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Confession No. 3 – The Night Nurse
Last Updated:
2025-06-24 16:28:01
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Wet Confessions Confession No 50: Her Daddy’s Rival
THE FIRST GLANCEThe ballroom glittered with the kind of decadence only old money could afford satin draped tables, crystal flutes brimming with golden champagne, and violins singing softly over the hum of elite conversation. Chandeliers loomed above like icy crowns, but nothing in the room sparkled quite like her. Seraphina Cruz moved through the sea of gowns and tuxedos like a flame in velvet. Her dress was dark wine nearly scandalous spilling low across her spine and clinging to every sinful curve. It was her subtle rebellion, a way to remind her father that she was no longer his little girl, and certainly not a pawn in his corporate chessboard. But even she wasn’t prepared for the man who stepped into the room. He didn’t belong to this polished world not completely. His presence was too raw, too commanding, like a wolf among silk clad lambs. Broad shouldered, towering, effortlessly composed in a black-on-black suit that made him look like power incarnate. His dark hair was slic
Wet Confessions Confession No. 49 Sleeping with the Enemy’s Daughter
They said she was soft.Spoiled. Obedient. Daddy’s little porcelain doll.But when I stormed her father’s villa with blood on my gloves and a grudge spanning three years, softness was the last thing I found.I expected fear.I got fire.The sky outside was soaked in violet dusk, the pool reflecting orange lanterns swinging in the breeze. She emerged from the water like a secret whispered into night wet, glistening, a lace one piece clinging to her like a sin undone. Her dark hair poured over one shoulder like wet silk, her lips glossier than the wine glass she reached for.She didn’t scream.She didn’t run.She raised her glass to me like she’d been expecting the devil and was ready to toast.“You’re him,” she said, slow and bored. “My father said you’d come for me one day. Just not so soon.”I should’ve knocked her unconscious. I should’ve cuffed her and dragged her out.But I didn’t.Instead, I watched as she took a bite of a ruby-red strawberry slow, sensuous, lips parting, tongue
Wet Confessions Confession No.48 THE OBEDIENCE RETREAT
The email came at 2:47 AM. No subject line. No sender. Just one line of text:“Come prepared to serve.”Attached was a digital boarding pass and an encrypted set of coordinates. And three days later, Lena stepped off a private black car in the middle of nowhere miles away from cell towers, streetlights, and her curated online life.The estate was wrapped in shadows and fog, like it had been plucked from a dream just to test her sanity. Gothic gates groaned open for her, but no one stood to greet her. Just silence and a low pulse of classical music drifting from deep within the walls.She didn’t know what she expected a receptionist, a smug concierge, maybe a hostess in a silk robe offering her champagne and a safety word. Instead, the front doors swung inward the moment she touched the brass handle, revealing a grand foyer lit by golden sconces and hundreds of white candles.The air smelled like cedarwood, orange blossom, and something darker almost feral.Then came the voice.Low. Ma
Wet Confessions Confession No 47: The Billionaire’s Boudoir Dare
Masquerade. One game. No names. Only dares.They say what happens at the Black Velvet Gala stays there. But no one told me what would happen if I stepped into the billionaire’s boudoir.I didn’t belong there. Not among billionaires, heirs, and masked devils who reeked of power and secrets. I was a low-level event photographer hired last minute to replace someone who dropped out. All I had was my camera, my anonymity, and a daring streak I usually kept hidden.He caught me in the restricted wing. I had been trying to snap a photo of the rare art rumoured to be hidden in the upstairs suite. I wasn’t supposed to open the door.And I definitely wasn’t supposed to step inside and see him.He wore a black mask with silver trim and no shirt. Just a velvet suit jacket and dark trousers. Hair wet from the rooftop rain. Bare chest glistening. Eyes pinned to mine like he had summoned me, not caught me.“You’re either bold or stupid,” he said. His voice was dark, slow, precise. A predator curious
Wet Confessions Confession No. 46 : “Hotel Alias” Room 517 – Signed, Miss Mirage
The Keycard and the CodewordI didn’t come to the Gloriana Hotel for love.I came for escape.The moment I walked through the lobby’s revolving doors, the weight of my real life fell off like a silk robe. In here, I wasn’t Elara Mathis legal consultant, overworked daughter, trauma survivor.I was Miss Mirage. An alias created purely for desire.Room 517. A suite booked under a fake name. A ritual sealed with rules.No real names.No backstory.No contact after checkout.And the man waiting behind the door tonight? He wasn’t my lover.He was a mystery I had ordered with a codeword."Noir."When the door swung open, he was already in character black dress shirt unbuttoned to the sternum, a tie hanging loose like a noose of temptation. His hair was damp, tousled, like he’d been pacing before I arrived.He didn’t smile.He looked at me like hunger personified.“I’ve been waiting, Miss Mirage,” he said, his voice dark velvet.“You always do, Mr. Noir.”And just like that, the game began.T
Wet Confessions Confession No. 45: The Masquerade of Shadows
The city of Virelin was a neon-tinted paradise at night, a place where secrets wore heels and desire slipped behind masks. The annual Masquerade of Shadows wasn’t just a party it was an invitation into fantasy. A place where hidden kinks found form and voices of restraint were muted by the pounding bass and champagne bubbles.Vespera had only heard whispers of it. An exclusive, members only event held in a glass-domed villa overlooking the Veilwater River. Those who entered did so with masks and left with confessions soaked into their skin. She hadn’t planned on going. But curiosity was a drug. And tonight, she wore sin like perfume.Her mask was ivory lace with pearl-teardrop accents, her gown slitted high enough to tease but not reveal. She wasn’t used to heels this high or fabric this sheer. But the invitation had come in a velvet box with her name written in gold.For the one who dares to dream aloud.Inside the villa, bodies moved like smoke and silk. No names, no introductions.
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