Slapping Lesbian Novels & Stories

I got into an elite college with my boyfriend, Philip Jewitt—and tossed my acceptance letter in the trash. His mom was dying. He stood in front of me, eyes red. "Stella, she doesn't have time... If she finds out I dropped out to pay for her treatment, it'll destroy her. Please. Help me. I swear I'll treat you right for the rest of my life." Philip got four perfect years on campus. I scraped by, working three jobs. I paid his tuition. Covered his mom's bills. After graduation, he needed startup money. I convinced my parents to mortgage our house. When his company went public, he proposed in front of everyone. I thought all those years finally meant something. But then he heard his one-sided love, Winnie Schell, died in a car crash. He got drunk and shoved me to the floor. "Why wasn't it you? If I didn't feel guilty about you, I would've married her." I clutched my stomach, pregnant, begging through tears. He sneered. "You owe Winnie everything. You really think you deserve my kid?" Then he kicked me—hard—right in the stomach. Pain ripped through me. Blood pooled between my legs. My vision went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I was back—one hour before the college application deadline.

Nicholas Hunt loves testing me a lot. When I just graduated from university, he tried to make me take on a five-million-dollar house mortgage. After I turned him down, Nicholas was quick to buy Yvonne Myers, the campus belle, a villa that was worth eight million dollars. It was even paid in full. As he held the property deed, he told me, "The truth is, I'm super rich. I've been pretending to be poor just so I can test your integrity. "It's a shame that you never passed my test. I'm very disappointed in you, Elizabeth. Let's break up." I just smiled at him casually. Then, I walked away without hesitation. What a coincidence. I'm the daughter of the richest man in the country. I, too, had been pretending to be poor. Four years later, we bump into each other at the Fortune List Summit. At that time, Nicholas has just squeezed into the top 50 rank. He walks into the venue with Yvonne clinging to his arm. It's then he notices me. I'm wearing plain-looking clothes without any jewelry adorning me, and I happen to be holding a child. Thinking that I'm a nanny, Nicholas begins mocking me. "Wow, you really went all out just to steal one more glance at me, huh? I can't believe you're able to follow me all the way here. "You should learn to accept reality, though. I'm on the Fortune List, while you're working as someone else's nanny. The gap between us is far too wide, so you should stop dreaming already!" I just ignore Nicholas in favor of resenting my dad for making me attend this stupid event. After all, I've just managed to block out one full day just to spend time with my son, and yet I have to waste my precious time on this dumb event.

After nursing the baby, I closed my eyes to rest for a moment. The nanny, thinking I was asleep, brazenly clung to my husband, cooing, "Harlan, if your wife finds out that the son she gave birth to was swapped out long ago and that the baby in her arms is actually ours, do you think she’d be furious?” “You’re so smart. Swapping the babies at the hospital was brilliant. Once our daughter inherits her fortune, we’ll kick her out of the house in no time!” I pretended not to hear their conversation. I continued to raise my daughter with utmost care and devotion. When she returned from her studies, I immediately transferred all my shares to her, supporting her to become the youngest heir of the company. At the handover celebration, the nanny dressed even more extravagantly than I did. She boldly grabbed my daughter and declared, “I am Yasmine’s real mother! You’ve kept her from me all these years, but now it’s time that the truth is revealed!” My husband handed me the divorce papers with a smug look. “For Yasmine’s sake, let’s part ways amicably.” My daughter folded her arms and glared at me. “Since you raised me for so many years, I’ll visit you in the nursing home once a year.” Watching their victorious smiles, I lowered my eyes. “As you wish.” I hope you’re ready to handle the kind of wealth that shatters the heavens!

Warning ⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️ If you’re faint of heart, easily shocked, or prefer your pleasure polite and vanilla… close this book right now. These pages are dripping with raw, filthy, taboo depravity the kind that will leave your thighs clenched, your pulse racing, and your panties soaked before you even finish the first story. Inside these sins you’ll find innocent virgins publicly ruined, unwilling brides brutally claimed, proud women broken into eager cumsluts, and forbidden desires fulfilled in the most dangerous, humiliating, and addictive ways possible. Expect rough breeding, public claiming, total power exchange, blackmail, corruption of innocence, and relentless orgasms forced from trembling bodies. Yes, this collection includes scorching M/M, F/F, and M/F scenes sometimes all three twisting together in sweat-soaked, moaning chaos. From a daughter ritually bred on her father’s funeral altar in front of her entire family, to a sharp-tongued virgin stripped on a mafia pool table … from lesbian Dommes edging their desperate subs to twin brothers competing to see who can make her squirt hardest… every story is darker, wetter, and more wicked than the last. So tell me, darling… Are you going to stay ? Welcome to Filthy Sins. Now be a good girl (or boy) and dive in.

WARNING Explicit stepmother/stepson incest (he calls her "Mom" while he's balls-deep) • Raw cheating on the husband/father • Rough degrading sex: choking, slapping, spitting, hair-pulling, "slut" talk • Bareback creampies, facials, swallowing • Almost-getting-caught adrenaline • Age-gap filth + forbidden obsession Arranged-marriage jealousy and heartbreaking goodbye sex This is NOT romance. This is pure, dripping, no-limits taboo erotica. About "Hooked on his Dick" One open door was all it took. Natasha walks in on her stepson Noah stroking the biggest cock she's ever seen and instead of walking out, her panties soak through. From that second, they're doomed. Secret quickies while Dad's downstairs. Kitchen counter pounding with the cake burning. One last soul shattering night on the eve of Liam's wedding to his old school crush. She knows it's wrong. He knows it's wrong. But every time he growls "Mom" and slams into her, wrong feels so fucking right. No hearts and flowers. No redemption arc. Just sweat, cum, guilt, and the kind of dirty, obsessive sex that leaves you shaking. If you want your taboo served raw, breathless, and unapologetic this one will ruin you in the best way.

THIS BOOK CONTAINS NUMEROUS SHORT EROTICA STORIES AND IT'S NOT SUITABLE FOR YOUNG READERS. ~~~~~~~ “This..this is so wrong..” Octavia’s words turned into a song of moans, as she arched her back, her mouth wide open covered in drool and her eyes rolling continuously. “Does Bernie fuck you the way I do?” A deep baritone voice asked followed by the slapping of skins. “No..no.” Octavia stuttered, pleasure rushing through every part of her body. “Does he give you as many orgasms as you want?” Came the baritone deep voice again which made her stomach flipped. “No, Romania. Only you do.” …….. Octavia thought she has acquired everything she wanted. A loving boyfriend, a stable job, lovely friends and so on, but her sex life was nothing to write home about. Her boyfriend made her feel loved, but when it comes to orgasms, he always made her frustrated. Things changed when Octavia boyfriend’s older brother, Romania, came in. He gave her as many orgasms as she wanted and when he speaks, her core throbs. But Octavia is thrusted in a situation where she was forced to chose between her love life or her sex life.

A woman who couldn't even produce a single egg for three years. You are just a useless piece of skin.* The words echoed in my head, a vicious, repeating loop that shattered my mind completely. I stumbled back onto my feet, my body shaking so violently I could barely control my limbs. I didn't grab a coat. I didn't grab my shoes. I just ran. I pushed open the bedroom door and sprinted down the dark hallway, my bare feet slapping against the cold hardwood stairs. I heard Lola's bedroom door click open as I reached the foyer, her voice calling out to me in a frightened whisper, but I couldn't stop. I threw open the heavy front door and ran out into the freezing, pitch black night. The gravel of the driveway cut into the soles of my feet, but I didn't feel the physical pain. The agony in my chest was too loud. I ran down the long, winding road leading away from the estate, the dark trees looming over me like monsters. The sky was heavy, and a bitter wind whipped through my oversized sweater, but I was entirely numb. I just wanted to die.

　　Three years ago, at the very wedding I had meticulously prepared, my fiancé, Vito Rossi, turned the ceremony into a stage to propose to his childhood sweetheart, Isabella. 　　When I dared to confront him, he didn't offer an apology. Instead, he threw me into a subterranean dungeon. Whippings, starvation, and systematic humiliation—I nearly drew my last breath in that living hell. 　　Eventually, I chose to let them go. I walked away and married the man who sits at the absolute peak of the underworld—Lorenzo De Santis, the Godfather of the De Santis family. 　　Three years later, at the San Antonio Docks. 　　I accompanied Lorenzo for a business negotiation, but a sudden matter forced him to step away, leaving his men to receive me. I never expected to run into Vito after three years of silence. 　　Vito and his now-fiancée humiliated me in front of the crowd, even accusing me of being a spy and threatening to arrest me. 　　I turned my gaze toward my husband, who had just arrived—the man who rules the entire Mafia world. I lifted my chin and looked at him. 　　"Lorenzo," I said, my voice steady and clear. "This maniac wants to throw your wife into a dungeon again. How do you intend to handle this?"

My neighbors across the hall had a nasty habit of stealing. This included my food deliveries, my shoes from the cabinet, and even my clothes drying on the rooftop. Nothing was safe from them. I had enough. One day, I placed a pair of shoes borrowed from my friend, who was battling an extreme case of athlete’s foot, outside my door. Not long after they stole them, they came banging on my door in the middle of the night, furious about the outbreak on their feet. They even filed a complaint at the hospital where I work. I was so furious that I invited a few homeless patients to move in. A muscular man with HIV, an elderly woman with syphilis, and a young man with severe mental health issues became their new neighbors. The thieves could not handle it and begged the landlord to evict them. However, the joke was on them. My family owned the entire building. If anyone was leaving, it certainly was not me.

My husband pretended to lose his memory in a car accident just to fulfill his young girlfriend's wish to become vice president—and to strip me of my position. As I passed by, I accidentally overheard her whisper to him, "Since you agreed to let me borrow the title for seven days, can I borrow you for seven days too?" He smiled and leaned down to kiss her lips. "Of course. Use me however you like." I stopped in my tracks but did not expose his lie. The next day, at the conference table, he slammed his hand down and declared that his girlfriend was his real wife. He ordered me to get out of the company and hand over all my projects. Every employee turned to look at me, waiting for me to put a stop to his outrageous performance.