Graphic Rape Scenes Novels & Stories

I quickly picked it up and started flipping between the pages. But to my greatest surprise, the pictures aren’t showing normal nudes like the ones we normally see when some traders borrow us their phones. These images are showing pictures of naked women being tortured by naked men; more like rape or something. I was still staring at the images with shock all over my body when Michael came into the room.

And handed it to me. I opened it. The first pages were boring lawyer shit. Then I see… Full fucking penetration, vaginal, anal, oral, at any time, with or without notice. Restraints, blindfolds, impact play, sensory deprivation. Orgasm control and denial at the Dominant’s discretion. Public and semi-public exhibition at Dominant’s pleasure. Each line made my pulse throb in my clit. By page three I was pressing my thighs together like that would stop the wetness leaking into my panties.

I don’t think Carrie realized she heard, and with my head between them, she may not have seen the grin. Just knowing that it would make her squirm, I moved my hand up and cupped Carrie’s bust while looking over her shoulder to see what they were reading. It turned out to be some pen and ink drawings of women in erotic poses. Some were nature scenes, others were of two or three people in various states of undress and in the midst of various sex acts. The one on the right page was a woman licking up the base of an erect cock of some unseen man. The woman in the picture was looking up at her man with a gaze of pure lust.

The first line slams into me like a fist. “His hands pinned me down, his cock stretching me wide, a professor’s lesson in raw desire.” My breath catches in my throat. The room actually tilts for a second. I keep reading. Every graphic detail paints the scene inside my head. Her moans fill my ears. His grip bruises her skin. The desk shakes hard under them. It all feels horrifyingly real. I scroll lower. The comments are pure filth. “Who’s pounding you like that?” “Spill the tea on that professor’s dick!”

Instead, he described more scenes in graphic detail—women on their knees with tear-streaked faces as he fucked their throats, edging a bound partner for hours until she begged and sobbed, spanking her ass raw before taking her hard. Each word painted vivid pictures that I couldn’t push out of my mind. My body reacted against my will: nipples painfully hard now, visible peaks under the fabric, thighs pressed so tightly I could feel my own wetness slicking my skin. Shame mixed with unwanted arousal as I imagined myself in those positions, even as I told myself this was just professional listening.

My heart started to pound, a frantic, panicked drum against my ribs, a rhythm of pure terror. I scrolled up. And up. And up. It was a novel of betrayal. A fucking epic poem of what a goddamn idiot I’d been. There were pictures of her—some bottle-blonde with too much makeup and a pair of fake tits that looked like they could poke someone’s eye out. She was always pouting, always posing, always trying to look sexy and just looking cheap. There were pictures of his dick, hard and glistening, a sad, pathetic-looking thing I’d somehow convinced myself was adequate. There were detailed descriptions of what they wanted to do to each other, what they had done to each other. In our bed while I was at

As she came into the frame of the window itself, she had to shield her eyes for a moment, as the moon briefly seemed as bright as the mid-afternoon sun. As the bright haze cleared from her vision, Sophie had another image that her brain, for a moment, would not register. The square below was now nothing more than a tangled writhing mass of animals. Enormous wolves humped fat red cocks into grunting bitches and tall, unnaturally hairy men pinned equally hairy, naked women beneath them as they forced massive purple pricks into humping, dripping holes. Everywhere there were snapping teeth. Snarls and yelps encouraged mates to fuck harder... to stretch holes... to fuck deeper... to rut... to squ

"My Lord, you've wronged me. I never did such things." My father raised one hand. His guards dragged someone through the open doors and forced him to his knees on the floor in front of everyone. It was a painter. The guards forced him to the ground and barked, "Tell everyone here exactly what you told us. Every word!" The man trembled all over and immediately cried out, "Okay... Okay! It was the duchess who gave me a hundred silver coins and ordered me to draw an obscene painting. She also gave me the young lady's portrait and told me to copy it. She even sketched a rose and told me to use it as the birthmark on the waist..."

“Watch the man who stole you turn your fear into pure, dripping need.” Pleasure mounted in relentless waves, my thighs quivering and my breath coming in sharp pants. Just as I neared the edge, he withdrew his fingers completely, leaving me empty and whimpering in protest. Rafe stood briefly to shed his trousers, freeing his thick, heavy cock. It sprang up against his abdomen, long and veined, the broad head flushed dark and already slick with his own cum. He stroked himself once, his eyes never leaving my spread, glistening form.

She screamed, but as if that was what the creature was waiting for, the sculpture pulled its fingers completely out of her, delaying her orgasm. “Ahh—what? What are you doing?” She asked, her voice breathy and needy, but the creature only laughed as it smacked her ass again, the pain ricocheting through the entirety of her being. “You want to cum, you’ll have to say it. You’ll have to admit that being raped has always been a fantasy of yours, and you like what I’m about to do to you.” The creature responded as it rubbed her asshole, spitting on it and rubbing it.