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Chapter Nine of His Favorite Sin
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2025-07-31 17:37:44
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Wild Fetish Desires Chapter Thirteen of His Favorite Sin
The silence after Ciel’s final words stretched thick, heavy like fog before a storm. No one moved. No one smiled.Then Ezra leaned back, just slightly, the long fingers that had been tapping against the edge of the table stilling in the quiet.“Enough about the girl,” he said at last, voice precise, razor-sharp, and devoid of amusement. “Let’s talk about the ones foolish enough to whisper our names.”The shift in the room was immediate. Enoch's mouth tightened. Malachi scoffed under his breath. Reuben's smile vanished altogether.Benedict muttered, “Them again?”“Yes,” Ezra said, and this time his tone left no room for dismissal. “The group. The ones who dare accuse us of cultic activity. That we’re devils. Manipulators. That we corrupt the bloodlines of nations.”“Well…” Malachi chuckled darkly. “They’re not entirely wrong.”“It’s not about what’s true,” Ezra snapped. “It’s about perception. And they’re doing more than spreading rumors.”A servant, cloaked in shadow near the edge of
Wild Fetish Desires Chapter Twelve of His Favorite Sin
They gathered at the long obsidian table beneath the Chapel of Teeth.A room lies deep beneath the Earth's surface, behind iron gates and forgotten tombs. It has long halls lined with the skulls of saints who dared to scream. The walls are decayed and filled with memories, made from the bones of martyrs and traitors. Red candles light the arches, their flames never melt or die. The air is thick and heavy with blood, incense, and the sour smell of sweat absorbed into centuries of stone. This is home.No one bowed. They never did. Not to each other. Not to the gods they’d dethroned. Not to the world that buried them.Reuben—Gluttony—sat at the head. Silent. Fork in hand. The tines sank slowly and steadily into the meat sprawled across the altar-shaped table in front of him. A man’s body, twitching still. The left eye blinked once before Reuben carved it out and popped it into his mouth. He chewed with reverence, like it was communion.He’d been a surgeon once. Then a butcher. Now? Now h
Wild Fetish Desires Chapter Eleven of His Favorite Sin
Salem’s POV“You feel it, don’t you?” she murmured, circling me like smoke. “That little bite in your chest when I touch him. That tightening in your throat when I look at you like I already know you. That’s envy, darling. You wear it better than you think.”I almost forgot.Or no—I chose to.Rewrote it so thoroughly that even the lie felt like truth.There’s something wrong with the way I remember things.I’ve known that for a while.It’s not exactly lying, not exactly forgetting. It’s… reshaping. Like my brain takes the truth, smooths it over, and bends it until it fits the version of the story I need. The version that hurts less. Or sometimes—hurts better.A memory distortion, they’d probably call it. The kind they write about in journals and textbooks. I’ve read all about it—how trauma does that. How longing does that.It didn’t start when I was a child. Back then, I adored them. Her, my mother—gorgeous, untouchable, the kind of woman who could command a room with silence.And him
Wild Fetish Desires Chapter Ten of His Favorite Sin
Salem's povThe front door echoed shut with a soft thud that rolled down the hall like a warning. I was halfway down the stairs when I saw her.Tall. Striking. Dressed in all black—if you could call that barely-there lingerie a proper outfit. Her robe was sheer, fluttering open just enough to show off thin black rope panties and a matching bra that barely restrained her curves. She looked like something pulled out of a devil’s wet dream, right down to the glossy red lips she wore like paint.Lucian’s posture stiffened the moment he saw her. She didn't knock. Didn’t call out. Just walked in like the house belonged to her.My bare feet hit the final step as Lucian crossed the foyer in slow, steady strides, his expression unreadable.“What are you doing here, Brittany?” he said, the word punching out of him like a curse.She stopped in the middle of the foyer, her heels sinking softly into the rug, lips pulling into a grin. “The name is ciel now”Her voice was smooth—liquid silk laced wi
Wild Fetish Desires Chapter Nine of His Favorite Sin
Lucian’s POVThey didn’t call me Lucian in the cult. Just Vale.A name given, not chosen. A brand, not a birthright.I was thirteen when I was initiated. An orphan. Hungry. Small. I thought I was joining a brotherhood. Thought it’d be like the movies—some rebellious underground pack where I could matter. Where I could belong.Instead, I was dragged into blood.They didn’t worship Satan. Not in name. But everything we did… it reeked of him. Our rituals. Our punishments. Our sermons are made of horror and screams. We didn’t need horns and pitchforks—we had flesh and chains.I was hit in the head during my initiation. Woke up drenched in someone else's blood. My classmate stood over me smiling like he’d just gifted me the world. But then I realized that the blood was mine. We had a room. A secret one. Hidden behind a false wall in an abandoned cathedral. That’s where they broke people. That’s where they built me.I was trained to seduce. To punish. To dominate. And I excelled. Pain was
Wild Fetish Desires Chapter Eight of His Favorite Sin
Salem's povMy back arched.“Lucian, please—”His big cock was buried deep inside me, his fingers cruel around my throat, the other hand gripping my hip like he was carving his name into my bones. Every thrust punched breath from my lungs. I was right there on the edge—my body strung tight, my blood singing, the pleasure a crackling fire in my belly about to explode—And then he pulled out.Abruptly. Brutally.“Wha—” I gasped, my voice high, strangled.My pussy clenched around nothing. Wet. Empty. Desperate. My legs trembled, my whole body twitching, robbed of the climax I was seconds away from.Lucian leaned over me, his breath hot against my ear. “You don’t get to come unless I say so.”I whimpered, helpless, the ache between my legs bordering on pain. My fingers curled into the stone beneath me—the altar cold, unforgiving, like the man standing over me.“You need to learn patience, little sin.”He pulled something from the pocket of his coat—black silk.“Up,” he ordered, the word s
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