What Is The Eighth Deadly Sin Novels & Stories

“No, dad.” Tilting his head in front of her as if he was trying to solve a puzzle, he replied. “Then are you feeling what humans mostly feel? The sin of sloth, are you perhaps feeling bored?” Is getting bored a sin? Reading her mind, he fed her curiosity. “Yes. The sin of sloth will lead to the sin of gluttony and the sin of greed, and the cycle goes on. That is one of the roots of depravity in the human world, which demons feast on daily. I can turn Gukasho into a toy for you if you are bored.”

he murmured. I sucked him until my jaw hurt and finally he came. I swallowed every drop, eagerly licking the head of his cock in case I missed any. I so badly wanted to please him. He chuckled. “Greed is one of the seven deadly sins.” “So is lust,” I offered with a playful smile. “Indeed,” he said, putting his cock back in his pants. “Get back into position.” I immediately obeyed with my hands behind my back, on my knees, legs spread.

I blurted and the way Shaun turned to look at me, I was certain he was confused. "For what?” "This is so wrong. I have an undivorced husband” I added, but he still had a confused look on his face. "It's a sin for a woman to cheat on her husband,” I said and that caused Shaun to scoff. “I don't know how this works, but isn't it a sin for a husband to lay his hand on his wife. Not just a sin but a crime” "That's different” "You are trying to say that for a woman to be happy is a sin?” he asked and I broke into tears.

The woman I became causes me to cringe. I wore my jealousy, envy, and pain like a cloak. The shroud festered and grew with each joyful mother I glimpsed. I was hyper-focused on what I couldn’t have instead of celebrating what I had. I coveted other mothers, and that’s a sin. I’m not naïve enough to believe I am free of sin, but coveting others... That’s not the real me. I can’t believe how my green-eyed monster fed on my despair, and it grew with each passing day.

My hands trembled as I clutched the thick cream envelope with the official court seal. Seraphine Vellora. That was the name written in elegant black ink—the name that now felt like a noose tightening around my throat. Everyone called me Sera, but in Judge Alaric chambers, names carried weight. Power. Judgment. I had no choice. My brother, Elias, had been caught in one of the city’s underground gambling rings. The evidence was damning, the sentence potentially twenty years. But Judge Voss had made it clear during the private meeting last week: mercy had a price. And that price was me.

“Matteo was right there looking for you. If he had pulled that curtain” The fear of nearly being discovered by Matteo who already wanted her only made everything more intense. Serena moaned into the wall as Damien railed her from behind, his hand reaching around to rub her sensitive clit fast and rough. He fucked her with raw need, deep and relentless. “You like this, don’t you?” he whispered harshly. “The idea of my cousin almost catching me buried balls-deep in my father’s wife.” “Yes” Serena whimpered, pushing back desperately against him. “I’m so close again”

"I can be glad she's being held accountable and still grieve who I thought she was. Those can both be true." "They can absolutely both be true," Dr. Voss said. "That's actually the most sophisticated emotional position available to you right now." "It doesn't feel sophisticated. It feels like losing something twice — once when she betrayed me and again now." "Yes," Dr. Voss said. "That's what it is." She let it settle. "And how are you with Ethan?" Mia was quiet for a moment.

"Seeing the CEO destroy his assistant's cunt. You'd be fired. I'd be crucified." The taboo terror-lust surged in, imagined cameras possibly playing, a late-night guard glancing up. I ground back, fucking his hand. "Ruin me... please..." He laughed darkly, withdrawing to slap my pussy, and my clit was throbbing from abuse. "Beg louder, Elena. Beg your boss to break you." "Please, Mr. Blackwood... wreck my pussy. Make me cum screaming."

"Different? You would have sent a check. You would have paid for my silence just like he did. You wouldn't have invited me to your table. You wouldn't have called me sister." "Thats not true, but I am sorry," I said, my voice steady and low. "I am truly sorry for what he did to your mother. I am sorry for the life you were denied. He was a cruel man in ways I am only just beginning to understand. But Margaret, none of that justifies what you’ve done. My father’s sins don't give you the right to murder innocent people."

The bar was called Black Velvet & Lace. Nothing about it was soft, nor elegant. It was dark, loud in the quietest way, and unapologetically indecent. The kind of place your husband would condemn in a sermon—then visit on a business trip with someone who wasn’t his wife. The walls were black brick. The mirrors were stained with fingerprints. The booths looked like confessionals for sins you didn’t want forgiven. Eden had passed it a hundred times before. Always in passing. Always in judgment.