THE GLORY HOLE (2)

I don't leave.The fifth man fucks me from behind at a leisurely pace, like he's savoring every stroke. He takes his time, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in, making me feel every inch. The sixth takes me hard and fast, slamming into me so hard the wall shakes, rattling the partition. The seventh makes me come for the first time, rubbing my clit through the hole while he pounds into me, my screams muffled against my own hand.I'm a mess. Cum dripping down my thighs from all the men who've finished inside me. Face still glazed from the third man who painted me with his release. Hair stuck to my sweaty forehead, makeup long since ruined. I've lost track of time. Lost track of everything except the cocks that keep appearing through that hole.A knock on my booth door makes me freeze mid-stroke."Everything okay in there?" A female voice. Staff, probably."Fine." My voice is wrecked, hoarse from moaning and taking cocks down my throat. "Just fine.""We close in two hours

THE GLORY HOLE (3)

The announcement comes over a crackling speaker."Fifteen minutes until closing. Please finish up and exit the premises."I'm sprawled on the bench, unable to move. My body feels like it's been through a war, and in a way it has. I don't know how many men have used me tonight. Fifteen? Twenty? More? I lost count somewhere after the twelfth cock appeared through that hole. My pussy is swollen and sore, tender to the touch. My jaw aches from sucking so much cock, the muscles stiff and tired. My face is sticky with dried cum that I never bothered to wipe off. My thighs are coated with the releases of countless men.I'm completely, thoroughly used. And I've never felt better.One last cock appears through the hole.The smart move would be to wave him off. Get dressed and leave and try to process what I've just done tonight. Instead I kneel down on shaky legs and take him in my mouth for one final taste.He's gentle, this last one. He lets me set the pace, doesn't thrust or grab. Just lets

THE HITMAN'S WIFE (1)

I find the gun while looking for our tax documents.It's hidden in the back of his home office closet, behind a false panel I only discovered because I dropped my phone and it slid under the shelving unit. When I reached back to grab it, my fingers brushed against something that felt wrong, a seam that shouldn't be there, and curiosity made me investigate further.Now I'm sitting on the floor of my husband's office, staring at a black metal case that contains a disassembled rifle, three handguns, and enough ammunition to start a small war. There are also passports, five of them, each with Konstantin's face and a different name. Cash in multiple currencies. And a small leather notebook filled with dates, locations, and what can only be described as payment records.My husband is not, as I've believed for the past two years, a corporate consultant who travels frequently for boring meetings in boring cities.My husband is a killer.I should be terrified. I should be calling the police, p

THE HITMAN'S WIFE (2)

He doesn't need to be told twice.In one fluid motion, he frees his cock from his pants and buries himself inside me. No preamble, no gentle preparation, just the sudden overwhelming fullness of him taking what belongs to him. I cry out at the invasion, my body stretching to accommodate him, and he swallows the sound with his mouth on mine."Is this what you wanted?" he growls against my lips, pulling back only to slam into me again. "To know the real me? To be fucked by a man who's killed more people than you can count?""Yes." The word comes out broken, punctuated by each brutal thrust. "God yes, don't stop, please don't stop."He fucks me on his desk like punishment and reward rolled into one. His hands grip my hips hard enough to leave marks, controlling my body completely, using me exactly the way he wants. I'm just along for the ride, pinned and helpless and loving every second of it."I've wanted to do this for so long," he confesses, his rhythm never faltering. "To show you wh

THE HITMAN'S WIFE (3)

We make it to the bedroom eventually, after he fucks me one more time against the hallway wall.The bed feels different now that I know the truth. Every other night we've spent here, I thought I was sleeping next to a normal man. Now I know I'm curled up against a weapon, a perfectly trained killer who chose to make me his wife for reasons I still don't fully understand."Why me?" I ask, tracing patterns on his chest. "Of all the women in the world, why did you choose me?""Because you saw me." He pulls me closer, his hand stroking down my spine. "Not the mask I wear, not the boring consultant facade. You looked at me on that first date and I could tell you knew there was more. You weren't afraid of it. You were drawn to it.""I was drawn to you," I correct. "I didn't know there was a killer hiding behind that handsome face.""Didn't you?" His smile is knowing. "You never asked about my work, never pushed when my stories didn't quite add up. Some part of you knew, Lucia. Some part of

DRILLED BY THE MACHINE (1)

Fifty thousand dollars. That's what's waiting for me if I can last one hour on the Sybian without using my safeword. Sixty minutes. Three thousand six hundred seconds. No one has ever won The Gauntlet. Thirty-seven women have tried. All thirty-seven have broken.I'm not going to be number thirty-eight.The room is smaller than I expected. Clinical, almost. White walls, bright lights, a single padded platform in the center with the machine mounted on top.The Sybian. I've seen videos, read reviews, watched women lose their minds on this thing. It looks deceptively innocent — a curved saddle-shaped device you straddle like a horse, with a textured silicone attachment that rises from the center. You lower yourself onto it, letting the attachment slide inside you while the curved surface presses against your clit. Then the machine does the rest. Vibration. Rotation. Pulsation. All controlled remotely, all designed to wring orgasms from your body whether you want them or not. It's been cal