Mistress Stories Novels & Stories

“Path one: the media keeps dragging your name through the mud. You remain the ‘mistress’ while your life continues to unravel. They’ll dig into your past, your family, your mother….” “Enough.” My voice trembled as I interrupted him. He held still, recognizing the weight of my words. “Not my mom,” I whispered. “Anything but that.” “Path two,” he continued, “we take control of the narrative. We shape the story instead of letting it consume us.” “And how do we do that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. His gaze locked onto mine, unwavering. “We make it seem intentional.” My brows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean…?”

She stares at Sarah Gray and says, "Sarah Gray, please find out the truth! It's your brother who pesters me and stays at my door in the middle of the night. I can't drive him away! If you have time to come here and make a splash, it's better to go back and persuade your brother not to pester me!" Sarah Gray laughs, "Haha, you could make it up! As for my brother's position, will he pester you? Don't put gold on your face, you are the life of being a mistress! Five years ago, you sold yourself for money, and five years later, you become a third party in other people's marriage! "Oh, my god! Is this true or false? Has Nina Morrison been a mistress for a long time?" People who are watching grow

Dr Serena spoke. The stress on word ‘that’ made Kira’s eyebrows up. “And that building is?” Kira asked. “The mistresses’ building, of course, all mistresses of all men in the house live there…” Dr Serena spoke with a carefree shrug. “And of course, neither the mistress nor the men want to have kids with someone who is not their mate, that jar is always full. If any mistress misses to take it, she is forbidden to step out of the building until next month!”

I asked, in surprise. I knew some mafia Lords don't have an harem, they instead make use of a mistress. A pretty woman who has to serve them sexually for a long period of time, the mistress doesn't bed anyone except from the master's who own them. And this mistresses are forever ones. If they conceive and bear a male child for their masters. They might be privilege to take over has the queen. This mistress looks like a rival, I've always heard about this mistresses and they are always extremely beautiful. What am I even saying, why would I see her as rival. She can be the queen for all I care.

"FUCK ME LIKE A BOSS! CLAIM YOUR PRIZE!" Dominic was going crazy. He was talking dirty, calling me his "little office slut" and his "forbidden gift." The words made my blood boil. I felt like a wild animal. I started to bounce on him, my hair flying in my face, my moans turning into raw, animalistic growls. "TELL ME!" he roared, his hands digging into my thighs until his fingerprints stayed behind. "WHO IS THE MASTER OF THIS HOUSE TONIGHT?" "YOU! YOU ARE!" I yelled. "FUCK ME HARDER, DOMINIC! DESTROY ME!"

I was supposed to be offended by that but somehow I find it cute seeing her do that. It reminded me of our dating days, she was always so cute when she was angry. “I came here to ask how we are going to do this? And are you serious about me being your mistress?” She asks, saying the last part in a serious tone. “It was just to spike you, trust me, though I do want to do naughty things with you but we are going to keep it professional like you said. This is a deal between us, you warm my bed for a year to pay back what you owe.”

And now, my colleagues continued looking at me in disgust, treating me with scorn. “You judged me easily, sir,” I said, forcing a smile. Shifting his eyes to the penholder on his table, he took a pen and spun it around his fingers. “You slept with him for money. How much did he pay you?” He rose from his seat and walked toward me. Taking a few steps backward as he continued coming nearer, I hit the back of my legs against the sofa and fell on it. He reached out to tilt my chin up, and his eyes bore into mine, making me nervous. “Sleep with me. I’ll double or triple the price.”

Through Montie, I havd learned they are a selfish lot concerned only with their own wants and needs. The other mistresses I have known saw the upper crust of society as a means to an end. Nice residence, fancy clothes, fine jewelry. And if it means giving up one's good name and reputation, they think it worth it for all they gain to be spoiled and pampered, even if it means indulging the whims of a specific gentleman anytime day or night. To be his bird in a gilded cage, to sing when prompted, to keep silent otherwise. Mistresses mistakenly believe they have some prestige, some power that eludes those silly shopgirls. I would have preferred to be a shopgirl.

"No need to make a big deal. I'm not here for the auction today. "I'm here to catch the tramp!" The atmosphere immediately tensed, and guests began speaking up for Ruth. "Mistresses today have no shame at all. She shows up in front of the real wife and doesn't even feel guilty!" "Mr. Lambert, how could you let trash like this into your auction house?" Feeling the pressure, he shot a quick, uneasy glance at me. I took my chance and said, "Mr. Lambert, it's me! Don't you recognize me?" I motioned to Agnes beside me. "This is my mother-in-law. They're the impostors here!"

“It feels more like a massage.” Nadine stepped back, her breath uneven, her face wet with tears. He only watched her, taking slow, deliberate steps forward. “You think you can run from me?” “I beg you, Sir… I only work here. Please, let me go…” she cried, pleading. Justine’s eyes hardened. “You’ll regret this,” he said flatly before seizing her wrist roughly. He pulled her close, trapping her small frame in his arms. “You know,” he whispered coldly, “many women dream of sharing a bed with me. But you… you’re not even my type. You’re too thin — your chest almost flat.”