Kneel Loki Novels & Stories

Wives are to be claimed, whores are for fucking. But me? I’m to be PLEASURED. ~~~ Chelsea Stone signed the contract expecting a cold and dead marriage. Instead she found herself collared by Dominic Hartwell – a man whose rules were written in silk restraints, leather belts, and the low growl of full command. He bound her wrists above her head and taught her that silence was no longer armor; it was foreplay. He spread her wide open on silk sheets and edged her for hours with fingers, tongue, and the thick head of his veiny cock until she was dripping, shaking, and sobbing “Please, big daddy… I’ll be good.” Only then did he drive into her deep and relentless, one hand tight around her throat, the other spanking her ass while he fucked her into shattering, screaming release. Chelsea was never meant to stay broken though, because in the darkness between punishments and praise, she began to crave more than surrender. She wanted to test him, to push and whisper filthy things against his ear while she rode his thigh, soaked and trembling: “I want to be your little cunt who shows big daddy who’s really boss.” Dominic’s eyes darkened with dangerous promise every time she dared. The more he punished her with a be*t across her, cock down her throat until tears ran down her cheeks, hands pinning her down while he claimed every inch of her. The more she burned to flip their power while he owned her body. Yet as old enemies sharpened their knives and forbidden pasts, pain and pleasure blurred until Chelsea no longer knew where submission ended and rebellion began. Would she kneel forever… OR would the quiet wife finally make her ruthless husband beg?

Zara Castellano doesn’t cry. She doesn’t beg. She doesn’t love. As the only daughter of the most feared mafia family on the East Coast, Zara was raised to command armies and slit throats in silence. At twenty-three, she’s spoiled, dangerous, and untouchable. Men want her. Enemies fear her. And everyone obeys her. Everyone… except Lucien Blake. A self-made billionaire with no allegiance to blood or bullets, Lucien becomes the pawn in a deadly marriage contract—one that ties him to a woman he’s never met but already loathes. Zara doesn’t want a husband. She wants a pet. A toy. A man she can dominate. Lucien isn’t used to bowing. But this time, saying “no” means death. Thrown into a marriage forged by blood and greed, the two clash like fire and ice. Zara pushes. Lucien resists. But behind every fight is a heat they can’t escape—and a twisted attraction that might just destroy them both. Zara doesn’t believe in love. She believes in control. And now, she owns a man who refuses to break. “You don’t have to love me, Lucien. You just have to kneel when I say so.” NOTE: If you’ve read my other books, you know my women bite back and my men bleed beautifully for them. Married to a Monster flips the classic dark romance—this time, the monster wears red lipstick and diamond stilettos. Expect power games, obsession, hate that turns to heat, and a heroine you’ll love to fear. This story contains dominance, manipulation, dark secrets, and psychological warfare—but always consensual. Trigger Warnings: Violence, dark themes, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, sexual tension, sex, obsession. Tags: Mafia Princess, Billionaire Husband, Enemies to Lovers, Forced Marriage, Dominant Heroine, Dark Romance, Power Couple.

I open my mouth again but before I can say another word, Ryder lays a finger over my lips and shakes his head. “Who are you going to obey?” I lick my lips, the total command in his voice making not just my pussy but also my heart sing. “You, Ryder,” I breath. “Good girl.” ~ #1: Never kneel for the man who destroyed you. #2: Never let him see that part of you still wants to. Lila Mitchell has broken both rules within the first hour. Lila is an FBI agent on a dangerous undercover mission to pose as a submissive and rescue her kidnapped bestfriend from a ruthless human trafficking ring. But when her trainer turns out to be her ex boyfriend Ryder Kane, the man who shattered her heart twelve years ago, every wall she built comes crashing down. ~ Hi, loves! Before we begin… yes, observant readers are absolutely correct. This story takes place in the same universe as SIR and the Red Room still very much exists behind its infamous black doors. But no... it's not going to have any cameo from David and Nora unfortunately, since it takes place years after they leave the club. You absolutely don't need to read SIR first, but if you have, keep your eyes open for little easter eggs throughout the story 🙃 Now buckle up, because Ryder and Lila are about to wreck each other in the best possible way. DISCLAIMER: This is a work of smutty fiction and should not be construed as anything other than smutty fiction. This is not a how-to guide on BDSM, bondage, or relationships. The author does not claim to be an expert on anything kink related and urges interested parties to be smart, be safe, and do their own independent research on the topic.

The Northern Pack had one unbreakable rule: the Alpha heir could never bond with a human girl. Despite that, Alpha Kieran Wolfe still formed a mate bond with me. To be with me, he openly defied the Elders' Council. He endured 99 lashes and was forced to kneel at the altar for three days and nights. Even as blood soaked through his shirt, he smiled at me and said, "Elise, don't be afraid. I only want you." Eventually, the Elders' Council finally relented and agreed to let Kieran leave with me. However, there was one condition: he had to leave a pure-blood heir behind for the Pack. From that moment on, the phrase I heard most from Kieran was "wait". The first time, Kieran asked me to wait while he got another she-wolf to carry his pup. He slept with Cecelia Donati 33 times until she was carrying his pup. The second time, he told me to wait again because the first pup was a female, and the Elders wanted a male. So, Kieran slept with Cecelia 99 more times until she was carrying his pup again. Just when I thought our ordeal was finally over, their daughter, Tyra Wolfe, accidentally ate wolfsbane at her Meet the Pup Party. Everyone was convinced I had poisoned her. When they threw me into the freezing cold storage room, Kieran stood at the doorway with bloodshot eyes. "I told you to wait..." His gaze was ice-cold and cutting. "You know what wolfsbane means to our kind. Why would you hurt my pup?" The words "my pup" hit me like a knife to the heart. My fingernails dug deep into my palms as the pain tore through me. When the storage room door opened again, I loosened my bloodied hands. This time, I was not going to wait anymore.

"He drags me from wall to table to wall again, like he can’t decide which surface deserves this. Wood bites my spine, the table squeals. His hands are everywhere, rough, greedy, feral. He palms my throat, my jaw, my hips. He fists a hand in my hair and angles my mouth. The kiss is vicious. He grinds me open with it. 'Kneel,' he says. The command is a shove under the skin. My legs fold. It’s humiliating how fast I go and how much I love myself for it." He owns my mouth. My body. My fucking soul. But I never said he could have my heart. Eli’s been chained before and it damn near killed him. So when he’s caught running through Blackthorn pack lands by Ronan Vale, the savage Alpha of Blackthorn, he's horrified when the brute marks and claims him. But Ronan doesn’t just bite. He binds. With ropes, with rules, with a voice that makes Eli's knees go weak and a touch that turns resistance into hunger. The bond between them is feral. And Eli hates how much he wants it, how much he wants Ronan, even when he has him spread out and shaking, marked and owned, begging to be filled so he’ll stop feeling empty. Eli swore no one would ever own him again. Then came the Alpha whose bond feels like a brand and a promise all at once. He hates how much he wants it. Ronan’s voice. Ronan’s hands. Ronan’s brutal, worshipful need. This isn’t love, it’s obsession. And Eli is afraid that he's starting to like it.

When the Irwins were on the brink of bankruptcy, I proposed a marriage of convenience to Ryan and saved them from collapse. Ever the playboy, Ryan was so grateful that he swore eternal loyalty to me, even getting a vasectomy immediately to prove his devotion. He took me across mountains and rivers, saying he wanted to etch our love into every corner of the world. Three years later, he got me drunk, stole my phone, and used it to infiltrate the Knights’ estate. That night, he orchestrated the complete downfall of my family’s legacy. My parents overdosed on sleeping pills. My sister was dragged into an alley by his men, violated, filmed, and the footage was auctioned off to amuse wealthy heirs. I begged him to let my family go. However, he gripped my face and forced me to watch as my parents were cremated. “You think marrying me back then was some noble sacrifice? Sure, the whole city praised your family for helping mine in our darkest hour. But what did they say about me? “They call me your lapdog, Lily!” Ryan destroyed the Knights to prove he was better than us and not anyone’s dog. He tore up the divorce papers and shoved the shreds into my mouth. Ryan wanted me to watch as he rose to power and made the world kneel before him. To humiliate me, he brought home a different woman every night, turning our house into a hotel while I served them. “What’s the Knights’ worth now? With your status, cooking for them and massaging their feet like this is only fitting.” It didn’t matter. When I saved him from that avalanche, a shard of stone slashed my heart. Now, I only have three days left to live.

“I’m going to split you open on my cock right here on this table,” he snarled, fangs grazing the frantic pulse in my throat, “and knot you so deep my daughter and every wolf in this pack will smell me dripping out of your ruined little cunt for weeks. Tell me you want that, babygirl. Beg Daddy for it.” I was shaking, slick running down my thighs, clit throbbing so hard I couldn’t breathe. “Yes… please…” His massive hand clamped around my throat, squeezing until stars burst behind my eyes. “Yes what, little human?” “Yes, Daddy,” I choked out, voice breaking. “Ruin me. Breed me. Right fucking now.” --- I never should’ve stepped foot in Ireland for my best friend’s Christmas wedding. Not when I’ve spent months on my knees in the dark, fingers buried in my pussy, moaning her father’s name like a prayer. Alpha Cassian Blackthorne. Ruthless. Feral. Old enough to be my father...twice over. The monster who makes empires kneel and wolves beg, the wolf who could snap my neck with a flick of his wrist… and the only man I want choking me with his belt while he forces every thick inch down my throat. He’s forbidden. He’s depraved. He’s looking at me now under the blood-red Christmas lights like he’s already tasted my surrender. And he has one holiday wish... To hunt me. Break me. Fuck me raw and bloody until I’m addicted to his knot. Until I’m carrying his pup and wearing his bite like a collar. This Christmas, the Alpha isn’t asking permission. He’s taking his naughty little human pet… And I’m already dripping for the day he finally snaps.

I've been married to Sylvia Fuller, a mafia donna, for ten years. I'm there with her in every life-and-death situation. My hands, which are meant for playing the piano, have developed calluses from using guns. They are also stained with blood from the enemies. But when Sylvia turns 28, she falls head over heels in love with Wilson Hink, the young man she's brought back from the slums. Sylvia has hidden him very well… right until the moment I bump into him accompanying her to a prenatal check-up. Mad with jealousy, I demand Sylvia for answers, but she just passes me a divorce agreement in a lackadaisical manner. "Wilson is a man of religion. He can't sire a child without getting married, so I have to give him a legitimate status. Sign this agreement, and I'll give you 40% of my shares." I refuse to give my position away, so Sylvia keeps forcing my hand. In the end, she even kidnaps my younger brother, who's paralyzed from waist down, and drags him to the spot beneath a hydraulic press. "Sebastian Chance, either you sign the agreement, or watch him get crushed. Your choice." I kneel on the ground and beg Sylvia to stop. But soon, I hear the hydraulic press being activated. It doesn't take long before I'm completely covered in my brother's flesh and blood. I end up collapsing onto the gore-splattered ground. When I open my eyes again, I realize I've gone back in time—back to the time when Wilson has accompanied Sylvia to the prenatal check-up. This time, I don't say anything. Instead, I contact a rehabilitation center located overseas before filing for a divorce and leaving Sylvia behind. But once I'm gone for real, Sylvia actually goes crazy.

My mom is a pathological liar who enjoys making herself seem like the victim. Unfortunately, I'm always the scapegoat. When I was little, there was one time when she went out to play poker with her friends. As a result, she forgot to go home and prepare dinner on time. After that, she slapped me in front of the entire family. "This brat ran off to god knows where earlier! I went out looking for her, which is why dinner got delayed!" Because of that lie, I had to kneel in the courtyard throughout the night. When I was studying, I had to take an extremely important exam. My teacher repeatedly reminded the parents to prepare all materials required for their children. But my mom didn't even prepare anything for me. After that, she even said in front of everyone, "I've already prepared the materials for her. She was the one who threw them away when she was on her way to school because she didn't want to take the exam at all!" Since then, all of my classmates ostracized me throughout my entire school life. After I came of age, my mom kept crying to me in the middle of the night. "Your father has been abusing me for so many years. I had to endure everything for your sake, you know!" I advised her to get a divorce, only for her to tell an exaggerated version of what I said to my father. "Your daughter egged me on to divorce you! She said she doesn't need a useless father like you! I couldn't stand it anymore, so I'm telling you this!" He flew into a fit of rage on the spot, which led to him accidentally pushing me down the stairs. I died on the spot from the fall. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day my mom cries to me about my dad for the first time.

The day my husband, Stellan Montclair, was killed in battle, my cousin, Daphne Langford, wept and declared she would follow him in death. No one asked for my opinion. By the time I arrived, they had already decided everything. In seven days, Daphne would be laid to rest alongside my husband in the Montclair family crypt, bearing the title of his lawful wife. When I stepped into the chapel, I found Daphne reclining on a cushioned chair with a damp cloth pressed to her forehead while my mother-in-law, Vivienne Prescott, personally spoon-fed her warm broth. Meanwhile, my son, Ansel Montclair, had been kneeling before the coffin for six hours straight, both legs so swollen that they were trembling. No one told him to get up. No one offered him a cushion to kneel on. Vivienne glanced up at me. "You're back. Daphne's being interred in the Montclair crypt as the lawful wife in seven days. See to the arrangements." In my previous life, I did not dare disobey. The entire capital praised Daphne for the depth of her devotion. Vivienne called her a woman of honor. The moment I so much as furrowed my brow, countless mouths stood ready to call me petty and small-hearted. Yet seven days later, Stellan came back from the dead. Only then did I learn that he had taken a death-feigning potion so that he could openly and rightfully marry Daphne. I was cast from wife to concubine and spent the rest of my life crushed under Daphne's thumb. My son was stripped of his status as the legitimate heir, barred from the family title, and left to scrape by among commoners for the rest of his days. This time, though, I was living it all over again. I crouched down and lifted Ansel from the cold stone floor. Then, I looked at Vivienne. "If her devotion runs that deep, let her be buried with him today."