Kneel Your Grace Novels & Stories

She saw it all. She didn’t say anything to me though. Her attention shifted to the king who sat watching us both keenly as if to detect any form of alignment or lie. Grace lowered her head and gave the king a deep curtsy. It was full of respect. Her dress brushed the floor, her arms stayed at her sides. She stayed in that bow for a few seconds, then slowly rose again "Your Majesty," she said, her voice even. The king didn’t waste any time in confirming what he wanted.

And she kneels. Raelynn fucking kneels. She does it slow, almost hesitant. Her legs fold beneath her like she’s unsure they’ll hold her weight, and there’s a fragile grace in the way she lowers herself—like she’s offering something, even if she doesn’t know what. Her knees brush the carpet. Her back’s straight. Her chin high. But her hands—her hands are trembling fists pressed to her thighs. I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I watch. She’s right there, right between my knees, and all I can think is how wrong this is.

Katherine started as Isaiah, a singer I realised was from the same agency as Ines, went to open the envelope, reading the name out. "See the Truth, by Ines Agua!" My eyes were focused on her surprised self, people cheering around her as she rigidly stood up, absentmindedly hugging whoever outstretched their arms towards her before continuing on her way to the large stage. As she walked, she became more comfortable, holding the trail of her dress while she walked up the steps, almost tripping over her own feet but quickly catching herself in time as everyone laughed at her clumsy self, myself included.

Christopher Gravemoor: Having her at my mercy is nothing short of an euphoria, nothing could fill this feeling I pride myself in, day in and day out I've imagined her under me and right now she pleads to pleasure me, she begs to have me inside her. In a dark tone, hinting full dominance and control,"Kneel"

I pull the curtains shut and turn back. He has already moved closer, now just a few feet away, the Bible and chaplet resting on the table. “Come here,” Again, my legs move on their own. “Kneel.” The command lands somewhere deep in my chest. I stare at him, waiting for regret to flash across his face. Waiting for him to remember the collar around his throat and the God he belongs to. But he only watches me. My pulse stumbles as I lower myself slowly onto the cold floor, shame and something far more dangerous twisting together inside me.

Then he smiled, setting aside a fine cut of meat just for me. “…because you are the only one he’s ever chosen to kneel for,” Grace finished softly. “And an Alpha like Ronan only kneels to a love he sees as equal to himself.”

I said, crossing my legs. Dennis stared at me for a long time. "You are good at this," he said after a while. "What?" "Yes. You are good at hiding who you are, and it is only a matter of time before they crack." "And that is exactly what I want, Dennis. I need them to feel the pain I felt when I stood on that bridge ready to end my life. They need to feel the cold rain seeping into their skin." Dennis stood up and walked towards me. "I am sorry you have to go through all of this pain. We are going to make them pay but promise me one thing."

As invisible. "No." Kieran's voice cut through the fog in my mind. "Kneel properly. Back straight. Hands on your thighs. I want you to see everything clearly." My entire body shook as I forced myself into position. Kneeling upright, my spine rigid, my bound hands resting on my legs. "Good," Kieran said softly. "Now watch." The blonde guided him back to the bed. Her hands slid down his chest, her lips trailing across his jaw. The brunette rose to meet him, her robe falling completely away.

By the danger that promised to find her regardless. The streets were slick from an earlier rain, reflections of neon signs shivering in puddles. Nina’s heels clicked against the pavement, each step a countdown. Her breath came in small, uneven bursts. The world seemed quieter than usual, too empty, as if it was holding its breath with her.

After being away from home for three months, my wife, Victoria Sterling, and our daughter, Sophie Sterling, came looking for me, crying as they begged me to come home. Once I was back, they treated me better than ever. They brought breakfast to my bedside, gave me free rein with their black cards, and when I casually mentioned wanting a new car, three brand-new sports cars showed up the very next day. But when Ethan White, Victoria’s childhood sweetheart and first love, accused me of stealing his design drafts, Victoria didn’t bother asking for an explanation. She smashed her phone against my face and snapped, “What do you have to say for yourself?” Sophie yelled at me too. “Get on yo