Todos los capítulos de RUINED INNOCENCE: 40 Sinful Nights Of Corruption: Capítulo 301 - Capítulo 310

I couldn’t remember the last time Mark’s cock had been inside me.Not the polite, two-minute, lights-off version he sometimes offered when he felt guilty. I meant the real thing—the filthy, raw, skin-slapping sex we used to have before the wedding, before the three babies, before I quit the newsroom and started delivering pubs just to keep the house quiet and the mortgage paid. Back then I lived for it. I used to come home from late shifts with ink on my fingers and climb straight onto his face, grinding my wet cunt against his tongue until he flipped me over and fucked me like he was trying to break the headboard. I loved the way he used to spit on my asshole and push in without asking. I loved when he called me his dirty little cumslut and made me thank him while he filled me.That version of us was dead.After the third baby my body changed in ways the magazines never warned you about. My tits went from a full C to a heavy, soft E-cup that leaked when I got too aroused. Stretch mar

I had been the live-in nanny for the Carter family for eleven months, and every single day I went to bed wet.They were beautiful. All of them. Marcus Carter—tall, broad, skin like polished ebony, voice deep enough to vibrate in my cunt when he spoke. His son Malik, twenty-two, home from college for the summer, built like he spent every free hour in the gym, with a smile that made my knees weak. And Naomi, Marcus’s wife, elegant, sharp-tongued, with the kind of curves that made me stare too long when she walked through the kitchen in her silk robes.I was the pale, quiet white girl who folded their laundry and packed school lunches for the younger kids. The one who smiled politely and kept her eyes down. The one who had a secret folder on her phone full of the filthiest BBC porn she could find. Thick black cocks stretching tiny white holes. Creamy pale skin marked with dark hands. White girls gagging, squirting, sobbing, and begging for more.That was the one fantasy I had never lived

I’m twenty-four, newly separated, living temporarily in my mother’s house after my marriage collapsed. My mother has just remarried a rich, cold, older man—Gabriel—who is everything my soft ex-husband wasn’t. * * * The key turns in the lock at 11:47 p.m. and the sound goes straight between my legs.I am sitting on the edge of the guest-room bed in the dark, still wearing the thin cotton nightgown my mother bought me “for comfort.” It barely covers the tops of my thighs. I have been listening to the house for two hours—the low murmur of their voices downstairs, the clink of ice in glasses, the occasional soft laugh that does not sound like my mother’s usual laugh. Then the front door opens and closes. Car doors. Silence. He is home alone with me.My mother is at her sister’s for the weekend. She told me this morning, kissing my cheek, telling me to “be good for Gabriel.” The words still sit under my skin like a brand.I hear his footsteps on the stairs. Slow. Measured. Not the hurrie

The next morning I wake up with dried cum still streaked faintly across my stomach and the torn panties twisted around one ankle. My cunt is sore in a deep, satisfying way that makes me press my thighs together the second I’m conscious. The guest-room door is still open. From downstairs I hear the coffee machine and the low murmur of Gabriel’s voice on a call.I pull on a soft oversized T-shirt that barely covers my ass and nothing else. No panties. He told me last night I don’t get to wear them unless he says so. The fabric brushes my bare lips with every step as I walk downstairs.He is already dressed—dark trousers, white shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled. Laptop open on the kitchen island. He doesn’t look up when I enter, but the corner of his mouth lifts.“Present.”I stop in the middle of the floor, pull the T-shirt up to my waist, and stand with my feet apart, hands behind my back. The cool air hits my swollen pussy. He glances over, eyes lingering on the faint bruises h

“Show me.”The two words leave my mother’s mouth like she already regrets them, but she doesn’t take them back.Gabriel’s hand tightens in my hair for a second, then releases. He steps back, giving her a clear view of me still on my knees, collar dark against my throat, leash trailing across the rug.“Stand up, Ella. Hands on the arm of the couch. Ass out.”I rise on shaky legs and bend exactly the way he taught me—back arched, feet spread, elbows locked on the upholstery so my ass and cunt are presented. The position leaves nothing hidden. Cool air hits the wetness already coating my inner thighs.Gabriel moves behind me. His palm strokes once over the fading marks from earlier, almost gentle. Then it cracks down hard.The sound is loud in the quiet living room. I jolt forward with a sharp cry. He doesn’t pause. The second spank lands on the other cheek, heavier. Then another. And another. He settles into a steady, brutal rhythm, each strike overlapping the last until heat blooms acr