Prison Erotica Novels & Stories

This was a consecration of the frame. He took her from behind, his hands gripping the wire harness on her shoulders for leverage. Each thrust jolted her body, making the staples pull and the wire sing taut against her skin. The pain was inseparable from the penetration, each amplifying the other into a dizzying crescendo of violation. He was fucking the very concept of his ownership, ravishing the boundary he had just created. Elara hung in her wire cage, silent now beyond whimpers, as he drove towards his climax. He came with a shout that seemed to shake the studio, his release another hot fluid sealed inside the framed, varnished artwork.

“Been waiting for this. The bitch who made our lives hell is finally going to make up for it.” They were violating me from all angles… groping, licking, rubbing… turning me into nothing but an object in the middle of the cell. “Please…” I begged, voice cracking. “I’m sorry— I’m so sorry—” One prisoner yanked my hair back and forced his mouth onto mine, kissing me with a disgusting, smoke-stained breath that made me gag. At the same time, the two holding my legs worked together… one rubbing my clit in fast circles, the other pushing two thick fingers inside my pussy.

Not even from the hidden backup he keeps locked in the vault behind a fake bookshelf. It’s not the first night he fucked her. Or the second. But the third. The night she looked straight into the camera while he fucked her. Her wrists were tied to the headboard. Silk, of course. Her legs were shaking. Her body a mess of sweat and bruises and bite marks. He was behind her, one hand gripping her hair, the other spreading her open. The camera caught everything. Her moans. Her filth. Her smile. That night, she spoke to the camera.

"Watch me, Chris." His jaw locked. I could see the muscles in his neck straining as I reached for the front clasp of the red bra. I unhooked it slowly, letting the lace fall away to reveal my breasts. I began to massage them, my thumbs circling my nipples into hard peaks. "Daphne... f-fuck..." Chris groaned, covering his mouth with his hand. It looked physically painful for him to stay still. I ignored his plea, letting out a long, high-pitched moan as I arched my back. I spread my legs wide on the marble island, the red net leggings and matching panties leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

The position left me completely exposed, vulnerable, dripping, and trembling. He was sitting relaxed against the back of the tub, legs spread, that powerful, broad-shouldered body dominating the space. I felt his rough, calloused hand slide up the back of my thigh, the friction sending sparks through me. His skin was coarse from years in prison, nothing like Felix’s smooth touch. It scraped deliciously against my soft flesh. “Fuck, look at you,” He muttered, voice thick with lust. “Soaking wet already and I haven’t even touched you properly. Does my brother ever get you this dripping? Does Felix make your cunt throb like a desperate little slut?”

he said. He grabbed the handcuffs from the box and moved to my side. He cuffed my wrist to the headboard, keeping my arms stretched out above my head. I tried to move and couldn’t. "Richard, what are you doing?" I whispered. My pussy clenched at the feeling of being held captive. He chuckled and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I’m going to make you feel amazing," he promised. He moved between my legs again and pushed them apart. I saw him pull something else from the box and gasp. It was a big dildo, and I wondered what he would do with it.

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.

"I'm going to take your pants off now, baby. You okay with that?" I lick my lips. "Yes." A predatory smile takes over Callan's face as he flicks the button on my jeans. "Lay back, Erica." I do as I'm told and lay back against the couch. He then grips my jeans and tugs them over my hips and down my legs, leaving me in just my panties. His eyes darken when his gaze zeroes in on what's between my legs. "I can't wait to get my mouth on this pussy." Sliding his palms up my calves and in between my thighs, Callan spreads my legs wide. "Hold your legs open, Erica. Show me what's mine. Show me what no other man has had the pleasure of tasting or ever will." He inches his face a little closer, and I

Isaac took a seat in front of the stage so he could get a close up view of the nude stripper working the pole. He was excited to see something he’d only seen online. The girl was a bit thicker than he thought a stripper should be, and wasn’t as clean shaven as he’d of liked, but she had a nice rack of tits and that was enough to make him happy. Although the prison was co-ed, he rarely saw the females in anything other than the orange jumpsuits the prisoners were issued.

I stripped out of my work clothes immediately, leaving myself naked except for the hidden septum retainer in my big nose and the huge black plug lodged in my ass. My heavy 38DD breasts hung free, still sore and marked from the flogging earlier. Red lines crisscrossed my pale skin where the flogger had landed hardest. I knew Ciara would be here soon. She had texted me right before I left the office: “Be ready on all fours when I arrive, whore.” So I waited. Kneeling in the middle of my living room, knees spread, tits hanging heavy, nostrils ready for the hooks. My cunt throbbed with anticipation and humiliation.