Taboo Dog Novels & Stories

Instead, a stranger was standing in front of her. He wears the entire Met team uniform. An orange-green bottle cap was worn backwards on his head, where some of the tightly locked blond locks had escaped. He wears a Met shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He kept an orange leash on his arm, and then she saw the Old Yeller sitting right next to him with a rather serious expression that showed he wasn't some stupid hybrid. The dog wore a colorful Met scarf around its neck. One of its ears folded down where it had been damaged. Its tail is still not wagging. But his eyes no longer contained the haunting look she used to see in her traumatized dog. Leaning in front of the dog's legs was a cardboard box

Not even the owner. --- Tabby

I thought the sessions with the psychologist would be more difficult. The topics we address are heavy, yet I find it easy to open up to her. Like Jane, I’m a very reserved person, and it embarrasses me to admit that I endured severe psychological abuse from my husband. I'm also ashamed of having had a lover. According to the values I was raised with, that was immoral—no different than being a prostitute. And on top of all that, I danced in a nightclub where illegal dealings took place.

Wh-what kind of monster was Nicole? "My dog's picky. He only eats legs, and they've got to be fresh." Cola dropped into an attack stance, chest muscles bunching tight, lips peeled back as killing intent radiated off him. He barked, as if saying, "That's right. I like legs only, the kind that's fresh and bleeding. Got a problem? Come try me!" The group froze. This vicious dog was raised on human flesh?

On my phone propped up on the pillow, the video call was active. The screen showed a dark room bathed in red light. Big Zaddy sat in a black leather chair, wearing a sleek black mask that covered the upper half of his face. Only his strong jaw, full lips, and that intense gaze were visible. The red glow made him look dangerous. Powerful. Untouchable.

she begged, the risk of neighbors hearing or Pedro calling only adding to the addictive thrill, making everything dirtier and more forbidden. Finally, Atlas couldn’t hold back: with an animal roar, he came deep in her ass, hot, thick jets of cum filling her anus, leaking out the sides and dripping down her reddened ass, mixing with the juices from her pussy. Anya came one last time, her body trembling in spasms, the vibrator still buzzing until he turned it off and slowly removed it, leaving her empty but satisfied.

There was this park, about 10 minutes' walk from our house where I usually take our dog for a walk in the evening and sometimes early in the morning. This morning, I was all dressed up and had Rocky, our dog on a collar and leash, ready to take him to the park when my mum suddenly told me not to go there ever again. “Why?” I asked, confused. “Because dirty old men hang around the toilets in the park, trying to get young boys to do disgusting things with them.” “Mum…” I gave her a look that screamed there was no way she could be serious about that. “You can’t possibly believe that. Who told you?”

I’m going to die. “What am I?” More dangerous this time. More obsessive. “My Taboo step-daddy!” I cry out as cum rips from my cock, painting the sheets, my belly, and his scarred face. “Eat my fucking ass!” And he does. Hard, animalistic. Like cock tearing through a hole. Tristan’s mouth feeds on my ass, tongue lashing my swollen buds, and his teeth—sweet infant satan—those teeth should be banned. “So tight. So—-

I moaned, trembling, my body slick, my pussy still throbbing around him. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, whispering filthy commands as he gripped us both in his hands. “This is the unholiest thing you’ll ever feel… and you’re going to crave every second of it.” My body quaked at the thought. This wasn’t just sex… this was taboo, raw, and filthy, and I wanted every second. Every rough thrust, every cruel touch, every filthy word from him.