Faustian Stories Novels & Stories

The following story has themes of BDSM, non-consent sex, humiliation, abuse and other dark themes and a material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. Shared punishment with her best friend. The Cruise just began..... Enjoy. >>>> My name is Geena. No, not Gina, that would be normal- my parent's weren't normal, so it had to be Geena. This story is the beginning of my strange journey. The many that follow, will make very clear just how un-normal my life is. Please don't misunderstand me. I truly love my parents. Even today, when I can look back on my life and find the clues as to why I am so out of the ordinary, I truly love them. After all they created me. Not simply the act of copulation and

It wasn’t that I cared all about the sex, you know what, scratch that, I cared all about the good sex I wasn't having. “Are you serious?” Helen asked in disbelief. "But you said he always ate you out.” “He does, but that doesn’t mean he’s good at it.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “I have to fake an orgasm just to get him to stop because it’s so bad.” Lauren and Helen looked at me with pity. This is why I hated over sharing, I prayed the ground to open up and swallow me. “Have you told him about it? Have you guys had a talk about his deficiency?" Helen asked. I couldn't tell if she was mocking or pitying me at this point.

“There would be no eventuality. We would come back safely, Jimin and I, and everything would go back to normal, the way it has always been. Don’t jinx our mission with your thoughts.” “It is just a way of being extra careful my king,” Elder Faustus croaked again. “We should have one of the two of you here to lead us while the other can go about conquering.” “The same Jimin you wanted dead a few days ago,” Xavier had stared at him and his face had dropped in shame immediately. “Or were you also possessed by the spirit of my uncle, Ghost Damon?” “I was not possessed my king,” Elder Faustus had muttered. “I say the truth as I see it and since the council judged him right, then so be it.”

“No, thanks. I don’t really drink.” He emptied the glass first and breathe deeply, looking tense. His forehead wrinkled collecting his thoughts. “About your father, I hope you care to consider not telling him about Davon or about Nixon. I’m protecting my people against a possible attack.” “Attack?! I’m sorry, but this is bothering me. Can you please tell me why my Dad hate your kind? Enlighten me.” Faustus move to the window staring afar. I know his mind was imagining the things happened in the past. It could be painful, but I really to understand how this all started.

"You don’t strike me as the kind of man who believes in love, so you’re definitely not waiting for a Miss Perfect to appear from the skies and steal your heart with one glance. It doesn’t matter who your wife is, so why can’t it be me? Do you hate me so much?" I know the kind of marriage we would end up having—a business arrangement with each of us minding their own business. It wouldn’t get in the way of my plans, but I would rather get entangled in a fake marriage with my annoying assistant. I entertained the thought for a while, but a few hours was all it took to realize what a horrible idea it was. The Gallos could use her against me, and that’s not even the worst possible outcome. I avo

Others may understand her far too well. This story explores complicated emotions, forbidden desires, family fractures, power imbalances, and the desperate human need to be seen. It is about the cost of silence and the courage required to reclaim your life after years of shrinking yourself for the comfort of others. At its heart, Beautifully Unfaithful asks a simple question: What happens when the person who vowed to love you stops seeing you? And what happens when someone considered to be off-limit finally does? Thank you for trusting me with Laurel's story.

Her other hand covered her reddened cheek. “No. I like it, to be honest.” They stayed there the whole afternoon holding hands. They talked about the world outside the convent. It was the world Felix already had explored, and his narration about it was clearer than the books she had read. After a while, they also talked about books. Books that Faustina liked the most. She kept naming every book that she liked, and it gone on and on. Felix patiently listened. As the sun set, they had to go back inside the convent. They were walking side by side before they neared the compound. And then Felix halted making Faustina halt too.

Or perhaps worse, a priestess. They retired to their room after their meal, where the lantern burned into the age of the night and no priest came to put it out and mete out due punishment, perhaps knowing the purpose of their action. As the flame burned its life away they scribbled, quill on parchment weaving in confused jumbles of shapes and dots, drawing to life in the signs of vrail tales of priests long gone. Tales of evangelists and their adventures. Exorcists and their encounters. Monsignors and their reign. All heroic and tragic. And as the flames burned out, sleep took them each, one after the other. Sethlzaar's eyes closed last as he put a finish to the tragic tale of Father Forn, t

made the trip was present, he knelt before the fairy once more and apologized to her on behalf of the entire humanity.Confused, the fairy had no time to react to the king's sword, the boy for whom she had given her heart, which now pierced the same.After tasting the power, he and everyone else who had participated in the trip had created an addiction.After that, they had secretly planned the death of the queen, the most powerful being in all Theia, who would make them immortal.In her last words, she cursed everyone who set up against her to never see the sun again, unfortunately, it was too late, and she felt her strength being sucked in by the sword.The dragons heard the fairy's plea and d

A smile crept onto my face as I adjusted my grip on the novel, its cover barely hiding the kind of story that made my heart race. A dark, depraved mafia romance. It had a male lead who didn’t ask permission so much as demand surrender. A man who played with consent the way a composer toyed with notes—artfully, deliberately, with the kind of confidence that made my skin prickle and my thighs press together. One that was over too soon. The kind of book I devoured in a fever and now I was in need of another. Most folks wouldn’t think of the local library as a treasure trove of scandalous reads, but I knew better. The librarians were in on the secret, intentionally filling the shelves with books