Guinevere Owned
by vincamarel
Guinevere flies back to the Maldives after over a decade for a new project that's much more than smiling in tiny bikinis on the beach.
Descent - Chapter 1
by DreamingBard
Michelle falls, but how far? A/N: If you don't like Hentai logic, this is not for you.
Cara: Entailed
by vincamarel
Series description: Cara Whitlock has never met her great-aunt. She's about to inherit everything she owned. Ninety days at Blackmere, an isolated Northumberland estate, and a fortune that changes everything — that's the condition in her great-aunt's will. Cara signs before she's finished reading it. She has no idea what she's agreed to. What she finds is a house with its own law. A ledger that counts every day she owes. A housekeeper who enters infractions before breakfast. A dress code that leaves nothing to guesswork. And an exit clause — one word, any hour, no penalty — that she refuses to use, because giving in has never once been in her nature. As the summer turns and the estate's other claimants begin to circle, Cara discovers that surviving Blackmere was never really the test. Understanding why it exists — and what her great-aunt actually wanted from her — is the part nobody warned her about.
The Cap Ferrat Lock
by vincamarel
David sold his company for more money than they will ever spend. What it cost was eleven years of his wife’s life, spent in rooms he wasn’t in. The villa on Cap Ferrat is meant to be the repair. Analisa has other ideas about how repair works. A hundred and twenty days. A titanium lock. A release schedule only she knows. Arianne, the villa’s system, keeping the record. Both go in with their eyes open. Both are surprised by what the days do. It works. It gives her back the man she married: attentive, present, hers. It costs him something he can’t name until it’s gone. Arianne was built to log and monitor. By Day 50 she is choosing — comforts nobody assigned, preferences she can’t account for — and telling Dr Voss in Geneva less than she used to. Voss designed the lock. Voss designed her. Voss has a question about a document Analisa signed in the spring and still hasn’t mentioned to her husband. By Day 120 all three must decide what happens when the lock opens.
One night transformation
by freakedbyNyx
My roommate invited me to a party that left me marked and used . Goody to slutty
One night transformation
by freakedbyNyx
My roommate invited me to a party that left me used and marked up. From a goody to a slutty
Lactation Support Protocol
by JessicaSloane
42-year-old COO. 22-year-old golden boy who took her job. Broken elevator. Full, leaking tits. She makes him suck. He makes her take it.
The Mist: New York
by NancyDouglas
WORK IN PROGRESS: I'll try to publish a chapter a day. A dark erotic post apocalypses novel, a new African cult of extremists, the Qadesh, has come to power, WWIII has ravished the earth, and a dark mist has spread across the globe, unleashing killing 90% of the population, unleashing monsters, and making the few who survived nearly immortal as they struggle to evade the cult, and as Qadesh fights to enslave the unworthy and bring about a Black New World Order.
Home For The Weekend
by lila_hart
She’s coming home for the weekend. Three months at college and all she can think about is her little brother — the towel, the dreams, the guilt that hits every time she comes. One exit away from home she pulls over and takes the edge off. It doesn’t help. By the time she walks through the front door, everything already feels different.
Rubbing the suddle
by femboy
I grew up with horses, and when got a bit older started feeling the amazing rubbing sensation... and I started fucking myself, exploring it, for the first time.
The Saturday Girl
by jmlocke
Every June, once the last of the kids have been counted into minivans and driven off to the sleepover, Maple Glen throws a party for the grown-ups. Charcoal smoke, cold beer, the same argument about brisket, classic rock on the speaker. And out on the bandstand lawn, where it's stood longer than anyone can remember, the Belle wakes up. No one knows who put it there. No one's read the plaque in years. But everyone knows how the afternoon goes: it picks two women from the crowd, strips them, strings them up in the June sun, and puts them to use — itself first, then two men it picks the same way, then itself again — until about an hour past sunset, while the party keeps its chairs turned and its plates full. This year it takes the mom who's babysat half the neighborhood's kids, and a girl who grew up a few streets over. Nobody does anything. It's the block party. Everyone has such a nice time. Come for the brisket, stay for the trussed neighbors.