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Satan's Sisters Series - ebook

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Satan's Sisters Series by Paul Moore

Satan's Sisters - Co-ed Chrissy bets her room mate that she can get an "A' in Dr. Cornell's History class, a grade that she expects to earn on her back. But she doesn't expect  Dr. Cornell to be a cold widow with a tortured past and an appetite for girls. She doesn't realize that she is about to take a dark journey into a new life of sexual submission. Confined in Dr. Cornell's summer house, Chrissy becomes the prey of the Doctor's lesbian biker friends, even as she earns the Doctor's love and finds a new companion in her submission.

Biker Gurls - Corrie is being sexually blackmailed by her boss after she embezzled company funds.Every detail of their sordid affair is recorded in Corrie's diary, so she is panic stricken when it is stolen. But the biker girl who has taken it turns out to be an unlikely ally and a tutor in the art of sexual dominance. With the help of her new friends, Corrie begins a personal transformation and makes plans for revenge. 

Satan's Sisters 2 - When Sophie leaves town, Miko takes her wounded heart on the road and finds trouble. Caught in the act of burglary, Miko becomes the sexual slave of two insanely sadistic sisters. Escape is her only hope of survival- and revenge.

Meanwhile, Sophie has become the controlling force in the life of a Congresswoman, giving her more than she asked for, and everything she needs.

The compelling characters of the leather lesbian lovers Sophie and Miko are the common thread uniting these tales. interwoven with the people that they meet and the lives they change.

Includes: Female domination, female submission, lesbian sex, bondage, humiliation, whipping, gags, anal sex, wax play, and so much more!


It was about that time that she started getting way kinky. I had to sorta wonder if she picked up all the whips and chains stuff from Dr. Cornell, or if she just weirded out on her own. One night we were splitting something from her Daddy’s vineyard up in our room and she asked me if I had ever been tied up.
We had been lying side by side on the bed, but I edged away from her a little and said. “Why am I thinking that’s a leading question?”
She just giggled and handed me the wine bottle. “Wuss!”
Ever since I was a kid, you could get me to do absolutely anything on a dare. Heather knew it, the evil bitch. “I know how this works,” I mocked. “You tie me up and leave me here till I pee my pants while you go out for pizza.”
“I’ll stay right here with you,” she raised her hand like to say “I swear” and put on that wide-eyed innocent look that always made me laugh. I didn’t laugh this time, because I suddenly realized that the idea was turning me on. I cleared my throat. “Aren’t we supposed to use old neck ties, or something?”
She sprang off the bed as though my comment had been the starting pistol she was waiting for. She took a hank of cotton clothesline out of her dresser drawer and held it up with a grin. It was still shrink-wrapped. I felt goose bumps on my arms. She had planned this whole scene. It wasn’t just some wild impulse thing. I took a big gulp of wine. “What’s this? Girl scouts are always prepared?”
“That’s right,” she giggled. “I plan to get my merit badge in knot tying.”
I sighed, like the whole thing was a major drag and I was just going along because I was her best chum and all that. “So what do you want me to do?”
“Stand up.” There was a new note in her voice, still playful, but more intent, a trifle husky, commanding.
It was the commanding tone I responded too, snapping to attention like the Captain of the Guard or something, arching my back until my tits stuck out and folding my chin into my collarbone.
“Wipe that smirk off of your face.” The warning in her voice sounded sincere. I composed my face and relaxed enough to make my pose less comic.
She just looked at me for a long time, like she was trying to make up her mind about my attitude, or waiting for me to smart off again so that she could put me in line. The longer we stood there, the more turned on I was getting. That was a little freaky, I blamed the wine. It couldn’t be because I was some kind of closet case or something.
“Take off your clothes.”
I didn’t react right away. For a minute, I wasn’t sure that I had heard her correctly. All I had to do was tell her to fuck off and flop my ass back on the bed and she could either put the rope away and join me or stand there looking like a dweeb. Instead, I unbuttoned my blouse and peeled it off. I didn’t look at her. My face was hot.
We were roommates. We had showered together and borrowed each other’s muff covers. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it a zillion times. This was different though, not like doing a strip tease for some guy, more like being searched for drugs by the border patrol or something. If Heather whipped out a pair of rubber gloves, I was ready to tell her to go hump a hydrant.
She just kept watching, and I kept stripping, and the room got maximum quiet. When I was down to my sopping panties I threw her my best pleading puppy look. “All of it?”
“Starkers,” she said. I could see that she was already getting into a total dominant head space, all bitchy and stern.
I peeled them down and kicked them over into the corner with the rest of my clothes. Then I stood there with my fists at my sides while she ripped the shrink wrap off the clothesline.
“This is so rude!” I said. My voice had gone all whispery and like solemn.
“Shut up!” She was whispering, too.
I closed my eyes when I felt her hot breath on the back of my neck, and I didn’t struggle when she tied my hands behind me. She used plenty of wraps around each wrist, and tied the knot where I could never reach it. “You’ve been practicing this, haven’t you?” I teased.
She smacked my ass hard. I jumped and squealed. “Hey!”
That didn’t faze her. She kept a hold on the rope that dangled from my wrists and reeled me back in.
“Watch your mouth!” she warned, “or I’ll have to gag you.”
She walked around me and got right in my face. I tried to stare her down, but the scary light in her eyes made me remember that she still had a bug up her butt. The switchblade didn’t do a thing for my peace of mind either.
It came out of her hip pocket and snicked open in front of my nose. I had seen it before. It was a love offering from some gearhead she used to go out with. She played with it all the time, opening and closing it over and over again while she studied, the way some people click pens. Still, under the circumstances, it seemed pretty shivery and menacing.
“Get real, Heather,” I groaned. “You aren’t going there.” Truth—I wasn’t so sure. She looked so radical I wouldn’t have been surprised by anything she did. There’s a love- hate thing between roommates, like surrogate siblings or something. She could kill me or kiss me. The weird part was, the uncertainty was giving me pussy quakes. Go figure.
She just grinned and tossed the knife on the bed. Then she stroked the side of my face with her fingertips. “You trust me, don’t you?”
I nodded, but I wasn’t all enthused about it. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice—like she was really saying: “You aren’t really that much of a fucking feeb, are you?”
Still, when she ran her thumb over my lips, I ignored my first impulse, which involved lots of teeth and blood, and screaming. I opened my mouth to suck on it instead.
It was a set-up. I should have known her evil ways by then. She hooked my lower jaw open and stuffed in a pair of panty hose that I never saw coming. Before I could spit it out, she had the panty part past my tongue and the legs wrapped around my neck in a knot.
“That should take care of that smart lip,” she said.
It didn’t entirely, of course. Even with a mouth full of panties, I could still make a lot of noise, but my words came out all distorted. Heather just grinned and shrugged like she didn’t get what I was trying to tell her, although “UCK OOO” should have been pretty easy to understand.
“I know what you want to ask me,” she said. “Yes, those panty hose did come out of my laundry basket.”
She got tired of my noise after awhile and ignored me while she picked up the switchblade and used it to cut off another length of rope. This one went around my waist.
“Spread your legs.”
When I jammed my knees together, she smacked my thighs with her fingertips. “I said spread ‘em!”
Glaring at her the whole time to let her know how much I was not enjoying this, I opened my legs and let her snake the end of the rope up and through. She tied a big knot in it and positioned it right over my clit before she pulled tight and tied it off to my waist.
Up from the waist, over the shoulders, and back down, she looped that rope like she had been doing human macramé for years. She did some kind of cross your heart bra thing with my tits, wrapping them up separately in tourniquets of rope so that they stuck out like grapefruits.
The elbows were next, cinched together until they almost touched. I was forced to puff out my chest like some jailbait twit showing off her first training bra.
She tied my ankles together and stood back to admire her work. I looked down to confirm my suspicion that the knot over my clit was sopping. This was a whole new thing going on with me. Satisfied with her creation, she put one finger against my chest and tipped me over onto the bed.
I thought that maybe she was all done with me now. She would leave me here and go study or call up one of her nerdy acolytes to entertain him with a full report. Phone sex was real big with those losers, and she would have him searching around for his dick in no time. “Guess what she’s wearing,” she would whisper hoarsely. Then she would use that evil chuckle that always got them hard. “Not even close. All she has on is a hundred feet of rope. Yes—way!”
That didn’t happen. Instead she finished making me uncomfortable and helpless to the max with the old classic hog-tie, bending back my legs until my fingertips touched my heels and my spine was a bow.
It was a very long night. Leaving me alone turned out to be the last thing on her mind. Now that I couldn’t defend myself, she tried out every radical thing she could think of. First it was a feather. She knew how ticklish I was. Just the sight of the damn thing had me screaming most dire threats into the pantyhose. She ignored all that, and trailed the feather over my ribs and belly until I was literally crying.
You probably think that a dorm room is hardly the dungeon of the inquisition, and there isn’t much she could do to hurt me when she had no plans to do like actual harm. All I can say is, try squirming around on the bed while somebody blindfolds you and runs ice cubes over your nipples.
The switchblade got into the act, too. By the time I felt the point scratching circles around my butt cheeks, I was convinced that Heather had finally gone homicidal and they would find me in a dumpster tomorrow with her initials carved in my ass.
So when she took out the gag, I was only too happy to tell her anything she wanted to hear.
“Who’s the most awesome goddess?” she prompted.
“Heather!” I sobbed.
“Who’s a grody cum sucking slut?”
“I am!”
“Say it!”
“I’m a grody cum sucking slut!”

Artist Credit

Cover Art © Andrey Armyagov - Shutterstock

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