Hello Kitty Backstory Novels & Stories

Dear Diary, today I accidentally saw my step father's magic stick. And... I can't help but want to have a taste of it. “I want it inside me, Daddy,” I gasped out loud, voice breathy and broken. “Want you to stretch me open… pound me raw… fill me up with your seed…” He's the last man I should want. My mother's husband. Completely off-limits. But when he looks at me with those deep brown eyes, and calls out my name with that baritone voice. My kitty can't help but throb and my panties soaked. *********************** To my queens... the ones who moan when they should run. For the girls who crave total damnation as soon as the lights go out. For the ones who never wanted soft. You want him obsessed, unhinged and filthy... as the sound of your name breaks through his lips, while he takes you like you're his last breath. Then... Welcome to “Daddies Inferno”🔥a sinful collection filled with dominant men who don't just make the rules, but also break them. From possessive step father's who can't resist the girl they call daughter, to father-in-law's who cross forbidden lines for the one woman they should never want or touch, and Daddy's best friend who wrecks the very girl his supposed to protect. You'll find him in these filthy pages 📖. Now... be a good girl, sit back, relax and let “Daddy” take care of you 😈👅💦. ⚠️ Content Warning: This book contains bad language, Daddy kink relationships, centered on dominance, control, submission, power play dynamics, and is not intended for readers below legal age. So read with extreme caution.

My son spiked a sudden high fever, scorching like a flame under my touch. I frantically dialed 911 for help, but the dispatcher on the line kept repeating questions, dragging it out. By the time the ambulance siren finally wailed in the distance, my son had already grown cold and still in my arms. Less than a year later, my husband and I split up amid endless grief and finger-pointing. I dragged on like an empty shell until one day I got an e-invite to his wedding. The moment I clicked the voice message, my blood ran cold. The bride's voice echoed exactly like that sluggish dispatcher from back then. In a breakdown, I bolted out of the house and got caught in the path of a speeding subway train, plunging me into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, my son's cries pierced the air from the next room, his forehead blazing hot against my palm. My husband thrust the phone toward me. "Quick, call 911! I'll grab a cold compress." My hands trembled as I dialed, and a chillingly familiar voice answered, "Hello, 911 emergency services."

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

"Ellis," I said, following his gaze. He was staring at the woman behind me. "Mate," he whispered. My knees weakened at his words, and I took a step back. "Ellis, baby," I managed to regain my composure and approached him to get his attention. "Mate," he repeated, ignoring me as he focused on Charlotte. I could barely breathe, so I stepped aside. Ellis moved closer to her and gently cupped Charlotte's crying face in his trembling hands. "Hello, mate," he said. No, no, no. I silently begged the moon goddess to wake me from this nightmare... *** Love Chasia is heartbroken when her boyfriend of ten years finds his mate in Charlotte and chooses her, forgetting the promise he made to stay by Chasia's side forever. Her best and only option is to leave and never see him again, but what happens when she discovers she's pregnant? Five years later, they meet unexpectedly—he is now her new boss. The passion, love, and lingering feelings they thought were buried come rushing back, especially now that she works at his company. Follow me on Instagram

On the first day of my husband's business trip, an unknown number calls me. It belongs to an employee of a pharmacy. The employee sounds very anxious over the phone. "Hello, are you related to Mr. Yates by any chance? He came to the pharmacy this afternoon to buy a box of morning-after pills, but he left right away without paying for the pills. Please pay the bill right now." My mind buzzes at the news. Morning-after pills? I suppress my emotions immediately before calling Zachary. I begin probing him afterward. "Where did you go this afternoon, honey? Your credit card statement shows that the payment you've made at a pharmacy has failed to go through." Zachary pauses for half a second before letting out a soft chuckle. "Ah, I bought the pills for a new intern in my department. She's a young woman who gets flustered easily, so I ran an errand for her." I just smile while saying "okay" to Zachary. After ending the call, I call the pharmacy once again, this time in a cold voice. "Send me your pharmacy's address. I'll head over and pay the bill in person."

My name is Ivy Lawson. At 3:00 am, I get a call from Christina McSpire, a parent of one of my students. "Hello, Ms. Lawson, I noticed Zoe only spent five dollars on her meal yesterday. Did she not eat any meat?" she asks. Pushing through my exhaustion, I reply, "Don't worry, Mrs. Street. I'll check on it tomorrow." Another half hour goes by, and she calls again. "It's supposed to rain tomorrow. Can you remind Zoe to bring an umbrella?" I can hardly keep my eyes open. "Got it," I reply absentmindedly. A few minutes later, my phone rings once more. "Please make sure Zoe brushes her teeth for three minutes. It's also important that she scrubs each side of her face at least three times." Suppressing my frustration, I calmly respond, "Zoe is in her senior year of high school. I'm sure she's capable of taking care of herself." I expect that to be the end of it, but when I wake up, my silenced phone shows over a hundred missed calls.

"You think you can play with my feelings, kitty?!" I could feel the intensity of his voice. I stepped back, feeling the wall behind me. "Who said I am playing with your feel~" I was cut off by his strong fist that landed beside my head, making me gasp in horror. "You, sitting on the lap of that bastard! Dakota Weasly, you just dug your boy toy's grave!" his voice boomed like thunder, deafening my ears. "He's not my boy toy, Martin. He's my boyfriend, and I like h~" Again, I was cut off, but not by his fist this time. His kiss ravished my mouth like I was his last meal. Before I could say something, my hands, like they had minds on their own, were slowly wrapping around his head. My tongue slid inside of his mouth while a moan escaped from me, making him deepen our kiss. When we stopped, we both gasped for air. "Do you like him?" he asked, his eyes fixed on mine. "Martin, I..." I suddenly lost my tongue. "I'll count till three. You must answer well, or I'll tell Luke to shoot him now!" "What?!" I asked, shocked. "Martin, what did you do to him?" I pleaded with my eyes, which became watery, but he just sneered. "Worried, huh?!" as he was about to call someone, I grabbed the phone and shouted... . Dakota Weasly was an easy-going, independent fashion designer from New York. She was strong-headed, who never stopped till she got what she wanted. This charming young lady accidentally bumped into the notorious mafia leader, Martin Marcini. The leader of Scared-faced Gang, one of the scariest mafia in Italy. . What could happen when an easy-go-lucky young lady played the heart of the scariest, gorgeous young man in the state?

For the eighteenth time, Samson brought home his new lover and enjoyed their intimacy right in front of me. Knowing he was doing this to get back at me, I just quietly picked up their scattered clothes. Five years ago, Samson was nearly killed in a kidnapping. Ignoring all his desperate pleas, I broke up with him and left the country. Five years later, he became the CEO of a major corporation and used his wealth to keep me at his side as his personal assistant. Every so often, he would bring home a different woman and flaunt their affection in front of me just to humiliate me. Samson never knew that I had saved him from those kidnappers five years ago—and that I was the one who couldn't let go of him. Things went on this way until he brought Judy back. My cousin, someone I had financially supported for years. When Judy proudly stroked her belly and told me she was pregnant with Samson’s baby, I just congratulated her calmly. Then, I turned and made a phone call. “Hello, about that Medical Support Project we discussed? I’ve decided—I’m ready to join.”

Before I was wheeled into surgery, the nurse kept urging me to call a family member. At last, a delivery runner rushed into my ward, out of breath. "Hello, Ms. Wexler. Mr. Adrian Prescott placed an order for me to accompany you through surgery in Ward 907." My phone buzzed twice with a new notification. I lowered my head and saw Sophie Lane's latest post. "Caught a cold and sounded a little stuffy, and Mr. Prescott noticed right away. He insisted on taking me to the doctor and even made ginger tea for me. So spicy, but so sweet." The picture showed a tall, lean man with his shirt sleeves rolled up, pouring ginger tea from a saucepan into a thermos. His eyes were focused and gentle. I stared at the photo in a daze. I had been hospitalized for five days. My husband of five years, Adrian Prescott, had never visited once. He said he was busy with work. But once again, I saw him in Sophie Lane's social media post. That careful, gentle Adrian Prescott, the man who knew exactly how to love someone. Before I was pushed into the operating room, I submitted my resignation and made one phone call. "Mr. Powell, please print the divorce agreement."

Ayla, my wife had just returned home from a business trip when I received a call from the hotel she had booked there. The hotel receptionist sounded a little embarrassed as she explained, “Hello, is this Ms. Jewell’s husband? I’m calling from the front desk. I see that we forgot to bill you for some incidentals. It looks like your room used all eighteen condoms from the amenity kit. I apologize for the oversight. The total comes to 35 dollars. Can I get a card number over the phone to close that out for you?” My mind went completely blank. Hadn’t my wife gone on that business trip on her own? Why would she have used condoms? Suppressing my inner turmoil, I gave Ayla a call. “Honey, the hotel just called. They said there was a little issue with your room. They asked me if you had someone staying over with you?” She sounded clearly exhausted as she replied with a weak voice, “Oh, right. A lady couldn’t find a hotel room, so she crashed with me for the night.” I chuckled and asked her to rest. After hanging up, I drove directly to the hotel. “35 dollars, right? I’ll pay it in person.”