Taboo Novels Novels & Stories

It was Silverfish, the big, library-style bookstore where she'd worked part-time back in high school. Even from this distance, as they got stuck in traffic, she could see the thick volumes displayed within the wooden frames of the windows. She could see the outline of the shelves from inside, the red wash of the old plushy carpet, and the low circular tables laden with paper flowers. It was moderately populated, just enough people scattered within the area, poring over all kinds of books imaginable. It was what the shop prided itself for, the sheer variety of their stock. And if she remembered correctly, Silverfish also housed the taboo books. Witchcraft, demonology, cults, and death. Lots a

Lila Voss lay tangled in her sheets, the soft glow of her laptop the only light in her small apartment bedroom. It was past midnight, but sleeping felt impossible. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she finished the latest chapter of her smutty Kai Lennox fanfiction. __________________________________ ’YN’s butt hit the cool marble of the kitchen counter, a gasp escaping her lips as Kai lifted her effortlessly, settling her on the edge. His dark eyes burned into hers, full of hunger as he gripped her thighs, spreading them wide.

She casually drops the bra on the floor, still focusing out the window. '"Taboo?' Really? Where the fuck did you find that word? Incest, Father. We are talking about incest. Having sex with your family." I shift in my chair. Maybe I'm too careful, but I need a clear sign. "Which is also illegal, and for very good reasons."

Licking her lips, Janice settled her pussy over the vanity table. It was a little weird, yes, but ever since her husband forbade her from having toys, Janice had had to be creative with how she got herself off. She’d discovered from reading a smut book that rubbing your pussy on the edge of the table could get you off even faster. And that was what she was going to do. Hiking one leg up, she pressed herself against the cool rounded edge and started rocking slowly. A soft whimper escaped her throat and she closed her eyes, bringing her hands to her breasts.

Ethan kept reaching under the table to touch my thigh, and I kept putting my fingers in his mouth after touching myself, offering them to him to taste. "You're trying to kill me," he said. "Maybe," I said. "Is it working?" We were just finishing our meal when my friend Camilla showed up at our table. She was wearing a thin, clingy top that showed off her nipples in a way that was classy and sexy all at once. I felt Ethan's knee press against mine and knew he'd noticed. "I know what you've been doing," Camilla said, smiling at me. "Jealous?" I asked.

The flight back was a descent into a special kind of hell, a pressurized tube of recycled air and unspoken dread. The silence was not the comfortable, shared quiet of two people who knew each other well. It was the heavy, suffocating silence of a battlefield after the fighting has stopped, a silence filled with the ghosts of what had transpired. Emma sat in her business class seat, staring out the window at the endless expanse of clouds, but she wasn’t seeing the sky. She was seeing Mr. Dubois’s face, feeling his hands on her, tasting his cock in her mouth. She was feeling Mr. Carter’s brutal thrusts from behind, hearing his possessive growls, the sound of his voice as he commanded her to co

Hart shrugged off his tweed jacket and loosened his tie, casual in a way that made her heart thrum. “I suppose we’ll have to wait it out.” Fallon sat across from him, legs crossed tightly as the firelight danced shadows across the Persian rug. She shouldn’t have noticed the way his gaze flicked down to her thighs. She shouldn’t have noticed the row of books tucked behind the encyclopedias leather bound, aged spines, titles in French. Erotica. Hart followed her gaze. Said nothing. But when she rose to touch the spines, tracing one book titled La Petite Mort, he spoke low and commanding.

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction intended for adult audiences. It explores themes of religious taboo, power dynamics, and forbidden romance. It is not intended to reflect real-world religious practices or figures. All characters involved in romantic or sexual situations are consenting adults. ✴️✴️ The wooden pew was digging into Sienna's back. Saint Jude's smelled like wax and cold stone and something old she couldn't name. She hated this place. She hated the silence that wasn't actually silence, just fifty people breathing and pretending to be holy.

Food, clothes, sometimes even things that should've raised eyebrows. But one thing that remained completely off limits, were girls. Ironically, it wasn't because of some sacred bro-code or glaring red label. We simply had violently different tastes. Damian was wild. So he liked girls that fit that narrative. Dangerous curves, lustful eyes, and bodies built for sin. I, on the other hand, craved the innocent ones… or those that pretended to be either way. Because I knew what simmered underneath their fake stoicism and cracking restraint… was the same thing that hid beneath mine:

what could she possibly do that I haven't or don't have plans to? My fingers went to my lips as I thought if the things I habe been up to lately. We have both seemed to forget all about how it was like an unspoken taboo. Yes, we don't share mothers but we are brother and sister which makes it a whole new level of shit but it appeared the urge to satisfy my monster urges and his crazy indulgence was more than any other thing. "Why are you smiling?" That seemed to bring me out of my reverie. I immediately frowned.