Dirty Laundry Book Novels & Stories

I felt exhausted down to my bones, the kind of bone-deep weariness that no amount of sleep could fix. “What the hell happened last night?” I whispered to the empty room. Ember, my wolf, stirred uneasily inside me, I couldn’t let Max see this. Not like this. I moved quickly, heart racing. I scrubbed the shoes in the sink with soap and a brush until my fingers turned red, scraping away as much mud as I could. I stripped out the dirty leggings and shirt, balling them up and shoving them deep into the bottom of the laundry basket under a pile of clean towels the Evidence was hidden for now.

He yanked open the nightstand drawer and fished out that cursed book: The Devil’s Little Bane. He held it up like evidence in court, the pages fluttering. “Snatched this gem from you the other day. Knew you were deep in it. What, ten pages from the end? I finished it myself last night.” He grinned devilishly, and my chest squeezed hard, like it was about to combust. “Fuck, Cindy, the shit in here… it’s pure filth. Balls deep in demon dick and submission games. I didn’t peg you for such a dirty reader.”

Sandra said pointing at me with her index finger. I did it, I clean the table, taking the dirty dishes and bowls to the kitchen to wash them. "When you are done with the dishes, I have some dirty clothes which need to wash, hand washed." I heard Sandra say in the dining room "sure I'll do that." I replied. Done with the dishes, I went to her room with a basket on my waist full of dirty clothes, I went to the back. "Where is that bucket?" I ask myself, I went to the general bathroom, took three buckets, fill them with water. I wash the dresses, I wonder if the heavens have a problem with me or something, the sun is scorching hot, and I could feel the sweat on my back, chest, forehead, my leg,

I could breathe out here. I made it to my room and quickly pulled off my shoes and clothes and set them in the laundry basket that was in my closet. I wanted to wash the filth of the day off of me. I always felt dirty after having to torture anyone. Like a dirt spot that would remain no matter how many times I scrubbed. By the time I was feeling clean again, I needed to torture someone else. It was an endless cycle that slowly stripped me of who I was, of who I wanted to be.

"Here you go, My Queen." Mirra walked in to the chambers with the large book in her hands. "It took me a minute but I managed to get all the dust out. Misha showed me an excellent way to rid the dust from the book. All I needed was two willing friends to hold the cover of the book at either side and let the pages hang upside down. Many delicate swatting later, the book is as clean as it can be." I watched as Mirra walked over to the dining table and placed the large book in front of me.

Swallow. Marcus is next. His load hits my chin, drips down to my tits. Devon cums quietly, painting my neck and collarbone. Tyler finishes in my mouth. Makes me swallow every drop while the others watch. I kneel there – in the middle of the library study room, naked except for my cum-covered glasses, surrounded by ruined notes and fallen textbooks – and feel more seen than I have in my entire life. They help me clean up. Find paper towels. Salvage what notes they can. Gather scattered textbooks. It’s weirdly domestic, weirdly normal, after what we just did.

"I went to put on some clean shorts, but all of them are dirty. I have to do some laundry just to have shorts to wear! You must think I'm such a slob, letting my dirty laundry pile up like this." The hamper was indeed full, but the way they smiled and laughed let me know they didn't mind. Their eyes followed me as I headed out through the kitchen and started my laundry. It turned me on to saunter past them again and see the arousal in their expressions. I snagged a clean undershirt and pulled it over my head as I walked back out my bedroom door, but I knew that shirt was really tight. I acted surprised, but again they didn't seem to mind.

The woman who coordinated the cleaning of your entire house, picked out your bedding, put a little sunflower on your keyring…" My body remained unmoved by this argument. I groaned quietly and dragged both hands down my face. Okay. Okay. This was fine. This was a completely human biological response to an objectively attractive man and it meant absolutely nothing and I was going to unpack my bag, freshen up, and by the time Zara walked through that door I was going to be a completely normal, loyal, un-flustered best friend. Starting now. I crouched down in front of the duffle and grabbed the zipper. It didn't move. I pulled harder. Still nothing. I repositioned, got a better grip, yanked…

"You know that, right?" His words catch me off guard, but I play along. "Of course." "Not a word to anyone," he adds. "If you want this to continue," I smile. "Yes, Father." He nods, turns, unlocks the front door, and slips out without looking back. I let out a slow, shaky breath. Did I really just fuck the priest? I push the thought aside and quickly start clearing away all evidence. I spray a heavy mist of strawberry air freshener to drown out the distinct, musky scent of sex lingering in the living room. I scrub the dining table down with bleach until my eyes water, then take my ruined panties and flush them down the toilet.

Ayla said. "Read another book, you must read the same?" "Taiba, I have to read the same. I don't know which the most important book that is kept there is. Please take it off." "Okay...." Putting the bill on her forehead, she hit the book repeatedly with the help of a long stick and managed to drop the book with difficulty. Making a face, she picked up the book and brought it to Ayla. "Repentance is so dusty, as if no one has ever cleaned it from there." Holding the book and blowing it, she cleaned it a little and opened it to see that the book was completely in English.