Coffee Break Erotica BDSM 1 | Oral Property

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Coffee Break Erotica BDSM 1: Oral Property

Coffee Break Erotica BDSM are ultrashort stories read in about 10 to 15 minutes. Perfect for a coffee break or a quickie. No frills. Right to the action. If you’re low on time and need satisfaction, then dive into Erotica BDSM!

In Oral Property, Alyssa Monroe is a bank manager at a large financial institution. Home invaders convince her to sign a property contract to aid them in a heist. What starts as a bank robbery plan turns into submissive oral play with her captors. But is the situation as it appears?

*Warning: These Erotica BDSM stories average around 1,300 words (10-15 minute reading time).

Hardcore Level:

Print Length: 13 pages

Type: Standalone Story (For Men & Women)

Price: $.99 $0.00

Coffee Break Erotica BDSM 1: Oral Property (Excerpt)

“Alyssa Monroe, if you want us to leave, sign it,” the slasher orders as he shoves paper and pen into my face. Three other home invaders wait nearby, adjusting their Halloween masks and leather gloves. Earlier this evening, they stormed into my dining area, grabbed me, and handcuffed me to the table.

The clown secures his mask and asks, “You’re the bank manager, right?”

“Yes.”

The werewolf interjects, “Tell us again. What bank?”

“Stanford Mutual,” I answer through clenched teeth.

“Good. That’s the one,” the slasher says. He unlocks the cuffs and drags me into the living room. His compatriots discuss my fate in whispers as we exit the area.

The devil says, “Sign it. If you don’t, we’ll expose your infidelities to your husband. Do you understand?”

“What infidelities?” I ask.

“Does it matter?” the devil responds.

“No, I guess not.”

The devil continues. “When the workday ends, you’ll open the bank. Stanford Mutual houses almost 26.5 million. We want it.”

“Put this on, now.” The slasher hands me a blindfold.

“No.”

“Put it on, Mrs. Monroe,” the werewolf demands as he rips my leotard’s top away from my shoulders. The black fabric falls to rest on my hips.

I wince and repeat, “No.”

“Don’t misbehave or I’ll tell your husband,” the clown says as he offers the blindfold again. “He’s somewhere in the house.”

I accept the binding and tie the blindfold.

The room darkens.

I wait, unable to see.

The men move me around.

Fear grips me.

My tethered hair slides across my exposed nipples, hardening them as my head whips around, searching for anything in the blackness. My hearing intensifies. I steady myself.

The slasher whispers into my ear, “Too tight?”

“I’m okay.” Despite the situation, his authority makes me feel safe. A sexual stirring inside me wants him. I can’t explain it. I need him to own me. I want no choices. Take me as your property.

He whispers into my ear again, “Will you sign?”

“Okay, fine,” I answer. “What will you do?”

“Nothing irreversible,” he answers.

To Be Continued

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