Section F Novels & Stories

Heartbroken and traumatized Scarlett Cobbs was reminded of the wedding she was bound to have before her twenty-sixth birthday and her world began to crumble again. Her lover mysteriously disappeared a month ago and now she has to get married to someone she hates and also hide her addiction from the public. A vacation was needed. Somewhere far away from home yet relaxing and sinful. Broke and hardworking Finn Davis wasn't surprised when he heard the moans of a woman in the restroom of his working place. But the surprise came when he opened the male's section and found the woman right there pleasuring herself. What the hell! He thought but all thoughts were lost when she jumped him right there. The craziest encounter became an addiction to both struggling adults.

I booked a consultation with a renowned traditional medicine practitioner six months in advance to treat my surgeon wife's arousal disorder over the holidays. However, on the appointment date, Wendy did not show up. Just as I was about to call to question her, I noticed a photo her male friend had posted on social media. In the photo, my usually aloof wife was hugging the guy with a radiant smile. The caption read: [Only I can cure your problem.] But what caught my attention was my wife's flushed face in the photo, clearly displaying signs of arousal. With a cold smirk, I immediately liked and commented: [You must have magic fingers that work wonders!] The comment section exploded, with everyone speculating whether I would tear my wife's lover apart. What awaited my wife was our official divorce after the cooling-off period ended.

"I would go through you so hard that the only thing you would remember is my name." He rasped near her ear as heat crawled down her core that was in his hold. He was playing with her folds possessively. *** "DON'T TAKE MY NAME WITH THIS F**KING MOUTH OF YOURS." He roared. "Y-you want to k-kill me?" She asked with fear of abandonment and tears in her eyes that started pouring down. "F***k!" He cursed as he released her."THAT'S THE F***ING PROBLEM! I CAN'T EVEN KILL YOU! I CAN'T EVEN LEAVE YOU! I F***ING LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"

On my birthday, Hazel Mosley posts about preparing a surprise for me that night on social media. However, I see a photo of her taken that afternoon. She is riding a horse with her assistant, Cecil Wilcox. In the photo, her clothes are fluttering, revealing red finger marks on her waist. Cecil's caption read, "My first ever experience is thanks to her." The comments section is full of teasing remarks. "You've got bold intentions, young man." "That position is hard to maneuver." Unbelievably, Hazel likes that comment. My heart sinks to my stomach. I always think she's just more open with me, but I never expect that it could be anyone. I personally wash the horse to wipe away every trace of intimacy. Then, I transfer the entire ranch to her. "You can give the rest of the horses to whoever you want. Feel free to pick." Looking at how overjoyed she is, I agree to the marriage arranged by my family.

To help cover our household expenses, I often sold second-hand items online. Late one night, a new listing suddenly appeared under my husband's account. [Private trainer for sale. Almost new. Obedient and resilient. No upkeep required. Cash only.] The attached photo showed a woman from behind, caught in the middle of a yoga pose. The red mole at her waist stood out clearly. It was me. The comments section erupted within seconds. Men with usernames like 'LocalHunter' started bidding aggressively. [Five hundred. Thirty minutes. Pickup only. No negotiations.] [Are you kidding? Two thousand. All night. I'll bring my own gear.] My husband immediately replied to the highest bidder: Adrian 'The Butcher' Kane. [Deal. She's in the bedroom. The door isn't locked. Go straight in.] In the next moment, the bedroom doorknob slowly began to turn from the other side.

"There's a foreign object lodged in the patient's lower region. Due to the unique circumstances, we need the patient's next of kin to sign the consent form for an extraction procedure." My body stiffens when I see the name on the consent form. "I'm Renee Becker's next of kin." It's Liam Cassidy who says that. He's the first love of my wife, Renee Becker, who has been away for a month, claiming she's off on a business trip. Liam doesn't recognize me. He takes the pen and signs the consent form. In the section to mark his relationship to the patient, he writes the word "husband". After passing the pen back to me, he grips my hand tightly and beseeches me, "Doctor, you must do everything you can to help her. She's carrying my baby." As I wrench my hand back from him, my wedding ring slips off and falls onto the floor.

Is he trying to insert that thing in my… I fought back and wiggled my body to avoid his big pet when he tried to rub our sensitive part. "Aaargh!" he softly groaned. "Stop resisting me, Susana! We f*cking did this a lot of time!" he growled at me. "I'm not Suzanne! I-I'm her twin sir! Please don't!” I begged him. "Stop lying! Our f*cking son!” He stopped for a moment and looked into my eyes. "You f*cking abandoned him just because you're a slut! Don't f*cking fool me, Susana! Because you'll never fool me again!" he shouted at me, making me close my eyes. "I'm not the woman you're looking for, Mr. I have a twin. Maybe you're talking about her! Her name is Suzanne! I don't even know you, Mr. Believe me I'm not her! I'm her twin!" I insist. "Bullsh*t! Stop lying!” I caught my breath when I felt him enter my hole. I felt like I was stabbed in that part. I couldn't breathe immediately because of the pain at his first entrance. *G*damn it!" he whispered with regret. "I-I told you… I’m not her." I murmured before closing my eyes. I closed my eyes tightly and I was shaking before my vision completely darkened. But before I could open my eyes, I heard one last word he spoke. "F*ck! Shit! Call the f*cking doctor now!”

On New Year's Eve, Facebook blew up. The reason was that Bennett Miles, the golden boy of Crestmoor’s elite, posted an update. In the photo, a shy young woman hid her face as she leaned against his shoulder while he grinned. His eyes were full of affection and mischief. His caption read, "What do I do? Looks like I'm officially taken." Friends in his circle flooded the comment section with congratulations. The real frenzy began when Bennett announced that the first 10,000 followers to like, share, and comment on the post would each receive a gold bar. The internet went wild with envy and curiosity. Everyone scrambled to find out more about the woman in the picture. Then, someone claiming to have inside information started a livestream. "Stop guessing. Her name is Kara Sierra. You know Sierra Hall at Crestmoor College? That building was named after her! "Two years ago, she had kidney failure. Bennett personally donated one of his own kidneys to save her!"

By chance, I stumbled across a trending post from our company's finance department while scrolling through social media. "That idiot in Sales. I just wanted to put my bar receipt under his name for reimbursement and he refused! If he won't let me claim it, then no one gets reimbursed! This time I'll make sure he learns what happens when you offend Finance!" The comments section was full of complaints and criticism, but the original poster didn't seem bothered in the slightest. The tone was arrogant, almost smug. "What's there to be scared of? Finance is the lifeline of any company! Would the boss really risk offending the backbone of the company over some replaceable sales guy? No way that's ever happening!" I stared at the all-too-familiar face in the profile picture and let out a silent, cold laugh. Blocking my reimbursement? Fine. This time, I'd like to see for myself what would actually happen if I mess with Finance.

In the fashion industry, I was known as the most mysterious designer. I worked hard to keep my identity from the public. As I stood at the top of business, I was invited to be the secret judge of the Innovating Design Competition’s final round. The organizer reserved a VIP seat for me in the middle of the front row and ensured that my presence would not be revealed. Just when I was about to sit down, a new male influencer pushed me aside and threw his hand bag onto my seat. “What are you looking at, bumpkin? How dare you show up at the VIP section dressed like a beggar? Where’s the security? Throw this person out!” I swallowed back my anger and replied coldly, “This seat was reserved for me.” The influencer laughed. “Yours? Do you know who I am? Ms. Reid spent eighty million dollars in sponsorship to get me to come here! Ms. Reid has the final say in this industry. Do you understand me?” I could only scoff at him. How bold of the Reid family! Did they really think they could make this kind of decision without consulting me?