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Pleasure Feeder3

Author: Writer
last update publish date: 2026-09-15 19:02:16

I didn’t go far. The docks had more than one kind of hunger walking around after dark. I cut behind the warehouses where the streetlights were mostly broken and the air smelled like diesel and river water. My thighs were still slick. Every step reminded me of the three of them—how they’d used my mouth, my cunt, my ass, and how good the pleasure had tasted going down.

It still wasn’t enough.

I found him near the loading docks. Tall, heavy jacket, hands in his pockets, smoking like the cigaret
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  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   Pleasure Feeder -Final

    The sun was fully up by the time I found the last one. I should have stopped. The warehouse had almost done it—left me heavy and slow and full enough to disappear for days. But the hunger still had one thin edge left, sharp enough to keep me walking. I followed it through the quiet morning streets until I ended up at a small apartment building with the front door propped open by a brick. Someone was moving out or moving in. Boxes stacked in the hallway. A man in a white undershirt carried one past me, glanced once, then looked again. He was older than the others. Late thirties, maybe. Dark circles under his eyes, forearms corded from lifting, a mouth that looked like it hadn’t smiled in a while. He set the box down and wiped his hands on his jeans. “You need something?” he asked. “Yeah.” I stepped inside the open apartment without waiting for an invitation. Half-empty. Mattress on the floor still in plastic. A single chair. The smell of cardboard and dust and a man who lived alo

  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   Pleasure Feeder5

    Dawn was bleeding into the edges of the sky when I found the warehouse party. Not a real party. Just a handful of people who hadn’t gone home yet, music low, bottles on the floor, bodies moving slow in the half-dark. Someone had dragged old couches and mattresses into the open space. The air smelled like weed, sweat, and sex that had already started. I walked in like I belonged. No one stopped me. A woman on one of the mattresses looked up first. Dark hair, sharp eyes, shirt already unbuttoned. She was straddling a guy who looked half-asleep and fully hard. When she saw me she smiled slow and crooked. “You look like you need something,” she said. “I do.” She climbed off the guy, left him blinking, and walked over to me. Up close she smelled like perfume and cunt. She didn’t ask permission. Just put her hand between my legs under the dress, felt the mess still drying there from the motel, and pushed two fingers inside me like she was checking the temperature. “Still wet,” she mu

  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   Pleasure Feeder 4

    I ended up in a late-night diner that still had the lights on for the truckers and the people who didn’t want to go home. The place smelled like burnt coffee and grease. I slid into a booth in the back, thighs sticky, dress still damp in places from earlier. The power from the container sat heavy in my gut, but the edges of the hunger were already starting to sharpen again. It never stayed quiet for long. A waitress with tired eyes brought me coffee I didn’t ask for. I wrapped my hands around the mug just to feel something warm. Across the aisle a man in a flannel shirt kept glancing over. Mid-thirties, solid build, wedding ring he kept twisting like it bothered him. He looked like he’d been driving for hours and still wasn’t ready to stop. I met his eyes and didn’t look away. He came over after a few minutes. Sat down without asking. “You look like you’ve had a night.” “I have.” I took a sip of the coffee. It was shit. “You look like you need one.” He laughed once, low. The sou

  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   Pleasure Feeder3

    I didn’t go far. The docks had more than one kind of hunger walking around after dark. I cut behind the warehouses where the streetlights were mostly broken and the air smelled like diesel and river water. My thighs were still slick. Every step reminded me of the three of them—how they’d used my mouth, my cunt, my ass, and how good the pleasure had tasted going down. It still wasn’t enough. I found him near the loading docks. Tall, heavy jacket, hands in his pockets, smoking like the cigarette was the only thing keeping him from putting a fist through something. He looked at me when I stepped into the pool of weak light. Didn’t smile. Didn’t look away either. “You lost?” he asked. Voice low, rough. “No.” I stopped a few feet from him. “You look like you need to ruin something.” He exhaled smoke through his nose. Studied me for a long second. Then he flicked the cigarette away and said, “Come on.” He led me to a rusted shipping container half-hidden behind stacked pallets. The d

  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   Pleasure Feeder 2

    I didn’t go home. Home was a loft with blackout curtains and a mattress that still smelled like the last person I’d left shaking and empty. I needed something thicker than Marcus. Something that would stick to my ribs for a week. The city after two a.m. was all wet asphalt and half-dead neon. I cut through the industrial stretch near the docks where the bars didn’t have names and the doors stayed unlocked if you looked like you belonged. I looked like I belonged. Inside it was darker. One long room, pool table with a cracked felt, a jukebox that only played shit that made you want to fight or fuck. Three men at the far end. One older, thick through the chest, beard going gray. The other two younger. One lean and mean-looking, the other broader, quiet. They were sharing a bottle of something that smelled like paint thinner. I walked straight to their table and sat on the edge of it like I owned the wood under my ass. The older one looked me over slow. “You lost, sweetheart?” “No.

  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   Pleasure Feeder

    The club smelled like sweat, perfume, and the sharp bite of spilled liquor. Neon cut through the dark in cheap pinks and blues. Bodies moved on the floor like they were trying to fuck through their clothes. I leaned against the sticky bar, one heel hooked on the rail, watching. My name is Lilith. Not the original, just the one who got the job after she got bored. Succubus. The kind that doesn’t drain the life out of you. I feed on the good shit—the heat, the wet, the way a body shakes when it comes so hard it forgets how to breathe. Pleasure is richer than life force anyway. Life force is thin. Pleasure is thick, sticky, and it sticks to me for days. I was hungry. A guy at the far end of the bar kept looking. Dark hair, nice mouth, the kind of shoulders that said he lifted more than just his phone. He bought me a drink without asking. I let him. When he slid closer I could smell the want on him already—sharp and clean under the cologne. “You’re not from around here,” he said. I

  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   The Wrong Send

    *A New Collection I was sprawled across my bed in nothing but the thin silk robe I’d stolen from Mom’s closet, the fabric slipping off one shoulder as I read Tyler’s latest text for the third time. “Babe, I’m dying over here. Send me something filthy so I can stroke to it before I lose my mind.”

  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   Gangbanged by Strangers: Recked

    The hotel room door barely clicked shut before hands were all over me. Not gentle. Not careful. Hungry. Mike shoved me backward onto the nearest bed so hard my back bounced on the mattress. The lamp cast ugly yellow light across the room, but nobody cared about romance. My head was still spinni

  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   Gangbanged by Strengers

    *A New Collection: After being in a four years relationship with Jake, Emily catches him and her bestfriend hooking up. Heartbroken - Leading her to get complicated with some nasty strengers in the bar ready to split her open if she asked for it.(This is a continuation from my last book - Unheard P

  • Painful Pleasures(Short Steamy Collections)   Daddy's Turn

    Mark stood there in the near-dark, the faint glow from my nightlight catching the hard line of his jaw and the massive bulge straining the front of his gray sweatpants. He didn’t look shocked nor angry. He just looked… hungry. Like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. He stepped all the wa

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