Drunken Confessions Novels & Stories

Like the confession had taken more out of him than any bottle ever could. I turned my gaze to the table again. The moisture from my glass had left a ring there—perfect and clean. Everything else felt messy. Blurred. Complicated. “I don’t know what we are,” I admitted, voice soft. “I don’t even know what we’re doing.” “Neither do I.” “Great,” I scoffed, finishing the last sip of whiskey. “We’re fucked.” He laughed. Actually laughed. A real, low laugh that tugged something loose in my chest.

I'm Seo-yeon Lee, an extraordinary twenty-two years old university student. Now, how do I begin? The dark truth about me. I was just at the tender age of sixteen years old when I hurt my friend or in other words, killed my friend. It was night, a dark night, a never ending night. I was afraid of myself. I couldn't believe in myself. I debated with myself for quite a very long time that whether all of these was true. Even if it was, I desperately wanted it to be a nightmare that could never be the truth.

Unlike Lucas who was getting tortured in the previous video, Cain was lying on a king sized bed with Rowan, leisurely, looking comfortable, with a smile on his face as he traced his fingers seductively on Rowan’s torso, his head resting against his hard chest, his leg resting over Rowan’s own as the blanket only covers their lower body, but exposing how their feet tangled together. There are empty champagne and whiskey bottles and snacks bags scattered around on the bedside table. I even had a gleam of the bottle of lubricant at the side. It was clear like the sun that Cain was drunk out of his mind as he began confessing, crying and begging Rowan to never leave him after everything he had d

He sat in the cold conference room of the locked-down hotel, hands cuffed behind his back, surrounded by men who did not blink, did not speak, did not pity. Draven stood at the head of the table. Masked. Silent. Terrifyingly calm. “This building has cameras in every corridor,” Draven said at last, his voice even. “Audio. Motion sensors. Time stamps.” He slid a tablet across the table. “Confessions recorded. Evidence preserved. Toxicology reports already ordered.” The man swallowed hard. “I—I was drugged too,” he stammered desperately. “She provoked me—she ruined my career—” Draven leaned forward slightly.

“ Are you in there? “ But for one split second, I thought I heard someone else's voice from the party still echoing somewhere in my drunk mind. My hazy brain tried to register it, but the second Tristan spoke- low, commanding, and filled with that dark possession I craved- everything else disappeared. I didn’t reply to whatever ghost of Liam I thought I heard and hoped Tristan didn't hear either but too bad, The Devil did but right now, there was nothing else to think of as I only moaned for the man who owned me. “Daddy…” I whimpered desperately, rolling onto my back on the big guest bed. The phone was propped perfectly on the nightstand, camera angled straight between my legs. I spread my t

I couldn’t trust anyone fully. I poured another drink. Hands unsteady, spilling a little, but I didn’t care. I drank, letting the warmth settle my tense body. I slumped against the pillows. Eyes closed, I whispered again, “I’ll survive. I’ll find a way.” The door opened quietly. Lorenzo stepped in, eyes scanning me. My stomach twisted, pulse spiked. “You’re drunk,” he said, stepping closer. “Stop this. You’re not thinking.” “I… I want you,” I murmured, voice slurred. Heart pounding, hands fumbling in the blanket.

I pointed every detail not breaking eye contact with her unless I would glance at my note. “You’re right, the investigators were kind of reckless. About the naked thingy, Bruce was mentally ill and drunk who knows what was going on inside his mind. He drank a bottle of one of the strongest and most potent liquor in the world, the Devil Springs Vodka, with an alcohol content of eighty percent. If I were to drink that I might end up stripping in public and have my nudie parade around the entire school or more likely I would pass out,” she reasoned out.

I find that I do. “I was really drunk. Didn’t even remember how I got to where I ended up… I was a total fucking–err, sorry, I was a big mess.” I keep my eyes trained on Irene, knowing that if I deviated for a second, my eyes would shift to Ben, and I couldn’t handle the embarrassment. It was bad enough he was listening to this confession. But this confession wasn’t for him. Even if he goaded me into doing it, this was for me.

I can't go back in past. I know I am sinner, a big one but whatever happened in my school life was no t letting me go back. I looked at him who's face was whole red due to his sudden out burst. He was breathing heavily. "Ummm I know I am at mistake and I realized this just now. I did bad after blackmailng her into nikkah after kidnapping her. But I was not in my senses. When she something about being her someone else wife, I just lost. And about my past. That was past I will not tell her about this. And for your kind information, she is already in love with me. She herself confessed when she was in drunken state. Someone had spiked her drink when we were in a part. That was the moment, I got

She worried about the wellbeing of David’s and the maid who has been in the hospital fighting for her life. Roslyn hastened Mrs. Williams with the little baby clutched in her hand into the church; declaring that they were already late for service. She pleaded with David to come to church with them, but he’d refused; he said he would rather stay back and do some offices’ work; Roslyn pondered why he’d been going out to fuddled himself in alcohol and chose the Sabbath day to do office work. “Thank the Lord. We aren’t late after all.” Said Mrs. Williams; Roslyn nodded her head in agreement but said nothing. They settled down in their usual seat and Mrs. Williams tilted her head and glance at Ro