Smut Authors Novels & Stories

The voice is deep, and although refined, sounds dangerous. Then I hear another voice------ voices I mean. “She’s trembling.” “She’s ready.” “Slut already knows what she came for.” Slut. That words that's an insult to some makes my breath hitch, and my thighs clench together. I have never been normal, and although I'm ashamed of my needs and urges, that's exactly why I'm here; to do sick, degrading things that normal people will throw up at. Pain makes me quiver, humiliation makes me leak pussy juices down my legs and degrading words bring me pure, dirty pleasure.

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he smiles, running his fingers through my curls as I pull out of his arms. “I thought so too.” I smile, still refusing to cry. “Okay, so remember, tomorrow you need to set your online profile up, and I want you to use the pen name “The Smut Slut”. I nod, making a mental note of the name. “The quicker you set it up, the quicker you can start working. All dates will be run by me first just to make sure you're not being sent off with a fucking weirdo, a killer, or someone who's just bad news. I'll take care of you like I promised, Savage, so don't worry your pretty little head about a thing.” He knocks back a shot of tequila and smiles, grabbing Lexi and pulling her onto his lap. “Alright, I'll

Before I could react, the door was yanked open. I stumbled forward, my knees weak, my heart lodged in my throat. Damian stood there, pants still undone, his cock still hard and glistening in the light. He didn’t bother covering up. He just smiled slowly, knowing and dangerously predatory. “So,” he said casually, like we were discussing the weather, “you’re the one who writes smuts huh?” His smile widened. “I’m a fan.”

She stroked my throbbing cock with deliberate slowness, her soft palm gliding up and down the shaft while her thumb circled the swollen cap, smearing the thick beads of precum that leaked from the slit. I bit down on my lip to stifle a guttural groan, fuck her touch was worlds apart from Jenna's hesitant fumbling. This was pure expertise, decades of knowing exactly how to unravel a man with every twist and squeeze, her fingers curling just right to hit that sensitive spot under the ridge.

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And there she was — Professor Mia Cromwell — bent over, trying to gather the scattered books, her pencil skirt hugging her ass in a way that made my cock twitch. I crouched down beside her and helped pick them up, handing her the stack with a small smile. “Here you go, Professor,” I said, my voice low. “You seem a little… distracted today.” Mia took the books from me, cheeks flushing that beautiful shade of pink I was quickly becoming addicted to. Her fingers brushed mine for a brief second, and I felt the spark of the mate bond shoot through both of us. She pulled back quickly, clutching the textbooks to her chest like armor.

I hung up and put the phone down, my hand still trembling from everything crashing together at once. The money he was offering, the filthy journal, the way my pussy would not stop aching... it was too much. Professor James leaned in closer again, his body heat reaching me as he picked up the journal and held it out to me. "We're not done, Lana. Open it to page twenty-two." "The one where I described edging a shy girl until she's dripping down her thigh and begging for cock. Read it aloud for me slowly. Let me hear every filthy word in your voice and watch how wet it makes you."

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