Humane Restraints Novelas e Histórias

Grabbing his foot, I followed James and dragged him down the hallway to where Jason had brought two chairs out and was bolting them to the floor. Clearly, this was not his first rodeo! Pushing Luke into a chair beside his unconscious mate, I watched Jason make quick work of restraining his ankles and wrists to the metal legs as James did the same with the human. The restraints around their necks were secured to the back of the chair as extra leather straps were tied around their chests and thighs, making sure they were utterly immobile. "All they are missing is a dido up their ass!" James grinned as he used a black device that resembled a cell phone to take fingerprints quickly before steppi

Her breathing hitches as I position her and fasten each restraint—ankles and wrists, spread wide and open for me. “Tonight,” I murmur, “I want to see how far you’ll let me go. Are you familiar with the traffic light system?” “Yes, Sir. Green means I’m good, yellow means I’m reaching my limit, red means stop immediately.” “Good girl.” I lean down and brush a kiss over her lips. “Now I’ll list everything we’re using. You tell me your color. Clear?” “Yes, Sir.” Her voice is tight with anticipation. “Spreader bar with cuffs.”

Dominic will have to drive an empty car. Twenty minutes later, he emerged from Puna’s office with a huge smile. “Are you ready to leave?” I gave him a curt nod before grabbing my bag. We opted for my choice of music as we drove home. His phone rang and he glanced at it quickly, his furrowed brows an indication that whoever that is calling him is definitely not a friend. “Peter? I’d hate to file for a restraining order against you. Why the fuck are you calling me?”

His eyes were calm…too calm…and that terrified me more than his rage ever had. “Well,” he drawled, watching me fight the restraints, “you’re awake earlier than I expected.” “Get away from me!” I screamed, thrashing harder. “You psychopath..,let me go!” He chuckled. The sound crawled over my skin, oily and wrong. Another man stood on the other side of the stretcher, tightening a cuff around my wrist, securing my arm to the metal frame. I screamed again, pain shooting through my shoulder as the restraint snapped into place.

Then he felt the quiver that was the beginning of her release on his hands. As she finished her orgasm, he rode it out using his hand to help milk her of all of that energy. Then he smiled as he moved his hand a bit and then wiped it with a wet wipe. He looked at her. “Now it is all my turn.” He moved to the side of the table, “This exam table is special and was fitted for difficult patients. Now, if you have an issue with this, let me know, but I think that we should have a little fun with restraints.”

More tests. I closed my eyes and whispered her name one last time. “Calla.” My wolf whined softly inside me. I gripped the sheets until my knuckles ached again. I would restrain myself. For now.

The room at the end of the hall stood waiting. The rack sat in the center of the cellar. A long wooden rectangular frame raised above the ground shaped like a narrow table. Heavy chains and leather restraints hung from each side. One set for the wrists and another for the ankles. At both ends were thick wooden rollers fitted with iron handles that could be turned by hand. Once someone was strapped down, the handles could be turned to slowly pull the chains tighter. It was built to stretch the body until pain became unbearable. “No,” Kael whispered immediately. “No. Please.”

I complied slowly, maintaining the demeanour of a man resigned to the indignities of imprisonment. “Another cell?” I asked, allowing just enough bitterness to color my tone. “How exciting.” “Security concerns,” replied the man, not bothering to elaborate. He held up restraints; wrist and ankle shackles connected by a chain. “Protocol requires full restraints for transport. Hands out.” I extended my wrists, watching as the cold metal closed around them. The shackles were looser than they appeared, I noted with private satisfaction. Designed to look secure while allowing greater mobility if needed. These men had planned carefully.

We crossed into the zone, over the tape that marked the edge of comfort—and just like that, I wasn’t watching anymore. The area taped off held more than just the sawhorse. There was a black leather chaise tucked into the corner, elegant and sin-slick, like it had seen a thousand bodies writhe across it. Next to it, a low dresser with drawers labeled in tidy script: restraints, sensation, aftercare. Above it, a rack mounted to the wall, lined with toys like tools—paddles, crops, floggers, some wood, some metal, some designed to sting and some to soothe.

“Restraints are only used if subjects attempt to flee or harm staff.” Daire took a step toward the screen, dominance spiking so hard the air in the room tasted like static. “You are not touching her,” he said. “You are not dragging her into a hall like livestock. You are not putting your hands on my heir, and you are not airing her fear like entertainment.”