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PAKHAN'S PLAYTHING
Last Updated:
2026-01-01 04:07:38
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MY TABOO STEP DADDY BLACK-MOJO
(THIRD PERSON’S POV)Lights. Blinding white, luminous enough to burn through shadows and make the asphalt tremble. Crows erupt from trees as motorcades pull up to the abandoned warehouse. Cars worth more than most people’s homes. Security capable of ending small wars. Snipers. Drones overhead. Armed guards flanking every angle. But they dare not meet in Fijidale. Never. The Usurper—Mad-Bishop—would kill them all, and the devil himself if he dared interfere. They are safer here in Westdale, for now.The BLACK MOJO. The inner circle of The Covenant. Eight names that make presidents sweat and generals kneel. Myths swirl around them: demons who escaped from hell, politicians who sold their souls, occultists who rule from the shadows. The last one? Not entirely wrong. The armed men nod, face emotionless, as the members stroll to the entrance, barefoot, washing their hands in the bowl of a cockerel’s blood. A ritual practiced for decades. A necessary evil incorporated by Delinda hers
MY TABOO STEP DADDY SOMEONE'S WITH HIM
(THIRD PERSON’S POV)SPLASH!!!Dakor gasps awake, the chains rattling as he catches his breath. Sweat and grime coat his skin. Chains bind his wrists and legs like the animal he is. Dakor squints, barely making out his surroundings. He craves sleep again, because with awareness comes excruciating pain. His skin bloody from multiple stabs, fingers and toes nailless, with blood forming around the shed foreskin of his cock. No more piercings. Just raw, sore flesh. The bucket crashes into Dakor’s face again. Metal on bone. He tastes iron, feels a tooth loosen. Every breath is agony. Every moment reminds him of what they took from him. But when Godfather says, “You’re not my son,” something inside Dakor hardens. He spits blood at his father’s feet. “Then you can’t threaten me anymore, Old man.”It costs him. Godfather’s cane slashes his face, a permanent scar forming. Worth it, Dakor thinks through the haze of pain. If he’s not a son, he’s just a monster, and monsters don’t have any
MY TABOO STEP DADDY IT'S THEM
(DECLAN’S POV)The first stone hits my chest before I see it coming. “Satanist!” someone screams. Then another stone. “Kill him!” People surge against the police barricade like rabid dogs. Camera lights. Reporters. Parishioners wailing. They think we let the devil walk among them. They think we protected Mad-Bishop. They’re not entirely wrong. “Stay in fucking line!” The officers won’t hold them for long. SCREECH!!!Tries crash against concrete. Boots thumping like armies of war. “Police! Get back!” The SWAT team spills out of the armoured van, shields raised, batons in hand, helmets glinting under the streetlights. An officer is heaved over the barricade tape. He hits the ground hard. Within seconds, they’re on him: Fists, boots, pummeling him with brutal intensity. By the time his team drags him clear, he’s already dead. “That’s my cousin!” Bolton screams, body thrashing. “No!”“Kael is dead!” I drag him inside, slamming the door shut. “Get yourself together!” He collap
MY TABOO STEP DADDY MAD-BISHOP AGAIN.
(DECLAN'S POV)Selene always called me a walking red flag. Doctors said I absorbed my twin in the womb, consumed him before we were born. Maybe that’s why I’ve always had this hunger. The therapist who diagnosed my psychopathy will have a field day with this. I’m a snake who’s learned to slither through personas, and so far, a sheriff uniform has been masking me well. But I don’t have to hide here, with him: My lover and toy. “Please, A stór—arrgh— I’m sorry!" Harry wails, so pretty scary, I want to fuck his throat already. “Shhh.” Yanking his hair, I press a finger to his lips. “I’m not your treasure. I’m your king.” Harry’s body flushes. Barely breathing, blinking. With the way his pupils dilate, I’m almost scared he’ll pass out. His head tilts, enough to call a nod. “Y-Yes..”I pry his jaw open, revealing his wet, eager mouth. The sudden warmth of his hot, deep mouth around my cock sets me on fire. I’m gripped and swallowed to the hilt. I can feel something beating around my
MY TABOO STEP DADDY DAKOR.
(THIRD PERSON'S POV)THE ROMANOV’S EMPIREDakor doesn’t bother with the intercom. The gates recognize his car and swing open automatically. The green rustling with the hum of his car. Even FEAR knows its master. As he kills the engine, the children scatter like roaches from light. Balls abandoned mid-bounce. The see-saw still rocking from whoever fled—up, down, up, down—moving without riders. Even the playground knows to empty for Dakor. He steps out. The maidens and men dip their heads. Another step. And the environment empties itself. Puff. No living thing in sight. This occurrence both terrifies and satisfies Dakor simultaneously. He doesn’t have a heart, but that doesn’t make him a monster, right? He reminisces back to Father Jonas, dripping of his cum, his blood soaking his garment. Maybe he shouldn't have done it? Or maybe he should? But the urge was there, Jonas' stare, stirring his hubris. Jonas' age was the end of him. His ass too. His voice. Everything. Father Jonas w
MY TABOO STEP DADDY DESECRATION
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please, dear, lovely readers!!! This isn't for the faint of heart! I placed trigger warnings before starting this book, and I'm saying it again that this book gets darker as it goes on. I'll be careful, but please, I don't want to traumatize anyone. You mean the world to me. ---M*M Assault content ahead. ---Sacred place desecration. ---Violent murder. ---Sociopathic lead. Pass, skip, don't read! If you find these distressing. PLEASE!!!Dakor is a gerontophilic sociopath of the Romanov family. This scene ties to the main plot and world. You'll know him more as you explore deeper into the book. Don't drop nasty comments. Also, I'm not perfect in third-person POV. You might see head-hopping or imperfections. I'm a human with flaws and a learner too. If you're okay, then proceed. Thank you. DESECRATION.(THIRD PERSON’S POV)Wet, obscene sounds echo through the sanctuary, flesh meeting flesh, violation made audible. Unfiltered. Raw. The kind of debauchery that would
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