Cringe Stories Novels & Stories

BEFORE YOU READ Nobody is coming to save you. Themes: Forced Proximity, Snowed In, Size Difference, Breeding Kink. This story features a possessive, reclusive hero who hasn't seen a woman in years. Expect primal play, rough sex, and intense possessiveness. (***) Gabrielle

Benedict looked at me, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “Get a ride home. I need to send Anna back to her place.” I lowered my eyes and remained silent. Benedict had a severe obsession with cleanliness and never allowed any lingering scents in his car. Once, because of his stubborn temperament, he had offended a client. I nearly drank myself to death just to apologize on his behalf. Yet afterward, he frowned at me with open disgust and said, “You reek. Figure out your own way back.” That day, he abandoned me alone in the snow-covered outskirts of the city.

Eeeeeewwww. Other than that, they all laughed most of the time while listening to the sexual and odd stories. Yes they made her cringe and want to puke, but they made her laugh too. “So, Saïda? Any story you can tell?” Alex mused. “None. Absolutely nothing. Eew,” she laughed and the others joined her. “She can’t say cuz her brother’s here,” Jenna laughed. “Even I would shut up if my older brother were here.” “True!” the others agreed in laughter.

“Then prove it. Tell Zara and the camera what a pathetic, cock-starved little toy you are.” “I’m a pathetic cock-starved slut,” I cried out, voice breaking as Zara pinched my clit hard. “I’ve been empty for over a year and it’s driving me insane. Please ruin me with your cock, Axel. Fuck me like the dirty lesbian whore I am while your sister uses my mouth. Tie me down, edge me until I scream, make me squirt all over your dickb– I don’t care anymore. Just please… please shove that big cock inside me and let me cum. I’ll be your perfect little fucktoy. I swear.”

The room echoed with the panting of three naked bodies. Sara watched Vincent pull up his underwear. His cock had still not gone down. The Viagra was still working. Sara let out a satisfied yawn. The night had gone so much better than what she imagined.

They ate the food in silence. After eating, they moved to the living room debating on which movie to watch. "Let's watch Lion King" nafisa suggested . "And why? "Khadija questioned. "Do I look like a baby to you "she added. Nafisa dropped the topic of watching cartoons before her cousin would take it far, they decided on watching The Meg which nafisa found weird . She doesn't like action or romantic movies, she would rather watch cartoon for the rest of her life. The movie was scary to fawaz, he wasn't familiar with such big fishes.

I told him about the first time I had walked the full length of the clinic corridor unaided and how I had stopped at the window at the end of it and cried for the first time since my father's funeral. "Not sad crying," I said. "The other kind." "I know the other kind," he said. "When did you last do it?" I said. "The day the first warehouse turned a profit," he said. "I was sitting on the floor of the office at two in the morning with the accounts in front of me and the number was right for the first time and I just sat there on the floor and that was it." "On your camping mat," I said. "On my camping mat," he said.

“Fuck, Sloane. What did you do to me?” Sloane climbed up, proud and turned on. They kissed deep, sharing the taste. But the emotional layer built stronger. They lay side by side on the turf, catching their breath. Sloane rubbed her bad knee, pain flashing across her face. “This knee ended my playing career. One bad tackle and everything I worked for vanished. Coaching is all I have left now. If this secret gets out, I lose that too. I cannot go back to feeling useless.”

The circle was drawn in Himalayan salt and crushed pomegranate seeds, the air thick with the scent of burnt honey and Ava's desperation. She wasn't praying; she was bargaining. Her knife, usually an extension of her will, felt heavy and dull in her hand. The critics' words echoed, derivative, lacking fire, safe, carved deeper wounds than any blade. Michelin stars felt like distant, dying embers. Inspiration had deserted her like a fickle lover. So, she turned to the unconventional section of her grandmother's grimoire, the one bound in suspiciously soft, warm leather. Incubus Minor: For Creative Ignition. Price: Nights of Service.

THEMES: Care and After care, Revenge, Mushy- strained confession, Non- sex KINKS: Touch- Her- And- Die, LENA'S POV I'm at a quiet spot in a club-------- a rare spot--------- crying my eyes out. Fuck I can't continue this way, I can't keep fucking that... that gizzard. But I love my job, I can't lose it. I sniff as I wipe at my face, only for more tears to flow; I can't believe I enjoyed it.