CW: non-con/non-consensual, nun-human, drug/drugging, aphrodisiac, brainwashing (to an extent), sex slave, minotaur, excessive cum, excessive cock, body distortion - - - Part Three - Kat Three thuds on the thin door. That's all it took. All of Katarina's bluster left her, and the knot in her stomach pulled tight. It strangled her from within, stopping...
As has often been said, men in unexpected situations think with what's between their legs, not their brains. As a woman, I am happy to report that this is true, at least a large percentage of the time, because it benefits me. Got one helluva story to share with you, ladies and gentlemen. I am Farah Hussein, a tall, curvy and lovely Somali-Canadian Muslim sis...
A note from AfterDusk: Yes, I'm still working on this story off an on, thank you to those of you who have been waiting patiently! I might have one more chapter left before it is over so stay tuned. -AD Eve feels a hand stroking her hair. She opens her eyes, blinking several times to focus on the cleanly shaven face of Kelly, crouching before her at the...
The wicked fun that otherwise conventional and conservative couples have behind closed doors, eh? The name is Farah Hussein and I'm a young Black Muslim woman of Somali descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I was born in the town of Mogadishu, Somalia, and raised in Ontario, and consider myself Somali-Canadian rather than merely Canadian. Not a day...
Look at this, the ones from my story Beautiful Betty, who made the biggest stink about attending, are the first ones here. Do you believe it? "Hey, Betty, you look very beautiful, as always. Davis, thank you for coming, it's nice to see you." "Take your dirty paws off my woman, Freddie, or I'll deck you and stomp you to death, you hack!." "Listen here, Da...
Apostate! Kafir! Infidel! Marked for death. In the eyes of the Muslim community, I am all these things and more. My name is Aminata Khalid and I'm a young woman of Somali descent living in the City of Detroit, Michigan. For most of my life, home was the City of Montreal, Quebec. About a year ago, I had life all figured out. I had just graduated from the Univ...
I sit on the sofa at ten till six. I practiced self-care throughout the day—ate well, meditated, played piano, practiced yoga and journaled. In short, I kept myself busy while waiting for Mariano. My intention has been to tap into my core strength and stay connected to my needs, but he is insidious. He has taken over my consciousness, again. I dressed in a s...
Chapter 17: Happy Endings It had started as a conga line, albeit one with men encouraged to grab the breasts of the women in front of them and women giving the men in front of them a reacharound, but that had broken up after Melissa had stopped suddenly and Tammi had automatically guided Dan's hard-on between the lusty librarian's shapely cheeks and into he...
I love running. It's the endorphins, really. They are an addiction to those of us who enjoy it. It keeps me in shape and the charity races are always fun. Every week I run at a certain park. It has wide paths, fields of seasonal wildflowers, and shade trees. Just like a gym or a bar, there are regulars. They are the people you see ever week or so with their...
Conversation over dinner remains sparse, but easy. We dine in the restaurant of Mariano's hotel, a formality, leading to the moment we'll be alone. We are dutifully marking time until we get to know each other in another way. This is as clear as it is unspoken. In his penthouse, Mariano pours me a glass of port wine then heads into the bedroom, leaving me...