Guts Crying Novels & Stories

Or dying after all. My hands came loose in the next second, and I was lifted off the chair. Strong arms wrapped around my abdomen from behind and pressed hard. Once, twice, thrice; the food spewed out of my mouth. My throat burned, and a cough so violent shook my body that I doubled over, letting out more than what was inside, my vision blurring. Even the rubs on my back did little to nothing to soothe it. I didn't know what came over me suddenly, but I started crying. Full on sobbing. Maybe it was the frustration from all that was happening, or the lack of food clouding my judgement or simply the fear of death I might have just escaped.

“Ahhh…fuck…yes…Alpha…yes..” I cried as I came fucking hards, so fucking hard thst my lips trembled as I felt the I knees slips out of my pussy. Oh fuck. It came out violently like a rush. My cunt gushed. My thighs twitched. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I tasted the salt on my lips. I collapsed. Breathless. Ruined. Still empty. Still starving. Because no matter how deep my fingers went…

“Slit a cut over his abdomen, I want his entrails to slowly come out so I could draw them,” He shook his head, shedding alligator tears to stop me. Does he forget that I stopped feeling a long ago and his tears are bringing nothing but satisfaction to my heart? Poor thing. Yet, he’s going to be a prime example for those, whoever is out there, considering betraying me, will have to go through worse than this. When my man slit his intestine, his slow yelps satisfied my soul as he was dying of agony. The flood of blood came through his abdomen to my feet as I dipped my brush in it and used it to make his internal organs.

There was this crucifying pain in my gut. It felt like something had ripped my guts open, gnawed them out and left them bleeding. I felt like a dying bird that is killed for fun by hunters solely for their own pleasure. There was so much pain that I was afraid to look down but I did. I looked down on my stomach. There was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. I touched myself in disbelief but I was completely fine. What? What is happening? Where is this pain coming from?

was the last thing I heard before getting in the kitchen and making her 'fat-ass reducing diet coffee' When everyone had finished their breakfast I went to collect the dishes only to be greeted by a sharp kick in my stomach I fell down from the pain and heard laughter from the bully gang "oh little bitch can't handle a punch and is about to cry like a baby" Edward teased as I tried to get up only to be kicked back hitting my back on the corners as pain erupted through my body making me whimper in pain "little baby gonna cry" Toby the dick said. I am not going to cry I can't let them see my tears. "Get the fuck up bitch that kick wasn't so painful stop putting up a show" said the Macy. Bitch

Tears leak out of my eyes with effort. I keep squeezing. A strangled cry emerges from his throat. His legs tremble. His look widens, and he finally looks like to realizes what is happening. He grips his dick and raises it. The fragrance of his cum is everywhere, mixed with the food and the unwashed sheets that reek of shit. My stomach churns, and I know I am going to be sick. My surface crawls with revulsion. My biceps go solid, then I twist his head.

A choked sob reached down into his lungs, making his entire chest contract in a near hiccup. Gritting his teeth, Fyn couldn't stop the choked sobs escaping his mouth. Curling in a fetal position, Fyn let it happen. Fyn let it all out. Chewing on his bottom lip, he squeezed his eyes shut, still digging his palm against his eyes. The herbs were forgotten beside him. Curling further, he tried keeping himself warm. Tried making sense of everything. Tried accepting that this was his life, that this was happening, that it's useless feeling sad about it now. Try as he might, the tears continued.

Everyone was closing in. The walls were shrinking. And for once— There wasn’t an easy way out. My chest tightened. Then tightened again. And suddenly I couldn’t stop it. The tears came. Hot. Violent. Humiliating. I buried my face in my hands. And cried. Not graceful tears. Not pretty tears. Ugly tears. The kind that left your face swollen and your throat raw. The kind that came when the world finally stopped bending around you. I cried for my career.

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the mess. I ga‌sped again, that‍ burni⁠ng in my throat making me gag.‌ Snot bubb‌led out of my nose‌. I muttered, “Fuck,” ribs hurting from the force‌. Cold sweat r‌an down my foreh⁠ead and‌ neck ⁠

I just knew where the toilet was, and I barely made it, collapsing to my knees in front of the porcelain bowl just as my stomach convulsed. The sound was a harsh, guttural retching that felt like it was tearing me apart from the inside. Hot tears sprang to my eyes, stinging from how much torture I was going through. My body heaved, and I held on to the cold rim of the toilet, my knuckles white, as I threw up my entire gut.