His people accuse me of using black magic on him.Β They call me Satan.Β The only spell that I cast on our best and brightest star is the warm, wet wonder between my pretty, brown thighs.Β They do not understand that my body is his revered temple.Β Christian Beaumont loves nothing more than being on
The Butcher of Beaumont
β Scribed by Untamed, JanJan
- Book ID
- 110265032
- Publisher
- JanJan Untamed
- Year
- 2019
- Tongue
- English
- Weight
- 285 KB
- Category
- Fiction
No coin nor oath required. For personal study only.
β¦ Synopsis
His people accuse me of using black magic on him. They call me Satan. The only spell that I cast on our best and brightest star is the warm, wet wonder between my pretty, brown thighs. They do not understand that my body is his revered temple. Christian Beaumont loves nothing more than being on his knees praising and worshipping at my powerful feet. My sweat is his wine. His bread is the sacred sweetness of the chocolaty, pink heaven on which he begs to feast. If only they knew, that the only power I use on my precious husband is the power of love.
They mean to kill me while the Beaumont is laid low. He is hanging onto life with the white, half-moon slivers of his neatly trimmed fingernails, and they are stealing their opportunity to rid him of me one and for all. Foolish them. Little do they know, that sliver of hope is all my darling butcher needs to pull himself up out of the black nothingness of death's...
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