Sinful Desires: Spicy Short Stories

Gabriella “I want to stretch you out until you can’t close your legs, Gabriella. I want to watch my brothers fill your mouth and your åss while I bury myself so deep in your püssy you forget your own name. We’re going to paint you in our cûm, record every desperate sob you make for us, and then we’re going to make Derek watch his ‘perfect, repressed wife’ transform into our personal, filthy little pet. You’re going to be so used, so thoroughly ruined by the three of us, that you’ll never even remember what his pathetic touch felt like.” I read the text again, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird that wanted its füçking freedom. My breath hitched, a sharp, jagged sound in the silent bedroom. Between my legs, a traitorous, heavy heat pooled, soaking into the silk of my panties and I rubbed my thighs together, in an effort to find friction. My cheeks burned so bright I could feel the heat radiating off them. They couldn't be serious. These were my husband’s younger brothers. The triplets, bachelors whom every girl in the entire city wanted to fūçk... even if it was for a night. Brent, Arden and Elden. They weren’t just offering a shoulder to cry on. They were offering to ruin my dignity, my marriage and my restraint. They wanted to füçk me to spite the man who had spent the last two years breaking me. How did I get here? It isn’t a pretty story. I stood in the hallway of our penthouse, the air smelling of Derek’s expensive cologne and a cloying, floral perfume that didn't belong to me. I didn’t even have to open the door to know that the wet, rhythmic slapping of skin and the high-pitched moans was Derek having s*x with someone who wasn't me. I pushed the door open anyway. I don’t know why. Maybe I wanted the pain to finally be enough to make me leave, or maybe I was just giving him the benefit of the doubt. Derek didn't jump or pull the sheets up or scramble for an excuse. He just slowed his pace, looking over his shoulder at me with a cold, bored expression while the blonde who was beneath him on the bed let out a startled gasp. "You're home early," Derek said, his voice as flat as if he were discussing the weather. He was saying all these to me with a straight face, while his dîck was still thrusting in and out of the blonde's pûssy. "Derek... I… Why…?" I whispered, my voice trembling. I felt small. I felt so füçking stupid. I was wearing an oversized sweater and baggy trousers—the only things he allowed me to wear outside—and I felt utterly invisible. "Don't start with the waterworks, Gabriella. It's quite pathetic if you ask me," he said, finally dismounting and reaching for a towel. The woman on the bed watched me with a smirk that made me want to vanish. She wasn't trying to hide herself anymore, moaning at every chance she got. "Sit down. We need to talk." I sank into the chair by the vanity, the one where I used to sit and apply the makeup he eventually threw away. "I'm bored, Gabby," he said, lighting a cigarette. "You're a beautiful woman, no doubt about that, but you're frigid. So this is how it's going to be from now on... We're going to have an open marriage. I do what I want, and you stay here, keep my house clean and keep your mouth shut. If you say no, I’ll divorce you. You have no money, no career, and your family hasn't spoken to you in a year because you were too 'busy' for them. You have nowhere else to go." "You isolated me!" I found a spark of rage, but it quickly died when he stepped toward me, his eyes darkening. "I protected you," he hissed, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. "You should be grateful that anyone still wants to look at your miserable face. You're nothing without me. Now, get out. I’m not finished with her yet." I stumbled out of the room, the sound of his laughter following me down the hall. That night, the walls of the guest room felt like they were closing in. I was trapped. But it wasn't always like this. Derek and I had met in college. Back then, I was the hottest thing on campus and had no shortage of attention. With a pretty face, an hour-glass figure, double D’s and a firm ass, every man was always trying to get in my pants, and so I had to be careful. At least I thought I was. Derek's approach was sincere, nerdy and sweet in a cringe kind of way that instantly got me interested. The men who usually approached me were always showing off one way or the other, making themselves out to be the prize, but Derek was different. He wasn't actually my type, as I was into more mysterious and brooding guys, but because I was curious about him, I agreed to go on the first date, and he completely swept me off my feet. We dated for only a year before he popped the question and I was so deeply in love that I accepted. If only I had thought about it more, perhaps I could have seen through the lies. How it was never about love; just possession and ownership. Shortly after we tied the knot, Derek changed and became controlling. He refused to let me work, claiming it would emasculate him. He was from a very wealthy family so I didn't argue. But then he took it further and banned my family from coming to visit. One time, he saw me talking to a male neighbor and he started a huge fight which ended with him throwing away all my makeup and my flattering clothes. He said my body was for his eyes only and as long as I was his wife, he wouldn't let me whøre myself out by dressing sexy for other men. It was bizarre but I tried to be understanding because the good Lord knows that I loved that man. I did everything I possibly could to be a good wife, but it was apparently never enough for him. Two years into this mess and I'm stuck asking myself where everything went wrong. Somewhere along the line, the love I harbored for my husband had gradually twisted into fear. I dreaded annoying him but nothing I did was ever right in his eyes anymore. Now I was completely alone because Derek had succeeded in forcing me to cut ties with everyone else dear to me. He'd taken my credit cards and convinced me that my worth was tied to his approval. I was a prisoner in a golden cage and the lock had just been double-turned. I grabbed my phone, my eyes blurred with tears. I needed to talk to someone, anyone. I opened my messages and hit the record button for a voice note, intending to send it to my old college friend, Maya. We hadn't spoken for a while but I knew that if anyone would come to me in my time of need, it would be her. "Maya... I can't do this anymore," I sobbed into the microphone, my voice a broken mess of hiccups and whispers. "He's doing it right in front of me now. I mean I suspected that he was cheating before, but he didn't bring them home and he always came back to me. I thought he'd change. I thought he'd be better. But no. Everything is just going to shït. He wants an open marriage. He told me I'm nothing and I'm so scared, and I’m so lonely. I want to scream. I want to hurt him the way he hurts me. I want to feel... I want to feel something other than this emptiness. I feel like a ghost in my own body. I just want someone to take me and make me forget he ever existed." I hit send without looking. The gray bubble appeared. But it wasn't Maya’s name at the top of the screen. It was Brent. Brent, the quietest of the triplets. The one with the dark, intense eyes and the sexy birthmark just under his bottom lip. I had always felt his gaze on me at family dinners, heavy and unblinking, but he rarely spoke more than a few words. "Oh god, no. What have I done?" I gasped, my thumb hovering frantically over the screen. I tried to unsend it, my fingers shaking so hard I accidentally dropped the phone. Fuck! My life couldn't get any worse from here on out.