Urdu Novel Collection Novels & Stories

The alternative was worse, my family ruined, me thrown to the streets. Pushing through the heavy doors, I entered a world of shadows and silk. Velvet curtains draped the walls, muffling the low hum of voices and the occasional moan echoing from hidden rooms. A woman in a sheer gown approached, her eyes appraising me like merchandise. "Mirelle Kane? Follow me. Your collector awaits." My stomach twisted. The collector. Rafe Draven. I had seen his name on the letter, a man whose reputation preceded him like a storm cloud.

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The ancient library was a tomb of forgotten knowledge, its towering shelves heavy with dust and the faint metallic tang of old paper. Freya had always preferred the night shift. The quiet wrapped around her like a lover’s cloak, letting the shy 24-year-old lose herself in books rather than people. Her pale skin glowed under the dim lamps, dark curls framing wide green eyes that hid a secret restlessness--a hunger she didn’t yet understand. But only 'Yet' Tonight, the storm outside howled against the tall windows. Lightning flashed as she carried a stack of restricted occult volumes toward the back. A presence filled the air, cold and ancient, making the hairs on her neck rise.

Placing her ears on the door, it creaked open, causing her to lose her balance. The files fell to the ground with shattering sounds, scared to death, she hurriedly crouched to gather them up, causing her glasses to fall too. “Here,” a lady said, handling her glasses. She suddenly swallowed the huge lump of saliva stuck in her throat. She wasn't seeing the face, but from where she was still crouched, she was able to behold the below of the lady who handed her glasses back to her. She was naked! Revealing her trimmed cunt, dripping with slimy and sticky juices!

A raw, animal sound that tore from my throat, as tears streamed down my face. My body convulsed in rhythmic shocks, squirt after squirt ejecting from my urethra, marking Gerard’s thighs with the glistening proof of my shame and my ecstasy. My mind whited out. Everything vanished except the sensation, his fingers owning my cunt, the metallic taste of blood and the salt of cum on my tongue, and the sound of my mother’s devastated sobs filling the air. Gerard didn’t stop. He kept fucking me through the peak, his thumb relentless on my clit, grinding me down, drawing out every last shudder of my release until I was limp and trembling in his arms, my pussy still fluttering weakly around his finge

The Taboo Chronicles is a curated collection of dark, twisted, and unapologetically erotic stories designed to push the boundaries of conventional desire. From the sacred halls of a silent church to the high-stakes shadows of obsessive power plays, these stories explore the raw, unyielding side of human hunger. Whether it’s the thrill of a secret shared in the dark or the surrender of a soul to a dominant force, nothing is off-limits.

My day job at the university library paid the bills, but it was these rare books that kept me alive. I set the package on my wide oak worktable in the living room, the one cluttered with notebooks, highlighters, and half-translated scrolls. The rain pattered steadily against the tall windows of my small but cozy apartment. I should have opened it immediately. Instead, I made myself a cup of chamomile tea, changed into soft black lounge shorts and an oversized sweater, and told myself I’d dive in after lunch. I never made it that far.

I was so close already, my walls clenching around his thick cock, when the office door suddenly burst open. A nerdy girl from our class, with glasses, messy bun, was clutching her assignment, as she stood over there frozen, her eyes wide with shock as she took in the sight of me bent over the desk with Professor Harlan’s cock buried deep inside my pussy.

I see you. Writing this book was equal parts torture and the best kind of foreplay. I laughed, I blushed, I questioned my life choices at 3 a.m. while typing scenes that would make a nun clutch her pearls. But damn, was it worth it. To my beta readers who survived the unhinged early drafts, my editor who deserves hazard pay for all the spice, and my ride-or-die friends who kept saying “more filth, please”: I owe you orgasms… I mean, endless gratitude.

“If it isn’t little Lia the nerd. Come to watch the show?” “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, clutching her books tighter. Her nipples hardened against her bra. “I didn’t mean to—” “But you’re not leaving.” He turned fully toward her now, cock still in hand, bold and unashamed. A bead of precum glistened at the slit. “You like what you see, don’t you?” Lia’s mouth went dry. Her pussy throbbed. She had touched herself hundreds of times thinking of him, but this was real.