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STORY 50 - RAVISHED BY HIS PRIMAL SIDE (II)
publish date:
2026-05-25 23:28:43
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DIRTY DREAMS STORY 53 - THE VAMPIRE IN MY PUSSY (II)
His teeth pierce my skin and the world rewrites itself.The pain is less than a second. Just a sharp bright flash that disappears instantly and is replaced by something I have no framework for. Warmth floods from the bite outward, like every cell in my body catches fire simultaneously and the flames are made of pleasure.I cum instantly. The orgasm hits like a detonation – my pussy convulsing in violent contractions, my legs giving out, my back scraping against the stone wall as I slide. He catches me – one arm around my waist, his teeth still inside me – and holds me upright while my body convulses against the garden wall.His venom spreads through my bloodstream like liquid electricity. I feel it – a tingling warmth that travels from my neck down through my chest, my stomach, pooling between my legs where my pussy is still clenching in rhythmic spasms that have no endpoint. The orgasm doesn’t peak and fade the way human orgasms do. It plateaus at the peak and stays. A sustained cont
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 53 - THE VAMPIRE IN MY PUSSY (I)
He doesn’t eat or drink. Just stands in the corner of the party holding a glass of red wine he never lifts to his lips, watching the room with eyes that look like they’ve been watching rooms for longer than rooms have existed.I notice him because he’s the only person here who isn’t performing. Everyone else is doing the thing you do at these events – laughing too loud, checking their phones between conversations to make sure they’re still relevant. He’s just standing still. His body angled toward the wall like a man accustomed to shadows, his face half-lit by the chandelier’s edge.He’s beautiful in a way that doesn’t make sense. Not handsome – beautiful. Sharp and angular, the kind of face that belongs on a coin from a dead empire. His jaw is cut like stone and his cheekbones catch the dim light and his mouth is full, almost feminine, the lower lip curved in a way that makes you imagine it on your skin. His hair is dark and pushed back from his forehead, long enough to touch his col
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 52 - LOCKED IN WITH MY RIVAL (IV)
“I want to be above you – I want your job – I want your office – I want –”“You want my cock. Say it.”“I want your cock – fuck – I want it and I hate you for making me want it –”He reaches beneath me. Finds my clit. Rubs in vicious circles while his cock pounds me from behind on the conference table. His other hand tangles in my hair and pulls my head up so I’m staring through the glass wall at the empty office floor – my desk, his desk, the space between them, everywhere where six months of tension has been building.“Cum staring at my desk,” he says. “Cum looking at the chair where I sit every day thinking about bending you over yours.”His fingers on my clit. His cock driving deep. My eyes locked on his desk through the glass. And I cum – violently, my pussy convulsing, squirting onto the conference table, soaking the papers stuck to my stomach. The orgasm is so intense my vision whites out and when it clears I’m face-down on the table trembling and he’s still inside me, still ha
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 52 - LOCKED IN WITH MY RIVAL (III)
The mention of the promotion makes me furious and the fury makes my pussy clench and the clench makes him groan and the cycle feeds itself – hate to arousal to hate to arousal, a feedback loop that makes every thrust feel personal.“Harder,” I demand. Not because I want pleasure – because I want punishment. I want this to hurt the way watching him accept my promotion hurt. “Is that all you’ve got? You fuck the way you present. Very sloppy, just you riding on someone else’s work.”He snaps and his hand leaves my hair. Then both hands grab my hips and he fucks me so hard the partition wall shudders and the desk scrapes across the floor with a sound that would alert security if security existed right now.His cock drives into me at an angle that hits my cervix, and the sharp spike of pain-pleasure makes my eyes water.“Say that again,” he growls. His pelvis cracking against my ass. “Tell me it’s unearned.”“It’s unearned – you’re a fraud – you stole my – oh fuck right there –”He hits a
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 52 - LOCKED IN WITH MY RIVAL (II)
I bite his lip. Hard. I taste copper – his blood on my tongue, metallic and warm – and instead of pulling back he groans into my mouth and his hands fist in my hair and he pulls me closer and his tongue pushes past the bite and invades my mouth with the same aggressive force he uses in meetings.I hate him. I’m kissing him back so hard our teeth clash.The hate-fuck begins against the security door that won’t open.He pins me – my back against the cold metal, his body a wall of heat against my front. His mouth on my neck – not kissing, biting. Sinking his teeth into the tendon that flexes when I turn my head, hard enough to bruise, marking me the way he’s been marking my career.“I fucking hate you,” I spit. My hands grabbing his shirt, yanking it from his pants, popping two buttons because I’m not being careful with a single thing that belongs to him.“I know you do.” He bites my collarbone. “That’s why you’re dripping right now.”His hand shoves up my skirt – not finessing, not aski
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 52 - LOCKED IN WITH MY RIVAL (I)
Grant Holloway stole my promotion six months ago and I’ve been imagining his destruction every day since.Not metaphorical destruction – detailed, vivid fantasies of dismantling his career the way he dismantled mine. Catching him in a lie during a board meeting. Finding the email where he cc’d himself on my strategy deck and presented it as his own. Watching his smug face collapse when security escorts him out with a cardboard box and everyone in the department watches and nobody says goodbye.That’s the fantasy I’m comfortable with. The other fantasy – the one where his hands are in my hair with his body is pinning mine to a surface and I’m cumming so hard I forget why I hate him – that one I bury. Deep. Under six months of professional rage, three glasses of wine on weeknights, and the fury of watching a mediocre man succeed on work that came from my brain.He’s everything I’m not. Loud where I’m strategic. Aggressive where I’m precise. He talks over people in meetings – over me spe
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