Cheating Men Must Die Novels & Stories

The daughter of my father's first love suffered from heatstroke because she was left in the car, so he tied me up in a fit of anger and locked me in the car boot. He looked at me with utter disgust and said, "I don't have a vicious daughter like you. Stay here and reflect on yourself." I begged him, apologized to him, and pleaded for him to let me out, but all I got in return was his ruthless order. "Unless she dies, no one is allowed to let her out." The car was parked in the garage. No one could hear me no matter how much I screamed for help. Seven days later, he finally remembered me and decided to let me out. However, he had no idea that I had already died in that trunk and could never wake up again.

I was just a married woman trying to survive my husband’s debts. But when I took the job as a maid for three powerful, controlling, dominant men. I walked into something far darker than dusty shelves and dishes in the sink. They don’t just want their floors spotless. No, they want me bound and bent over on their bed. They say I’m too pretty to be stuck with a loser and too sweet for plain sex and too soft to resist them. And they’ll stop at nothing until they ruin my marriage, break me open and make me theirs. Even if it means dragging me into a world where dominance is law, and obedience is survival.

When I was diagnosed with terminal Inner Wolf Decay, a System found me. It told me that if I could win the wholehearted romantic or familial love of just one out of four specific werewolves, I would get a healthy body and live. But for five years, I failed to win over a single one. Because they all fell for the same Omega—the fragile, hypocritical Chloe. Just because she framed me, claiming I ordered rogues to attack her, my targets glared at me with nothing but absolute disgust. My biological brother, Caleb, told me, "I don't have a sister as vicious as you." My pack healer, Julian, didn't believe I suffered from depression. He glared at me with revulsion and said, "Chloe is the one who got hurt. Stop playing the victim." My childhood friend, Victor, stared at me coldly. "You're so toxic. I really wish you'd just die." Later, just as they wished, my mission failed, and my inner wolf was actually going to die. But then, they were the ones crying and begging me not to go.

"That's it, baby girl. Take Daddy's cock like the good little slut you are." My boyfriend's father had me bent over his desk, hand wrapped around my throat, splitting me open with his thick cock while my boyfriend was on the line. * * * Forget what you know about love stories. This is a fucking raw, no-filter plunge into the depraved fantasies you only jerk off to when you're home alone. This collection is your VIP pass to the kind of filth that leaves you shaking—where powerful bosses bend you over their desks' and depraved strangers use your holes in dirty alleyways before vanishing into the night. We're talking about the kind of raw, pulse-pounding taboo that gets you off: forbidden age gaps, rough, messy gangbangs, public throat-fucking that steals your voice, and first times that leave you gaping, dripping, and ruined for anyone else. Consider this your final warning. This is explicit, vulgar, and engineered to soak your panties. If you can't handle stories drenched in choking, rough anal, non-con/dub-con kinks, and filthy-mouthed sluts who beg to be used like the cum-dumpsters they are, close this book now. But if you're ready to get utterly wrecked—if you're craving that full-body, mind-melting, vibrator-on-high kind of climax that leaves you a boneless, dripping mess... Your next orgasm is waiting. Turn the page. We promise you'll be a good girl for us.

Sixty-nine ways to make you sin. Sixty-nine positions to leave you soaked, dripping, trembling, begging for more until your bellies are bloated with hot loads of cum. These daddies do not hand you candies. They want your mouth wrapped around their dirty, hungry cocks. This is not romance. This is not gentle bedtime stories. This is pure, filthy desire, grown men with hungry mouths, ruthless hands, and cocks that know exactly how to make you cum undone. Neighbors with dark smiles. Daddies who do not ask, only take. Stepbrothers who turn one look into a night you will never forget. From late-night encounters that start with a knock and end with your legs shaking, to a therapist giving you private sessions that blur the line between control and surrender, every story drags you deeper. Tongues that do not stop. Fingers that find every weak spot. Bodies locked together in positions designed to break you open and keep you wet. These innocent virgins are adults with secrets they are ready to unleash, craving dominance, chasing the edge, surrendering to pleasure that leaves them gasping. And wet. And dripping for these daddies. Each story pushes them into new positions, new sins, and orgasms they cannot take back. No rules. No apologies. Just sweat-slick skin, whispered commands, and climaxes that hit hard and do not let go. If you want sweet, close the book. If you want dirty, and your sheets soaked; if you need your pussy throbbing, your thighs slick, and your thoughts twisted, step into this wet dream. This is your dirty fix to get your lips swollen, panties ruined, your new wet obsession. Note: A few stories contain incest. Welcome to 69 Positions: Make Me Cum Daddy.

The operation had just gone dark when the chatter started in the comms. “Easy, Zane. Don’t burn through another mattress.” A low laugh came through the headset. Relaxed. Careless. “I’ve been deployed for six months. I needed the release. And don’t let my wife hear that.” More laughter. “Right. Take care of the little mistress first, then call home and play devoted husband?” My phone rang. His voice when I answered was warm. Intimate. Soft in a way it never was on the field. He said he missed me. Said he counted the days until he could come home. I watched the live drone feed while he said it. What he didn’t know was that three months ago, I had quietly transferred into the family’s Strategic Intelligence division. Every operation his crew ran, I was the one behind the monitors—tracking shipments, rerouting safehouses, intercepting rival signals, listening to every word spoken over secured lines. The first night he slept with her, I logged the timestamp. 00:43 hours. When the call ended, I dialed another number—encrypted, family internal. “I’ll accept your offer,” I said calmly. “After this job, I’m stepping away.” The voice on the other end was steady. Controlled. Powerful. “You’ll leave after the Palermo Capture,” he replied. “I’ll personally see to your relocation.” A pause. “Three days.”

My mother had a rare disease. After months of dead ends, I found one person in the country who could treat her. She told me there was a price. She said she needed a husband. I agreed. For my mother, I agreed. For six years I was her ATM. I bought her the bags. I bought her the watches. It got worse. She used my money to keep a kept man. She brought him into our bed. The day my mother had her last surgery, she walked out of the operating room halfway through to go celebrate her lover's birthday. The moment they pronounced my mother dead, I decided there and then, she was paying for that with her life.

Mom and Aunt Denise Taylor fell off the balcony in the midst of their heated argument. Dad rushed in just as they hit the ground, each with a broken arm. Without hesitation, he left Mom behind and hurriedly took Denise to the hospital instead. Later, Mom filed for divorce. Dad's face twisted in anger as he yelled, "Enough, Nicole! So what if you broke an arm and can't hold a scalpel anymore? What's the big deal? Dee is a genius designer. If she had lost her hand, her life would've been over! Of course, I had to save her first!" Watching all this in my ghostly state, I couldn't help but laugh. Did Dad really think that Mom had only lost the use of her hand? Mom didn't just lose her hand. She lost me. After all, I had severe heart failure, and the only person who could perform the life-saving surgery was Mom, the medical master herself. But none of that matters now, because I'm already gone.

When Joy Staton, my adoptive sister, fainted in the freezer on her birthday, William Staton, my brother, checked on the security footage in rage. The moment he saw that I was the one who took Joy into the freezer, he kicked me inside without hesitation. Before shutting the door, he stared at me in disgust. “You’ve been pushing your luck a lot these days, huh? If I’d been a second too late, Joy would’ve died!” I wanted to defend myself, but William refused to listen and slammed the door shut. I heard him talking to the bodyguards outside. “If she doesn’t apologize, don’t let her out!” But he did not know that Joy had set the freezer to –58 °F. I did not even have the strength to complain about the freezer being cold. William did not know that the sister he once loved dearly had stopped breathing in the freezer. He had killed his only blood relative left in the world.

"Choke on my dick, baby girl," Daddy growled, fisting my hair as he shoved his cock down my throat. "This what you wanted?" he growled. "Your uncle's cock inside you? Fucking you while your parents sleep upstairs?" • She’s young, dripping wet, and utterly fucked the moment they lay eyes on her. In YOURS, DADDIES, one insatiable woman gets claimed hard and without mercy by older, dominant men who know exactly how to break her open and make her beg. These aren’t gentle lovers—they’re rough, experienced daddies who growl “Mine” while pinning her down, stretching her tight holes with thick cocks, and filling her until she’s leaking their cum and screaming their names. From the ruthless CEO who bends her over his desk, spanking her ass red before fucking her throat raw and calling her his perfect little slut… to the tattooed brothers who take turns pounding her in every position, double-penetrating her until she’s a trembling, cum-drenched mess, sobbing “Yes, Daddy, harder.” Every story is packed with filthy daddy kink: choking grips on her throat, praise mixed with degradation (“Such a good girl taking two cocks like a whore”), rough breeding fantasies, light bondage, and group scenes where multiple alphas use her body like their personal toy—edging her, denying her orgasms, then ruining her with explosive releases. No vanilla bullshit here. Just raw, sweat-soaked, pussy-pounding obsession. She gets marked, owned, and ruined in the dirtiest ways possible—left gaping, bruised, and addicted to being their fucktoy. If you can’t handle getting soaked just reading the warnings… walk away now. But if you crave being utterly destroyed by possessive daddies who won’t stop until you’re theirs forever—open wide, baby girl. They’re coming for every hole.