Butt Plug Punishment Story

The moment my roommate walked in, she used my locker. She claimed to have too many things and nowhere else to put them. I rolled my eyes. Why should I let her get her way? I was not her parent. She was no princess, but she acted like one. I was ready to argue, but she tossed 200,000 dollars at me. “At your service, Your Highness!”

The project I had poured my heart and soul into earned the company over a hundred million in profit, yet the credit was handed to the vice president's nephew. I stood in a corner, the stack of source code documents trembling in my hands, nearly crushed by my grip. That nephew—who couldn't even get Hello World to compile—was now on stage, smiling brightly as he accepted the award. The vice president came over and draped an arm around my shoulder like we were old friends. "You're just an outsourced worker," he said casually. "These honors wouldn't mean anything to you anyway. Jason is new. He's got limitless potential. From now on, you'll be responsible for mentoring him properly." Only then did I realize that decades of struggle had been nothing more than laying out a red carpet for someone else's glory. That very night, while reviewing the project's code repository, I discovered a massive flaw—one serious enough to bring the entire system crashing down within three days.

At the year-end company meeting, I was announcing the bonuses when a new employee suddenly raised her hand. "Over at the other company, they handed out two boxes of imported cherries at their annual party," she said, shaking her phone. "And we only get performance bonuses?" The video, maliciously edited, went viral online and hit the trending list the very next day. I had the finance department cancel all the year-end bonus transfers. "If cherries are what really count as a gesture of goodwill," I said, "then this year's year-end benefit will be cherries—fifty boxes per person." When they saw the mountain of cherries piling up before them, the employees who had once joined in mocking me panicked instantly. One by one, they cried and apologized, begging me to reconsider.

A week after my engagement, I was delivered an unusual engagement gift. My phone chimed. I glanced down and saw a push notification from a social app. [Fell in love with a female livestreamer right before my engagement. I feel guilty toward my older girlfriend who's about to become my fiancée—how should I deal with this?] The user ID was "SimonLovesClaire." The profile picture showed a melancholy side view of a man wrapped in a gray scarf. I recognized him instantly. It was my fiancé, Simon Aldrich. That limited-edition scarf was the birthday gift I had given him last year.

I did three years in prison for my wife, Lilian Parson. The day I got out, she handed me an envelope for her company's grand opening. Inside was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. Then I saw her colleague, Nathan Ramsey, holding his envelope—his also contained a single dollar. Relieved, I pushed my doubts aside. I smiled, stood by Lilian's side through the entire ceremony, the picture of a proud, supportive husband. That night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw Nathan's latest post. A photo of a check. [Congratulations to Lilian Parson on the grand opening! So generous—100 million as a gift!] The comments section exploded with envy and blessings, congratulating him and "the boss" on finally becoming a couple. Lilian offered no explanation. Instead, she hurried to draw a line between us. "You just got out of prison," she said coolly. "It's not a good look to go public right now. Let's keep our marriage a secret. In front of others, just call me your boss." Then she turned around and liked Nathan's post. I wiped the tears from my eyes, picked up my phone, and dialed the number of her greatest rival. "From now on, I work for you," I said.

At the dinner celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, I held the pregnancy test report in my pocket, planning to surprise my CEO husband. However, the moment the doors opened, I froze. A stunning woman stood there with her arm intimately linked through my husband's. She clung to Charles Lawrence with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly belonged at his side, carrying herself like the lady of the house. Neither Charles nor the guests found it strange. If anything, they seemed entertained. Someone even joked, "Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Cooper aren't just ideal partners at work. Their chemistry is something to admire as well. I've personally reserved the presidential suite at Jubilee City's finest resort for Mr. Lawrence tonight. You can be sure no one will disturb you." Fiona blushed and slipped shyly into Charles's arms. He lowered his head and kissed her hard. They fit together so naturally, so intimately, that the sight was unbearably glaring. My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when Charles had pressed me into the bed. In that moment, I had caught sight of a strange message sent by someone named Fiona: [Everyone in the company thinks we've slept together.] Charles had explained that Fiona was only his assistant, a forty-year-old woman, and that the message was nothing more than a punishment from a lost game, a foolish dare. That explanation had dissolved my suspicion and anger. Then, I finally saw the truth. I was the one who had lost everything. Inside my pocket, the pregnancy report was crushed into a tight ball. I forced the tears back, stepped away, and opened the invitation from the National Aerospace Research Institute on my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped Accept. Three days later, I would vanish completely from Charles's world.

“Can—Can you say that again?” I plead, assuming that I misheard his original verdict. “Six months, if you’re lucky,” he says, flipping through his clipboard of papers. “This pregnancy has accelerated your hepatocirrhosis, which will likely only leave you with less than half a year of life expectancy.” Bad mate could destroy you and tear your soul apart. 5 years ago, Harold was a new alpha with his manipulative soon-to-be luna girlfriend Alicia. Harold was wounded fighting in the war. His mate Olivia followed the scent, then appeared and saved him. She gave him blood transfusion when he was in extreme need of blood, which almost killed her. But Harold was too unconscious to know who had saved him. When Harold was taken back to pack, who was still in a coma but out of danger. The doctor judged that he was very likely to lose the ability to move his legs. After knowing this, Alicia abandoned him and left his pack immediately, to find another luna position. Olivia took care of this man in coma for waiting her mate to wake up. But when Harold woke up, Alicia was back again. This evil girl trapped him and ruined Olivia, filled all this alpha's head with lies. Not only Alicia took marriage and luna title away from Olivia, but also her pups and life. But fortunately, Moon Goddess has her own plan. Olivia has the very rare second chance at life. She came back as another woman, the Luna Queen. But at that very moment, the Luna Queen was going to divorce her Alpha King! And the story begins ——！

Alex dropped his head into his hands. Amelia wanted to comfort him, but she didn’t know yet where they stood. She could be out on her butt in a few minutes.Alex sighed. “I’m sorry that she’s done this to you. It was your story to tell me when you were ready.”“Alex?”“Yeah?”“Are we okay? Do you need me to leave?”He strode to her and fell to his knees. He put his hands on her arms. “There is no need for you to leave. We are more than okay.”***Amelia is an independent white hat hacker who meets and beds a man at a tech conference. Fast forward several months and she finds out she’s pregnant. She finds him just to tell him he’s going to be a father. She finds out he’s Alex Hillen, the billionaire owner of a gaming company. He decides it’s his job to take care of this woman who has never been taken care of.What could go wrong? Hacker for the Billionaire Tech Daddy is created by Chris Redding, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

With only an hour left until the concert began, every trending topic across the internet was dominated by a single headline. [Breaking: Rising Star Tiffany Burgess to Propose to Her Manager After Ten Years of Romance, Leaving Fans in Awe.] This proposal was not just a personal milestone; it was the centerpiece of our company's most ambitious PR campaign of the year and the culmination of a love story between Tiffany and me. Then, in the fire escape, I bumped into Tiffany, dressed in her wedding gown, locked in a passionate kiss with a young man. "Wayne, let me explain," she pleaded. "Explain what?" I snorted. "That just before our proposal, you're sneaking around with another man? The proposal is live-streamed to millions, with thousands of media outlets eagerly awaiting the announcement." I slammed the engagement ring down onto the table in front of her. "After the encore tonight, you'll either propose to me on that stage, or you'll be ruined, both in reputation and career!" Her fists clenched, but in the end, she gritted her teeth and grabbed the box. "Fine." Under the spotlight, she stood before me in her wedding dress, pulling out the ring. But instead of turning to me, she held the ring up toward the guest seating area, where her true love sat. "Wayne, thank you for helping me reach the stars," she declared. "But tonight, I'm going to chase my moon." The crowd erupted in shock and confusion. In a single instant, I became the laughingstock—the unwitting prop in her grand romantic gesture. My heart shattered the moment she reached him.

While preparing for the SATs at the library, my brother is accidentally shot and injured, causing him to bleed profusely. I pass by this scene but turn a blind eye and quicken my pace to leave. This is because in my previous life, when I saw him, I rushed him to the hospital in a panic. He had intracranial hemorrhaging, and he urgently needed surgery. I quickly called my mom, the top neurosurgeon in the city, begging her to come to the hospital as soon as possible. However, she thought I was jealous that she had taken my adopted sister to the beach instead of spending time with me. She also believed I had fabricated the story about my brother's injury, and thus refused to return. By the time my dad and the rest of the family hurried to the hospital, it was too late for rescue efforts—my brother had passed away. The whole family blamed me for his death. They were convinced that I had deliberately misled my mom and delayed his critical treatment. When my mom returned from out of town, she lost her composure and pushed me down the stairs, watching coldly as I bled to death. After opening my eyes again, I had returned to the day my brother was shot at the library.