Todos los capítulos de Sinful Nights: A Filthy Collection of Steamy Stories: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

The laundromat was empty, the only sound was the rhythmic hum and tumble of the dryers. Elara scrolled through her phone, bored, her clothes tumbling in a cloud of warm air. Tuesday's were the only day she did had chance to come and do her laundry. Peter the help aid was there, like he always was on a Tuesday night or any other night, sitting in the corner with a book only speaking if his attention was needed. He never looked at her, not really but tonight, he did.The buzzer on her dryer went off, a loud, jarring sound in the quiet. She stood up, but he was faster. He crossed the room, his movements sure and silent, and pulled open her dryer door. He started pulling out her clothes, piece by piece, folding them with a neat, military precision that was completely at odds with the setting. A pair of her black lace panties fell to the linoleum floor.He stopped. He bent down and picked them up, holding them by the strap between two fingers. He didn’t look at the panties. He looked at her

She drove home, the plug a heavy, full feeling inside her. Every bump in the road made it shift, a dirty reminder of what he had done to her. Her body was sore, her ass ached, and her pussy was still wet. She knew she should feel bad, or scared. But as she pulled into her parking spot, she only felt one thing.She could not wait for next Tuesday.She walked up the stairs to her apartment, her legs still a little weak. She unlocked her door and went inside, locking it behind her. She leaned against the door, her basket of clean laundry at her feet.She went to the kitchen and drank a big glass of water then she went to her bedroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was still red, her lips were swollen she looked like a woman who had been fucked hard.She took off her clothes and got into bed. The sheets felt cool on her hot skin. She closed her eyes, but all she could see was his face, hear his voice. “Your pussy belongs to me now.” A shiver went through her. Her hand moved

he next few days were a strange kind of normal. Elara woke up every morning in her apartment, and she Stayed naked. The first day, it felt strange and scary. By the third day, it felt... right. It was a constant, low-level submission. She would make her coffee, she would read her book, she would watch TV, all with her bare skin touching the air of her apartment. It was a reminder. He owned this space. He owned her.He didn't come over. He didn't text. The silence was almost worse than his presence. It made her nervous. Was he watching? Was he thinking about her? She found herself cleaning the apartment twice a day, making sure everything was perfect for him, just in case.On Friday afternoon, her phone rang. It was him.I have a surprise for you.Her heart started to beat fast. She typed backWhat is it, sir?Look in your bedroom closet. On the top shelf.She walked to her closet, her stomach full of butterflies. She stood on her tiptoes and felt around on the top shelf. Her fingers to

The week felt like a lifetime. Each day was a test of her obedience. Each night was spent waiting for his command. The black toy sat on her nightstand, a constant, silent reminder of his power. She didn't dare touch it. She was a good girl.On Friday, the text came.Be ready at eight. Wear the red dress.The red dress. He had never mentioned a red dress. She went to her closet. Hanging there was a new dress. It was made of a thin, silky material that clung to every curve. It was the color of fresh blood. It was so short it barely covered her ass, and it had a plunging neckline that showed off most of her breasts. There were no shoes, no instructions. Just the dress.She put it on. She looked in the mirror. She didn't look like herself. She looked like a woman you bought for a night. A high-end, expensive whore. She felt a chill of fear, and a deep, familiar throb between her legs.At eight o'clock, there was a knock on the door. She opened it. He was there, but he looked different. He

"Your hands are shaking."The man’s hands, which had been working in steady, practiced circles on her lower back, stopped completely. Clara didn't look up from the face cradle, but she could feel the sudden change in the room's pressure. She could feel the faint tremor in his fingers where they rested on her skin."I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet and strained. "It's just... it's been a long day."Clara let out a soft, humorless laugh."It has nothing to do with the day. It has to do with the fact that I'm naked on your table and you want to fuck me. Don't lie."He was silent. She could hear the slow, rhythmic whump-whump-whump of the ceiling fan cutting through the thick, citrus-scented air. She had chosen this place for its anonymity, where the therapists were trained to be invisible. But she had no intention of being invisible today."Your name is Mark, according to the schedule outside," Clara said, her voice calm and even."And I'm Clara. Now that we're acquainted, Mark, I wan