Ellie In Chains Novels & Stories

Chains were bolted around my wrists and neck, holding me like a prisoner. "Alex!" Eleanor cried, but when I risked a glimpse at her, she was gone. Fuck! How could I let this happen? I yanked my hands but the chains held me down. I tried again, but this time, I pulled with greater strength to break the damn chains off. Did they really think they can stop me by fettering me like a dog?!

The person who years from now would find the notebook and open it and see the drawings of the December light in the library corner and not understand them at first and then understand them completely. He thought: the chain does not move in one direction. The chain moves through everyone who attends. He thought: the four-year-old is not at the end of the chain. She is in the middle of it. "Yes," he said. "You're right." Ellie was quiet for a moment. The Saturday afternoon in the background — the house, the light through her window, wherever she was sitting. "The Farrow seat," she said. "Is that the chain too?"

A jewelry box. I opened it slowly. Inside, nestled on black velvet, was a set of jewelry that took my breath away. A delicate silver necklace with a single emerald teardrop pendant, surrounded by tiny diamonds that sparkled like captured stars. Matching earrings, small emerald drops framed in silver. A thin silver bracelet with a tiny emerald charm. I stared at them, my heart pounding. He thought of everything. I slipped on the necklace. The emerald rested just above my collarbone, cool against my skin. The earrings caught the light as I turned my head. The bracelet clasped around my wrist, delicate and perfect.

And I am not abnormal as he is insinuating. "What about you? Don't you do chains?" I ask, even though I detest men with chains hanging on their necks. They give them the look of bad boys, or immaturity. That's according to Ellie Marie though. "Naah. I don't like having chains dangling on my neck. That is for women. I'm okay with just a watch." Wow! I'm glad about that for no reason. We continue our tour until we get to the exit. I can go around the huge hall again without feeling bored, but I think that will be some other time.

Because it meant someone was playing a longer game. “She smiled at me,” I murmured. “Like she knew something.” “She probably did.” I stood and crossed to him, pressing my hands to his chest. “Then we figure it out. Together. Okay?” His hands came up, holding my waist. “Together,” he echoed. I leaned into him. “We don’t run anymore.” He kissed me—slow and deep. “No. We fight.” Michael called an hour later. “I know who she is,” he said without preamble. “Her name’s Elena Varas. Ex-intelligence. She went dark three years ago. Off the grid. Word is she’s a freelancer now—surveillance, blackmail, extraction. High-end only.”

Without waiting for protests, Zeke led the way, Eli following like a shadow, his steps hesitant but compliant. Once in the dungeon, the atmosphere shifted instantly—the cool air, the soft hum of the ventilation, and the glint of metal toys creating an electric tension. Zeke directed Eli to the center of the room, under the suspension rig. "Strip and kneel," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. Eli obeyed, shedding his clothes with mechanical precision, his cock already stirring at the familiar ritual. Zeke wasted no time, fastening the leather cuffs around Eli's wrists and ankles, then attaching them to the chains. He hoisted Eli up, spreading his limbs wide into an X-shape, leaving hi

I didn't want to fight back because it might stress Lillian. "Marcus, what are you doing?" Lillian tried holding my hand again, and I smiled at her. "Just trust me, Love. We will be fine." Her hold then loosened, and she watched the police put handcuffs on my wrists. Before we stepped out of the house, I looked at the police holding Lillian. "Please be gentle with her, officer... she's pregnant." The police nodded his head and assisted Lillian as we stepped out of the house. I saw a chopper outside waiting for us. Before we stepped inside the chopper, I saw Nicholas and Amanda, but we didn't get to say goodbye to them because I was dragged inside.

Amelia A thick growl sounded from inside the cell, a growl I didn't think Elija could manage under these conditions. Maybe it was pain, maybe it was hate, or both. My knees nearly gave out, but I quickly tried to steady myself. I felt like a kid ice skating for the first time. Elija was now slowly sitting up, hands in front of her, bound by the chains. He looked at them and growled again.

Tears streamed down her face. The whip cracked over her back. Number fourteen. She slumped against the bedpost her hands are tied to. * Marc had seen blood on the dressing gown Klara had been wearing, and had frowned. He saw Klara’s back to him, the tank top covered her whole back, he had hooked his finger under the hem gently pulling up, he saw the end of a whip mark before she had scrambled away from his touch. He had never expected it to be as bad as he was seeing. Klara’s back was ripped open, distinctively from a tipped whip. There were so many he was surprised she was alive.

He warned again. The soldiers then started chaining her legs this time. "Hey, stop it! What are you doing? Don’t chain my legs. I will not try to escape from here even if you let my legs free.” Ella yelled. The soldier got enraged this time and slapped her tight on the cheeks. They then fastened the other end of the chain to two poles on either side of the prison, ensuring that she was in a lying position and that she could not move. They then pulled up her clothes, uncovering her belly, and placed the rat over it. All the while, she kept screaming, requesting that they set her free. But they turned a deaf ear to her requests and continued their work.