1. Thirty-One Days A Bitch: Chapter 1


    Date: 4/26/2015, Categories: Fiction, Anal, Authoritarian, BDSM, Wife, Young, Author: Liv Beornwulf, Rating: 71.4, Source: sexstories.com

    $450 million dollars might just be suffered forfeiture of in one single dead of the night. Aged, frail, but a greatly rich man—Ian Bitch grew to be a prevailing multi-millionaire all in credit to Preston Dick. A youthful, irresistible and atrocious man: monstrous at the same time and causing so plenty a people to be transformed into dominant millionaires on one requirement that they do anything to cheer him back; Preston wants old Ian’s only daughter, Daisy, to become his bitch and wife for not more than thirty-one days; in the course of which she must without lack of success become pregnant with him. Furthermore, he wants the child to be a lovely son. And if Daisy fails flatly in doing all of this for him, their bargain is closed without any sort of negotiations. Firstly, Ian will lose out all his big money and possessions; and then secondly, he will end up broke and dirt-poor like he helplessly was in the first place. ********************** I have at no time been a bitch bastard before as I am right now. Preston Dick wishes me to be his marital woman and loose woman at the same time. Can you even picture this? If I should save the life of my father’s hard cash and his chattels furthermore, I have to work out all this that he desires me to execute for him. It provokes and maddens me one way or the other, but legitimately speaking, I have no any other option or alternative here. I am the bitch and the wife all merged into one. I consistently will be. This is the house that ...
    Preston and I will be renting in. I stop and park my car carefully in the driveway, then inch my way out to inspect and check it out. It looks pretty modern and up-to-the-minute to some measure of extent. The windows, the burnished floor, the sleek and unbroken-flowing tiles, the made-of-wood doors and ceiling plank or ceiling board—they are all very newly and recently. Allie Bennett is the woman having to her name the gigantic, bulky, and mammoth house here which she is lending out on a lease. It has about eighteen rooms inside it, all finalized and sewn and tied up perfectedly. I can’t help myself but make glad eyes and gawp at them unbrokenly. Everything is faultless and unblemished here. I know that leasing this house will be a tiny puny thing to Preston. I hear gossip and talk that he might be a billionaire, a multi-billionaire God willing, or by any chance not so this filthy rich. One thing is straightforward even. Preston Dick is rich and made of bona fide, durable money. As for this latest residence of ours, we will be spending up to $10,000 every nigh month. Allie, our lesser, even adds that she might raise the rentals up any moment without any prompt warning, and Preston does not give a damn about it at all. “What do you think about your new home, Mrs. Dick?” She queries me doubtfully and dubiously. It is almost like she doesn’t place much confidence in me adoring and caring to stay in a place as logically attractive and pleasurable as this. I express to her flatly, ...
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