Power Fantasy Novels & Stories

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains breeding/impregnation fantasies, rough sex, dominance/submission dynamics, and werewolf erotica themes. Reader discretion advised – triggers for non-consensual undertones in fantasy context, size difference, and intense power play. This is going to be a long series. Enjoy ;) CHAPTER ONE

Anger surged through him as he kept it in check, he thought of holding ammerah snapping her head off her neck but he is not ready to die yet. He just hoped nothing happens to Faye who watched in disbelief. "You will have sex with me right here and now, ameerah purred in his ears breaking him from his wandering thoughts. "What? He turned to her. "Yes, now. She grinned at Daylan as she started pulling off her top, " thesame way you sleep with Faye, do it to me...... She pulled her trouser, she stood there only on her bra and panties. Touch me Daylan, she cocked the gun at him. Now!

The characters, settings, and scenarios are fictional and meant for escapism—not intended to reflect or encourage real-life behavior without consent or responsibility. This book may feature content that explores various sexual dynamics, fantasies, and preferences. All encounters are consensual in nature, even if they unfold in daring or unconventional contexts. However, if you're uncomfortable with mature themes or erotic storytelling, this book may not be for you. --- Legal & Copyright Notice

Dante’s roar cut through the sound of the thunder and the crackle of the burning mansion like a physical blow. Standing on the shattered marble landing, I watched the man who had abandoned me five years ago charge into the gunfire. He didn't look like an untouchable underworld king anymore. He looked like a dying beast driven by nothing but survival instinct and raw, primal panic. Every step he took in the pouring rain seemed to drain the remaining strength from his towering frame, his boots slipping on the bloody gravel of the courtyard. Yet, his assault rifle remained steady, tracking the shadows of the Petrov mercenaries moving through the smoke.

“He's busy with work, wouldn't be home till five pm,he has a lot on his plate and coming here would be the last thing he could possibly think of” Doctor Manuel countenance… Fell… But why? “it would have been a whole steamy orgy if he gets to fuck my ass” A normal me would have screamed an ehhwww! Or maybe throw up at the thought and sight of it but this me liked the thought of it. Luke fucking me from behind while doctor Manuel thrusts from the front and Chloe sucking on my huge tits that would be so sensational. “Are you with me Ann?” I opened my eyes. I've been fantasizing.

A closer look reveals my bold sleek handwriting. ‘No. No. No…’ My heart skips a beat. What's worse isn't that I know I’m the owner of the card, but the writing on it. More like a request. ‘I saw a little dirty thing— No, a big filthy cock. Big and black… and god! It's one I’ve always dreamed of. And I want it… I fucking do. And I want it to fulfill my dark fantasy; I want it to rape me. No apology.’

“And you wanted me to notice.” “Yes.” He hooked his fingers into her thong and dragged it down her thighs, letting it pool at her ankles. Cool air hit her soaked pussy. He groaned softly. “Look at you. Dripping down your legs already.” One thick finger traced her seam, gathering wetness, then pushed inside without warning. She moaned, pushing back. He added a second finger, pumping slow and deep, curling to hit that spot that made her knees buckle. “You’ve been fantasizing about this, haven’t you?” he said against her ear, leaning over her. “About me bending you over my desk and fucking you raw while the campus walks by outside.”

I've had this fantasy since I was nineteen years old. Not the polished version – not the softcore "oh wouldn't it be naughty" version you admit to over cocktails when someone asks your wildest fantasy. The real one. The one I play on the backs of my eyelids when my vibrator is on the highest setting and I'm chasing the orgasm that only this image delivers: me, naked, surrounded by men. Hands everywhere. Cocks everywhere. Being passed between them like something precious and filthy, the singular focus of four, five, six men who want nothing except to use my body until I can't remember my own name.

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.”

Nor had she ever seen such an eclectic collection of oddities. She picked up a pair of boots, vinyl, with a huge, plastic zipper. A vague memory of a porn film she had accidentally flipped on one late night flashed through her mind. Dominatrix, she believed it was called. She dropped the boots and sank onto a little bench sitting against the wall across from the racks of costumes. Fantasies. She had never had a sexual fantasy. All her sexual thoughts had always centered on Steve and their quiet sex life. All she had ever wanted was his hands on her, his lips telling her the things she wanted to hear.