Illicit Cravings
If the idea of the men who should have protected you instead holding you down and taking what they want still makes you flinch, close this now. Find something softer. But if your body already answers—if a stepfather’s hand on your throat, an uncle’s cock splitting you open, a stepbrother’s weight pinning you makes you wet—then stay.
The first stories are about girls. Innocent. Mouthy. Curious. Already wet and pretending they aren’t. Stepfathers who stop pretending when the house goes quiet. Uncles who watched too long. Stepbrothers who lock the door and force every inch while she stays silent. Fathers-in-law. Dad’s friends. Men who raised them, who should have looked away, who instead tell them to be good.
Rough throats. Tight holes forced open. Creampies dripping while someone sleeps nearby. “Daddy’s going to fill you.” “Keep quiet or I’ll do it again.” “This pussy was always going to be mine.” Sneaking. Caught. Used anyway. Blackmail. Training. Breeding talk that ignores how young or scared she sounds.
That is the beginning.
Then the boys on their knees for the same men—stepbrothers, uncles, the stepfather who claims his stepson’s mouth and ass. Then the women: stepmothers pinning daughters, aunts with a strap, sisters who stop pretending. Gay. Lesbian. Straight. Same house. Same risk. Same rule: those who should have kept you safe take you apart.
If being owned by family—the man who raised you, the brother who shared your childhood, the woman who should have been off-limits—makes your cunt clench or cock throb, you already know where you belong.
They are not going to ask. They are already inside.
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Chapter: 5 — PRIVATE TUTORING (IV)EMMAI slipped into the university library after hours with my heart beating so fast it hurt. The big room was mostly dark. Only a few security lights glowed soft and yellow between the tall shelves. The air smelled like old paper and dust. My simple dress brushed against my bare skin underneath. I had worn nothing again, just like he wanted.Marcus waited near the back, between two long rows of forgotten books. He looked calm, but his eyes were dark when he saw me.“You came,” he said quietly.“I said I would,” I whispered back.He took my hand and led me deeper between the shelves until we reached a heavy wooden study table. Books were stacked on one end. He turned me around so I faced the table and gently pushed me forward until my chest rested on the cool wood. My bottom stuck out toward him. The dress rode up on its own.“Stay still,” he said, voice low. “Tonight I’m taking something new.”My stomach flipped with fear and want mixed together. I knew what he meant. He had promised
Last Updated: 2026-09-03
Chapter: 4 — PRIVATE TUTORING (IV)EMMAI stood outside his apartment door with my pulse hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. The hallway was quiet. My simple dress felt thin against my skin. Under it I wore nothing again. I raised my hand and knocked.The door opened. Marcus stood there in a dark shirt, sleeves rolled up. His eyes moved over me once, slow and knowing.“Come in,” he said.I stepped inside. The apartment smelled like him, clean and warm. He closed the door and locked it. Then he took my hand and led me down a short hall into his bedroom. The bed was big and neat, dark sheets, sturdy posts at the corners.“Take the dress off,” he said.My fingers shook as I pulled it over my head and let it fall to the floor. I stood naked in front of him. Cool air touched my bare skin. He looked at me for a long moment, then pointed to the bed.“Lie down. Arms up.”I climbed onto the soft mattress and stretched my arms toward the posts. Soft black restraints waited there. He moved to one side and wrapped the
Last Updated: 2026-09-03
Chapter: 3 — PRIVATE TUTORING (III)EMMAI stood outside the big lecture hall on the third floor with my heart racing so hard it hurt. The hallway was empty and quiet. The clock on the wall said it was a little past four. My dress was simple again, easy to lift, just like he told me. Under it I still wore nothing. I pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.Rows and rows of empty desks stared back at me like quiet watchers. The high walls made even my soft footsteps sound loud. The podium stood at the front, dark wood, tall enough that everyone could see whoever stood there. Marcus was already waiting. He leaned against the side of it, arms crossed, watching me walk down the long aisle.“You came,” he said. His voice carried easily in the big empty space.“I said I would,” I answered. My voice sounded small.He pushed off the podium and walked toward me. When he reached me he didn’t kiss me right away. He just looked at my face, then down at my dress.“Show me,” he said.My hands shook as I lifted the hem. Cool air
Last Updated: 2026-09-03
Chapter: 2 — PRIVATE TUTORING (II)EMMAI walked down the hallway the next afternoon with my heart beating fast in my chest. My simple dress felt soft against my skin, but under it I wore nothing at all. No bra. No panties. Just bare skin and the secret that made me wet already. Every step made the dress brush against my thighs and my bottom. I kept thinking about yesterday, about how he bent me over his desk and filled me so hard. My face felt hot just remembering.I stopped outside his office door. My hand shook a little when I knocked.“Come in.”His deep voice made my stomach twist. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Marcus sat behind his big desk, looking at papers. He looked up. His eyes moved over my dress, slow and careful, like he could already tell what I was not wearing.“Close it,” he said.I shut the door. He stood up, walked over, and locked it with a soft click. The sound made my breath catch. He turned back to me and looked me up and down again.“Turn around,” he said.I turned slowly. The dress
Last Updated: 2026-09-03
Chapter: 1 — PRIVATE TUTORING (I)EMMAI stood outside Professor Hale’s office with my failed paper in my hand. My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat. I had worked on that thesis for weeks. Victorian literature. All those long books about strict people and hidden feelings. And he gave me an F. A big red F right on the top.I raised my hand and knocked. The sound was soft but it felt loud in the quiet hallway.“Come in,” his voice said from inside. Deep and cold.I pushed the door open and stepped in. It made a soft click that made my heart jump as it closed behind me. Professor Hale sat at his big wooden desk. Stacks of papers everywhere. Books lined the shelves. The room smelled like old paper and his cologne, something dark and sharp.He looked up. His eyes moved over me slowly. Over my tight sweater that showed the shape of my breasts. Over my short skirt that stopped high on my thighs. I had picked these clothes on purpose. I wanted him to look. I needed him to look.“My paper,” I said. My voic
Last Updated: 2026-09-03
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