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 6
Maddy set her phone down, still biting her lip, heart racing as she pictured him squirming.
Seconds later, her phone buzzed with his immediate reply. His message was shorter, raw, and dripping with desperation:
"Yes Mummy... I'm already leaking like a pathetic slut, cock throbbing and dripping for you. I'll stay denied and desperate all night. Tomorrow I'll crawl and let you use my face however you want. Please break me, Mummy. I'm your worthless toy."
Maddy picked up her phone and read his reply. A smirk crossed her lips. She didn't text back, letting his desperate words linger unanswered.
Just as she was about to set the phone aside, it rang. Vanessa's name flashed across the screen. Maddy answered.
"Hey girl," she said.
"Maddy, I'm so sorry for what happened last night," Vanessa said, sounding genuinely guilty. "I should've told you when the boss arrived. I didn't want to ruin your night, but I know I fucked up by not giving you a heads up."
"It's fine," Maddy replied calmly.
Vanessa exhaled dramatically. "Can I come see you? I have champagne. Please don't say no, I really need to talk and fix this vibe. I'll be quick, I promise."
Maddy chuckled a bit, shaking her head. "Alright, come through."
Minutes later, Vanessa arrived at Maddy's apartment, Maddy opened the door for her as she retrieved the bottle of champagne in her hand. She popped it open with a loud pop and poured two glasses before flopping onto the couch.
Vanessa said, eyes wide with curiosity as Maddy handed her a glass. "Before I say anything else , how was your nasty night with that rich guy?
Maddy gave a nasty smirk and took a slow sip of her champagne, letting the bubbles linger on her tongue.
"Oh, it was filthy," she said, voice low and satisfied.
Vanessa's eyes widened, letting out a dramatic "Damn, girl!" as she took a big sip of her drink.
Maddy leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "How filthy?" Vanessa asked in curiosity. "Ohhh, mad filthy," she whispered excitedly as she told Vanessa every dirty detail of her client's fantasy.
"Well, let's just hope Markez doesn't find out you secretly hooked up with a client behind his back," Vanessa sighed.
"Oh, I have something to tell you," Maddy said, pouring herself another glass of champagne. She took a deep breath, knowing Vanessa was going to freak out.
"He wants to hook up again," Maddy added, then gulped down the rest of the champagne in one go.
"What?!" Vanessa exclaimed, eyes widening. "Maddy, what do you think you're doing? We both agreed it was going to be a one-night thing!"
"Relax, Nes," Maddy replied calmly. "It would be hidden. I promise. No one would know."
"No, no, no," Vanessa shook her head violently. "If Markez finds out, you're going to be in serious danger. You shouldn't think of doing this once more."
"I will, Nes," Maddy said, assuring her friend. "And it's going to stay a secret."
"Or..." Vanessa paused, "You could just tell Markez and give him the money the client pays, at least you'll be safer."
"No!" Maddy shouted immediately. "I'm tired of Markez always using me as his puppet."
"It's because you aren't in my shoes, Nes," Maddy said quietly. "I can't leave because of that fucking man."
Maddy stared at Vanessa for a moment, then asked, "Why do you keep working at the club, Nes?"
Vanessa's face fell, sadness filling her eyes. "Well in my case, Markez threatens me to stay and work for him... but in your case, I really don't know why you're still putting up with him."
"Relax, babe," Vanessa said softly, "I already told you there aren't many jobs available out there."
Maddy sighed and poured them both more champagne. A small smirk crept back onto her face as she remembered the night.
"Anyway... back to that client," she continued, lowering her voice. "Girl, he was so fucking nasty. I had him on his knees choking on my pussy while I whipped his back. Then I made him fuck me from behind in the bathtub and he came so hard inside me. He was literally begging to be my slave again. Calling me Mummy the whole time like a desperate little bitch."
Vanessa shook her head, half-amused and half-worried. "You really let him cum inside you? Maddy, you're playing with fire."
Before Maddy could reply, her phone suddenly started ringing on the table. The name "Markez" flashed brightly on the screen.
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8.7
Ada was eight months pregnant, sitting peacefully in her husband's Manhattan estate, looking at a baby nursery catalog.
Suddenly, her husband's mistress, Jacklyn, walked in, threw an ultrasound photo on the table, and locked the door.
Before Ada could process the betrayal, Jacklyn dragged her to the top of the marble staircase and threw herself backward just as Desmond walked through the front doors.
"She pushed me, Desmond! She tried to kill our baby!"
Desmond looked at Ada with absolute hatred.
He ignored Ada's breaking water and her agonizing screams for help, leaving her to miscarry on the freezing floor while he rushed Jacklyn to the hospital.
He sent Ada to a brutal federal prison for three years, where she was tortured and left with a body covered in horrific scars, mourning the baby she was told died at birth.
When Ada was finally released, Desmond destroyed her cousin's company to force her back to his estate as a lowly maid.
But when Ada saw Jacklyn's three-year-old son, her world stopped.
Right in the center of the little boy's palm was a faint crescent moon birthmark.
It was the exact same mark Ada had kissed on her own lifeless baby's tiny hand before the doctors took his body away.
How did her dead child become Jacklyn's little prince?
Looking at the woman who stole her life and the husband who threw her in hell, Ada clenched her scarred hands and swore she would tear their world apart to get her son back.
9.5
My husband, Colton, the Wall Street mogul, slid annulment papers across the table, coldly discarding me and our unborn child. He thought he was getting rid of a useless wife, but he was actually throwing away the secret architect of his entire empire. Now, I'm ready to make him pay for every insult, every lie, and every single secret I've kept.
For three years, eight months pregnant, I secretly saved Colton's ten-billion-dollar company from collapse, enduring a cold, transactional marriage.
One night, he shattered that illusion, serving annulment papers and callously discarding me and our unborn child.
I signed, leaving luxury behind. Exposing his butler's fraud, I escaped. Colton later found his wedding ring gone and, on his desk, my SEC compliance fixes—proof I was his hidden genius.
Blindsided, he realized he’d destroyed his own empire. His mother then called, gloating. The injustice ignited a fierce resolve within me.
The next morning, I launched Kidd Legal Consulting. I'd use forty-seven folders of Farmer Capital's un-patched loopholes to force a fair settlement, securing my daughter's future.
8.4
Elia was an orphan from the rust belt, taken in by the wealthy Chapman family in New York.
To them, she was just a shameful charity case.
The parents shoved her into a dusty storage closet, treating their other daughter Geri like a delicate princess, and mocked Elia as uneducated trash.
When Elia secured her own admission to Manhattan Elite Prep, Geri's jealousy turned vicious.
Geri orchestrated a massive smear campaign, posting anonymously on the school forum that Elia was a violent dropout who sold her body to a sugar daddy to pay tuition.
In the cafeteria, the school's elite dumped dirty milk on Elia's food.
They called her a whore and told her to go back to the streets, while Geri watched from afar with a victorious, innocent smile.
They thought she was just a helpless stray dog who would easily break under their high-society cruelty.
They had no idea she was actually "L", the dark web's most feared hacker, and "The Surgeon", a genius medical anomaly.
They also didn't know she was currently tracking a dying Wall Street billionaire who had stolen her only necklace in a dark alley.
What made these arrogant rich kids think they could destroy a girl who played with international firewalls for fun?
Instead of crying, Elia calmly pulled out her phone.
Within seconds, she breached the school's server, locking every screen in the building onto a blood-red skull.
As Geri's own recorded voice plotting the fake rumors blasted through the PA system, Elia grabbed her bag, stepping back into the shadows to reclaim what was hers.
8.0
My wedding was tomorrow. I was a crisis counselor who had finally found peace with my loving fiancé, Dexter, and my best friend, Barbara.
A late-night call about a forced marriage led me to a hotel penthouse, where I found them naked in bed together.
It was all a cruel, three-year "savior game." They were bored heirs, and I was their project. They destroyed my career, caused me to lose our baby, and put my mother in the hospital.
They forced me to be a bridesmaid at their wedding-the one that should have been mine.
In front of hundreds of guests, they exposed my traumatic past and then tried to marry me off to a drunken stranger as a joke.
As I stood there, broken, a text from Barbara arrived.
"Your mother saw the livestream. She had a heart attack. She's not going to make it."
With nothing left, I ran to the 20th-floor window and jumped. They thought they had erased me. But my death was just the beginning.
9.2
I was a broke freelance copywriter, tortured for three sleepless nights by an impossible corporate client.
Needing to vent, I typed out a wild, highly inappropriate rant mocking the brand's stiff heritage.
But in my exhausted, sleep-deprived blur, I accidentally sent the massive block of text to the wrong chat.
The recipient wasn't my friend. It was Emerson Beard, the elite, ruthless brand consultant I was supposed to desperately network with.
I waited for the professional execution, terrified of the massive five-figure penalty fee hanging over my head.
Instead, he didn't block me. He critiqued my unhinged draft.
He saved my career through late-night, encrypted phone calls, his deep, commanding voice becoming my only lifeline.
But when I heard a woman with a sultry French accent knocking on his hotel door during our call, my ugly jealousy flared.
I yelled at him and hung up, completely humiliating myself.
I thought I was just a pathetic, annoying workaholic interrupting his romantic getaway.
But he texted back to clarify he was entirely single, and in the process, realized I was actually twenty-five, not a fresh-out-of-school teenager like he had assumed.
The cold, distant mentor instantly vanished.
In his place was a man radiating a raw, aggressive, and predatory energy that bled right through the screen.
"Texting is too inefficient. The full integration requires face-to-face communication."
He dropped a location pin for an ultra-exclusive Manhattan club, demanding I meet him to save my contract.
Wearing a desperately bought emerald silk dress, I pushed open the heavy oak door, stepping right into the trap of a man who had just taken off his leash.
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.