Pretty Devil
Maddy worked at an exclusive underground club, always hidden behind a sleek black mask. One night, a wealthy client approached her with a filthy fantasy , he didn't want to just fuck her. He wanted to be her complete slave.
He took her to his luxury penthouse, while she shoved her soaked pussy onto his face and rode his tongue until she came, then mounted his cock and used him mercilessly, slapping and choking him while denying his orgasm until he begged like a broken whore. Even after she quit the club and started a new corporate job, she kept hooking up with him. One day, she walked into the CEO's office... and froze. Her new boss was the same man.
By day, in his luxurious office, he is the dominant, commanding CEO , barking orders, running the company with iron authority, and no one suspects a thing. By night, he becomes her secret pathetic slave: crawling, getting pegged over his own desk, licking her cum off his floor, and having his cock locked in chastity while she laughs at how easily she owns him.
Pretty Devil is a raw, extremely explicit erotic novel packed with intense femdom, heavy BDSM, humiliation, orgasm denial, pegging, face-sitting, and twisted power exchanges that blur the dangerous line between boss and secret slave.
This book is unapologetically nasty and graphic. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
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Chapter 1
Erotica Warning
This is a dark erotic novel intended strictly for mature audiences aged 18 and over. It contains highly explicit sexual content and intense adult themes that may be disturbing or triggering for some readers.
The story features strong BDSM dynamics, including female domination and male submission, heavy humiliation and degradation, orgasm denial and chastity play, face-sitting, pegging, slapping, choking, and rough sexual use. Expect graphic descriptions of the male protagonist crawling, begging, and being used mercilessly as a pathetic sex slave, along with strong language and explicit dirty talk.
Additional themes include power imbalance, hidden identities, obsession, jealousy, and elements of consensual within the established dominant/submissive relationship. The book also contains darker suspense elements involving threats and violence from the protagonist's past.
If you do not plan on reading something this intense , with raw, unfiltered kink, deep humiliation, and explicit power exchange - you should turn back now.
Reader discretion is strongly advised. Proceed only if you are comfortable with extreme erotic content.
Naughty Fantansies:
He glanced over her body with raw hunger, his lips pressing hot kisses onto the soft swell of her cleavage. His eyes never left hers, dark with lust as he inhaled her scent. One hand boldly trailed up, cupping and squeezing her breasts through the thin lace, while his mouth found her nipples, nibbling and sucking greedily.
Maddy let out a low, pleased hum, her fingers sliding into his hair for a moment before she gripped his silk tie tightly around his neck. She pulled him closer, forcing his face harder against her chest.
"Kneel!" she ordered, her voice sharp and commanding, laced with that sweet venom that made his cock twitch instantly.
Reeves groaned softly against her skin. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the penthouse suite, the expensive carpet cushioning his fall. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he looked up at her, tie still wrapped in her fist, completely at her mercy.
Maddy stared down at him, lips curved in a wicked smile,
"That's better," she purred, tightening her grip on his tie like a leash. "Look at you... already on your knees for me like a good little slave. Is this what you've been fantasizing about every time you came to the club?"
She slowly dragged the pointed toe of her heel up his thigh, stopping just inches away from the obvious bulge straining in his trousers.
"Beg me," she whispered, voice dripping with dominance. "Beg your Pretty Devil to use you tonight."
Maddy looked down at him from above, her dark eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and power. She didn't know who this man really was, all she knew was that he was wealthy as hell.
After he had paid an obscene amount to spend the entire night with her, away from the club and its rules, he had finally confessed his deepest fantasy in a shaky, desperate voice:
He wanted to be her slave!! Completely!!
Maddy tightened her grip on his tie, using it like a leash to tilt his head further back so he was forced to stare up at her pretty face.
"So this is really what you want?" she asked, her voice low and teasing, but edged with command. "All that money... all that power you have out there... and the only thing that gets you this hard is kneeling in front of me, ready to be used like my personal toy?"
Reeves swallowed hard, his breathing ragged. His hands rested obediently on his thighs, not daring to touch her without permission.
"Yes... Mistress," he whispered hoarsely. "That's all I want tonight. I want you to own me."
Maddy's lips curled into a slow, devilish smile. She stepped one sharp heel closer, the glossy black leather brushing against his chest as she looked down at her wealthy, powerful client now reduced to this.
"Good boy," she purred. "Then let's begin. Take off your jacket... slowly. And keep your eyes on me the entire time."
Maddy glanced at the toys he had already laid out neatly on the table. Without a word, she picked up a thick leather belt, looped it around his neck, and pulled it tight like a makeshift collar.
She yanked the belt hard, forcing him to crawl behind her toward the bed.
"Move faster, slave," she ordered.
Reeves groaned as he crawled on all fours. "Yes, Mistress... Fuck, I'm so hard already."
When they reached the bed, Maddy sat on the edge and spread her legs slightly, still holding the belt tight.
"Look at all these toys you prepared for me," she said mockingly. "You really planned this, huh? Tell me....which one do you want your Pretty Devil to use on you first?"
Reeves looked up at her, neck straining against the belt. "Whatever you want, Mistress. I'm yours. Please... hurt me. Use me."
Maddy smirked and gave the belt another sharp tug. "Beg louder. I want to hear how pathetic you sound."
"Please, Mistress!" he gasped. "I'm your worthless slave. Please use your toys on me. I need it."
Maddy grabbed his jaw tightly with one hand and slapped him hard across the face with the other.
"Call me Mummy!" she ordered.
She yanked his head violently forward and shoved his face between her thighs. Reeves groaned desperately as he pressed his mouth against her, still covered by the thin black G-string. He used his lips and tongue vigorously, forcing the soaked fabric to the side before sucking and licking hungrily at her exposed pussy, devouring her juices.
Maddy moaned and tightened her grip on his hair, grinding against his face. "That's it... eat Mummy's pussy like a greedy slave. Suck it harder."
Reeves gasped between desperate licks, his voice muffled and wet. "Yes, Mummy... your juices taste so good... I'm choking on you."
She slapped his cheek again, eyes gleaming behind the mask. "Louder. Tell Mummy how much you love being her dirty little toy."
"I love it, Mummy!" he moaned loudly, tongue working frantically. "I'm your pathetic slave... please let me drink all your juices."
Maddy smirked and pressed his face deeper. "Good boy. Don't stop until you make Mummy cum."
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9.7
Clarissa rushed into a crowded nightclub for one simple reason: to save her wildly drunk best friend.
But her ruthless billionaire husband, Giovanny, was watching from the VIP room. After effortlessly ruining a man just for grabbing her wrist, Giovanny punished Clarissa for breaching their public image contract with an impossible curfew.
When she inevitably arrived back at his penthouse late, he didn't just yell. He forced her to her knees by his bathtub to wash his back, making her watch an explicit, humiliating video as punishment.
A sudden family medical emergency dragged them to his parents' estate. Still in her soaked, transparent dress and his misbuttoned shirt, Giovanny's mother caught them. She joyfully assumed they had been passionately intimate.
Instead of clearing her name, Giovanny pulled Clarissa close and lied to his mother's face.
"We are working very hard on the family's future, Mother."
He locked her in the guest suite, tossed a sheer silk nightgown on the bed, and literally shattered the tablet holding their "no-contact" prenuptial agreement. He then slapped a file against the window—he had secretly bought all her father's toxic debt.
Clarissa was terrified. They were supposed to be business allies bound by a strict contract. Why was he suddenly acting like a predator determined to own her body and soul?
"Give me an heir, or your father goes to federal prison," he whispered.
Stripped of all choices, Clarissa picked up the white silk. She would surrender tonight to save her family, but as his shadow swallowed her, she made a silent vow to survive this monster, and one day, tear his empire to the ground.
8.9
For seven years, I hid my MIT Ph.D. and my identity as a top haute couture designer to be the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Cornelius Lambert.
But on our anniversary, while I waited at home with a cold dinner, I found him at a Michelin restaurant with his childhood sweetheart, Halle.
My seven-year-old son sat between them, laughing loudly.
"Mom is too boring. I wish Aunt Halle was my real mom."
Cornelius didn't defend me. He just smiled and affectionately ruffled the boy's hair.
When I finally packed my bags and left, I accidentally triggered an old AI robot prototype Cornelius had given me years ago.
A hidden recording played his voice from the very night he proposed.
"Why marry her? Because she's easy to control. Halle doesn't want to settle down yet, so Cassidy is just a perfect, temporary shield."
Later, when I caught them being intimate in a dark parking garage and snapped a photo, Cornelius watched with cold, dead eyes as his massive bodyguard shoved me against a concrete pillar.
My arm was torn open, blood dripping onto the floor, as they forced me to delete the evidence of his affair.
For seven years, I filed down every sharp edge of my brilliance for a man who saw me as nothing but a pathetic, disposable placeholder.
My heart turned to absolute ice. He thought I was just a weak, powerless housewife.
But he forgot who he was dealing with.
As his luxury car drove away, I pulled up the hidden command terminal on my phone and recovered the encrypted cloud backup of the photos.
I looked at my lawyer with a bleeding arm and a cold smile.
"Let's go. Now, we have a weapon."
9.0
I died on the cold delivery table, bleeding out while the heart monitor flatlined.
Through the blinding surgical lights, I heard my husband Damon's cold, final order to the doctors.
"The child is the priority."
He didn't care about my life. To him, I was just a vessel to produce an heir, a tool to fulfill his prenuptial clause and secure his billionaire empire.
While I took my last agonizing breath, he was already planning his future with his fragile, theatrical mistress, Jasmin.
In my past life, when he first brought her into our home claiming she was a helpless victim, I shattered.
I screamed, threw vases, and played the hysterical wife perfectly.
My desperate pleas for his affection only gave him the exact weapons he needed to ruin my reputation, isolate me, and ultimately force me onto that fatal delivery bed.
Until my very last moment, the suffocating pain in my chest wasn't just physical.
I couldn't understand how the man I loved could treat my death like a simple business transaction.
Why was my absolute devotion rewarded with a carefully calculated execution?
But then, my eyes snapped open.
I was sitting on the edge of my king-sized bed, exactly three years before my death.
From downstairs, I heard Damon's voice echoing in the foyer, bringing Jasmin into our home for the very first time.
This time, the scream building in my chest turned to ice.
I didn't cry or throw a fit.
Instead, I calmly swallowed a secret birth control pill, smiled at his mistress, and dialed the most ruthless divorce lawyer in Manhattan.
8.9
For fifteen years, I thought my mother had died in a tragic fire.
Then the wealthy Ross family's butler knocked on my door, revealing she was alive—locked away in the psychiatric annex of their massive estate.
I rushed into the lion's den to save her, only to run straight into Graydon Ross, the ruthless billionaire CEO.
He looked at my cheap clothes with pure disgust, convinced I was a bottom-feeding scammer trying to extort his family.
"Throw this bitch out into the snow."
He ordered his armed guards to drag me away, completely cutting off my only chance to see my mentally broken mother.
But as he violently grabbed my collar to throw me out, I saw a custom eagle-head cufflink hanging from his coat pocket.
My blood turned to ice, and a wave of paralyzing terror crashed over me.
Eight months ago, I accidentally slept with a masked stranger in a pitch-black hotel room and fled before dawn.
That cufflink belonged to him.
The man who took my virginity—the Wall Street tyrant I had been hiding from—was Graydon Ross.
If he ever found out I was that woman, he would literally destroy my life.
But to save my mother, I couldn't be thrown out.
When his grandmother suddenly appeared, I dropped to the floor, exposed the dark bruises Graydon had just left on my wrists, and sobbed.
I framed the billionaire for assault to secure my place in the mansion, forcing myself to live right next door to the monster whose bed I had fled.
7.6
For three years, I played the perfect, docile wife to Brendon Jimenez, desperate for the real family I never had as an orphan.
But during a high-society gala, I peeked through a cracked door and caught him sleeping with my best friend.
When I packed my cheap canvas bag to leave the penthouse, my mother-in-law blocked the door.
She dumped my clothes on the marble floor, called me a stray dog, and slapped me so hard my mouth bled.
Brendon just stood there, watching his mother humiliate me.
To keep me trapped as his perfect public prop, he even faked his mother's heart attack in a VIP hospital suite.
"Get on your knees. Kneel down right now and beg my mother for forgiveness until she decides to accept it."
I gave them my youth and unconditional loyalty, only to realize this prestigious old-money family was nothing but a rotting corpse built on dirty secrets.
I didn't cry, and I certainly didn't drop to my knees.
Instead, I pulled out my phone right in front of him and called my lawyer.
"File for an at-fault divorce. I have proof of his infidelity with Kaelynn Hudson. I want him ruined."
Then, I touched the matte black card hidden deep in my clutch.
It belonged to Kile Barrett, the ruthless billionaire shark my husband feared most, and I was going to use him to tear the Jimenez family apart.
7.2
Dr. Kylee Mcdonald was a brilliant medical examiner whose life was defined by cold, mechanical precision.
But that perfect control shattered when her phone rang in the middle of an autopsy.
It was her best friend, Dana, whispering their old college distress code.
"Curtain call."
By the time Kylee and Detective Justice kicked down Dana's door, she lay dead on her couch, her skin a horrifying cherry-red from cyanide.
The crime scene was clumsily staged to frame a billionaire suitor, but soon, every single suspect linked to Dana turned up violently dead.
Internal Affairs pointed the finger at Kylee, accusing her of using her medical expertise to become a vigilante serial killer.
But the encrypted truth Kylee uncovered was far more chilling.
Dana had been severely abused by her boyfriend, and driven to the edge, she manipulated him into murdering their tormentors before executing him and taking her own life.
To avoid a public scandal, the police chief buried Dana's brilliant, terrifying manifesto.
Kylee's flawless mind short-circuited. She was a genius at reading the dead, so why had she been completely blind to the living hell her best friend endured right in front of her?
Three days later, while attending a formal gala to numb her grief, a nearby apartment building exploded in flames.
As Kylee examined the charred bodies pulled from the rubble, she realized the male victim was strangled long before the fire started.
She looked at the surviving mother, whose baby had just died in the blast, but the woman's eyes were completely, terrifyingly empty.
The alarm bells in Kylee's meticulously ordered brain began to chime, signaling that a new, deadly script had just begun.