Arthur Morgan Full Body Novels & Stories

I heard myself moan, wishing that I were a stronger man who could resist the temptation in front of me, and the one that continued to grind against my heaving cock. “Do you like my body?” Morgan asked, peering down at me, her sinfully beautiful face highlighted by a bright, bold smile. She stepped closer to where I sat, and continued to knead her tits between her fingers, squeezing and pulling at her hard, round nipples. Her hands ran down to the flat of her stomach, before slipping into the thin elastic waistband of her tiny skirt. “oooh,” she moaned quietly, as her hand slipped into her thin panties.

Closing her eyes, she savored her pleasurable moment in the water. After several minutes, Morgana got out of the bathtub. She needed to know who that Arab was. Determined, she dried her entire body, put on the robe, and went to confront him, despite being very weakened.

The doors swung open again, heavier this time, and the guards dragged a figure through the hall—one she knew all too well. Morgan. His clothes were torn, fur matted where his partial shift had been forced against him, and his wrists were bound with the same enchanted ropes that bit into her own skin. His golden eyes, however, still burned with defiance, unbowed despite the chains and bruises. Argos threw back his head and laughed, a sound that made the walls shudder. “Well, well, well… look at this! My own half-brother, finally brought before me. And awake, too! What luck!”

"A being of pure dark magic. No body. No weaknesses. Just power and hunger and the need to consume everything." Morgana's body exploded into black smoke. And when it reformed, it wasn't human anymore. It was massive—maybe twenty feet tall. Made entirely of shadows and darkness and those horrible black eyes. "Oh fuck," Dante breathed. "Yeah," I agreed. "That about sums it up." The Void that used to be Morgana opened its mouth and roared, the sound so loud it shook the ground. Then it attacked.

His face screams everything. Morgan's frightful and tearful eyes set on her the moment she arrives. Both his body and eyes jerk violently with her presence. Despite that, he attempts to move to fight with her, but he can't even drag his body to sit. His body is heavy as if tons of stones are piled up on top of him, it is exhausted, and intense soreness is everywhere. Morgan also feels a throbbing headache, as if his head is being nailed with billions of spikes. Everywhere on him, inside and out, are suffering an indescribable pain and discomfort.

Suffering due to the same man… Tonight, Malachi Araton will die. Time seemed to pass slowly, although it was probably not even an hour before I saw the man materialise in the centre of the room. He grabbed Morgana, who had been sitting on the floor, yanking her up. My eyes flashed and I knew he’d sense us immediately, hoping that Morgana managed to inject him. When it came to her, it was fucking weird. I could rely on her, like I knew she was my fucking equal, a team. Despite the strong urge to protect her…

“I was just about to find out who Taylor Swift’s date for the Met Gala was!” “Really, Charlotte?” Arthur barked, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You want to talk about what’s fair? Fine. Let’s ficken do that!” Arthur Morgan rarely raised his voice with his daughter, but now his tone was sharp enough to cut glass. His wild gesticulations made it clear that Charlotte was about to get a verbal lashing she wouldn’t soon forget.

The one who held my hand when we were children, who flinched at thunderstorms, who promised No. I bite down on the memory until it bleeds. Can’t afford it. Not now. A sound. To my left. A wet, rattling breath. Arthur. Or what’s left of him. He’s slumped against a pulsing wall of sinew and bone, his body more root than flesh, bark-like skin split open in places, oozing something dark and viscous. His eyesstill his, still awarefind mine. His lips move. No sound comes out.

"Come on, beg for it." Arthur did not, he would rather drink a dog pee. Begging wouldn't change anything, and he wouldn't indulge these demented women's dark fantasies. "Alright then." Morgana turned her head, addressing her servant. "Dora, prepare the spiked whips and fire them up. Let us begin." <><><><>

He’s messy, and unpredictable, and a little selfish, but for what it’s worth, he’s been trying his best to do better. Maybe that’s what matters? But the moment evaporates as the door flings open again, diverting both of our gazes to the main entrance. Morgan waltzes in, followed by four more people. Artemis stiffens instantly, standing in front of me in a protective stance, shielding me from Morgan's view. Still, curiosity wins, and I peek around him. Morgan surveys the knocked-out bodies scattered behind us. Instead of a look of terror, a grin slowly widens across his face in evil delight.