Ambiguous

"They were entwined with each other, luxuriating in the throes of passion, the man's robust body..." I was hiding in my office, secretly penning the next development in my story, when a voice from behind me began to read my words aloud, one by one. It was the new intern, a young man. I trembled, pleading with him, "Please, don't tell anyone." He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his hands bracing the edge of the desk, trapping me between his arms. "So, this is what you like?" His throat bobbed, and a smile played on his lips, "Then, why don't we... try it out, just the two of us...

My name is Lola Sinclair. "Please, not on the motorcycle…" As I ride with my husband, Dominic DeLuca, on his motorcycle, a male passenger suddenly reaches around me from behind. He slowly presses himself against me, assaulting me right in front of Dominic.

"Please… stop pushing. I can't move." The concert crowd was packed and restless, bodies pressed tightly together. I found myself too close to the girl in front of me. She wore a short skirt that brushed against me every time the crowd surged. What caught my attention was how close we were: the faint warmth of her body through the thin fabric made my pulse quicken. For a brief moment, I thought I felt her react too, as if she sensed the same strange tension hanging between us.

At my lowest point that year, I took a job at a pet shop, where I was assigned to take care of a "gentle-tempered" silver-white Alaskan Malamute. Every time I went near him, he would lift his head and bury his nose against my chest, breathing in low, rough sounds that felt disturbingly like a grown man holding himself back. Especially when my hand brushed through his beautiful fur, his body would heat up, and his eyes would darken and burn with unmistakable possessiveness. Thinking he was sick, I rushed to find the shop owner. The owner gave me a long, meaningful glance. "He's not sick. But he only acts like this with you. "You need to bathe him, give him a full-body massage, and try giving him a little kiss. Otherwise, he might lose control." I had my doubts about the whole thing, but I didn't really have a choice. I went along with it anyway. Eventually, I told the friend who had gotten me this job everything that had been happening. After she heard me out, she went quiet for a second. Then, she looked at me strangely and said, "Have you ever thought that maybe you're not looking after a dog at all? What if he's actually a werewolf who can take human form, and he's in heat, using pheromones to mess with you because he wants to… You know, sleep with you?"

I bought a breathtakingly handsome and sculpted werewolf slave from the magic black market. His rock-hard abs were on full display, and his deep V-lines pointed straight down into his tight, low-slung pants. But once I got him home, it was clear something was very wrong. A low, suppressed growl rumbled constantly in his throat. He stared at me with his golden wolf eyes, looking like he wanted to tear me apart and devour me whole. His body burned like a walking furnace. I thought he had wolfsbane fever and frantically contacted the seller. The seller was silent for three seconds after hearing my description. [My dear witch, is it possible he isn't sick, but just...hungry?] [The kind of hungry...that makes a werewolf want to pin you to a wall and sink his fangs into your neck to mark you?]

I'm a thirty-year-old hot wife, but my husband won't touch me. Driven to distraction by loneliness, I rely on toys for relief. Then our new yard guy, Samuel, arrives—built like a brick outhouse and gorgeous. With my desires raging, I make my move…

After my husband's death, I long for him so much that it becomes a mental condition. To put me out of my misery, my in-laws order a custom-made robot to be my companion. But I'm only more sorrowed when I see the robot's face—it's exactly like my late husband's. Everything changes when I accidentally unlock the robot's hidden functions. Late at night, 008 kneels before my bed and asks, "Do you need my third form of service, my mistress?"

It takes me 22 years to get from a farming village in Westernia to Jesseltown. From there, I learn how to use my assets to win any man's heart. No man has ever been able to resist my seduction, but that changes when I meet Zack Spencer. So what? Even the toughest cookie will fall prey to my allure.

"M-Master… I-I want to…" "Touch yourself? No. You're not allowed to." It's now lunchtime, and I'm hiding in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, video calling a stranger who isn't showing his face. He's dressed mysteriously in a suit and tie, nonchalantly toying with the remote control in his hand. Meanwhile, I am at my wit's end on the bathroom floor, feeling the foreign item inside me pulsing rapidly and sending me straight to the edge. None of this is consensual. It all begins with the mysterious "Love Mission" app I accidentally downloaded and installed on my phone.

Here's a piece of advice—do not catch the eye of those pretty salesgirls who sell supplements. You have no idea the things they'll do to close a deal. I become a yummy slice of cake in their eyes; they all want a bite of me. I'm faced with the seduction and allure of countless beauties, but it doesn't make me happy at all.