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 3
They stepped out of the bathtub, water still dripping from their bodies. Maddy's black mask remained firmly in place, hiding her identity as always. She picked up a towel and started drying herself, clearly preparing to leave.
"Wait," Reeves pleaded, his voice desperate as he stood half naked before her. "Can we do this often? Just you and I? I really enjoy your services... I need this."
Maddy paused and stared at him through the mask, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. "You know it goes beyond our policy. If you need me, you have to come to the club like everyone else. We can't be hooking up secretly outside of that."
He stepped closer, eyes filled with longing. "I'll pay any amount you want," he begged. "All I want is to be able to call you personally and have you come whenever I need you. Please, Mummy... just think about it."
Maddy tilted her head, studying him for a long moment, her expression unreadable under the mask, then shook her head slowly.
"No. That's not how this works," she said firmly. "I don't do personal calls or secret arrangements. If you want me, you come to the club like every other client."
Reeves looked desperate, his voice almost breaking. "Please... I'll pay whatever it takes. I need this. I need you."
She sighed, clearly annoyed, but after a pause she extended her hand. "Give me your phone."
He quickly handed it over. Maddy took it, typed in her private number, and saved the contact before tossing the phone back to him.
"Fine," she said coldly. "But this stays between us, my colleagues or boss shouldn't find out, And if you ever try anything stupid, I disappear."
She looked at him with sharp eyes. "Do I need to ask your name?"
"No!" he responded quickly, almost too fast. "Save my name with whatever you want."
Maddy smirked behind the mask and nodded. "Good choice, slave."
Maddy turned and began walking toward the door ,she grabbed her coat placing it above her body as she put on her heels she took off before stepping into the restroom.
"Wait... wouldn't you spend the night?" Reeves insisted, his voice almost pleading. "It's already so late."
She let out a light, amused chuckle. "I'm a stripper, baby. I'm used to the dark."
"But still... stay," he begged, stepping closer.
Maddy suddenly snapped, turning back to face him with sharp eyes behind the mask.
"Look," she said firmly, "we bargained for two hours. That's what you paid for. I need to get back to work before my boss notices I'm gone."
Maddy turned away without another word and walked out of the luxurious penthouse, leaving Reeves standing half-naked with only a white towel wrapped low around his waist. He watched her go, his body still buzzing with need, already craving more of her.
Maddy got out of the elevator, got into her car then drove straight back to the club. She was glad Vanessa, her closest friend at Velvet Eclipse, had been feeding her updates the entire time. Thanks to her, Maddy knew exactly what was happening back at the club.
She smiled to herself as she sped through the night streets. Vanessa hadn't sent any warning about the boss, which meant he wasn't around tonight. Perfect!
Maddy quickly sneaked into the club through the back entrance, glancing around to make sure no one important was watching. She slipped off the long coat she had thrown over her body, revealing the sexy black lace bodysuit underneath, and tossed the robe into her locker.
Her eyes scanned the dimly lit backstage area until she spotted Vanessa. A wide, excited smile spread across her face as she hurried over to her friend.
"Vanessa!" Maddy whispered excitedly, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a quieter corner. "Girl, you won't believe how the night went with that wealthy cl-
She suddenly stopped mid-sentence when she noticed Vanessa's face wasn't bright at all. Her friend looked tense and worried.
"What's wrong, Nes?" Maddy questioned in shock, her smile fading instantly.
Vanessa opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, Maddy felt a strong hand suddenly grab the back of her head from behind. With brutal force, the hand slammed her face hard against the cold tiled floor.
"Where the fuck did you go?" a deep, angry voice growled above her as pain shot through her head.
It was Markez - her boss.
Maddy's heart dropped. She slowly lifted her head and stared at Vanessa in shock, eyes wide with betrayal and confusion. Why didn't you tell me he was back? she thought desperately.
Vanessa looked away, clearly terrified and unable to speak.
Maddy knew Markez too well. He was brutal and quick-tempered, someone she had always tried hard not to provoke. She also knew he had a special hatred for her ever since she became the only stripper in the club who refused to sleep with him, despite all his influence and threats.
Markez yanked her up roughly by the arm, forcing her to stand. His grip was painful as he glared down at her.
"I asked you a question, Maddy," he snarled. "Where the hell were you?"
"I was-" Maddy began before Markez cut her off sharply.
"You were where?" he snapped, tightening his grip on her shoulders again, fingers digging in like he wanted to anchor her in place through pain alone. "You're always everywhere slacking."
Maddy's breath hitched but she didn't lower her gaze,the pain on her arm was unbearable. Maddy pushed him away hard, breaking his grip as she stepped back, breathing sharply.
"What the fuck did you just do?" he questioned in anger, his voice rising as his eyes darkened.
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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.