Mistress Blind Novels & Stories

“YOU THINK I'M A FOOL, DON'T YOU?! BRINGING YOUR MISTRESS INTO OUR HOME AND PRETENDING SHE'S SOME IMPORTANT PERSONALITY?! DO I LOOK LIKE A FOOL TO YOU? I EXPECTED BETTER FROM YOU BUT IN THE END, YOU MEN ARE JUST DOGS!!!” Excuse me? Mistress?

"Do you think I'm blind, Eva? I see right through you. You're after Blake, aren't you? Well, keep dreaming. He's mine, and I'm the only one worthy of him!" "Tally, is comprehension not in your repertoire?" Eva's laughter dripped with disdain. "Ah, I see it clearly now. Your desperation has clouded whatever semblance of reasoning you had left. You're still clinging to the title of mistress, oblivious to the fact that I've rid myself of that scoundrel. What a pitiful state you're in!" The mention of being labeled a mistress and home-wrecker weeks prior reignited Tally's dormant fury. Her past indignation merged with the fresh surge of anger, a volatile concoction ready to erupt at any moment.

Then a woman’s voice on the other end laughed softly. “Still playing the loving husband?” Ethan stopped near the stairwell, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “I’m not playing,” he said calmly. “I’m finishing a process.” Another pause. Then, lower this time, “Her blindness makes everything easier. She signs whatever I place in front of her. She trusts me completely.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “And her family… they won’t be a problem for much longer.” The next morning, Isabella noticed the first small inconsistency.

For the people who are placed in such a high title to hire some servant they bought from kidnappers, especially for their precious blind young master, she could feel that something wasn't right with the household. "Yes," completed Wren, "Duke Mildred. This is the Mildred Household. The head of the house, Sir Elliot Mildred, the lady Piper Mildred, and our eldest young master who you serve." Jane's green eyes zeroed on Wren when the name of the young master was mentioned. "Victor Mildred." "Vic.. tor," Jane repeated the name that felt foreign on her tongue. "Is he really blind?" Wren chuckled, "Of course he is. He was blind since he got poisoned years ago. Precisely before he reached the age

That day changed her from the sweet and lovable girl she was to the girl am living with Well everybody deserted her but not me She's more than my boss she's my daughter And I'll do everything within my power to keep her safe and maybe help her find love But the only thing bothering is why would my mistress buy a male slave? We have so many maids in the mansion so what's the need to buy a male slave? It's kinda weird ! I exhaled deeply and covered my self with the duvet and drafted off to sleep Next morning..... I walked downstairs to prepare breakfast for my mistress,miss Tina and apparently the new slave

She picked up the memorial photo from the floor, feigning confusion. "What's this picture?" she mumbled. Then, she shrieked, deliberately dropping Claire's photo on the ground as if it were cursed. "Martin, Stella is... Isn't this going too far? Mrs. Hughes Senior is alive and well, but she actually..." Martin violently tore the photo to shreds and threw the pieces in my face. The fragments cut my cheeks and sliced through my already shattered heart. I dropped to my knees, frantically picking up the pieces and trying to put them back together. The glass shards pierced my palms and shins, but nothing hurt as much as seeing Claire's final photo destroyed.

Then came her next message. MistressA: I actually have a task for you, bunny. Me: What kind of task? MistressA: The kind that proves you're serious about this. About me. Me: I'm listening. MistressA: I want you to buy a plug. Small, black silicone. Wear it for an hour. Send me proof. My brain flatlined. Me: You want me to what now? MistressA: You heard me. Unless you'd prefer I find someone else to train.

The blindfolds were removed. They blinked into low red light. Velvet walls. Crystal chandeliers. Naked bodies in chains. Moaning. Crying. Begging. Pleasure and pain blending in an endless symphony of sin. Mistress led them to the center of the room. Silence fell as she raised her hand. The club recognized her. Mistress was known here. Feared. Worshipped. She turned to the crowd. “Tonight,” she said, her voice clear and commanding, “you will watch as I break what is mine. They don’t get to perform. They don’t get praise. They get shown. Because they are objects. And I will prove it.”

My voice was low, deliberate, the kind that left no room for games. Her eyes flicked up at me, steady but trembling beneath the surface. “You’ve made it clear, Renz. Rules. Control. No escape.” A smirk tugged at my lips. “Good." “You live by my terms now. Where you go, who you see, how you breathe—those are mine to dictate. You belong to me.” Her jaw tightened, but she said nothing. A flicker of defiance, quickly buried. “And as my mistress,” I leaned forward, resting the glass down with a soft thud, “we start with the first thing that matters—”

Tears glistened on her cheeks, catching me by surprise. "What do you mean?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. She smiled faintly. Her once bring eyes, now dimmed. "I was Raul's father's mistress before we got married," she stated quietly. My eyes widened—I hadn't expected that. "Yes, Angel," she went on, her voice steady but laced with pain. "I was his mistress. The difference is, he already had a child with his wife." I stared at her, speechless. She played with the water as she spoke, her story unfolding like the ripples beneath her fingers.