Pan Piano Nude Novels & Stories

WARNING; This story contains mature contents not suitable for readers under 18 and may be triggering to others. Dark themes like BDSM, dub con, drug abuse and human trafficking and others are mentioned. It has a happy ending, but the journey will not be a pretty fairytale that's why it's dark romance. If you choose to read further, please don't complain and I hope you enjoy my story. Thank youuu!!! * All she wants is a better life, but she keeps going from frying pan to fire. From an abusive father, to a human trafficking syndicate just to find her lost sister. A man whose name was whispered in fear among the most feared becomes her saviour. Their only history was a night of no holds barred pleasure after she was rescued by him in a dirty alley on a cold November night. He says he’s not a hero, and everyone calls him dangerous. But he was the only safety she had ever known. ~ "I want you on my bed at all times, always ready for pleasure. I want you to only think about how good I make you feel, and I want you to scream my name so loudly you’ll lose your voice. That’s what makes me a villain. I want everyone to hear and know that you’re mine, only mine. I am not a hero, and you don’t need a hero. A hero would sacrifice you for the greater good, I would burn the world for you. All you need to do is ask.”

There's this thing that my mom keeps repeating to me. "I love my children equally. I will always treat you and Brielle the same." It's true that I get everything my sister, Brielle Montgomery, has since we were children. If Brielle has a new backpack, I do too. If Brielle goes for piano lessons, I'll be given the opportunity to attend the same lessons. When I go home for the holidays, my mom digs out two beautiful shopping bags sporting luxury brand logos. With a smile on her face, she hands them to us. "I specifically went to the store to buy you nice coats. Both of you get a coat each. I'll have you know that coats with wool linings are worth thousands of dollars. I don't even have the heart to wear one of these coats. I only bought these coats for you two." As I gaze at the expensive-looking coat, I feel warmth surging into my heart. But when I try on the coat, I feel a weird, scratchy sensation coming from my armpits. After flipping the coat inside out, I notice a few strands of long, dry hair tightly entangled among the seams. I even smell a faint trace of mold mixed with a strong hint of rot that can't be covered up by the cheap fragrance on the coat.

The day before the World Piano Masters Competition, I was kidnapped, and my tendons were deliberately severed. Endorsements were swiftly terminated. Advertisers, once eager to work with me, turned instead to my rival. Crushed under the weight of betrayal and despair, I spiraled into a deep depression. Just when I was at my lowest, Carl Manos appeared. He not only paid off all my breach-of-contract penalties but also sought out top specialists to treat my damaged hand. Later, he knelt on one knee and solemnly proposed. I saw him as my salvation, the light that pierced through my darkness. Without hesitation, I let Carl slip the ring onto my finger. Two years later, my hand had fully recovered. I rushed to the study, eager to share the good news, only to overhear a chilling conversation. "Carl, if you hadn't arranged for someone to sever Reily's tendons, my sister never would've had the chance to win the competition and land those endorsements. I'll never forget what you did for us." There was a pause. Then came Carl's indifferent reply, "I simply helped Lucy achieve her dream. Breaking a woman's tendons in exchange for that is nothing." So this was the truth. The marriage I took such pride in… was nothing but a cold, calculated nightmare. Since that was the case, there was nothing left for me here. It was time to leave.

Warning: This book is fucking disgusting. If the thought of getting your tight little holes stretched, used, and ruined makes you uncomfortable, close it right now and go read something vanilla. But if your pussy is already dripping and your thighs are squeezing together… keep reading, you filthy little slut. Throw away every safe, sweet romance you’ve ever touched. This collection doesn’t ask permission. It kicks the door down, grabs you by the hair, slams you face-down, and fucks you raw until you forget your own name. No slow burn. No gentle teasing. No fade-to-black bullshit. Every story starts fast, hits harder, and doesn’t stop until she’s spread wide open, stuffed full of thick cock, leaking load after load from every hole, and begging like a desperate whore for more. Stepdads and stepbrothers who double-team her while Mommy sleeps ten feet away, pumping her full of forbidden cum. Daddy’s closest friend blackmailing her with that slutty nude she accidentally sent, forcing her to cum on his fingers while Dad cheers at the TV inches away. Being gangbanged by drunk older men in the bar —every hole used, every load swallowed or pumped deep until cum runs down her thighs in thick rivers. Choking. Breeding. Gangbangs. Triple penetration. Degradation. Face-fucking. Raw, unprotected creampies that ruin you for any other man. If the thought of being held down and used without mercy while you cum so hard you see stars makes your cunt throb… You’re exactly where you belong. Turn the page, baby.. Your men are waiting. And they’re starving to wreck you...

After I discovered that my husband, Leonardo Marchetti, could not let go of his first love, I started teaching our daughter Sofia to call him "Uncle Leonardo." Sofia sprained her ankle at school. In the middle of the night, Leonardo got a phone call. Valentina was crying on the other end. Her daughter Lily had a nightmare and would not stop screaming for a father. Leonardo left without saying a word. I pressed an ice pack against Sofia's swollen ankle and whispered, "Say 'goodbye, Uncle Leonardo.'" Leonardo promised to come to Sofia's school sports day. Then Valentina called, sobbing that Lily had no father to run the three legged race with him. Leonardo walked out without a second thought. I just handed the phone to Sofia and told her to tell her teacher, "Uncle Leonardo says he cannot make it." Every time, Sofia hesitated. Sofia did not understand why I was making her do this. Until one day, Leonardo finally realized how much he had failed us. He put down all his mob business for Sofia's piano recital and swore he would not miss it. Sofia was backstage with the other children. Then Leonardo's phone buzzed. Valentina. I could not hear what she said, but I could guess. Lily was crying. Lily needed him. Lily did not have a father. Leonardo came back. But before Leonardo could begin his excuse, Sofia's voice came from the stage. "It is okay, Uncle Leonardo. You go take care of your other kid. Mom staying here to watch me is enough."

My sister has awakened her mermaid bloodline, but it is incomplete. Her skin is her curse. A single touch, too hard, and it cracks. For her, everything hard in our house has been thrown away. I love to dance, but the hard tips of ballet shoes are forbidden. I love music, but the strings of a guitar or the keys of a piano are too dangerous. Every dream I've ever had has been strangled in its cradle because of my sister's condition. My brother, Liam, who raised us both, always looks at me with tired, pleading eyes. "Elara is fragile, Isla. You have to be understanding." But I was only eighteen the first time I truly understood. I came home from my high school graduation ceremony, the scent of sunshine and excitement still on my clothes. The moment I stepped inside, Elara's hand connected with my cheek. Hard. For no reason at all. Everyone rushed to her. Liam pointed a furious finger at me. "Look what you've done! You've hurt her hand! How could you be so careless?" He shoved me aside and rushed out with Elara to find a doctor. I fell back against the glass coffee table, the impact jarring. And then, a strange, cold pain bloomed across my back. I felt my skin... tear. It was then I remembered the doctor's words from my last check-up: "You carry the Siren's Gene, Isla. It could manifest at any time." As my vision blurred, my own blood pooling on the pristine white floor, I finally understood. The curse wasn't just my sister's. It was mine, too.

In the three years I date Colin Blanchard, he tests me 99 times. On the 100th time, he sends me to a jock's bed following his secretary's suggestion. This time, I do not resist. I sleep with the jock seven times in one night. Colin berates me for being shameless. He quickly marries his secretary, Chelsea Wright, and deliberately waves their marriage certificate in front of me to provoke me. He taunts, "Tammy, you were just one step away from becoming Mrs. Blanchard. It is your own fault for not holding on. Now it is too late to regret it." Chelsea wraps her arm around him affectionately and says, "Thanks to you, I am able to a wonderful man like Colin. But now that you have lost your chastity and have been dumped by Colin, I am afraid no one in Baywich would want to marry you." What a coincidence. I happened to have registered my marriage just the day before. My husband, Jeremiah Atkinson, is the richest man. Five years later, I take my daughter to a piano competition. By chance, I run into Colin again. Seeing my plain clothes, he comes over to mock me. "Tammy, did you come here today just to see me because you knew I would be here? Stop dreaming. Even if you abandon your burdensome child in front of me today, you are no longer worthy of being with me." I ignore him. In my heart, I am feeling anxious because Jeremiah is still nowhere to be seen. Our daughter is about to perform!

My uncle, Jackson Yates, was a born pervert. While studying abroad, he was arrested for harassing female classmates and making lewd comments toward a female teacher. He was expelled and sent back home. After returning to the country, under the protection of my billionaire grandfather, he lived like an emperor, keeping hundreds of lovers in a villa. All of them vied for his attention. One day, he set his sights on my gentle, well-mannered wife—the rumored piano prodigy, Janelle Sanders. “My dear nephew, all because you grabbed your grandpa’s hand during your first birthday party game, the entire family chose you as the future heir. But as long as I don’t agree, you’ll never succeed.” He constantly harassed her, both verbally and physically. Janelle never tolerated it. She reported him to the police several times, resulting in him getting detained. She even scolded him sternly, “Cyril and I grew up together. Uncle Jackson, please remember your place!” Out of respect for his seniority, Janelle usually just reprimanded him coldly and walked away. Two years later, Jackson seemed to change. He took the initiative to manage a subsidiary and handled everything with impressive efficiency. Grandfather was pleased and handed the entire branch over to him. Just when I thought everything had returned to normal… At our son’s one-month celebration banquet, I saw Janelle in the kitchen. She was dressed provocatively as she desperately pressed herself against Jackson. Jackson lifted his head from her chest and gave me a smug smile.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. You just walked out of Boston City Hall looking absolutely radiant. Any special occasion to celebrate?" "I'm getting divorced." "I'm sorry to hear that. Would you mind telling me what happened?" "He's been bedding his late right-hand man's sister. In my art studio, on my yacht, across my private study desk, and even on the grand piano in our living room. He thought I didn't know." "I can't imagine how much this hurts. I'm so sorry for what you're going through. Where are you heading now?" "The hospital. Prenatal checkup." ... The interview went viral within hours for her calm, unflinching recounting of the betrayal and the shocking contrast between her glamorous mafia wife identity and her devastating situation. It didn't take long for netizens to dig out my identity, and the entire world now knows the woman in that video is me. Elena, Donna of the Moretti family. Three years ago, Vincenzo Moretti, the undisputed Don who ruled Boston's underworld with an iron fist, threw me a wedding that made headlines across the nation. Back then, everyone envied me, calling me the luckiest woman alive. But now? That interview had been online for nearly two days, and Vincenzo was still lost in his little love nest. By the time Vincenzo finally bothered to watch the video his men had forwarded to him, I was already in New Zealand. The whole world knew I was leaving Vincenzo Moretti. He was the last person on earth to find out.

I've been married to the prince of the underworld for ten years and have endured countless life-or-death situations by his side. My hands, once trained to play the piano, are covered in calluses from holding guns and stained with blood. But at 28, my husband ends up falling for a young woman from the slums. She's as delicate and pure as a chamomile. She's his well-kept little secret—until I run into them at the woman's prenatal appointment one day. I storm up to him, demanding an explanation, only for him to nonchalantly hand me divorce papers. "Sonia is a devout follower of the church and can't have a child before marriage. I must make an honest woman out of her. Sign these, and you'll get 40% of the company's shares." I refuse to do as told, so he corners me. In the end, he has my crippled younger brother tied up and forced under a hydraulic compression machine. "Sign the papers, Maeve, or watch your brother become a human mince pie. The choice is yours." I fall on my knees and beg him to stop. As the machine turns on, my hands fly to my aching lower belly, and I scream as I lose consciousness. When I wake up again, I'm back in the hospital, in the same spot where I ran into my husband and his mistress at her prenatal appointment. This time, I don't confront him. Overnight, I make arrangements with a sanatorium abroad, get divorced, and run away from home. Yet the moment I truly disappear, my husband loses his mind.