Mazikeen Quinn
Bio
hey, y'all I back! After some time away alot has happened. I'm sighed to a publishing house.
Stories (8/0)
The Invite
I broke a rule, and now here’s my punishment.. But my punishment requires what exactly? He went without speaking to me for weeks at a time, almost two months had passed and he didn’t need me. Then, one crisp winter. I get an envelope at my door; addressed to me: Abigail. That’s not my name, it’s just what servants are called, and no—before you ask; I’m not his handmaiden; well technically, but he doesn’t need an heir from me. Think of me more as his company… or property. Yes, I said it, property. My captor doesn't value women at their highest. We Abigail’s are allowed to roam the estate, and live freely amongst our captors; we aren’t locked away in a room, or told when we can and can not eat or do other things. We Abigail’s are like mistresses, but for the rich. We hold power over who we claim. The thing with my captor is: he was attracted to what he couldn’t have, so he stole me away from my previous captor.
By Mazikeen Quinn3 years ago in Filthy
Red Room 69
He never let anyone in until now. He stood by the door with a key in hand. The number: 69. He gripped it tight, holding it behind his back as he took a breath to relax his nerves. I never took him as the nervous type. He’s usually well put together and a bit of a perfectionist, but who isn’t? There was something about him as I waited for him to do something‒anything. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I held in a breath as my lungs began to burn. Shit, now I was nervous. The only time I get nervous is during exams or meeting my boyfriends’ parents for the first time, during our weekend getaway in the mountains. Why was I here? I mean, I know why, but what drew me to come to this conclusion on my own. This man certainly isn’t Eli; no, this man is better than Eli in every way possible. He approached me at the park. I took a morning jog around seven-thirty to clear my head. I figured a run could clear up the stress I built up while Eli was away with family.
By Mazikeen Quinn3 years ago in Filthy
First Encounter
Reid walked me to a room black with red tint all around. I saw BDSM toys I had only imagined, and it felt ominous, but I was less fearful and more curious as he told me, "Stirp." I stopped as the toned of his voice was commanding but soft as if he weren't forcing me but asking. I slowly take my clothes off as I lose more clothing. I begin to get fearful and stop as I feel a hand on my shoulder, and he whispers in my ear, "It's ok, keep going." I shudder as I feel myself give in and bite my bottom lip and take off my remaining clothes; I hear him slowly back away from me. As they lay around my body in a circle. He looked down at me as if he were looking at his prey with the eyes of a wolf; while breathing raggedly, I stammered, "w...ww.. what now?!" I felt him teasing me with his eyes. He knew what I wanted.
By Mazikeen Quinn3 years ago in Filthy
HIM
1:00 AM As I toss and turn in bed, at one in the morning, bed covers tangled between my legs, pillow damp from the sweat I produced. I was awoken by HIM. He had come into my dreams again for the fifth time this week. He appeared in my dreams like the first four times, but this time he was shirtless and greased with baby oil. His hair was pushed back, and muscles ripped like a Greek God ready to strike down Hades. I was wet from this dream because of him. In this dream, I watched him from the window as he undressed into his boxers. He hung them just low enough to where his erection stood tall and ready to be played with. My mouth began to water at the sight of it twitching. He always looked down at the floor and tilt it aside. His breath was ragged and slow. I watched his chest rise up and down as he lit a cigarette and took a few puffs before he blew. He knew I was watching HIM, but he didn’t seem to care. He liked the attention, and honestly, it was a bit arousing watching him, watch me—watch HIM. My body was in heat ten times hotter than last time. It was winter, cold, and damp. The snow was falling around my hoodie as I tried to keep warm. I wore gloves that protected me from frostbite, but my fingertips felt like ice icicles. I rubbed them together, causing friction as I felt the warmth circulate around my palms. It was like it erupted and sent a dwelling fire within me that burst with excitement and turned me on, even more, I thought of him. But something changed, there was some else there…
By Mazikeen Quinn3 years ago in Filthy
Detention of Desires
She came to me in a dream—unexpected and ready for me to take her as my own. This wasn’t her first time, and either was it mine. She wasn’t an escort at least I didn’t see her that way. She aimed to please men like me, and men paid her large amounts to keep them happy, so their wives wouldn’t have to. She courted me outside one of my successful nightclubs: Pink Kitty. She wore a strapless tight red dress that showed off her beautiful long legs. Wore red nail polish and lipstick. Her hair was dark brown, and half of her hair was pushed up—with bobby pins holding in place. She smelled of Chanel perfume while smoking a cig. As pretty as she was, she didn’t have to ruin her lungs. Her eyes were an amber color and told her pain—her struggle. I stood underneath a streetlight by a fire hydrant as I finished a call with Andrew, my club promoter.
By Mazikeen Quinn4 years ago in Filthy
Mr X
I was brought into a room. I didn’t know where I was precise; I was blindfolded and bounded by the wrists. People referred to him, as Mr X. He told me not to move, nor make a sound. My heart was racing—almost like an automatic bomb or Tale-Tale Heart. The way it would pound in my chest or the way it would stop and start again; had me on high alert. Hearing the sounds, increasing; growing louder and louder by the minute. The anticipation was daunting. Stood to be six-foot-five. Slim, broad shoulders, hair pushed back. His bread was trimmed to fit his face, and that smile; brought all the ladies to their knees; like myself.
By Mazikeen Quinn4 years ago in Filthy
