Medieval Erotica Novels & Stories

The manor’s chamber glowed with the soft flicker of renewed candles, the velvet curtains swaying slightly in the draft, the air heavy with the musk of our earlier passion. My body lay sprawled on the mat, cum and sweat coating my skin, pussy and ass aching with a delicious soreness, my mind reeling from the Coven’s initiation. The women surrounded me, their robes and lingerie disheveled, eyes glinting with a renewed hunger, ready to deepen the bond forged in the night’s shadows. The thrill of their collective dominance, the taboo of this sacred orgy, pulsed through me, my clit throbbing despite the exhaustion, a testament to the insatiable desire they’d awakened.

She pictured his eyes again, that direct knowing stare, and fresh heat flared low in her belly. She didn’t touch herself again. Instead, she lay there, sexually frustrated, heart racing, replaying the moment he saw her over and over until exhaustion finally dragged her under.

“That is my good little witch. Already addicted to demonic seed. Your mortal body is changing. Soon you will beg to be taken to my realm. To be my eternal breeding whore.” He fucked me through three more shattering orgasms, filling me again and again until cum poured out of me in glowing rivers every time he thrust. My thighs were soaked. My ass leaked from the tentacle play. My mind floated in a sea of corrupt pleasure. When he finally lowered me to the floor, I collapsed in a trembling, cum-soaked heap. My belly looked slightly swollen. My pussy pulsed visibly, still leaking his glowing essence. The taste of him lingered on my tongue. The scent of sex and demonic musk clung to my skin.

I felt myself getting close, as if I could join those heavenly bodies up in the sky. “I saw the way you looked at my dick at Coverts,” he whispered, not letting up on his assault on my clit, his lips tracing along my jawline. “I was so hard. You had on that yellow lingerie set that glowed against your skin. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you so badly. That young dude wasn’t going to get this pussy.” With that, he moved his attention from my clit, sliding two fingers inside my hot, already-drenched pussy. He worked his fingers until they were fully coated and soaked. “But I knew it wasn’t time. I’m patient. I can wait.”

She was on her knees in the study, those big doe eyes looking up at me as she took my cock deeper into her throat. I woke up leaking precum, sheets ruined. No other woman compares. I’ve fucked a few since she left—cold, empty encounters—but they all pale. I want her innocence corrupted by me. Want to teach her how to ride a man’s face until she floods my tongue. Want to fill her womb with load after load until she’s marked as mine forever. Her nipples tightened against the lace of her bra. Elena shifted in the chair, one hand unconsciously drifting to the hem of her sundress. The silk whispered against her thighs as she read on, the journal detailing fantasies that grew darker and more posse

David took one last slow drag, then flicked the cigarette onto the wet floor where it fizzled out. “Good girl,” He growled, his voice low and rough. “Now turn around. Kneel for me. Ass up, facing me. I want to see that pretty married pussy and that tight little hole I’m about to ruin.” My face burned with shame and arousal as I obeyed. I turned my back to him, water sloshing, and knelt on all fours in the tub. My knees pressed against the porcelain, my ass raised toward him while my upper body leaned forward. The position left me completely exposed, vulnerable, dripping, and trembling.

She was dripping wet. “Oh, you naughty girl! You are ready for me,” said Michelangelo and thrust his middle finger into her ladyness. “Aahh! Fuck me, Master, fuck me. Finger me good,” cried Renata at the top of her lungs. Her cries kept making him hard. His pants were restricting now. He needed to free his maleness. But her juices were making him forget about his discomfort. He wanted to spend his eternity near her ladyness. Her scent of sex was filling the room. Michelangelo could not take any longer and he inserted two fingers inside her ladyness. She arched her back and gave him even more access to her neck and shoulder.

Uncle Wilton turned me on in way other man had ever done. Perhaps, I should do away with the erotica book that consume my daily thoughts. The stories in them had me stealing glances at Uncle Wilton in the first place and he had sensed my desire for him. He pulled me closer as I tried to turn on the lock to the door. My buttocks was to his cock as he fished his cock out. "Where will aunt May think you are presently?" I questioned, my eyes danced around in circles as he teased me with his cock.

The way her breath had caught when I touched her last week, the soft swell of her mound under my gloved fingers, the faint sheen of arousal I’d seen between her thighs when she thought I wasn’t looking. I leaned against the wall in the private room, unzipped my jeans, and pulled myself out. Thick and already leaking. The head flushed dark, a bead of precum sliding down the underside. I wrapped my fist around the base and stroked once—slow, deliberate—picturing her on my table again. Soft curves. Full tits straining against her bra. That delicate flush creeping up her neck when I’d said her skin took the lines beautifully. I remembered the others: Claire, married ten years, wedding band flash

It has floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. I scoot closer, plucking one of the books from the shelves and scanning through it. Apparently, it’s an erotic book, given the naughty image of two ladies on their knees as they simultaneously blow a man’s cock, their hands bound tightly at their backs. It’s titled ‘A Dom’s Way Of Spitroasting The Subs.” I turn the pages, and each chapter is transcribed into x-rated images. My pussy quivers when I see the image of the two sluts turned upside down on an inversion table while the Dom treats them with his cock.