Stream The Straight Story Novels & Stories

My world fell apart over an encrypted link from the dark web. My husband, Don Marcello, was there on our marriage bed, pounding into another woman. All the top bosses in North America were watching. He held her in his arms, laughing about me. His fragile, naive little trophy wife who could never leave him. Even the live chat was a stream of insults. Calling me the useless wife who couldn't even get her husband into bed. But the worst part? The way he acted when I found out. He grabbed my chin. Told me the whole disgusting betrayal was just "an act to keep our allies happy." He even let his mistress brag about it to every socialite in the city. My humiliation became their afternoon entertain

There are only ten minutes left in the college entrance exam when the back door of the classroom bursts open. My best friend, Isaac Powell, kicks it in. He grabs me by the back of my collar, drags me out of the hall, and shoves me into a black SUV idling at the curb. "Are you insane? That was the college entrance exam!" I yell. "Is an exam more important than your life? The students in that room… are probably all dead by now!" Before I can respond, my phone starts buzzing like crazy. Notifications flood the class group chat. "@Trevon, the proctor is looking for you." "@Trevon, did you forget about the party after the test?" "@Trevon, where the hell did you go?" My stomach drops as I

After accidentally discovering that my boss owes loan sharks 50 million dollars, I start scrambling for a way out of my contract with the company. Just as I'm wondering what to do, a string of comments suddenly appears before my eyes. "Poor Lindsay. That idiot boss of hers plans to use the company's livestream to launder money and pay off his debt." "The moment she goes live, the entire sum becomes her personal liability!" I'm the company's cash cow, trapped in an ironclad contract, yet I don't have a shred of evidence to take to the police. Just then, Tasha Moore, one of the company's rookie streamers, walks over with a sweet smile and hands me a glass of water. "Lindsay, I heard you'

He says and I nod still as I continue to gather my still scattered wits. “So I’m guessing you’re the owner of Sizzle and Steam right?” he asks and I nod “Just you alone? Because you mentioned a partner?” he prods and I shake my head “I own fifty percent of Sizzle and Steam. Cameron my partner owns the other fifty percent.” I explain.

There was only one person. Down in the crowd, Landon figured there was probably nobody watching the stream. He pulled out his phone and fired off a text. "There's a Portfall streamer doing something called regional sharing week. If it's on our platform, bump it to the front page. If it's another platform, get some bots in there to pump up the numbers." Aria didn't share the stream with her friends. Most of them were from other parts of Farshya anyway, and this was something Portfall people needed to hear.

It was like watching the string unravel in reverse, everything she’d built to protect her now exposing her. Behind it all, Celeste knew something else was still needed. Something human and raw. Not a press release. Not a lawyered-up post. Something real. So Celeste did the unthinkable. She went live. The studio was nothing more than her kitchen. No filters. No lighting teams. Just a softly glowing laptop and the city lights behind her. She took a breath, hit record, and started streaming. “Hi,” she said quietly. The chat was already exploding, thousands of people flooding in, some with support, some with venom.

My breath caught in my throat. "Where did you get that?" I whispered, my hands gripping the edge of the stool so hard the metal bit into my palms. “That was a private departmental file. Professor Harrison promised—" "Professor Harrison works for a university that relies on our broadcasting f*e, sweetie," Sarah said, her smile returning like a razor blade. “This clip is going live on the HypeTV streaming platform tomorrow morning at eight a.m. As the official preview package for the championship special." "You can't do that," I gasped, standing up, my chest heaving. "The contract has a clause! I have editorial control over my personal video diaries—"

“I’ve been such a slut in my head, Lucas. Fantasizing about strange men running a train on me. Four big cocks stretching my pussy, ass, and throat while I scream like a whore. Would you like that? Seeing your wife get turned into a cum-covered mess?” I was lost in it now—bobbing my head frantically, slurping and gagging, my fingers frantically rubbing my clit under the lingerie. My heavy tits bounced with every movement. I didn’t notice that in my lust-drunk haze, instead of hitting record… I had accidentally started a live stream to my social media. Every filthy moan, every wet suck, every depraved word I spoke was being broadcast live to hundreds of people—supporters, donors, journalists,

“But for now, you’re going to help me select the best fit for tonight.” “Why? What’s the occasion?” “Well… I got intel that one of the biggest cartel cliques would be flying in today from Australia. And guess the strip club they’ve fully paid for?” Red sounded so excited, waiting for me to actually guess. I just stared at her, while she stared back, still hoping I was going to guess. “Wait, you’re really still hoping I’d guess? Then be prepared to miss your big day.” “You are a pain in the ass!” she said.

“The only difference is whether you stand there alone or with me.” I close my eyes. Breathe. The song is still playing out there. My voice, confessing things I never thought I’d put on tape. This would be the spoken version. No melody to soften it. Just truth. Ugly. Complicated. Ours. I turn back to him. “If we do this,” I say, “no one gets to cut it into neat sound bites. No half‑hour special with dramatic music and cliffhanger ads. We sit down for as long as it takes. We stream it. Live. Raw.”