Dirty Laundry Book Novels & Stories

Story 2: Eat Me, Boss Daddy The Red Room glowed with deep crimson light. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and power. Andrea was still tied spread-eagle on the large padded bench, her wrists and ankles locked in heavy leather cuffs. Her legs were forced wide open by the spreader bar. Her pussy was red, puffy, and leaking a constant stream of mixed cum down her ass and onto the bench. Her tits were marked with bites and handprints. She was trembling, whimpering softly, her body still desperate for more even after everything Gabriel had already done to her.

“Your home? After what you did today? You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as us. Dira’s face is all over the internet because of you!” “I didn’t do anything!” My voice cracked with desperation. Tension coiled in my chest, tight enough to snap. “It was staged! Someone is blackmailing—” “Save the lies,” the tall guy cut me off, shoving past me to grab a framed photo of me and Clyde from the shelf. He smashed it against the wall. Glass shattered. “We saw the livestream. You were dragging her, making her beg. Pathetic.” Another intruder—a stocky boy in a varsity jacket—knocked over a chair, then yanked open drawers, scattering papers and Clyde’s school notes across the floor. “This is what

Blushing she nodded to him. "Ren, I will speak with them for a bit." Melinda came out of her thoughts. She was mostly keeping the Nightmare Manual in check. it was way overstimulated the last few days. Ren warned her of the power involved but she didn't think it would be like this. She had no need for resources really as every fear and bad thought caused her to draw Ion energy faster.

– the end They carried her upstairs like a bride. Her legs would not hold her weight. Her holes would not close. Cum still leaked in slow pulses every time she clenched. In the master bathroom they lowered her into the tub. Warm water lapped at her bruised tits and swollen belly. Liam washed her gently for the first time all weekend, fingers soft between her folds, cleaning days of filth away. Rita shampooed her hair and whispered praise the whole time. “You took thirty-eight loads in thirty-six hours.”

Spending my youth and days buried in church activities and my nights in prayers for the people who don’t give a damn about me and yet my husband can’t do the one thing I need. I can’t help but feel like I need to be purged for the unholy thoughts I keep having these days. Of how I want to be brutally fucked till the bed rattles against the walls. Of how I want to be laid on the table and fucked till I can’t walk anymore. Maybe I do need to be cleansed of these evil thoughts and insatiable burning desires and I know just where to go to get that done. I walk into the cool premises that’s scented with candles and incense, a very huge difference with the disgusting smell of sweat and heat outsid

She made him go ahead and take a shower in the master's bathroom. Noah was sitting on the edge of the bed when Ingrid came out of the bathroom, having just finished drying her hair with the blow-dryer. He was only wearing pajama bottoms, holding the hardcover copy of Cari Mora she had bought for him. He was already halfway through it. "I'm clean now," he said with a smile, closing and setting the book down on the bed. Ingrid noticed he wasn’t using a proper bookmark—it looked like he’d stuffed a yellow sticky note between the pages. "Remember, I took a full hour in the shower."

I pressed it once, just to make it real, and then I turned the water on hot. I stood under it until the heat stopped feeling like punishment and started feeling like something my body remembered how to take. I washed my hair twice. I washed my hands longer than they needed. I let the water run down my back and tried not to think about a needle in a neck, or gold stacked farther than the light, or Dallas’s mouth in a parked car under trees. When I finally shut it off, the room was full of steam and my skin was clean for the first time in days that had not been days so much as one long night with different skies.

She was determined not to sleep on cum soaked bed linen for the night. The cleanup took quite a while. Cleaning up with shaky legs from orgasm wasn't exactly an ideal cleaning situation. She put the soaked sheets in the laundry and finally relaxed on the bed sheet that was devoid of Damian's musky scent. As she lay on her bed, a crazy idea hit her head. She didn't think it through. She stood up and took her book and note and headed out.

Aslan was rummaging around. “Damn, this man is so sloppy. It's so disgusting to find his dirty laundry all over!” Aslan tossed his dirty clothes on the floor. Greg saw this scene as soon as he walked in the door and felt that his privacy had been violated. He was always very busy and had no time to do his laundry. Besides, he had abandoned his puppets. Since he found this ancient book, he was fully focused on making new puppets. Hence, no one had been cooking or washing for him, so his room was in a mess.

I shoved those hangers farther back. The new clothes felt like… something else. Not a new life exactly, but at least a new page. Once the closet was handled, I stood in the middle of my bedroom, glancing around. The place was… fine. Lived in. But I couldn’t ignore the thin layer of dust on my bookshelf, the half full laundry basket by the door, and the clutter piling up on my kitchen counter. Maybe cleaning would help. I pulled my hair back into a low puff and turned on a playlist something light and upbeat.