Hidden Treasures of Vengeance
Damien lounged on the balcony of his sleek Miami high-rise, the salty ocean breeze whipping through his dark tousled hair. Below, the neon lights of South Beach pulsed like a heartbeat. He’d left the rainy grind of Seattle behind, his tech startup fortune tucked away in hidden crypto wallets no court could touch. His ex, Riley, thought she knew his worth. She didn’t. Not the hidden millions, nor the depths of his rage-fueled lust.
Glass of bourbon in hand—smooth, smoky burn sliding down his throat—he scrolled his phone. Not work emails. The app he’d coded himself, pulling feeds from the hidden nanny cams in their old marital loft. He’d suspected Riley’s late “office hours” at the marketing firm. Now, proof flickered on screen, raw and unfiltered.
Jump to Chapter 2 | Jump to Chapter 3 | Jump to Chapter 4 | Jump to Chapter 5 | Jump to Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Shadows in the Feed 🔥
The video grainy at first, then sharpening into nightmare fuel. Riley, her lithe body—pert tits bouncing, fiery red hair splayed—bent over her boss Victor’s desk. Papers scattered like confetti from hell. Victor, that smug prick with his gym-rat build and pencil dick, gripped her hips, slamming in with wet slaps echoing off the office walls.
“Fuck me harder, you worthless exec drone,” Riley gasped, voice husky, nails digging into oak. The scent of her arousal probably thick in that stale boardroom air, sweat and cheap cologne mixing. Damien’s cock twitched against his thigh, betraying him. Hate and horniness tangled like vines.
He zoomed in. Victor’s balls slapping her trimmed bush, her juices glistening on his shaft. She arched, moaning like a bitch in heat. “Deeper, Vic! Stretch my married cunt!” No shame. Damien’s hand slipped into his shorts, stroking slow at first. The bourbon warmed his gut; the screen burned his eyes.
Flashback hit hard. Their college days at Stanford, Riley in his dorm, legs wrapped around him post-exam. She’d ride him reverse cowgirl, ass cheeks rippling under his palms, pussy clenching like velvet vice. “You’re my everything, babe,” she’d whisper. Liar. Now, this.
Video looped. Victor flipped her, missionary brutal. Riley’s heels dug into his back, ankles locked. “Cum inside me—fill me up!” He did, grunting like a pig, seed spilling out as he pulled free. She scooped it, licked fingers clean, eyes rolling back in slutty bliss. Damien pumped faster, veins bulging, pre-cum slicking his fist. Hate-jerk. Explosive ropes hit his abs, salty tang in the air. He panted, screen frozen on her cum-smeared thighs.
Not enough. More feeds. Week two: Riley on knees, throat bulging around Victor’s cock. Gagging, tears streaking mascara. “Gluck-gluck,” the mic caught, drool pooling on carpet. She’d deepthroat like a pro, nose buried in pubes, humming vibrations. Victor face-fucked, balls smacking chin. “Swallow it all, whore wife.”
Damien edged now, balls aching. Imagined it was him, skull-fucking Riley till she choked apologies. But no. Revenge first. He archived the files, encrypted. Hidden servers in Estonia. His fortune? Already rerouted. Offshore trusts, NFTs disguised as art. Riley’s lawyer would chew cardboard.
Night deepened. Waves crashed below. Damien showered, hot water scalding hidden bruises of betrayal. Towel drop. Mirror reflection: ripped chest from gym fury, cock semi-hard still. He grinned feral. Time to play god.
Emails drafted anonymously. To Victor’s wife, Riley’s firm board, her uppity parents. Attachments: unedited hours. “Enjoy the show.” Send. Bourbon empty. Cock full again.
Chapter 2: Flames of Fallout 💋
Riley’s world crumbled mid-morning coffee. HR email: suspended pending investigation. Victor’s office door bashed in by security. Her phone buzzed apocalypse—Mom’s missed calls, sister’s texts: “WTF slut?” Videos viral on firm Slack, leaked to local news rags.
She gripped the sink, retching bile. Taste sour, metallic. Mirror showed smeared lipstick from last night’s denial. Victor’s cum still faint on her tongue? No. Damien knew. Had to. But how?
Across continents, Damien jetted to Miami permanent. Company condo: marble floors cool under bare feet, infinity pool shimmering. He swiped Tinder, bio: “Vengeful king seeking thrones to conquer.”
Match: Latina firecracker, Isabella. Curves lethal, ass like forbidden fruit. Met at beach bar, salt-rimmed margaritas sharp on lips. Her laugh husky, hand grazing his bulge under table. “You look like trouble, papi.”
Back to condo. Door slammed. Isabella shoved him to couch, straddling. Bikini top yanked, bronze tits spilling—dark nipples hard as bullets. She ground wet thong on his zipper. “Feel that? My pussy’s dripping for strangers.”
Damien ripped fabric. Pussy lips swollen, clit peeking. He dove tongue-first, lapping nectar tangy-sweet. Isabella bucked, fingers tangled his hair. “Sí, eat it! Deeper, cabrón!” Hairs tickled nose, her scent musky paradise.
He flipped her doggy, balcony doors open—ocean roar drowning moans. Cockhead nudged her slit. One thrust, balls-deep. Tight, rippling walls milked him. “Fuck, you’re destroying Victor’s sloppy seconds memory,” he growled. Didn’t explain. Just pounded, hips slapping ass meat thunderous.
Isabella screamed Spanish filth. “¡Cógeme más duro! Fill my puta hole!” He did. Fingers invaded ass, double-stuffed. She squirted, gush soaking thighs, puddle on tile. Damien roared, pumping cream deep. Pulled out, watched it ooze pink folds.
Afterglow cig on balcony. Isabella traced his tattoos. “Hidden depths, huh? That rage in your eyes.”
“Hidden everything,” Damien murmured, phone pinging. News alert: Riley evicted from loft. Mortgage default. His second lien sealed it. Laugh bubbled dark.
Isabella gone by dawn. Damien’s phone: anonymous tip confirmed. Victor’s wife filed assault charges after seeing vids. Riley’s dad disowned via text: “Harlot.”
Chapter 3: Depths of Debauchery
Riley pounded Seattle sidewalks, heels clicking frantic. Shelter? No, pride stung. Turned to sister Lena—blonde mirror, yoga-toned. “Please, just a couch.” Lena scrolled phone, face ashen. “Saw the tapes, bro. You choking on dick during lunch? Dad puked.”
“It was a mistake!” Riley sobbed. Lena slammed door. Streets smelled piss and regret.
Miami sun baked Damien’s skin golden. He hit the yacht club, eyes on prey. Twins: blonde bombshells, Kendra and Kylie. Sorority sluts vacationing. Free drinks flowed—citrus sharp, ice clinking.
“Buy us shots, mystery man?” Kendra purred, thigh pressing.
Yacht rented hour later. Teak deck hot underfoot. Sisters stripped synchronized, perky racks identical, shaved muffs gleaming. Damien reclined nude, cock flagpole. “Worship it.”
Kendra sucked head, swirling tongue velvet. Kylie licked shaft, balls slurped wet pops. Spit-roast oral, moans humming his meat. Salty pre-cum mixed tequila breath.
“Tag team this dick,” he commanded. Kendra mounted, cowgirl fierce—tits jiggling hypnotic. Pussy gripped like fist. Kylie sat face, grinding clit on tongue. Musky flood drowned him. Sisters kissed sloppy, 💋 tongues dueling over his chest.
Switch. Kylie ass-up, Damien reamed anal—no lube but spit. Tight ring burned sweet. “Rip my shithole!” she begged. Kendra fisted her own cunt, juices spraying. Damien alternated holes, twins howling chorus. Final plunge: Kylie throat, Kendra pussy. Twin creampies—no, he pulled, facial blizzard on their faces. They snowballed, swallowing globs giggling.
Post-fuck haze. Phone buzzed. Riley’s LinkedIn: “Seeking opportunities.” Likes: zero. He smirked. Hidden accounts swelled 20% today. Markets loved his trades.
Night blurred beach rave. Bodies grinding sand-sweat slick. Damien claimed a ebony goddess, dreads flying as he pile-drove missionary under palms. Her wails feral, nails raking back bloody trails. Cum dump inside, walking sticky.
Chapter 4: Empire of Ecstasy 🔥
Weeks blurred. Damien’s penthouse a fuck den. Hidden compartments stocked toys: cuffs, plugs, whips. Isabella returned, collared sub. “Train me, master.”
Dungeon scene. Isabella chained spread-eagle. Damien flogged tits red welts, nipples clamped biting. “Beg for cock, bitch.”
“Please, stuff my holes!” Tears streamed, pussy drooling ropes. He teased vibrator on clit, edging endless. Then monster dildo ass, his dick cunt double-fill. Stretch obscene, walls thin barrier pulsing.
“Feel that? Two cocks owning you.” She squirted arcs, soaking leather bench. He unchained, bent her over balcony rail—public risk. Thrusts public, voyeurs cheering from beach. Cum blast up ass, farting bubbles as he plugged it. “Keep my seed hidden inside.”
Riley’s spiral deepened. Waitressing dive bar, smell grease and vomit. Patrons groped, tipped pity. Victor in jail, wife vengeful. Her parents’ church expelled her—”Adulteress filth.”
Damien learned via drone news. Laughed mid-thrust with new fling, a pierced goth teen. Her septum ring tugged as he face-fucked. “Gag on revenge dick.” She did, puking spit, loving it.
Business boomed. Hidden investments: AI porn bots generating bank. He funded a Miami sex club, VIP lifetime. Orgy nights his throne.
One bash: ten women rotating. DP trains, ass-to-mouth chains. Air thick pussy funk, cum stench. He directed, cock never soft—Viagra edge? No, pure hate-lust fuel.
A busty MILF rode reverse, ass cheeks clapping. “Breed me!” He flooded womb, overflow river. Next, petite Asian throatpie. Swallowed audible gulp.
Chapter 5: Tides of Triumph
Riley hit rock bottom. Homeless shelter cot itched skin raw. Mirrorless, but felt hollow cheeks, matted hair. Dreams haunted: Damien’s cock, Victor’s shame. Masturbated furious fists, no release. Just ache.
She texted him once. Blocked. His life? Paradise.
Damien’s condo done: oceanfront mansion disguised condo. Furniture arrived—plush leather, sex swing installed hidden in wall panel.
Housewarming: orgy elite. Isabella, twins, goth, MILF, more. Poolside slick bodies. He claimed center: quadruple pen? No, focused intensity.
Isabella bound swing, legs splayed. He fisted slow—arm elbow-deep, her guts churning visible. “Hidden depths of your whore body.” She came convulsive, piss spraying fountain.
Twins tag anal: Damien one, strap-on other. Daisy-chain daisy-fresh filth. Kylie ate ass cum from Kendra, rimjob sloppy.
Goth pierced labia clamped weights, swinging pendulum as Damien hammered. Bells jingled pain-pleasure. “Bleed for me.” Pinpricks blood mixed cream.
MILF nursed him titty-fuck, milk lactating sweet on tongue. He suckled hard, biting areola purple.
Climax crescendo. All mouths on cock, twenty tongues swirling frenzy. Load volcanic, painting faces glazed donuts. They licked clean, snowball orgy kiss 💋.
Dawn broke. Bodies strewn exhausted bliss. Damien sipped coffee, view endless blue. Phone final ping: Riley arrested—soliciting desperation. Victor suicide attempt.
No pity. Hidden resentments purged in cum. Fortune tripled. Women queued. Life reigned.
Chapter 6: Eternal Indulgence
Months on, Damien’s legend grew. Sex club his kingdom, hidden backrooms extreme delights. Tonight’s menu: newbie recruit, virgin facade but anal whore.
Sasha, Russian import. Ice-blue eyes, porcelain skin. “Break me.”
Private suite velvet walls muffling screams. Damien oiled her lithe form, fingers probing rosebud. Plugs progressed baseball-sized, gut bulging. “Take it all.”
She grunted Russian curses, sweat beading crystal. Full: arm fisting cunt simultaneous. Double-fist apocalypse, biopsies of bliss. Sasha quaked seizure-orgasm, fluids geyser.
Unfisted, he impaled throat, skull-fuck vomit-inducing. Puke lubed cock for ass-plunge. No mercy. Prolapse peek, rosebud blooming. “Push it out, freak.” He sucked own cum-flecked prolapse, snowballed mouth-feed.
Others joined—Isabella caning Sasha’s tits lattice welts. Twins double-vag him, cunts cameltoe grind. Goth electro-play, zaps on clit fireworks.
Airy cum haze, pheromones choking. Damien peak: glory wall anonymous holes. Fucked unseen orifices till collapse.
Riley who? Faded ghost. Damien’s empire solid. Hidden treasures—wealth, lust—forever his. Ocean whispered approval. He came again, alone now, fist sticky tribute to triumph.
The end? Just beginning. More holes, more fortunes, endless hidden pleasures waiting. 🔥
