fiction
Erotic, romantic, and sexy fiction for the Filthy community.
Subject of MisTranslation (Pt 1)
Upon arrival to the auction, the slave trader walked me in collar and leash, with only a robe to cover my nakedness. I was not ashamed, it just felt so odd not having my usual clothes, but then again, I hadn’t been wearing clothes for a month now so it really couldn’t be that different. Master (slave trader), led me to the center of the warehouse where he had set up the “stage” for my display, the stand with my new and only outfit, and the booths for the potential buyers to relax in privacy with a full view of me until the auction was complete. Master removed the robe, and told me to kneel; I did so immediately. Sitting on my knees, hand turned up on my thighs, knees spread fairly far apart, back straight, chin up, and eyes down. I waited for everyone to arrive and my auction to begin. About fifteen minutes later, the first Buyer was escorted in and shown to his booth, approximately five minutes later the next buyer was shown in and so on until all six buyers had been seated. The booths were soundproof, with a microphone which was connected to Master’s headset for communication.
By Amanda Tucker7 years ago in Filthy
Royally Flushed
The king had never looked at me with anything but indifference. In fact, his eyes had never met mine until now. My service was to clean his chambers and tend to his wife. But tonight, his eyes were laid upon me with a fierceness I knew not what to do with. His eyes were whiskey-colored, the kind that all the women in the village squirmed underneath their petticoats for. And now it was my turn to feel the king's burning gaze upon my flushed cheeks.
By Sharlene Alba7 years ago in Filthy
My Favorite Kind of Drink
At a bar having drinks, we sit down at a table. The bar is dark and music is playing, people are talking to each other, and we order another round to our table. This table is perfect for me to begin teasing you, so I start to lightly run my fingers up and down the inside of your thighs. You look at me and as you look into my eyes I know you can tell what's about to happen. As I slide my hand up and down your thigh I get closer to your pussy, lightly brushing the outside of my hand against you. I feel you getting warmer and your body begins to move in anticipation. You whisper in my ear that you want me to touch you, you grab my wrist and slide my hand up to touch your wet pussy. I grab the back of your neck and pull you close to kiss you. As we kiss I tease you with the tip of my finger, just feeling you so wet and touching you but not fully putting my finger inside you. You try to get me to go deeper but I wont. I continue to tease you as I drink my drink and watch the people walk by our table. I breath in your ear and down your neck wanting to bite you but instead I lick and kiss your neck and shoulder. I watch you as your body moves for me to touch it. I lean over and tell you to finish your drink and then I'll go inside you.
By Wilder Easton7 years ago in Filthy
Beauty Queen
She could feel his eyes on her. Burning into her skin. With a simple hook of her leg on the solid pole, she slid her herself down. Purposely falling into her customers lap. Her bottom slid against the ridge of his jeans, causing it to swell and bulge. A grin formed on her red-colored lips. She loved getting that reaction from men. But her profession wasn't just to strip. It was art. The art of sensual dancing. Sliding naked thighs against a pole might pay the bills, but she respected herself enough to not take off her clothes. Instead, she seduced her audience with her eyes. The sensual swaying of her hips. Her sexy smile. She had them every single time. This gentleman was one of her more recent customers. He caught her gaze one night while she was performing her most famous routine, the red rose. She smiled at him through her dark red mask, his hazel eyes growing a shade darker. Desire. She loved the very meaning of the word. She lived on it. Breathed on it. She used it in her dances. Anyone can dance. But actually having the desire to perform for your audience was a totally different thing.
By Sharlene Alba7 years ago in Filthy
Need Me: Part 2
Overbooking myself with meetings was how I decided to punish myself for crossing the professional line with Lucas. We had rules for a reason. They kept us in line, away from trouble, away from dire consequences. Knowing you weren't supposed to test certain waters with your employees did nothing to stop the lust parade Lucas invited me into last week. How could I face him now? What if he filed a sexual harassment suit?
By Sharlene Alba7 years ago in Filthy
The Hotel
She arrived on time as Sir has instructed, stopping at the front desk to pick up the room key as the text said. She made her way up to the third-floor room, not rushing up the stairs too fast because she didn’t want to flash anyone considering Sir had her wear a short skirt and a thong today. His text had told her he would be back shortly, he was going to pick up something to drink for afterward; she was to wait on her knees at the end of the bed. Sir had spent an hour or two in the room prior to when she was to arrive getting things in place for the afternoon, ties set under the edge of the bed, the bag of toys and items on the table, the tv turned on for background noise... all the essentials in place.
By Amanda Tucker7 years ago in Filthy
The Sexual Misadventures of Pandora
Although I was in an unfamiliar place, I found comfort in awakening to things that were familiar to me – like the smell of curtains blowing a light linen scent all over the room and the sound of the rain lightly caressing the ground. Just then, I heard the faint laughter of a couple stopping right under my window pane. So, I closed my eyes to listen to their exchange – In my mind they were walking hand-in-hand. You see, I have this way of sensing things even when I cannot see them. I turn my thoughts back to hearing the sexy raspiness of the way she laughed and the masculine tone to the way he said her name and I imagine they are completely and utterly in lust for one another.
By Stella Nova7 years ago in Filthy
Secret Meeting
She tried not to notice how his eyes were undressing her. And she tried not to like it. She didn't know him, but the ache between her legs told her she wanted to. His youthful face and dapper-like posture made him stand out in the crowded hotel lobby. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him approaching her. His scent causing her cheeks to turn red. He smelled like sin. A sin she'd be more than happy to commit.
By Sharlene Alba7 years ago in Filthy
Zephyr The Vandal Part 2
Gran Seraf Memories towered over me in the form of a granite archway trimmed with white gold and held fast by four pewter columns. Just beyond the impressive stone entrance was an elaborately framed mahogany double door that stood at least four feet above me. For a moment, I was again a sixteen year old girl; adjusting my misshapen bra, looking up at the monstrous wooden gates as if they would open on their own. I placed one palm against the resin coated beads that decorated the wood carved ribbon sloping down from top to middle. It may sound strange that I felt at home while entering a plush bathhouse known for decadence, corruption, and sexual deviance, but the world had left my younger self with little or no choice. My options included homelessness, incarceration, or quite possibly a rancid life of random unwanted pregnancies. Perhaps I could have subjected myself to an American street life of poverty and illegal substances shared with the dregs. Even more “ghetto fabulous” would have been a careless drowning into the pitfalls of uninspired, unmotivated, cowardly, abusive pimps. I could have lent myself to the care of one lucky ponce so that he could barely generate any income, break bread with vagrants, and pay for their protection with my ungracefully aging husk of a soulless human shell.
By Shadowstar Boxer7 years ago in Filthy