Indian Slut Novels & Stories

Let alone been so unprofessional. "Slut? That's the best you’ve got?" Angelique mocks and laughs. That laugh she does when she's about to say something hurtful, "The fact that your new boyfriend wants me more than he wants you doesn’t make me a slut. It just makes you a tomboy beta with no sex appeal, and it makes me a goddess that no one can resist. But... having dirty sex with him while he's with you maybe does make me a slut. I guess you were right, then."

Chapter 1: FROM CONSERVATIVE GOOD GIRL TO CLUB SLUT IN ONE NIGHT I step off the plane into a completely different world, my heart pounding with equal parts fear and forbidden excitement. Back home in India, my life was nothing but rules. Conservative family. Judgmental aunties who watched my every move. “Good girls don’t wear short clothes. Good girls don’t talk to boys. Good girls stay pure.” I was the perfect daughter — always obedient, always quiet, always smiling through the oppression. Never breaking a single rule. Never even letting a boy kiss me properly.

My knees ached against the cold floor as I slobbered hungrily on Lucas’s throbbing cock, drool running down my chin and dripping onto my heavy tits. I was in full slut mode, moaning like a whore around his shaft while my fingers frantically rubbed my soaked pussy through the tiny black thong. “God yes, baby… I’m such a nasty fucking wife,” I gasped, pulling off his cock with a wet pop. “I’ve been fingering my stretch-marked cunt every night thinking about four men destroying me. I want to be a gangbang slut so bad—”

She could feel the moisture between her legs as she returned to the room and her sleeping husband. In no time, the moans resumed, and Ritu cursed into the night. It was going to be a long one. ======= There was something about being an Indian woman that Ritu always looked out for; she had spent her teenage years learning all about a man's needs and how to satisfy them. Aside from the gossip and informal pieces of training, she had gone the extra mile, reading erotic books and watching videos on the internet, and she could swear in any temple that she was an expert. She always wanted to be the perfect wife, always wanted her husband never to leave her for another woman, and she had worked har

she continued, talking in a seemingly professional manner while showcasing these obscene images. "I am a slut! A huge slut! The sluttiest of the sluts. The skankiest of the skanks. The trashiest of the trashy. The whoriest of the whores. Ever since I grew tits, I have been letting guys, and the occasional girl, play with them. I have been told I should be ashamed of myself, that no one likes a slut, but I do not care. I love it! I love being a slut! It is my best my quality. Callum, I am really, REALLY, good at sex, like, amazing at it. You do your work as the best boyfriend ever in public and I work in the bedroom."

Anger, hate, and a hint of desire. Even with all the name-calling, and the degradation, I still desired him, there was no denying that as he was made for me. I wished I could tell him, explain it all but I couldn't. There were no words to tell him because it was true. I was slut and I didn't expect him to welcome me with open arms but I didn't expect him to toss me so quickly to the side either.

He looked down at her, his face a mask of raw, animal hunger. "You have been teasing me since the day you walked into my house," he snarled, his hands tearing at her saree. "Shaking this ass, hiding these big tits under these sarees. You are a dirty little slut, aren't you, Anjali?" "Yes, Jethji," she sobbed, her body trembling with a mixture of shame and desire. "I'm a dirty little slut." "Good girl," he growled. He ripped her saree and petticoat off, leaving her naked and exposed on the floor of the family's holiest room. The transgression was so complete, so thrilling, it made her head spin.

“Put this on. We can’t have you looking like a slut in front of the Winters’ family.” A slut. The words almost made Leanne laugh out loud. That was what she was, a high-class slut. A whore. Nothing but a plaything for rich and powerful men. She forced a smile to mask her pain, silently pulled out the outfit from the paper bag and her eyes widened in amazement as she did.

Slut ! “It seems someone was ready?” Falcone blurted out Nandini's no defiance to him in any way was indicating to Falcone that Nandini was ready for him. Nandini told everything to Falcone without saying anything and Falcone started getting angry with himself. “ How eager are you Girl ? To ruin yourself or to make your night colorful? Nandini was flabbergasted at his words but kept mum. “Do you really think that I will touch a whore like you? A daughter of slut? How did you even imagine that I would touch a prostitute and a pimp's girl?”

I gasped as I was reminded that I was barely clothed and I looked at him, trying to cover myself with my hands. "Yes! She's," the girl replied. I gulped as I found his eyes ogling at me and that made me uncomfortable. He looked like a hungry wolf who wanted to devour me. "She's an indian?" He questioned. "It looks like that," she responded. "Damn! That's rare." "Indeed. And she's beautiful and by her looks, a virgin." "Well, considering the fact that she's an Indian, either she would be the highest bidded commodity, or the lowest. Nothing in between," he chuckled.