Feeble Grind Novels & Stories

My name is Kemira, and I am an omega. I was blamed for my Luna’s death as a wolf-less pup. My true mate turned out to be the Alpha’s son who rejected me instantly. Now, I am bound to the former Alpha’s sick, twisted games and torture. As penance for my sins. When the Lycan King arrives, he finds me chained and beaten. Though he refuses the bond, he can’t deny our connection. Can he? .... “Oh goddess!” I moan as my heat surges. “What is it? More pain?” He asks as I take his hand, moving it to my pulsating core. I need his touch. “Kemira, I can’t.” He fights his lycan as I grind on his hand in the ice bath. “Please. I need you.” I beg him and his lycan. “Takoa.” His hand slides down my stomach. The coolness contrasts against my burning heat. His fingers slide between my wet folds. Circling my nub. “Yes… goddess, yes!” I moan as his pace quickens. He slides a thick finger inside me. “More. Please.” I moan. He adds a second finger. Feeling my p8ssy stretch. Trying to take him. “You feel so good, baby.” He whispers, stroking me faster. I grip the tub as his free hand massages then squeezes my n9pple. I gasp arching into him. “Takoa!” I moan falling apart. He doesn’t stop until I collapse against him. He pulls his fingers from my core and licks them clean. “So delicious” He whispers.

Noah Kline is the picture of daytime purity. He is a shy philosophy student who wears glasses and shrinks under Dr. Alexander Elliott's piercing gray stare during ethics lectures. His heart races as he imagines those commanding hands bending him over the podium. At night, he turns into Nyx, the club's dirtiest pole dancer. His body is oiled and shining, his hips grind against steel in a way that makes cocks throb below. He drops into a slow, dirty split that makes cocks throb below. With his thighs spread wide around the pole, he rolls his pelvis in wet, teasing circles. His thong is soaked and clinging to his leaking erection while men stuff hundreds into his garter and fingers graze his balls. When Noah needs money for school, he gets a private VIP gig. He climbs the pole in a tiny thong and a glittering harness. He bends back and slides his fingers inside the waistband to tease his own hole on stage, moaning softly as the crowd cheers. Then the lights catch a familiar face: Professor Elliott, coming out of the shadows, his suit clean and his eyes black with wild hunger. Elliott rushes onto the stage and slams Noah's chest against the cold pole. "Daytime little mouse can't meet my eyes," he growls, shoving his knee between Noah's thighs to rub against his sore cock. "But here you are, dripping and begging strangers to break this tight hole?" Rough hands pull the harness aside, and Elliott's fingers go between Noah's cheeks, circling his entrance before pushing two thick fingers inside and curling them to hit his prostate hard.

Ember Thorne grew up knowing the bitter truth: weakness is a death sentence. ​On her sixteenth birthday, when the primal surge of the Shift should have remade her, she was left agonizingly human. Her failure transformed her from the beloved Beta-elect’s daughter into a pariah—a fragile, scentless Omega in the unforgiving Shadow Creek pack. For two years, she has endured the endless grind of servitude and the crushing cruelty of her Alpha, surviving only by the protective shadows cast by her twin, Elias. ​She has accepted her fate: no wolf, no mate, no escape. ​But when Alpha Kael Blackwood, the ruthless leader of the legendary Silver Moon pack, arrives for a surprise alliance meeting, he doesn't see the broken servant the pack sees. He sees her. ​He hauled me against his armored chest, the sheer force of his presence sucking the air from the room. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, bored into mine. ​“You think you can reject me?” His voice was a lethal rumble, closer than a whisper, yet loud enough to shake the walls. “You are a scentless, wolf-less weakling. Yet, you carry my soul.” ​I tried to swallow, but my throat was dust. “I am nothing. You are the Silver Moon Alpha. Reject me and spare us both the ridicule.” ​A dark smile, devoid of kindness, stretched across his face. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, sending a jolt of fire and fear straight through me. ​“I won't reject you. You will be claimed, protected, and possessed. You are no longer Shadow Creek's shame. You are mine, Ember Thorne. And you will be the envy, the obsession, and the absolute focus of every enemy I have.”

..."Fucking take my cock like a good little slut." Jenna could only sob and cling to his shoulders as he fucked her into the mattress, too overwhelmed by sensation to do anything else. She could feel Alex behind her, suddenly, rubbing his own sticky cock between her ass cheeks, teasingly. "Please," she whimpered brokenly. "Need you both..." One midnight train ride turned Jenna into a dripping, hole-wrecked mess. A brutal stranger fucked her raw in the aisle until she squirted across the seats. A bathroom quickie left another man’s cum leaking down her thighs. Then the Syndicate came for her. Now she’s collared, caged, and passed between powerful men who stretch every hole past breaking. Electro-clamped nipples, inflating plugs, double-cock DP marathons, throat-fucked until she’s crying cum-bubbles, and public gangbangs while strangers watch and film. She was supposed to escape. Instead, she begs to be filled again… and again… and again. Begging unleashes hell; electro-clamps fry swollen tits to gushing orgasms; inflating plugs stretch pussy/ass to tearing screams; caged like a bitch as Master's paddle cracks welts bloody-red. MMF savagery explodes, where dual cocks grind through her thin walls in DP creampie marathons, throat-bulging face-fucks choke her on twin loads, and every hole is plugged/leaking/stuffed in endless breed-chains. Collaring brands her eternal Syndicate cum-pet, public gangbangs, zap-torture squirts, and piss-soaked submission. Raw, relentless, and hole-ruining ecstasy. Will Jenna escape the Syndicate's cock-collar... or beg to be their forever-drenched fucktoy?... Or get trapped back to David?

Vanessa Campbell, an autistic nineteen year old has been Abducted. Well, that's okay, right? They'd soon release her after her wealthy mother pays the ransom. But it seems the kidnapper don't want any ransom. Find out Vanessa will cope, after being plucked out of her comfort zone. And now that she doesn't have the resources to follow her carefully planned and life, she does something entirely different, like falling for her abductor. --SNIPPET-- I moved away from him, minimizing the contact between us. I was afraid when he moved even closer to me now. I hated when my personal boundary was not respected. "No... "The words were out when I realized what he was trying to do. I put out my hands to stop him, he grabbed my hands and lifted it high above my head and pinned it to the wall. He pushed me backwards till I was pinned against the wall and trapped against his body. I knew about sex, but I didn't think I would ever engage in it. I found it too disgusting. "no, stop! "I tried to get my hands free, it was useless. He was stronger than me. I felt his hard body grind against mine, his hip bone pressed hard into mine, painfully. I could feel his warm breath gently fanning my ears, my chest rose and fell more quickly than usual. I felt something warm in my jaw, I knew it was his lips, and that this mother fucker was going to kiss me. My eyes were still tightly closed. "stop...no...your breath stinks "I heard myself muttering that consistently. I heard a dark chuckle and the warm thing on my jaw moved slowly, slightly teasing upwards.

His face was inches from mine. His breath ghosted over my lips—warm, whiskey-scented from dinner and my body remembered him instantly: the way he’d pinned my wrists, the slow grind of his hips, the filthy things he’d growled in my ear while I came apart beneath him. He leaned in. I felt the pull—like gravity, like hunger. My lips parted on instinct. Just one more inch and we’d be kissing again, messy and desperate, right here in his car like teenagers who couldn’t wait. But reality crashed in. I jerked back, pressing myself against the door. “We can’t.” His jaw ticked. “Why not?” "Because I practically raised you.” My voice shook. “Because your mom is my best friend and I'm way older than you..." "I don't care" he bit out, shocking me even further. "I’ve wanted you since I was old enough to know what wanting meant. And don’t pretend like you don't feel something too." Sophie helped raise him. She was there for homework, school runs, and the lonely years when his parents were too busy. To her, he was just her best friend’s son. Years later, she catches her husband cheating on their anniversary and loses her unborn child due to the shock, Sophie spends the night with a stranger that she never expects to see again. But the stranger is Antonio — the boy she once helped raise. Now he’s all grown up. Powerful. Successful. And off limits. She manages to escape from him — so she thinks — until days later, she gets hired in a fashion company where Antonio is the CEO.

Blurb: She was his brother's wife. Now she's his obsession. Scarlet Cole endured six years of a loveless marriage, watching her light dim as her husband Lucas and his family crushed her spirit. When she discovers Lucas's affair with her own stepsister, pregnant with his child, Scarlet finally walks away. But freedom comes at a price. Enter Damian Cole: ruthless, dangerous, and harboring a decade-long obsession with his brother's wife. He's watched her suffer in silence, memorized every flinch, every forced smile. Now that she's free, he'll stop at nothing to claim her, even if it means crossing every moral line. "This is wrong," I whispered, even as heat pooled low in my belly. "You're Lucas's brother." "He stopped being my brother the day he made you cry." "Damian..." "Six years, Scarlet." His thumb brushed my lower lip, and I trembled. "Six years of wanting something I couldn't have. Of watching you slowly disappear. Of hating myself for wanting you when you belonged to someone else." I feel my heart tug, "I don't belong to anyone." "You do now." His eyes darkened, possessive and raw. I should protest. I should remind him of the boundaries we'd agreed on. Instead, I breathed, "Then take what's yours... I want you to claim me as yours," I said and in the next second he smashed his lips on mine, his hand going straight to cup my crotch. "oh...fu-fuck" "This damn p*ssy," hr growled as he grind the palm of his hand into my clothed cunt. "belongs to me. Only me." ""Ye-yes. Just you."

18+ Mature content. - - - - Skye Hale swore she'd never let another person she loved die without answers. Her mother was silenced by a cartel hit, the case buried by the very agency she served. Skye became the hunter instead. Undercover. Relentless. Willing to burn everything to uncover the truth. Then Zane, the only man who ever made her feel safe, forced her to choose: him or the ghosts. She chose him. They planned a wedding. She almost believed she could leave the darkness behind. Three days before the vows, her best friend Red was gunned down in the same strip club where she danced to survive. The same cartel. The same cover-up. The morning she was supposed to walk down the aisle, an anonymous file landed in her phone. Proof that Red died trying to help her, and the killer's trail led straight back to the man who once ran her mother's missions. Skye walked out in her wedding dress, left Zane at the altar, and vanished into the night. Now deep in Australia’s dangerous underworld, she works as a stripper to infiltrate the cartel. The sexual addiction she buried years ago has roared back stronger than ever. Every slow, sensual grind on stage, every pair of hungry hands sliding over her bare skin, feeds the raw, aching hunger she can no longer control. As Skye seduces dangerous men for information, the stakes rise dangerously high. A former colleague wants her dead. The protector sent to bring her home hides a shocking betrayal. And the powerful man who ordered her mother’s murder is closer than she imagined, close enough to touch, close enough to taste. One wrong move, and she'll lose her life. One right touch, and she'll lose herself. Skye Hale came for justice. She might leave in ashes.