Spine Tattoo Pain Scale

Ellie Simms is a woman on the run. She had just escaped from an abusive ex-boyfriend who left his mark on her skin. A talented design artist, she finds solace in a new job with Harris Corp Designs, owned by the enigmatic Zac Harris. Upon meeting Ellie during her job interview, Zac immediately recognises deep pain within her beautiful, albeit withdrawn shell, rousing his protective instincts. When she finally opens up, Zac discovers that she is broken in more ways than one. After seeing the travesty carved into her skin, Zac takes her to his sister's tattoo parlour to cover it up, and Ellie chooses a butterfly, a creature as beautiful and delicate as herself... Ellie may think she's broken, but Zac sees the beautiful, brave woman she is as she fights for justice for herself and others.

Warning: This book is fucking disgusting. If the thought of getting your tight little holes stretched, used, and ruined makes you uncomfortable, close it right now and go read something vanilla. But if your pussy is already dripping and your thighs are squeezing together… keep reading, you filthy little slut. Throw away every safe, sweet romance you’ve ever touched. This collection doesn’t ask permission. It kicks the door down, grabs you by the hair, slams you face-down, and fucks you raw until you forget your own name. No slow burn. No gentle teasing. No fade-to-black bullshit. Every story starts fast, hits harder, and doesn’t stop until she’s spread wide open, stuffed full of thick cock, leaking load after load from every hole, and begging like a desperate whore for more. Stepdads and stepbrothers who double-team her while Mommy sleeps ten feet away, pumping her full of forbidden cum. Daddy’s closest friend blackmailing her with that slutty nude she accidentally sent, forcing her to cum on his fingers while Dad cheers at the TV inches away. Being gangbanged by drunk older men in the bar —every hole used, every load swallowed or pumped deep until cum runs down her thighs in thick rivers. Choking. Breeding. Gangbangs. Triple penetration. Degradation. Face-fucking. Raw, unprotected creampies that ruin you for any other man. If the thought of being held down and used without mercy while you cum so hard you see stars makes your cunt throb… You’re exactly where you belong. Turn the page, baby.. Your men are waiting. And they’re starving to wreck you...

On the day of Zephyr’s art exhibition, I saw people stand around a portrait of myself. My cheeks were flushed, and I was bare. My posture was the one we used in bed last week for fun. Zephyr even got the mole on my chest right. As people stared at me mockingly, I demanded, “Why did you do this to me?” He was unbothered. “It’s not as if I asked you to sleep with someone else.” But he did let people see how I looked when I was having an intimate moment with my own boyfriend! “It’s just a painting. Why are you being so petty?” I was stunned by the mockery in Zephyr’s gaze. Then, I called my assistant. “I’m attending the international art festival as the organizer.”

When my sister, Cindy Saddler, and I perform our gymnastics routine, we both slip up. My spine snaps as I hit the ground. The pain makes my face go completely pale, and my life is hanging by a thread. But my mother and spotter, Cordelia Saddler, pushes me away in annoyance. "This isn't the time for you to fight with your sister for my attention. She's twisted her ankle! Go die if you want to die. Don't bother me!" Later, I die due to complications in the hospital, as she wishes. But after she finds out I'm dead, she goes crazy.

"Mr. Clarke, can you help me get rid of the tattoo on my butt?" The young man asks me for help with red-rimmed eyes. A lot of people have specifically requested me to tattoo something on their body. Honestly, this is the first time I've received a request to remove a tattoo from one's butt. He grits his teeth, as though he has finally made up his mind. "I just found out that my girlfriend has a husband! I want to break up with her, so I must get rid of the tattoo!" I nod in response. "Strip down and let me see the area and the mass covered." The man hesitates for a moment before turning his back on me and slowly taking off his pants. As soon as his right buttcheek is revealed, I feel my breath getting hitched in my throat. My wife, Annie Sylvester's face is actually tattooed on that area.

I married my vampire husband ten years ago and gave him a half-blood heir, abandoning my career as a painter to become a full-time mother. Fortunately, my son inherited my talent. At just six years old, he held his first solo art exhibition, inspired by the theme "My Mother." But he never let me attend, and he never let me see his paintings. My husband said my presence would make Luke nervous---that I should stay home and do the housework as a good wife and mother, and wait for them to come back. I told myself he was just young and didn't know better, that he was only pushing back against my discipline, not truly rejecting me. Until the day I snuck into the gallery wearing a surgical mask pulled low. In the center of the crowd, my husband held our son's hand while tenderly pulling a woman in a red dress into his arms. He turned to the guests and announced: "This is Luke's mother---my wife." The three of them stood together, beaming with perfect happiness. And I---the one who'd stayed up all night setting up this exhibition---stood before the paintings while not a single person recognized me. That was when I finally understood. My seemingly gentle, caring vampire husband had long ago given our son a replacement mother. And I was nothing more than the human nanny who'd served her purpose by producing an heir.

They said that every werewolf has a mate but being an omega means, Zeph has no mate that was meant for her and it makes her a laughingstock in their pack. On her eighteenth birthday, a crescent moon suddenly appeared on her forehead without her knowing. Keiver, a Beta who adopted Zeph asks a witch to secretly transfer the crescent moon tattoo from Zeph to his daughter, Hillary. Hunter is the powerful alpha of the Golden Wolf Pack. He didn't believe the saying that a woman with a crescent moon tattoo on her forehead will become his luna so he open a selection for candidates to become his luna. But what if he falls in love with a maid which is an omega, the lowest rank of their pack? Will he choose her despite her lowest rank or the Beta's daughter who has the crescent moon tattoo on her forehead? And what will be the destiny of Zeph, the last omega of their pack? Will she get back her crescent moon tattoo and her right position as the alpha's destined luna or she will remain a maid and an omega forever?

Brody Lewis, my fiance, said that I had a rare form of transient global amnesia, which was a sudden, temporary memory loss. Every seven days, I would open my eyes and become the twenty-five-year-old Riley Taylor again. My memories were forever stuck in the past. In my pen drive were videos of Brody taking me on trips, bringing me for treatment, and proposing to me. Everything seemed great between us, but I remembered none of it. “Riley’s still around. Can’t you keep your hands to yourself?” “Don’t worry. It’s Monday tomorrow. After she wakes up, she’ll remember none of it,” Brody said, and my heart sank. “Isn’t this more exciting?” Brody embraced my best friend, and they made out brazenly in front of me. They were not shy about it at all. I wondered just how many times this had happened over the past two years. I ran as tears blurred my vision. When I arrived at a tattoo shop, I grabbed the tattoo artist like a drowning man holding on to a log. Then, I asked the tattoo artist to tattoo these words on my arm in my handwriting. [Leave him.]

As you know, angels are at the head of the good mortal world, and demons rule the ball in hell. But the angels are not as kind as the people of the church have always made them out to be. The human race is not so important to them. And now, in their wars for our souls, they have completely forgotten about us. But people like me don't consider themselves to be ordinary people. We live twice, and sometimes three times more than ordinary people are allowed to live. Our society is called the priests of Ultima. That's all we want to tell about our world...

My boyfriend said that art held no restrictions, so he used my provocative paintings to enter a competition. Amidst a row of classic ceramic figurines, I became famous. He shot to fame, landing in the top ten of trending searches, while I was humiliated by the entire internet and mocked as a “ceramic influencer.” When I confronted him, he looked at me with disappointment. “They don’t understand art, and neither do you? I thought you would support my work, but I didn’t expect you to stir trouble! You’re so immature!”