Medieval Erotica Novels & Stories

She fingered me roughly, curling her fingers, while her thumb rubbed my clit. “You’re just like me now,” she whispered sadistically, pumping her fingers faster. “A broken whore for the Lane men.” I moaned helplessly as she fingered me. Elias watched with dark amusement, slowly stroking his cock. “69. Now,” he commanded. Mia spun around and lowered her pussy onto my face. I had no choice but to lick her… tasting her wetness, sucking on her clit while she buried her face between my legs and devoured my pussy. We ate each other desperately, moaning into each other’s cunts while Elias watched and gave instructions.

ARC 21 : SIREN’S FATAL EMBRACE WARNING: This arc contains extremely explicit sexual content including lesbian smut, fingering, squirting, tribbing/scissoring, oral worship, tail penetration (anal and vaginal), double penetration with tongue and tail, rough degradation, and intense orgasm control. Intended for mature audiences only (18+). Proceed only if you consent to fiction that explores raw and unrestrained desire. ------- Eli/Elara's POV The wind whipped across the deck of The Iron Kraken carrying the reek of unwashed men. I kept my head down with my shoulders hunched, trying to blend in

The risk felt intoxicating. In his class, Elena always sat in the third row, right in his line of sight if he ever bothered to look. Most days, he didn’t. But that didn’t stop her. While his low, serious voice filled the room, lecturing about ancient battles or scandalous affairs between kings and their forbidden lovers, her hand would slowly slide under the desk. She pressed her thighs tight together at first, feeling the heat building between her legs. Then her fingers would slip under her skirt, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over her panties right on her swollen clit. She had to bite her lip hard enough to taste blood just to stay quiet as he paced between the desks. The fear of gettin

Something so primal, that I had to squeeze my hands shut, and clench my jaws. She put down her shirt and turned back to the book. “The romans were very emphatic about sex, it seems,” she traced the text as she read. I followed her hands. In latin, it read, ‘The woman and the man, in rabid lust, intwine their legs…and their parts, and in the exchange of pleasure, leave a part of themselves in each other.’ “Sounds fun,” I scoffed. “Yeah,” Raquelle breathed. “There’s even the description and everything,” she flipped the page, and revealed to us were vivid drawings of every perceivable position to exchange coitus, and what each position was likely to transfer.

What I found was a world of explicit, detailed stories about aunts and nephews. Stories of seduction, of secret affairs, of dominant young men and submissive older women. I read one, then another. My face grew hot, my breathing shallow. Without even consciously deciding to, my hand slipped under the waistband of my linen trousers, my fingertips finding my clit, already sensitive from last night. The stories were graphic, filthy, and utterly compelling. They painted pictures of aunts who were initially reluctant but secretly hungry, who were awakened by their nephew's bold desire. They talked about submission, about being called names, about the thrill of the forbidden.

In the center stood a massive king-sized bed draped in luxurious black silk sheets, with sturdy restraints dangling from the headboard and posts. In one corner loomed a polished St. Andrew’s cross, its leather cuffs gleaming. Along a nearby table lay an array of toys: vibrantly colored dildos of varying sizes, gleaming metal and silicone plugs, coiled whips, paddles, and more—everything meticulously arranged. Her heart pounded wildly, a fresh wave of heat flooding between her thighs as arousal soaked her instantly. “You… you did all this?” she whispered breathlessly, turning to him. “For us?”