Dark Stone Stories Novels & Stories

I didn’t need verbal instructions on what to do next. I stroked. A cock in my mouth, two in my hands….Wonderland had found me. “Yeah, take that cock” “You little slut, stroke that cock” “Just like that.” I had lost count of who said what…but the moans were music to my ears. I didn’t know how long had gone by before the breaths became heavier, the groans deeper. The one in my mouth came first, his digging deep into my hair like his grunts. My mouth was full, still I couldn’t stop some from dripping out of the corners of my mouth.

“IT’S JUST I HAD a different book in mind when ink spilled on this one, plus what’s left to do in a finished book?” They, of course, ignored me Completely probably deciding if I would not explain, they were just going to proceed. One of the three waved their hand above the inky darkness we were standing on, and instantly a book on a pedestal was in front of them on the floor. It showed off my title, ‘1001 Dark Tales’. I instantly held my breath, hoping they didn’t realize what that meant. But if they had, they said nothing. Instead, they just started flipping through the pages of the book, looking for which store to choose.

their end. His eyes are bloody and his color black is very long. He is taller than an ordinary werewolf..as if he was just a giant dinosaur. He regained his breath and crawled weakly and hugged his companion, who seemed unaware of what was happening He pulled her tightly on her bosom, very afraid of her. He was afraid that he would hurt her, because he was right behind her It's the legend they haven't seen The legend of the devil's wolf.. He did not understand anything, why he went out and what connects him with his companion!

The high, vaulted ceiling disappeared into darkness, supported by massive stone pillars that seemed to be carved from the living rock itself. The walls of the chamber were adorned with glittering tapestries woven from threads of gold and silver, depicting scenes of great battles and conquests. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and damp earth, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the space like a steady heartbeat. At the far end of the chamber, a massive throne sat atop a raised dais, carved from a single block of black stone. The throne was adorned with intricate carvings of snakes and other mythical creatures, and it seemed to absorb the light around it, giving it an aura

I ask, the memory of my blood falling on the stone's face and what came after it. “I’m not a hundred percent sure. Saying that I have been led to believe that… certain shifters who hold genes close to the gods, powerful DNA, can access the power or magic those stones hold.” “Like a Grimalkin?” He purses his lips, pale eyes narrowing on me, “Like a Grimalkin,” he confirms. Abner tosses the small black book at me and I easily catch it. It’s plain, with no writing, and thin maybe only twenty pages.

When Elara’s family fell into debt, she signed a paper believing it would save them — never knowing she was signing her freedom away. Kaelen Rourke, the coldest and most powerful man in the city, bought her without hesitation. He married her not for love, but as an arrangement — a wife to show the world, and a servant to keep his house. From the first day, he made it clear: she was purchased, not chosen. He gave her orders instead of kindness, called her a transaction instead of a partner, and kept her at a distance as if she were something to be hidden. Yet beneath his harsh words and icy silence, Elara sees something else — a man who guards his heart like a fortress, afraid that letting

The stone tasted of dust, death, and Delphine. Behind him the riding crop whistled through air and cracked across his ass. He yelped, back arching. “Again,” she commanded. “Until it’s spotless.” Ten stinging lashes later the stone gleamed with only his saliva. Delphine straddled the stoned coffin lid, legs spread wide, cloak falling open. “Mount me here,” she said. “Fuck me on a dead bishop while his bones rot beneath us.” Elias rose, gripped her hips, and drove into her in one brutal thrust. She was scalding, impossibly wet. She screamed a raw, animal sound that bounced off the crypt walls and came back as a chorus of damned souls.

He watched my face the entire time, waiting until the sharpest discomfort faded from my expression. Only then did he begin to move. Slow, deep strokes that dragged every thick inch of him along my sensitive walls. The initial pain transformed into something darker and more consuming. Every time he pulled back I felt the loss. Every time he pushed back in I felt the stretch and the deep press against my core. Soft, broken moans began leaving me on every thrust, higher and more needy than before. “It is too much… ahhh… I feel so full…”

Jonah is twenty-three and works late shifts at a warehouse across town. Most nights he ends up at the same small bar three blocks from his apartment because it’s quiet, the pours are honest, and no one expects conversation. Soren is thirty-two and works the bar four nights a week. He’s the kind of bartender who remembers orders without writing them down and notices when someone’s been sitting too long with an empty glass. At first the exchanges stay short and professional. Then the nights start stretching. Last call comes and goes. The walk out back for a smoke turns into longer conversations. Neither of them is in a hurry to leave.

“You don’t know shit about what I’ve built or what I’ve lost. You think your little bookstore is the center of the universe? Grow up. The world doesn’t stop for rose bushes and storytime.” She yanked free, but didn’t step back. Their bodies were inches apart, rain pouring between them. “And you think money fixes everything? That you can just take what you want and call it progress? You’re empty. Cold. The second this deal’s done, you’ll forget I existed.”