Permanent Male Chastity Stories

After five long years of dating, Winona Shaw finally said yes. I was elated, like a scavenger who'd struck gold. I put everything I had into the engagement party, but out of the blue, Winona embraced Claude Landton instead. She even tried to frame me and boot me to jail. I canceled the party and called the cops instead. That made Winona mad, and Claude started panicking. Icily, I said, "Now, calm down. We have a lot of trials to go through. See you in court."

I became the ultimate simp for Shannon Seay, the school's notorious flirt, and everyone assumed I was head over heels for her. When she skipped classes to pick fights or chase thrills, I'd copy notes and homework for her. When she tangled in ambiguous flings with other guys, I'd provide alibis to cover her tracks. For three grueling years, I poured my heart and soul into transforming her into an academic star, securing her spot at a top university. But right before orientation, she dumped me. Towering over me, she declared, "I know you've had a crush on me forever, but you're all books and no spark. Compared to Hunter, you're too rigid. We're done. I'm with him now." The crowd held its breath, anticipating my meltdown. I peeked at my phone, confirming a $50-million transfer, and replied with genuine nonchalance, "Alright, congrats." No one knew my unwavering devotion was purely because her father had paid handsomely for it. Now that the pay had been secured, it was time for me to vanish.

I called my wife, a forensic specialist, after learning that my in-laws were involved in a car accident. It was on the 80th call that she finally answered, "I'm just trying to celebrate Justin's birthday for him. What's wrong with you? Can you not get jealous over just about anything?" I informed her that Mom, Dad, and sister had died in a car accident, and that she should hurry back to arrange for their funeral. To my surprise, she scoffed at my suggestion and replied, "What does your family's death have to do with me?" She was not involved in the funeral arrangements at all. On top of that, she even falsified evidence for her love interest—the culprit who killed her family—in court as a forensics specialist. Eventually, on the day I informed her of my intention to divorce, she threw a fit. "Patrick, it's just the death of a few of your family members. Justin didn't do it on purpose. It was just an accident. "Moreover, it's because of your parents' and sister's carelessness on the road that led to the accident. Why are you making things difficult for me and insisting on divorce? I've truly misjudged you…" Noticing the indignance in her response, I finally understood. It seemed she had no idea that it was her family that died in the accident all this while.

The night before our wedding, my fiancée let her so-called "best friend" butcher the gown my late mother had sewn, chopping it into a revealing mini dress. I rushed over with the ruined dress in my arms, ready to demand answers: only to catch their voices through the door: "Imagine him expecting me to wear something a dead woman stitched. What a curse!" Through the narrow gap, I saw my distant, frigid fiancée flushed with color, straddling his lap. "What we did at the bridal shop wasn't enough," she murmured. "Tomorrow, walking down the aisle in this tiny dress you made me, it'll be even more exhilarating." Their lips met. My hand froze against the door, and inside, something broke with a soundless crack. If she longed for thrills, I would grant her some.

On our eighth anniversary, Claire Young announced that she had already registered her marriage with her childhood friend. She took him home, ordering me around as if it was only natural. "Move to another room. Stan loves sunshine." "Stan doesn't like sweets, so don't bake any when you're at home. He'd be upset if he saw it." I kept quiet through it all and bought a ticket to leave. My friend wanted to help me out of the predicament, but she didn't think it was a big deal. "He's just being dramatic again. Let him be—he'd be caving in just a few days." Everyone laughed at that, and quietly made bets as to when I'd come crawling back to Claire's feet. None of them knew I was already inducted into the national weapons program, and that I was really leaving.

The underprivileged student I've been sponsoring suddenly shows up at my birthday party, swaggering in and waving around a pregnancy report. "Look—Pheebs is pregnant with my baby! You'd better be smart and divorce her already!" I point at the report, stunned and confused. "Are you sure it's Phoebe who's pregnant with your child?" Victor Thompson, my beneficiary, smirks proudly as he fiddles with the pregnancy report. "Duh! We conceived the baby last month on our cruise trip!" The entire room falls into a stunned silence. My ex-wife, Phoebe Jackman, has been dead for three years.

In Kingdom where women and girls are thrust into a life of bondage to be used as pleasure dolls for men and rich folks who could afford to buy them, a young, innocent girl of fifteen, green in life finds herself looking toward this life, with horror stories of dolls echoing deep in her heart, leaving her green eyes wide with terror. Then fate strikes and she finds herself in the path of another, though in a different path, but shares the same fate. A life in bondage. She has been made one of the most powerful woman in the kingdom, not through her making, but by the greediness of a mother, and the ambition of a father. She is the twelfth wife of a cruel old King, who kills his wives without hesitancy at the failure to produce a male child. Their path intertwine at the wedding ceremony, indoctrinating the young black haired beauty into her new life. They were not looking for it, but love came knocking on their door. It is frowned upon, it is an abomination, if found out their lives is at stake, but these young women couldn’t resist the calling of their heart. Is love worth all the hell they would go through?

"You are kidding, right?" A peal of hysteric laughter escaped my throat as Alpha Blaze, my brother, told me that I was about to become some old man's wife. How could he do this to me?! I was eighteen and I had yet to find my mate! My own pack wanted to sell me to Alpha Kestrel, and they even dared tell me that sacrificing myself was my duty?! Knowing that my so-called fiancé was fixated on girls' purity, I came up with a sneaky plan to lose my virginity at any cost… The problem was that the male part of my pack consisted of chauvinistic, primitive screwheads; the mere thought of allowing any of them to touch me was making me sick. I almost lost all hope, but then at my bachelorette party… "Oh. My. Goddess..." I felt as if I had met the sexiest man alive. Moreover, he found me attractive! I spent the most beautiful night of my life with him... but that was when my true nightmare began. My Prince Charming disappeared, and I was severely punished for my deed. Five years later, I found out that the sexy stripper is the damn King of werewolves! Now not only that—he is also my mate, and he knew about it all along! I'm no longer the innocent girl he met. I've been hiding my real identity, but I'm planning to reveal it when the right time comes. When it does, I, Aria Seymour, am going to take vengeance on the Alpha King. Werewolf Kingdom Stories - Book One Werewolf Kingdom Stories in order: 1. How to reject the Alpha King - completed 2. I loved this Beta too much - ongoing

If the devil wears a suit... Has a permanent frown... Wet panties left and right.. Expect perfection from everyone... Well then, that's my boss. And today is not my day. It's never your day when you get called to his office. But an even worse day when he broodingly asks you to marry him. And apparently, no is not an answer he will take. So, does that mean I am now supposed to call my devil of a boss my pumpkin boo?

Before our wedding, my fiancée, Sarah Hargrave—a professor of medieval history—held a private ceremony in a secluded chapel in the countryside. But not with me. Under the glow of candlelight, she cradled Benjamin Wheeler—her first love, his face gaunt from the cancer consuming him—in her arms. Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she murmured, "In the eyes of God, vows made before the altar are the only ones that matter. Even if the law says I belong to Daniel, my soul was never his." And so, to the faint echo of hymns and the scent of old incense, they drank from the same silver cup, exchanged rings, and stepped together into the dimly lit sacristy—their makeshift bridal chamber. I watched. Silent. Motionless. No outbursts, no demands for explanation. Just the quiet dialing of a clinic to undo the vasectomy I'd gotten for our future. From fifteen to thirty, I had loved Sarah for fifteen long years. But in all that time, there'd never been room for me. That space had always belonged to Benjamin, my stepbrother. So I let her go. Afterward, I joined a geological research team bound for the isolation of Antarctica—a land cut off from the world, quiet and clean. Before I left, I handed Sarah a divorce agreement…and a final gift to mark the end. I never anticipated that Sarah, who'd always met my devotion with frosty detachment, who'd never once glanced back as I walked away, would look ten years older overnight.