward—until she was backed against the fridge.
His voice was thick. Possessive. Dangerous. Deep.
“She’s not going to take you, Sariah. No one is.”
His palm landed against the fridge beside her head.
“I’m going to win you back. With this cock. With this mouth. With everything you forgot I had.”
Her breath caught.
“I didn’t forget,” she whispered. “You just stopped showing it.”
His hand slid down her side.
“I’m showing it now.”
And then, without warning, she turned to reach for the milk carton on the shelf.
He opened the fridge at the same time. His arm bumped hers. Her elbow knocked the bottle.
It exploded.
White, cold milk poured down her chest, soaking her robe, clinging to her lace bra, dripping over her cleavage.
“Shit,” she gasped, stepping back.
Milk ran between her breasts. The robe was plastered to her tits. Her nipples stood hard, dark points begging to be sucked.
Keon just stood there, staring.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
He stepped forward and yanked the robe wide open.
“Keon—” she gasped.
His mouth was already on her tit.
His lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking hard, tongue swirling over the sensitive tip until she cried out and slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Fuck—baby—the kids—upstairs”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he growled into her chest.
He sucked harder, pulling the entire curve of her milk-soaked breast into his mouth like he was starving. His hand slipped down between her thighs, dragging up the hem of her robe.
She was bare underneath.
His fingers found her slit—wet, creamy, open.
“You’re not even wearing panties,” he muttered. “You wanted this.”
“I didn’t—fuck—I was just”
“Don’t lie. You’re soaking.”
He rubbed her clit fast, rough, until her knees buckled and she had to brace herself against the dining table.
She turned, hips pressing into the edge, tits out, robe open, one leg kicked back.
“Please,” she whispered. “Make me cum before they come downstairs.”
He dropped to his knees and spread her ass apart, tongue dragging through the mess between her thighs.
“Suck this pussy,” she begged. “Make it sloppy.”
He dove in.
His tongue slid over her creamy folds, his face buried deep in the heat of her dripping cunt. He groaned into her like he wanted to drown. His tongue circled her clit, flicking hard, sucking just enough to make her grind against his face.
“You taste like sin,” he said. “Sweet and filthy.”
Her hands gripped the table edge. Her body shook.
“I’m close—don’t stop—please, don’t”
His fingers slid inside her, fast and deep, curling up to hit her spot with ruthless precision. The sloppy sound of her pussy sucking his fingers filled the kitchen.
Muffled moans. Heavy breath. Wet, wet, wet.
The stairs creaked upstairs.
Sariah’s eyes widened. “Oh my God—stop—they’ll hear”
“Let them,” Keon growled.
He stood, pushed her chest down flat against the table, and shoved his thick cock between her legs—bare. No time for protection. Just skin and need.
He slid inside.
One hard stroke.
She cried out—loud, gasping—her pussy clenching around him instantly.
“Oh, fuck—yes!”
He slammed into her again. And again.
Her tits slapped against the table. Milk still coated her skin. His hands dug into her hips.
“Is this what you needed?” he growled. “A hard fuck? A man to ruin your pussy before breakfast?”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Fuck me—harder—don’t stop”
The table creaked.
His cock drilled into her wetness, pounding faster, deeper, her slick soaking his balls with every thrust. Her body writhed, tits bouncing, mouth full of muffled cries.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours,” she gasped. “It’s yours—it’s all yours”
“You’re not leaving me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then cum on this dick.”
He reached around and rubbed her clit, fingers fast, cock deep.
She shattered.
Her orgasm slammed into her like a tidal wave—her body shook, her pussy clenched hard around him, milking him, creaming on his cock.
Keon grunted behind her, thrust twice more
And then exploded inside her with a hot, thick pulse of cum.
They collapsed together.
Panting.
Shaking.
Sticky.
Ruined.
The stairs creaked again.
They scrambled—robe tied, pants zipped, table wiped just enough.
Their kids never came down.
But the table would remember.
They sat side by side now, quiet, breathing slowly as the kitchen returned to stillness.
Sariah’s legs were trembling. Keon’s cock still twitched in his pants. The table was damp with milk and slick. Her robe clung to her skin like a secret only he could read.
No words. Just afterglow and adrenaline.
Then her phone buzzed.
She reached for it slowly, fingers still sticky from gripping the table.
A text. From a number labeled Dr. Vale.
Session Confirmed.
Payment due by 6 p.m.
A guest will be joining you tomorrow night.
Instructions: No touching each other till then. No orgasm without permission. Hands. Off
Sariah’s breath caught in her throat.
Keon leaned over and read the message too.
She turned to him.
Eyes wide. Lips parted. Pussy already pulsing again.
“What does she mean… a guest?”
Keon didn’t answer.
But his cock started to harden
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