My most recent publication is called Muffin Submits in the House of Flies.
A nerdy university student keeps a blog full of sexy fairy tales and other wicked writings. When she plagiarizes her own blog for a school assignment, her English professor discovers her secrets--naughty fiction and a need for a man to Dominate her.
The professor contacts her, deceives her, and Dominates her by text until he sends her for a makeover to bring her out of her chrysalis. He arranges an invitation for her to a party at the Phi Lambda Upsilon fraternity. Dubbed the House of Flies, the house is well known on campus for wild sexual activity, and Professor Thompson knows he'll be able to watch her metamorphosis take place, from a nerdy wallflower to a sex goddess.
The story was inspired by the Deftones' song Change (In the House of Flies). There are no flies in the story. Just a frat house full of horny frat boys.
The following selection is one of Nadine's sexy fairy tales. If you like it, you can purchase the book on Amazon or on All Romance. Enjoy the tease!
The footman was a beast—muscular with a
long, angular face and huge hands. He ripped her dress over her head, tearing
the fabric in several spots. For a moment, Cinderella feared the fairy
godmother’s reaction to having her dress returned as tattered as the one she’d
replaced, but the lust she felt for the footman swept away her apprehension.
Standing in the garden in just her bodice and pantaloons, self-consciousness
edged in until the footman placed his hands at her bosom and ripped the garment
open, exposing her perfect breasts, her rose-colored nipples taut and ready.
He bit them, causing a stab of pain to shoot
through her chest to her pussy. His teeth left deep marks in her skin, darker
than the color of her areolae. The pain was sharp, invigorating, and it brought
a rush of moisture to her pantaloons. “Please, Sir. Take them off,” she said to
the footman. Why she called him “Sir” was not clear to her, but at that moment,
he knew he was in charge. She was but a servant, a slave, even to this humble
servant of the household. This time, the tearing sound excited her, and soon
she found herself completely nude except for the one glass slipper remaining on
her foot.
She was aware that she and the footman were
not alone, and it mattered not. Lust clouded her judgment, and even though she
knew she was surrounded by her friends—mice, the dog, even the evil cat—she
stood proudly in her nakedness, hoping all her friends watched her. The footman
grabbed her by the wrists and bound them tightly behind her back with the
pumpkin vine he found next to the coach. “Please bend at the waist,
Cinderella,” he commanded politely as he pushed her halfway into the coach,
with her torso draped across the velvet seat. As she did, his boot separated
her dainty feet, kicking her legs apart to allow his access.
“Please, Sir. Go gently,” she begged.
“Oh, Cinda,” the footman replied. “You know
that isn’t what you want.” He lined his cock against her dripping slit and he
forced himself inside. “You see? You like it rough.”
Her high-pitched, rhythmic squeaks affirmed
his declaration, and he pumped into her harder and faster as she bucked back
against him, meeting his sharp thrusts. “Fuck me,” she said breathlessly,
wanting him harder and faster until the pain turned to pleasure. “Spank my
bottom, Sir.”
“That is not your decision to make,
princess,” he said with a smile, but he complied, and with each crack of her
ass, she cried out, raising his arousal with her own. He fought to hold out, to
keep from spewing his seed inside of her until she’d reached her own climax,
but her yelps were such sweet music to his ears, he knew he couldn’t last.
“Come for me, Cinda,” he rasped into her
ear. “Come for me, princess. Come on my cock.” With that, he thrust his middle
finger into her tender, exposed asshole, surprising Cinderella coming right
then. She emitted a series of sharp sounds, similar to those a Bichon Frisé
makes when he sees a squirrel, as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her
cunt. Each spasm brought her higher off the ground until she heard the chime of
the clock tower, the one the fairy godmother had warned her about.
“Oh, my god,” she gasped. “The fairy
godmother. She’ll see. She’ll know!” Cinderella knew that her intended for the
evening was the prince, but he spent his evening eyeing up the king’s advisor,
a giant of a man with a snarl to his lip. Cinderella couldn’t blame him; the
advisor looked as though he could tear her in half. Just what she craved. She
needed a man who wouldn’t be afraid to tie her to the bed and shove his cock in
her—
“Ah-yuh,” said the footman. “It’s been a
good ride, princess.”
The change came at the fourth chime. The
footman’s huge cock slipped from her pussy and his finger disappeared, leaving
her feeling empty and cold. The coach dissolved into thin air, and Cinderella’s
torso dropped to the ground, leaving her breasts to plop on either side of a
pumpkin stem. The cold flesh of the pumpkin aroused her nipples even more than
the cool, night air, but her knees hitting the dirt jerked her to reality.
Behind her, something cold and wet brushed
her left buttock, and when she turned to look, she was startled to see an
enormous, lanky plough horse nosing—
And that's where Nadine gets interrupted. To read about Nadine and Professor Thompson (and to read Nadine's tale of Princess Jasmine sucking Jafar's cock while Iago the parrot coaches), please purchase the book on Amazon or on All Romance.
Thanks for reading!
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