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
Before she could protest, he dragged her off the shattered piano. She stumbled, panties ripped to nothing, her dress hanging by one strap. Her thighs were shiny with cum, dripping as she moved.She gasped, whisper-shouting in panic.“¡No, no, no! Upstairs? There people upstairs, bosses, governors! I smell like sex, like vampire cock! They see—”He shoved his fingers deep inside her, making her squeal mid-sentence.“They’ll smell it anyway. Now walk.”He dragged her by the hair up the stone staircase, her heels clicking, her little brown body swaying, trying to cover herself but failing.At the top, the grand dining hall roared with voices—men in suits, women in gowns, servants moving trays. Everyone turned when Elijah entered with his little Latina maid dangling from his grip, dress torn, thighs dripping.Gasps. Whispers.Francesa’s face burned hot, but she gave a crooked little smile through her humiliation.“Eh… buenas noches…”One of the governors choked on his wine. Elijah shoved
Her blood hit his tongue and Elijah lost control. His hand ripped her uniform open, buttons flying. Her tits spilled free, dark nipples hard and begging. He latched onto one, sucking like a beast, blood smearing down his lips.Francesa arched, moaning loud, shameless.“¡Ay coño! You no gentle, papi… you animal. I like.”His hand slid down, yanked her panties aside, two fingers plunging deep into her soaked pussy.Her scream echoed through the cellar.“¡Mierdaaa! Yes! Put the whole fucking hand—”He cut her off by slamming her hips against the wall, shoving his cock out, already thick, already leaking. He didn’t ask. He didn’t wait. He pushed inside her with one brutal thrust.Her mouth dropped open, eyes rolling.“¡JESUS MARIA Y JOSE! Too big, papi! You split me!”Elijah grunted, dragging his length out slow, then slamming back in until her ass slapped against his hips.“You heal fast,” he whispered in her ear. “Your body… it takes me. You’re mine.”She laughed through her moans, hair
Francesa woke up sore between her thighs. She stretched, yawned loud like a cat, and mumbled in Spanish,“Dios mío… ese vampiro tiene una pinga gigante…”She rubbed her eyes, remembering every filthy second from last night. The way he bent her over, the way he bit her, the way his cock didn’t stop.But wait—he told her to forget.She smirked.“Ha! That shit no work on me. I no forget nada.”She threw on a wrinkled maid uniform and shuffled barefoot into the courtyard. Elijah was already outside, lounging in a chair, legs crossed, a thick book in his pale hands.He looked like a painting—cold, handsome, untouchable.Francesa planted her hands on her hips.“So… good morning, jefe. You sleep good? Or maybe you no sleep, you only fuck, hm?”Elijah’s eyes lifted from the book, flat and bored.“Did you say something, maid?”She blinked. He wasn’t even fazed.He really thought his hypnotism worked.“Eh… nada, boss. Only ‘good morning.’” She forced a smile, biting her lip. Ay, he think I forg
He growled—a raw, guttural sound of relief, his hand flying to her hair. His hips jerked forward as if his body couldn’t help it, shoving deeper into her throat.Her lips stretched wide around him, drool spilling as she gagged. She worked her tongue along his thick dick, sucking harder every time he moaned. His pain melted into pure, filthy pleasure, his veins slowly pulling back under his skin.“Fuck—yes,” he groaned, voice shaking. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” His grip in her hair tightened, guiding her, using her.She choked but moaned around him, her pussy throbbing, her nipples hard under her thin nightgown. She felt like a whore on her knees for her cold, deadly boss—and she loved it.“Fuck,” he groaned, the veins on his chest starting to recede. “Yes… more.”She sucked him deep, saliva dripping down her chin, her tongue swirling around his shaft.His fangs grazed her skin, so sharp she thought they might break it. His cock throbbed against her stomach.“Good little maid,” he grow
He was close now, so close she could smell his cologne—dark, rich, almost like smoke and spice.“I don’t Wait,” he said simply. His hand lifted, brushing her chin, tilting her head back just a little. His touch was ice-cold. “I take.”Francesa’s breath caught. Her heart pounded.“Take… what?” she whispered.His lips parted. For a second, she thought he might kiss her. But his eyes fixed on her throat again. He leaned in, close enough for his cold breath to caress her skin.Her nipples hardened instantly.Then—he pulled away.“Get back to work,” he said sharply, turning and striding out like nothing happened.Francesa’s knees almost gave out. She pressed a hand between her thighs. She was wet. So wet she could feel it soaking her panties.“Hijueputa…” she hissed under her breath. “He gonna make me crazy.”That night, she couldn’t sleep. The mansion groaned with shadows. Her pussy throbbed, aching.The house was too quiet. Until it wasn’t.At midnight, strange sounds echoed down the hal
“¡Maldito viejo sucio!” Francesa spat in Spanish as she yanked the apron off her curvy little waist and tossed it on the kitchen counter.Her boss’s wife was still screaming in the other room, calling her a slut, a whore, a snake. Francesa didn’t care. She was tired of gringos and their stupid problems. It wasn’t her fault the husband couldn’t keep his eyes off her ass when she bent over to scrub the marble floors.“Pack your things, you tramp!” the wife shouted, her face red and ugly. “My husband is drooling over you like a dog in heat—get out of my house!”Francesa blew a kiss at her just to make her madder. “Don’t be jealous, señora. I can’t help it if your man prefers me.” Her accent was thick, her English sharp but laced with spice. She turned and sashayed out, her hips rolling in that way that had gotten her in trouble more times than she could count.Outside, her “madame” was waiting in the car—the older woman who ran the cleaning service that had smuggled Francesa into America