Sticky Felt Novels & Stories

Relief started to loosen my chest… until it froze again in the next second. If the bathroom was empty, then what had been making that noise? I scanned the small space, suspicion prickling at me, when I saw a faint stain had begun to bloom across the opposite wall. Blood. It deepened, spread, multiplied—scrawling wildly across the wall in a feverish repetition: Help me let me out help me let me out help me let me out Help me let me out help me let me out help me let me out Help me let me out help me let me out help me—

That afternoon, Serena's phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Unknown numbers. Nonstop calls. Her screen lit up with message after message—vile, cruel, endless. She could handle the hate. Barely. But what cut deeper? Her studio was getting dragged with her. Angry users swarmed the company's page: [Fire the homewrecker! What are you waiting for?] [Only trash studios hire mistresses—hope you crash and burn.] [Serena Saun better get on her knees and apologize to Maggie Cheape!]

After hearing Barry's words, the man responded with a disdainful and cold chuckle. Then, he pointed his cigarette at the restroom sign on the nearby wall and said to Barry with a smile, "Mr. Stewart, what do you think I'm doing in a place like this? Did you think I was here to watch you slap your daughter?" This remark left Barry's face in an embarrassing shade of pale. He felt deeply humiliated. It was evident from the man's comment that he had overheard the entire conversation between Barry and Evelyn moments ago. Barry felt ashamed to have his instructions to his daughter to marry George exposed.

Each stinging slap sent jolts of pleasure-pain straight to her core, the heat blooming deep as the cool air soothed the burning flesh. Thierry and Adewale joined, their hands and mouths exploring both women — fingers pinching sensitive nipples, tongues licking necks and breasts, sharp spanks landing on already reddened asses. The wet, obscene sounds of tongues and slapping skin filled the night air. Sharp spanks echoed. Each stinging impact sent jolts of pleasure-pain through them, making their pussies clench and leak fresh cream down their trembling legs. The men degraded them with dark, filthy words.

She yawned and stretched as she sat up in bed and I found it adorable the way she rubbed her eyes and smacked her lips before glaring at me. “Hi, did you have a nice nap?” I tilted my head to one side as she shook her head. “No, this bed is too soft and the bedding smells like a wet dog.” She grinned and I felt relieved. If she was making jokes, she couldn’t be that unhappy here, could she? I felt a little spark of hope flicker that I might even convince her to stay with me. “I will see what we can do about that. Maybe I can arrange for them to put a blanket on the floor for you and remove the bed.” I winked as I got up and before she could say another word, I told her we were going to the l

The sound of it scratching against the floor sounded metallic which added more to my pre assumptions. "It's a knife, isn't it?" I scooted down trying to reach the floor with my eyes blindfolded. My fingers finally brushed against the object; "It’s a knife!" My curiosity came over my fear and anxiety a long ago as I tried to pick it up when my fingers felt sticky like glue. I ran my thumb over the knife once more before rubbing my thumb and index finger together to confirm that this stickiness comes from the knife. And I was correct. I was about to investigate the knife further when I heard,

he said with a smirk. I rolled my eyes and responded, "What are you talking about? I've always been polite." Derek laughed and said, "No matter how much a snake sheds its skin, it’s still a snake." I smiled and retorted, "If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I’d fart." Derek hid a smirk and said, "Wow, I bet you even fart glitter!" The roast got to me, and I couldn't help but feel insulted. "Some people are like slinkies — not really good for much, but they bring a smile to your face when pushed down the stairs," I said, trying to come up with a comeback.

"You know that you are my favourite client, I will please you first and then I will look after the others" "I told you I like exclusivity. Get back to work, or you'll lose another client". "I thought there was something between us!" The stripper looked at him hopefully, waiting for an answer. The Machiavellian smile made Enrico's face somber, it was obvious he didn't care. The stripper knew that gangster had a heart of stone, but she still liked Enrico. "I can give you that massage you like!" She tried to seduce him with her honeyed voice.

Standing there shocked the glass scattered on the floor. "Are you mad?" the lady said angrily. I looked up frightfully ready to apologize but I just stood there staring at the floor. Her heels clicked on the floor as she neared me crouching the glass making a nerve wracking sound. Her movement were unanticipated, a hot slapped landed on my cheeks, it sting my burning skin turned violently to the side as the impact was administered. "You must be mad acting all innocent" she voice rode higher enjoying the silence. I don't speak nor defend myself.

Palms sweaty, feet tapping on the wooden floor slowly, making squeaking noises, heart racing, thoughts wandering but above all these traits of nervousness, Cara's heart is in the right place. She stood in front of Jim's door with her right fist curved into a ball as she considers knocking.