Novel & Cerita Blinding Pronunciation

A moment later, he added, “Okay, now you can.” Wynter quickly pulled off the blindfold, gasping as she took in her surroundings. ____________________________

Readers should be warned that this is purely a mature content chapter with bdsm scenes in it. There would also be degrading, humiliation, hitting, whipping, and figging (g****e this if you do not know what it means so that you do not get too weirded out when it is being carried out) ~ Leonidas could not see. Not that he was blind, no, his senses were still there, possibly in a higher level of alertness than before with the silk black blindfold over his eyes.

Not blinking. Not saying a word.

Banging on my door, she shouted loud enough for the whole building to hear. "So what if you got Skyler to kick me out, Julia? Your paintings are all gone, and you're practically blind! "By the way, he was the one who showed me all your work first. And yeah, I did copy you, but so what? It's not like I would've been able to if Skyler hadn't allowed me to!" I sat quietly inside my home and didn't bother to answer the door despite Leah's words. Unbeknownst to her, there was a security camera installed at my door, which also recorded audio. As such, everything she had said was recorded loud and clear. Hence, she had essentially just confessed to plagiarizing my work.

I wasn’t taking any chances. “I’m blind, dear. I can’t see whatever it is you are trying to hide, and heavens be damned if you think I will let you out of my sight for a split second. If you have every intention to take a shower, you better get to it right now,” I replied, and Vesta sighed in defeat.

When she exited the privy, it didn’t take long for Z to take a hold of her hand once again. Not really needing to swing her cane to and fro, she held it out in front of her, angled slightly outward to prevent from bumping into a wall or another object. Most people, when leading the blind, did not account for the additional space the person beside them required when passing objects. Z, however, seemed to guide her effortlessly down the ship’s narrow corridors and busy foyers.

Then added with a weird hesitation in his voice, “Please… you can come see— I mean, feel her.” My skin crawled. I felt sick. The word “feel” made something inside me twist. My hands strained behind my back. I wanted to run. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even see. I kept shaking my head, as if the blindfold would come off if I just tried hard enough. But it didn’t. I saw nothing. Only black. And then I heard it. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Heavy. And with them came another sound.

I said. His jaw was tight. The muscle there working in the way it did when he was containing something large. "Damien," I said quietly. "He just put your medical information in a press conference." "I know," he said. "Your blindness. Your procedure. Your fifty percent." "I know," he said. "In public," I said. "To hurt you." "I know," he said. For the third time. Each one quieter than the last. I looked at him. At the tight jaw and the still hands and three years of a private life being dismantled piece by piece by a man who had decided that if he couldn't win legally he would win by burning everything down.

If Khalani was a heavy gust of wind, I am silent lightning. The silver blade vanishes into a solid sheet of light between my splayed fingers. My face remains completely blank. My heart rate does not lift by a single beat. My eyes stay cold, locked onto Khalani's blinking eyes, not even looking down at the metal passing hair-breadths from my skin. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The sound is not a series of wild strikes. It is a mechanical, military beat. It is the sound of a clock ticking down to an execution.