All Chapters of Sinful Nights: A Filthy Collection of Erotic Stories: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The next few weeks settled into a filthy, exhilarating routine. During the day, Nkechi was the epitome of efficiency. She managed Chief's chaotic life with a skill that impressed even him. She anticipated his needs before he could voice them, deflected unwanted calls with a polite but firm "Chief is in a meeting," and kept his schedule running like a well-oiled machine.But after hours, the rules changed. The office became their playground. One evening, he called her into his office and made her sit on his desk, her legs spread. He sat in his chair and just looked at her for a long time, his gaze a physical touch. Then he made her touch herself, her fingers sliding into her wetness while he watched, stroking his cock. He made her describe, in explicit detail, what she was doing, what she was feeling. She came on his desk, her body shuddering, her juices slick on the polished wood. He made her clean it up with her tongue before he fucked her.Another time, he bent her over his expensiv

They were in his office. It was late, past nine. Nkechi was bent over his desk, her skirt around her waist, her panties in his pocket. He was behind her, his thick cock pounding into her, each thrust a powerful, possessive stroke. The desk was rocking, the sound of their bodies slapping together a rhythmic, obscene beat."Who do you belong to?" he grunted, his hand coming down on her ass with a sharp slap."You, Chief," she gasped, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the polished wood. "I belong to you.""Damn right," he growled, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.Just as she was teetering on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm, his phone rang. The sound was shrill, jarring, cutting through the fog of lust. He ignored it, his rhythm never faltering.The phone rang again. And again. With a frustrated growl, he pulled out of her, leaving her empty and aching. He snatched the phone from his pocket, his annoyance palpable."What?" he barked into the phone.Nkechi froze, her heart sinki

The ballroom of the Transcorp Hilton was a sea of glittering gowns and tailored agbadas. The air hummed with the soft clinking of champagne glasses and the low, murmur of powerful voices. Nkechi stood beside Chief, a vision in the gold dress he had bought for her. It was backless, with a high slit that ran up her thigh, a deliberate, provocative choice. She was the perfect accessory: beautiful, poised, and silent.But beneath the poised exterior, she was a mess of nerves and anticipation. Inside her, nestled against her most sensitive spot, was the pale pink vibrator. Its presence was a constant, low hum of awareness, a secret promise of the debauchery to come.Chief, of course, was in his element. He moved through the crowd with an easy grace, shaking hands, slapping backs, his deep laugh booming over the din. He was the king holding court. Every so often, his hand would rest on the small of her back, a proprietary, possessive touch. And then, it would happen.A low, deep vibration s

The incident with Tunde had left a bad taste in Nkechi's mouth. Chief's jealousy was a dangerous, unpredictable thing. For the next few weeks, he was even more controlling, more possessive. He would call her at all hours, just to know where she was and who she was with. He had her install a tracking app on her phone, a "security measure," he called it.The sex, too, had changed. It was darker, more about punishment and control than pleasure. He would tie her to the bed, a blindfold over her eyes, and use her for hours, bringing her to the brink of orgasm again and again, only to deny her release until she was a sobbing, begging mess.One evening, he came to her apartment with a new gift. It was a small, sleek camera, mounted on a tripod."What's that for?" Nkechi asked, a knot of dread forming in her stomach."I want to remember you," he said, his voice quiet. "I want to be able to watch you when I'm not here.""Chief... no," she said, her voice trembling. "That's... that's too much."

The small mirror was cracked, but it didn't matter. Amaka only needed to see the important parts. She saw her full, red lips, slightly parted. She saw the mischief in her dark eyes. Then she looked down. Her hands cupped her large, heavy breasts, lifting them in the worn-out white uniform. The buttons were straining, ready to pop. She loved her tits. They were big and soft and men lost their minds over them. She let them drop and watched them bounce. Perfect.She turned sideways, running a hand over the wide flare of her hip. Her uniform was tight, too tight, but that was how she liked it. It showed off her small waist and the magnificent curve of her ass. It was a big, fat, round ass that jiggled when she walked. She slapped it hard, watching the soft flesh wobble. A wicked grin spread across her face. This was her weapon. This was her power. And today, she was going to war.Lagos General Hospital was a madhouse. It always was. The air was thick with the smell of sickness and cheap bo