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 5
Maddy kept working the pole like a filthy goddess, rolling her hips and making her fat ass clap for the crowd. Bundles of cash rained down on the stage as they sprayed her with money, but she didn't dare pick up a single bill. Markez would take it all later anyway. Other dancers were on the poles too, but they barely got any attention once Maddy was dancing. All eyes stayed locked on her.
For her final move she dropped to the floor, spread her long legs extremely wide, and started tapping vigorously on her pussy. The thin lace string barely covered her swollen lips, the fabric so soaked it was almost see-through.
Her fingers slapped hard and fast against her clit through the delicate material, making the crowd lose their fucking minds. The men groaned and gagged, emptying their wallets completely, throwing thick stacks of cash at her. Even the female clients stared with raw hunger, biting their lips and fantasizing about burying their faces between her thighs to eat her up.
Maddy rose from the floor as the song ended, chest heaving and legs still shaky from the set. The stage was littered with cash but she didn't touch any of it. She gave the crowd one last slow seductive look through her mask then turned and walked off stage, her fat round ass swaying with every step.
Her time was finally up, she began heading backstage, slipped into the changing room and quickly changed out of the soaked lace bodysuit into a simple hoodie and jeans. She kept the mask on until the last second. It was almost dawn outside, the club starting to empty as the lights came up and the air felt heavy and stale.
Maddy grabbed her coat, stuffed her things into her bag and headed for the back exit. She was tired as hell, thighs still sticky, but her mind kept drifting back to her slave, that rich pathetic man who had begged so desperately the night before.
As she pushed the back door open and stepped into the cool air, a small dark smile touched her lips behind the mask.
Maddy drove home through the quiet dawn streets, hair still loose and blowing in the wind. The moment she stepped inside her small apartment, she paused and stared around the sparse room.
She sighed, kicked off her shoes and headed straight to the bathroom. She took a long hot shower, letting the water wash away the sweat, cum, and grime from the long night. When she finally stepped out, she dried herself slowly, then buried herself naked under the soft blankets of her bed, her long dark hair still damp and spread across the pillow.
This isn't the type of life she dreamt of living in America, she thought bitterly. Trapped, used, and still owing that monster millions she could never repay.
Exhausted, her eyes finally grew heavy. She drifted off to sleep with that heavy thought still echoing in her mind.
.....
Maddy jolted awake as her phone rang loudly, her heart racing from the sudden shock. She rubbed her eyes and checked the screen. It was her mom.
She let out a tired sigh and answered the call, trying to sound bright.
"Hey Mom," she said softly, voice still heavy with sleep.
"Maddy! My baby, how are you? I've been trying to reach you since yesterday," her mom's voice came through, warm but worried.
"I'm fine, Mom. Really. I was just... busy with work," Maddy replied, forcing a small laugh. "You know how it is here."
Her mom sighed on the other end. "Work? Tell me about this company you're working at. Is it good? Are they treating you well? Your father and I keep praying for you every day."
Maddy swallowed hard and stared at the ceiling, the lie feeling heavier than usual.
"Yeah, it's a really good company, Mom. I'm doing administrative work... mostly office stuff, filing documents, helping with meetings. The pay is okay, and my boss is nice," she said smoothly, the same story she had been telling them for months. "I even got a small promotion last month, so things are looking up."
Her mom sounded relieved. "That's wonderful, sweetheart. We're so proud of you for making it in America. Just be careful, okay? Don't overwork yourself. When are you sending some pictures of your new life? We miss seeing your face."
Maddy's throat tightened. She couldn't tell them the truth..... that she danced half-naked every night, wore a mask to hide her identity, and was trapped paying off a seven-million-dollar debt to a monster.
"Soon, Mom. I promise. I'll send pictures when I get a proper day off," she lied again. "How's Dad? And everyone back home?"
They talked for a few more minutes about family news, her mom's usual prayers, and how much they missed her. Maddy kept her voice light and cheerful the whole time, painting a perfect picture of a successful life in America.
When the call finally ended, she dropped the phone on the bed and stared at the ceiling again, feeling empty.
Maddy ended the call with her mom, she checked the time it was already one pm. She had slept like the dead after such a long night.
As she scrolled through her notifications, one unread message caught her eye. It was from her slave.
"Can we do this again tomorrow? Anytime you're free."
She stared at the text for a moment, a small, dark smirk slowly spreading across her lips. Even after how hard she had used him last night, he was already begging for more.
Maddy bit her lip, thinking. She had another long night ahead at the club, but the idea of having her pathetic, rich slave waiting for her again sent a nasty little thrill through her body.
Maddy stared at the message from her slave for a second, then typed back quickly:
"Yeah, tomorrow works."
She barely had time to put the phone down before he replied almost instantly:
"Same place tomorrow, ten pm."
Maddy let out a soft laugh and shook her head. Damn, he was thirsty as fuck. The man was clearly obsessed, already desperate for another night of being used and humiliated by her. It was almost pathetic how fast he responded, like he had been staring at his phone waiting for her reply.
She bit her lip, feeling that familiar rush of power. Her rich, pathetic slave was hooked, her eyes gleaming with wicked hunger as she typed the nasty reply.
"Mmm, my greedy little sex slave is already aching for more? Pathetic. Your cock's probably throbbing and leaking like the desperate slut you are.
I own you completely. Tomorrow when you crawl in, I'm going to use your mouth for hours, riding your face until I'm satisfied. You don't get to cum until I say so! So stay denied and dripping for me. Save every drop of frustration for when I break you."
She hit send, still biting her lip.
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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.