Ranjang Sofa Novels & Stories

The night before my fiancé, Soren, and I were supposed to leave for Northern Europe to start our new life, the sounds of a lively discussion drifted from his private club. "Christ, Boss, are you insane? Why the sudden marriage alliance with the Rosetti family to make a play for Italy? Didn't you say you were getting out of the life with Abby and heading north?" Soren leaned back into a leather sofa, his voice nonchalant and muffled by a cloud of smoke. "Plans change. Besides, remember, I'm the one who made her who she is." "Once she sees the new empire I'm building, that little canary will come flying right back to my cage. The woman can't live without me." I stood in the shadows of the club, a wine glass in my hand, a dull ache blooming in my chest. The anniversary gift I had so carefully chosen for Soren was still in my purse, waiting for me to give it to him. I slipped out of the smoke-filled club, tossed the gift into the nearest trash can, and booked a one-way ticket to Northern Europe. But what he didn't know was that just as he could betray our future for Monica, I could abandon him for mine. All those years we spent dancing with death were never just for his sake.

“Valerie.” My head snapped up at the sound of my name. The Alpha was standing by the sofa, unbuttoning the neck of his coat. “Come,” he said. “We don’t have much time.” Much time? For what? A chill moved up my arms. I wouldn’t dare ask—not that I needed to. I was not an innocent child anymore. All of my training had been for this moment. There was only one reason why werewolves purchased young, human virgins. Sex. I was a slave. A pet. And my master could do whatever he pleased with me. _________ When the war started. They fought. They slaughtered. We were nearly wiped out on the earth. Surviving humans were classified into three categories: free humans, Servants, and Slaves. My name is Valerie Davis. My parents were accused of committing a crime against the creatures in the war. After their execution, I was captured and sent to the cell as a human slave. I lived in that cell for years before I was transported to a Slave Shop, where I would be picked by a Master. It was during the dry season when I was put in the display box. I wasn't afraid like the other girls, because I was unwanted for my weirdness. I was despised for being the criminals’ daughter. I was lucky, as the masters wouldn’t want to lay a finger on me. But then the Alpha came. When he looked at me, he said he want me. ___________________________ Daily Update!

"Logan, just give me some sleeping pills. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks," Xavier said to his psychiatrist and childhood friend. "You don’t need sleeping pills, Xavier. What you need is a break. How about taking ten days off on a cruise?" Dr. Logan Pierce suggested. "You know how much money I can make in ten days? And you want me to waste it sitting idle on a boat? Every minute I’m off that ship is costing me." "That’s exactly why you need it. The world will survive without you for ten days. Maybe you’ll realize you can, too." "But…" Xavier protested. "Xavier, sleeping pills won’t help this time. You’re becoming too dependent on them, and I’m not prescribing more. If you want your sleep back, take a break—a cruise vacation will do the trick." "Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I’m never listening to you again." "Deal. Now, go pack. And leave your laptop at home." Little did Xavier know that these ten days on the cruise would bring him a surprise. Girlfriend? No. Memories? No. Friends? No. Then what? Twins... Now, Xavier doesn’t need sleeping pills to sleep—just a sofa with no noise. The only purpose of Xavier’s life now is to find a mother for the twins.

This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters. The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer. For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives. If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month. Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!" "The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!" Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me. Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering, "Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna." "I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand." I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask. Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end." I'm going to vanish from your world completely. That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself.

On April Fool’s Day, my CEO husband cut out my heart to save his childhood sweetheart's son. After the surgery, he tossed me into a cold rental apartment, where I died in agony. Three days after my death, my five-year-old daughter played in the room as usual. Walking by the sofa, she wrinkled her little nose and mumbled, "Mommy, there's a weird smell in here." She touched my face and murmured, "Mommy, are you pretending to be Snow White? Why are you so pale?" She shook my arm harder and raised her voice, "Mommy, it's my birthday today—get up and blow out the candles!" Confused, she picked up the phone and called her father. “Daddy, did I make Mommy mad? I lit the candles, but no matter how much I call her, she won’t wake up.” On the other end of the call, Patrick Hart’s voice was cold and impatient. “What could possibly be wrong with her? She’s just pretending to be asleep for sympathy. It’s Johnny’s birthday, I’m busy. Don’t bother me! Tell your melodramatic mother to stop playing her little tricks. I don't have time to humor her." My daughter removed the candle from her bun, pinched off a piece of the bun, and fed it to me. "Mommy, I made a secret wish… I really wish you could hold me again, just like before."

By the time I got home from my business trip, it was already past midnight—and my husband wasn't there. A woman's blouse lay on the sofa. It wasn't mine. I called him. He said he was working late at the office. I didn't bother with pretense. "Whose blouse is on the sofa?" His tone was light and casual. "Who else would it be? It's obviously a gift for you. Try it on." Suspicious, I picked it up and held it against myself. The blouse was clearly one size too small. "Honey, this is a size S. I always wear M." My husband owns a clothing company. He handles all my clothes. He's even used my measurements to design women's wear. There's no way he doesn't know my size. On the phone, he froze for half a second, then spoke as if piecing something together. "This is a new women's line I'm launching. I ordered custom pieces for you and my sister. I must've grabbed the wrong one. I'll switch it tomorrow." A moment later, his voice softened with exhaustion. "Babe, you've been gone for days. Without you, I feel so tired… I miss you so much…" It was already late into the night. Hearing him sound vulnerable—something he rarely did—made my chest tighten. I blamed myself for overthinking. But the moment I hung up, realization struck. His sister has the same build as me. She always wears size M.

` It was a cool, breezy and stormy night. Rain came down in sheets, as a dark figure stood before a house. The house was pretty ordinary, white with blue shutters; it didn't have more than two bedrooms. It looked like a cozy little family home with flowers and shrubs lining the front lawn, and then the smell from the pellet stove smoke invaded his nostrils. He took a deep breath and pulled out an old, rusted compass from his black trench coat. It looked like it could have been from the 14th century, the small, brass disc was dented and the Victorian designs were faded. He studied it as it pointed east, towards the small house. He looked the house over carefully, looking for the best entrance, before proceeding towards the side to gaze into the window. Inside you can see the small kitchen; the brand new, all black appliances off set the linoleum floor. Cabinets filled almost every wall of the small space that made it look more crowded than it should have been. The kitchen opened to a larger room which seemed to be used as a living room and a dining room all at once. The whole house looked crowded, with the furniture in the living room all touching except for a small gap to walk through and the dining room was so close to the sofa, it could have been sitting on it. He stepped back into the shadows as he watched a young couple enter the kitchen. The wife was tall and slender, had strawberry blond hair formed around her face accenting her jaw-line and her deep blue eyes stopped your heart as you got lost in them. Her fair complexion was silky and complimented her soft face.

He was the strictest Dom, he loved to control women. She was a free bird and didn't want anybody to control her. He was into BDSM stuff and she despised it with all her heart. He was looking for a challenging submissive and she was a perfect match but this girl wasn't ready to accept his offer since she lived her life without any rules and regulations. She wanted to fly high like a free bird without any limitations. He had this burning desire to control her because she could be a perfect choice but she was a tough nut to crack. He was getting crazy to make her his submissive, controlling her mind, soul and body. Will their fate fulfil his desire to control her? Or will this desire transform into the desire of making her his? To get your answers dive into the heartwarming and intense journey of the hottest and strictest Master you will ever find and his innocent little butterfly. *** "Fuck you and get the hell out of my cafe if you don't want me to kick your ass." He frowned and dragged me to the backside of the cafe by seizing my wrist. Then he pushed me into the party hall and hurriedly locked the door. "What the fuck do you think of yourself? You," "Shut up." He roared, cutting my words. He grabbed my wrist again and dragged me to the sofa. He sat down and then, with a swift motion he yanked me down and bent me over his lap. He pinned me against the sofa by pressing his hand on my back and locked my legs between his. What is he doing? Chills rushed down my spine.

"Do not dare to act like my wife..."He grabbed her forearm and hushed dangerously into her ear. Cold shiver ran through her veins as she closed her eyes to let the forming tears cascade down her eyes. "But..I am your wife."she stuttered. "Yeah a wife who took her sister's place to dig on my money, Rain Anderson."He jerked her with such force that she stumbled and fell on the sofa behind her. She squeezed shut her eyes and let the remaining moisture release her eye sockets. She had suffered his insults and abuses for long two years for a promise which she gave to her parents and sake of the holy vows she took with him but finally her last string of patience broke. She couldn't let him play with her self respect. She wiped her tear stricken face and stood up to match his level.It was the time when she must face him to save their marriage and give him a taste of his own medicine if she wanted to get her love and self respect back. "Its Mrs. Rain Blackwood,Mr. Nicholas Blackwood now whose bitch of a sister and your fiancee ran away on the day of your marriage with her boyfriend and I had to take her place to save our families' reputation.So, better you keept it in your mind before judging my character. "She breathed out and left her husband, Nicholas Blackwood in complete shock. He stood there like a stone statue as it was the first time she rose against his tortures.

⚠️ Warning: Very explicit content ahead🔞. Contains raw and vulgar language, taboo/daddy kink relationships, centered on dominance, control, submission, power play dynamics, and is not intended for readers below 18. So read with extreme caution. “Tell me little bird, does my son fuck you as good as I do? Huh? Does his dick leave an aching memory in your pussy the way mine does?” Miguel’s voice was a low, vibration-heavy growl that rattled my teeth as he slammed into me, the impact jarring my spine, his thick, heavy cock stretching me so wide I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. I gripped the velvet edge of the sofa, my knuckles white, my breath hitching in ragged, pathetic little gasps. A moan tore out of me... raw, desperate, and utterly filthy. It was the sound of a woman who had spent months pretending to be a saint, finally being broken back into a sinner. “Mmmph... no Daddy... fuck. It’s just you. It’s always been you.” *********************** To my fucked-up queens... the ones who moan when they should run. For the girls who crave total damnation as soon as the lights go out. For the ones who never wanted soft. You want him obsessed, unhinged and filthy... as the sound of your name breaks through his lips, while he fucks you like you're his last breath. Then... welcome to “Daddies Inferno” 🔥a sinful collection filled with dominant men that promise to wreck you in every way possible. From possessive step dads, to father-in-law's who cross forbidden lines for the one woman they should never want or touch. You'll find him in these filthy pages 📖. Now... be a good girl, sit back, relax and let “Daddy” take care of you 😈👅💦.