The Thorn That Pierce Me Novels & Stories

I gasped as the thorn pierced deep into my hand. Blood spurted, dripping down my wrist. I pulled, but it was as though the thorn had grown into my flesh, embedding itself deeper the more I tried. Pain shot through my arm until my vision blurred. Suddenly, I heard a voice. It was too raw, harsh. It shook the mountain itself. “Who dares?” My heart racing as I turned, trying to see who had spoken, but before I could, something struck me hard across the back. My body flew.

He groaned in response. Thorne moved behind me. He pressed his pierced cock against my rim. The metal rings felt cold against my heated skin. He rubbed the head along my slick entrance. He teased. He coated himself. "You will take us all," he said. "In front of them. Knotted. Marked. Owned." He thrust forward. The pierced head breached me. The Prince Albert ring caught on my rim. Then the frenum bars dragged along my walls as he sank deeper. I cried out around Aurelius. My body jerked forward. It pushed Aurelius deeper into my throat.

It was lighter than expected, but colder than death. Her hands trembled as she brought them closer to her head. The room leaned in, breath caught, hunger gleaming in a hundred eyes. She inhaled. Exhaled. Then lowered the Crown of Thorns onto her brow. For a single heartbeat, nothing happened. And then, Pain. White-hot. A thorn pierced her scalp. Another. Then a third, digging deep into the base of her skull. Blood welled along her temples, trickling in twin rivers past her cheeks.

Her voice fell to a whisper that seemed to echo from nowhere and everywhere. “It’s the only love strong enough to save him.” His name shattered me. Thorne. Just that one word cut through like a sacred blade. My chest collapsed. Tears spilled without consent. “He’s suffering,” I choked. “Somewhere dark. Somewhere I can’t reach.” I didn’t know why I was crying so hard. I’d lost before – my parents, my world, my life. But this grief felt ancient, like my soul had always known his. Thorne had become a wound I carried like breath.

So surrounded by happy beings and she can't seem to forget about her past that darkens her every petal, she's dying inside. My hand reached around the stem, letting the thorns pierce my hand, harshly. I felt the burn of my hand and I sucked it in. My hands swiftly pulled at the stem, wanting to free the petals from what was holding it captive. I pulled and heaved and pushed but the flower wouldn't budge, it felt safe cornered and kept away from the flowers who loved her dearly. I pulled my hands away from the piercing stem, staring at the bloodshed that resigned on my hands.

That day happened to be the full moon and that night, the moon had turned red because of the blood that was shed on that day. To worsen it, Thorne bore the consequences of that disobedience because the scars he had that day never healed. It would always reopen on every full moon, causing him so much immense pain that no one dared near his chambers except for me—My presence gave him some sort of relief even though it did little to alleviate his pain. Knowing that he would be going through that again broke me apart. Thorne wiped away the tears that streamed down my face. “That pain will only last for a night but right now, my focus is on you because I can’t get enough of you. Right now, I want

The harsh elements seemed almost fitting, a cruel reflection of my inner despair. “Ouch!” I winced as a thorn pierced the thin skin of my toe, the sharp pain jolting me momentarily from my sorrow. The night only seemed to get worse. Perhaps the moon goddess had heard my silent plea. I was about to vanish in this desolate place, disappearing without a trace from everyone’s lives. Such grace! A faint, sarcastic smile spread across my face as I pulled out the thorn, watching more blood ooze from the fresh wound. Maybe my long-standing wish to die naturally was about to be granted. Yes, you are right! I was too cowardly to end it myself despite everything.

, Rose stomped her foot whilst expressing her deep disgust at what her mother is asking of her. “My sweet Rose, your thorns are showing… remember that young ladies need to be seen in society and present a calmness even when they don’t feel it inside”, spoke Opal serenely. “I know you would rather be out playing with your cousins but those boys are too rough and you are at an age where you can’t be rolling about playing in the muck!”, she continued.

Only the thorns remained. “You know what this is, boy?” “A stem,” I’d said, uncertain. He smiled. “It is the truth. Beauty rots. Petals wither. But thorns endure. That is why our line bears the spiral thorn. We are what endures.” He leaned close, pricking my palm with the stem until blood welled. “And you, Jude… you are my sharpest thorn.” The memory cracked as I slammed the book shut. But the voice did not stop.

Jayden flips her folds with his right thumb, his other hand caressing her plum breast. She whimpers, her back arcing upward. She’s so sensitive, Jayden realized. “Did she tell you how stubborn we are?” he asked, applying pressure on her clit, teasing her with his calloused thumb. “Did she tell you that once we like someone, we never ever leave them alone?” he smacked her breast lightly. Rita, helpless and sore, cries out. It’s hard to discern the cry. Is it from pleasure or helplessness? She—’