Slammed Novels & Stories

Trigger Warning: This story explores difficult themes including emotional and physical abuse, coercion, non-consensual drugging, obsession, and trauma. Reader discretion is advised. Love. Lust. Obsession. Three very different men, but they all have one thing in common... Me. I was just a waitress. A woman with burned bridges and a dream of starting over. I thought I was finally free. A clean slate. I was so close... so close to gaining the independence I fought so hard for, until darkness came again, only this time… tenfold. One’s lust wants to own me. Another’s obsession seeks to break me. The third... I’m drawn to. He treated me like no one else did. I thought I could trust him. Then something shifted. Something terrifying. Hope fades when your body is not yours, your voice is silenced, and freedom is denied. --- As my fingertips brushed the smooth metal surface of the handle, claw-like fingers sank into my fleshy hips. I cried out in pure terror, the wind knocked out of me as my back slammed against his chest. “You’re really not leaving without saying goodbye to me, are you, sweetheart?” he growled. His eyes glowed an eerie garnet. “Remember, you belong to me now, Laura. If you ever dare run, I’ll lock you away where no one will find you,” he snarled, his coarse face scraping against mine. --- I’ve survived everything up to this point... Now, I’m not sure I can. They say I belong to them... Yet what if I was never meant to belong to anyone?

"I do want you." "Zakh!" "I can't wait to feel your pussy around my dick." "But...Zakh, this isn't right." "You want this," I said as I leaned over to suck on her tits. "I–I don't know if⁠—" "You're going to take my dick like a good girl, Alisa." She stared at me, her face showing how badly she wanted the pleasure I could give her while simultaneously, she was intimidated by what it would feel like. "I⁠—" "Right now," I vowed as I slammed into her tight, slick heat in one long, steady thrust. ----------------------- The only crime twenty-year-old Alisa Volkov committed is being fat. Hated by her father, and hiding away behind a counter, managing the cover business for her father's shady business deals, she hopes one day to be set free. That day eventually comes. But it's not in the way she expects. When her father announces a marriage arrangement to the rival Bravta group's son, Alisa bemoans her fate. But one look at Zakh Volkov, her fiancee's cousin, and Alisa loses her mind. Zakh is cold, seductive, and very dangerous. He is everything Alisa has been running away from all her life. A Bravta Kingpin through and through. Alisa should behave herself and get married to the man her father choose, but it's too late. Zakh has his eyes set on her, and he would stop at nothing to make her his. Even if it means stealing her from his cousin. Even if it means going against the Bravta.

Three years after my family committed me to a psychiatric hospital, I finally managed to escape. But my freedom didn't mean much, not when the cancer had already metastasized. Knowing my days were numbered, I just wanted one decent meal. I used the pocket change I'd scraped together from collecting recycling to buy an ice cream cone—something I had never been allowed to try before. I stood on the street, happily enjoying it, when a metal chain suddenly whipped across my face. "Chantal is seriously ill, and you have the nerve to stand here enjoying yourself? I knew you always wanted her dead." It was my mother, whom I hadn't seen in years. She screamed hysterically, swinging the heavy metal strap of her designer purse and leaving bloody welts across my cheeks. Losing her mind completely, she grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head against the wall. My brother arrived just in time to watch coldly. With a sneer, he ordered his bodyguards to pin me down to the pavement. "Looks like we've been letting you live way too comfortably," he mocked. "Splurging on ice cream while Chantal suffers? Must be nice! But your timing is perfect. She needs a marrow transplant. "You ruined her life, and this is your only shot at redemption. If you're a match, I'll allow you back into this family. Isn't that what you used to beg us for?" Tears silently slipped down my face. It was all too late; the cancer cells were already everywhere in my body. I was going to die very soon.

My sister was autistic. The doctors called it "severe sensory overload." The rule was simple: No sudden noises. Ever. So my whole life was set to mute. I never wore heels. I never raised my voice. I wasn't even allowed to laugh. It was all to keep her from having a meltdown. My father, Victor, the Don of the Castellano family, would grip my shoulder. His face was a mask of apology. "Sera, you're my good girl. Protecting your sister is our duty. You're healthy and strong. You can sacrifice a little for her, can't you?" That day, I was on the second-floor terrace and accidentally knocked over a pot of white roses. The sound of it shattering sent my sister, who was sunbathing in the garden below, into a meltdown. For the first time, Victor glared at me like I was the enemy. He roared, "Can't you just be quiet? Do you want to drive her insane?" My sister backed away in terror, right into a glass table, and let out a piercing scream. Victor charged past me, a blur of rage and panic. He slammed into me on the stairs as I was running down to help. I lost my footing and crashed chest-first into the sharp corner of a wrought-iron banister post. Pain exploded in my chest. I opened my mouth to scream, but only silence came out. My family swarmed around my shrieking sister. No one even glanced at me. My lungs filled with blood. I was drowning on the floor. They all thought my sister, the one with autism, needed the family's comfort. They thought I just took a fall. That I could wait. They were wrong.

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

!! Mature content 18+ !! Contains violence, abuse, sex and death. ----------------- Hidden in the dark of the forest, lives a small community of Weres, known as the Tri-Moon Pack. For generations they remained hidden from the humans and maintained a peaceful existence. That is until one small girl throws their world upside down. After saving the young woman from certain death, the Alpha-son, Gunner, brings her home. Bringing along a mysterious past and possibilities that many had long since forgotten, Zelena is the light they didn't know they needed. With new hope, comes new dangers. A clan of hunters want back what the pack has stolen from them, Zelena. With her new powers, new friends and new family, they fight to protect their homeland and the gift that the Moon Goddess has bestowed upon them, the Triple Goddess. ---------------- He pounded into my hot core, slamming my back against the tree with each thrust. I moaned and growled loudly while clawing at his back. His bare chest was right in front of my face and I couldn't stop myself, I lifted my mouth and sunk my teeth deeply into his flesh. He hissed and growled and slammed into me harder. The taste of his blood was intoxicating and made my head spin. He grabbed my hair and pulled my teeth off his skin and bent my head back to look at him. His blue eyes were dark and full of lust as a glint of silver flashed through them. ---------------------------------- Book 1 - The Moon's Descendant - Told by Zelena and Gunner. Book 2 - Mother of the Moon - Told By Zelena and Lunaya. Book 3 - Twin Moon - Told by Zelena and Whiskey.

Four days after my death, my four-year-old daughter finally sensed that something was terribly wrong. The fridge door slammed into her forehead when she tried to get a snack. Normally, I would've been there in a heartbeat—arms open, kisses ready, whispering, "You're okay, sweetheart, Mommy's here." But this time, I just lay on the bed, cold and still.​ She didn't understand. She thought the sweet treat would make me respond. So she held the final piece of chocolate up to my mouth. "Here, Mommy. Have some chocolate..." But I didn't even blink. She climbed into my arms, clutching my clothes tightly. "Mommy... Mommy, wake up..." She waited for me to stroke her hair, to tell her that everything was going to be fine. There was only silence.​ Completely lost and scared, she found my phone. "Daddy, why is Mommy still sleeping?" she asked, her voice filled with desperation.​ In response, Oliver sent a photo of himself having Christmas Eve dinner with his childhood sweetheart. His voice was icy cold when he replied, "She's just sleeping, not dead. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm busy. Tell her to stop playing games and come apologize when she's done sulking." Then he hung up.​ But when the truth finally hit Oliver—when the coroner's report came, when the police knocked on his door right in the middle of his laughter, when he realized I'd been lying dead for four days while he toasted—he broke.

“Paint me.” She said and immediately he looked up, his pupils dilated and he froze. “W..what.. you.” he stuttered, stumbling over his words despite his bear sized build and rough looks. “Why professor? You said you needed a muse, you didn't say you needed a dressed one.” She muttered, her lips curving into a smirk and then as his eyes raked over her naked body, she began to trace the contours of her shape. Slowly, her hand slid downwards massaging, caressing and working her body and then it finally stopped right between her legs. As she made to speak, the door slammed open and she watched two other hulking figures saunter in, their shoulders trembling. In their eyes, she saw anger, possessiveness and lust that made her both hot and scared at the same time. *** Christiana is in no way what one would call a saint. She was the brattiest and craziest firecracker. So when one of the features of her fantasy makes an appearance, you cannot expect that she would not want to live out her fantasies. Especially when suddenly she has to live in the same house as the man of her fantasies. Christiana had three problems. One, her parents were suddenly involved in an accident, leaving her in both despair and debt. Two, Her father's closest friend suddenly asked her to move in with him. Three, Her father's best friend is in fact none other than the star in her fantasies. As if that's not enough, she also has to tackle two hockey brothers who would do anything to claim her as theirs. Maybe, her problem is more than three. Fuck that, three is the right number. Three hot men who make her body burn like never before. What will Christiana do?

“I now pronounce you as a husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!” The priest announced and I froze. I knew I was cursed the moment this blood oath was taken which bound me to hell, the hell of this Sinner. My eyelids raised to see the ugly creation of god. My husband! Vladimir Sokolov! His rugged face carved with uncountable ugly marks stung my slow beating heart. His hazel green eyes held a satisfied dark shadow as He pulled me close, raised my chin and whispered coldly, “From this very moment, you share the crown of Bratva’s pakhan. Prepare yourself to bear its weight, Babochka. Because I own your existence now!” He slammed his cold lips on my trembling ones, punishing me with a brutal kiss. Tears pricked my eyes with disgust but I tolerated his touch for the sake of my family. My eyes followed the part of the audience, Russians, who burst into cheers while the other party, Italians, looked at me with remorse and pitiful gazes. Oh yes, how could I forget I was the sacrificed lamb thrusted into hell to get scorched for a lifetime. But No. I still had the last hope to save myself from this cursed fate, this cursed marriage. ………….. Born in a sin will definitely be called the Sinner. Without morality and mercy, Vladimir Sokolov the Bratva’s Pakhan ruled the city with an iron fist. Due to the influence of some political parties He had to marry the Daughter from La Camorra. Rose Barbieri! Marry her, have his heir and wear the title of family man, that's what He planned to do but what He didn’t imagine was that his innocent, submissive wife was someone who would burn the flames of his hell into ashes one day.

TRIGGER WARNING!! DARK ROMANCE Sexual content, Slavery, 18+, Violence, and Abusive content. Dark Romance, read at your own risk. "So, you made a choice?" His dark voice vibrated in the room, making me flinch. I brought my legs closer in fear, as if I could stop this fear from crawling through my skin, reaching all parts of my body, and nodded my head, whispering "yes.". "Here." He slammed the contract in front of me. I flinched, raised my head, and looked into his dark, angry blue eyes, immediately lowering them in fear. I once wished for him to spare me a glance, and that could make my day, but right now, his deep blue eyes scare me the most, and I don't want him to even look at me. "You are ready to sacrifice yourself to save that motherfucker?!" His angry voice rang in the room with a hint of pain, making me flinch, and an instant guilt followed. I feel so guilty for hurting the man that I love the most, and yet... I am not ready to hurt the other important people in my life. I tried my best to stay calm, not giving him an answer. "Fine! I know how to make you talk!" His voice was low and filled with anger as he said it through his clenched teeth. My hands started to shiver at the thought of going through the same pain he just put me through a few hours ago. How to make me talk? Is ... is he going to hurt me the same way again? 'you deserve it' My conscious replied. --------------- what happens when the person she loves the most hurts her the most? What happens when she is pulled into his darkness that she never knew existed?