Gypsy Slur Novels & Stories

‘I could have been better to him, you know, I wasn’t that good to him, was I? ‘Lala…’ ‘Lala nothing. La, la, la, la, la ! Lalage’s my name! Say it! Say it, you African Gypsy! Lalage!’ ‘Lar-lar-gay…’ ‘No, not fucking Lar-lar-gay! Lalage, Lalage! It means…do you know what it means?’ ‘I dunno, issa flowa, mebbe?’ ‘No, but that’s very sweet of you to think that. No, it means talkative, chatterbox, verbose, running off at the mouth. Not all flattering if you ask me. Horace seemed to think it was.’

(Leave me) The huge guy dropped me in front of Zavi and wobbled back. I tried to look away. "Are you learning, little galla?." He asked. (Bitch.) He called me a bitch in Gaelic. Fucking man whore. "Leave me alone," I told him. My eyes looked down at my feet in embarrassment. Everyone was watching me. "Hand her the gun, Slayer." He ordered. My eyes looked up at him with a blank expression. "What!!!."

“You fucking slut! You are nothing but a dirty whore!” I yelled as Genna delivered a kick to my stomach, the pain literally bringing me to my knees. “Since you want to be a slut, I'll show you how to be a slut! Boys!!!” Genna yelled. The door opened and three men walked in, wearing nothing but a grin on their faces. They looked familiar, and it took a moment for me to realise that they were also some of the slaves in the pack.

When Johann was finally done with his romantic getaway, he came back home and trampled all over my self-esteem like he was disciplining a mere dog. Was I just their afterthought after all? I flung my phone onto the couch in a rage. "I hate secondhand men who've been defiled by other women!" This was the first time I had said such harsh words to him. Unexpectedly, Johann frowned at once as anger lit up in his fiery eyes. He grabbed my chin tightly and slapped me hard on the cheek just a split second later. He slapped me so hard that my vision blacked out for a moment. "Nancy Castro! I am the one paying for your food and your lodging! How dare you yell at me like that! Who the hell do you thin

"Don't be afraid now, Mag. Your grandfather is handling other matters, but I'm here to stand up for you." The sight of my grandmother made Don's face turn pale. "Mom… W-What are you doing here?" Before Don could say more, my grandmother tilted her head slightly. Her bodyguard, James Gibson, stepped forward, and he slapped Don so hard that he fell to the ground. "If I hadn't come, I'd never have proof of you siding with outsiders to bully my granddaughter," she said sharply. Hearing my grandmother's unapologetic defense of me, a deep sense of guilt welled up in my heart.

She screeched. “A slave? Why would you call her that odd title? Was she born as a slave ? Why are you this harsh towards Gigi?” Jade questioned, standing up to her. “A slave is a slave, girl. She isn’t even a maid but a Rogue slave, heeeeww!!” She sneered. “Juliet can you just shut it, it’s starting to get annoying. Was she the one responsible for the match matching? Then why do you need to pass the aggression on her.” She questioned.

"Not leaping from bed to bed like you..gross... get yourself tested soon, you walking Petri dish." "This is a fūcking nightclub," Yigor grunts at him. "Preach your shįtty holier than thou attitude elsewhere." The stripper prances back toward Yigor's direction. Her glittery thong barely covered her waxed crotch. Tits jiggling haphazardly, with a couple of nip slips. He tosses a wad of cash at her, she twerks her derrière in his face again. "Oh, yeah baby," Yigor whistles and gestures to her with his hand. "Come sit on daddy's lap and twerk that fine juicy àss!"

SLAP! Gillian, who couldn’t take the demeaning words from the cynical bastard anymore, raised her hands and gave him a fierce and hot slap on the cheek. She pointed at him, her body trembling and her face reddened due to rage. "You bastard. Who do you think you are? So what if he's a retard? He's better than a cynical scum like you." She retorted with a scowl Without paying further attention to him, Gillian storms out of the club.

All that was needed was to teach them some more of the standard, regulated language. "All slaves, speak to me, please master take possession of my slutty body." My eyes widened in disbelief at what my ears were hearing. Master? Slutty? Wasn't that something only a high class nightclub whore would say? It was like my lips were glued shut, I couldn't even open my mouth to make any sound. Was I going to beg a werewolf to take possession of my body? Was I to be grateful for rapist? The other girls looked at each other as I did, and no one said anything like that, making a sound like a mosquito.

“Get in close.” Isadora leaned forward. Kissed the inside of her thigh. Then again. Then whispered, voice shaky, “I’m your slut.” Gianna blew smoke down into her face. Then smacked her cheek, grabbed her hair, and shoved her mouth harder to her skin. “Slut is too kind. Say what you really are.” Isadora whimpered. “…I’m your fucking bitch!” Gianna moaned. “Good girl.” She let her go with a push. “Next.”