Light Bondage Stories Novels & Stories

some man growled, I believe he was one of those mask man… “Hmm… you are right, I needle her one more time.. this will surely keep her in sleep until she is handed to Balthazaar…” Lydia said, couple of seconds later I felt something again piercing skin on my arm… I assume it was needle that Lydia pricked me…. “There, now take this bitch and get us our gold” Lydia said and I felt the buggy I was stuffed in moving ahead… at same time I found myself slowly drifting into darkness…… Third person POV: Under the darkness of no moon night, a red color painted wooden buggy was been pulled by four strong brown horses, it was piercing right through cold night wind and densely covered forest…

Tell them a boy kept a pomegranate in his fist until it bled through his fingers and still never said the word. Tell them a man checked the northern lights every night for forgiveness and finally found it blooming red and gold across a sky that remembered how to be beautiful. Tell them the machines kept the lighthouse burning every summer waiting for December that never came. Tell them a ten-year-old child in Reykjavik placed one seed on a windowsill and something green is still growing there. Tell them two monsters learned gentleness and taught it to everything that came after. I am tired now. The rooftop lights have dimmed without being asked.

Her voice softened and she looked thoughtful. "I grew up hearing a lot of stories like that." I hesitated, leaning back and her brow arched in curiosity. "Want to hear one?" I let my thumb press into a particularly tight spot on her foot. Her lips parted slightly, "Is this one of your business ventures in disguise?" I chuckled, shaking my head. "Not this time." "Alright." She said, settling back against the cushions. "Tell me." I took a deep breath, leaning forward slightly. "There was a boy. He grew up in a big family—siblings running all over the place, laughter always in the air."

"Be careful, this bottle's potent enough to make amends with a ghost." Brenna laughed, raising her glass. "Well then, to haunting the right ones." They all laughed—a sound Lily hadn't known she'd missed. Not forced politeness. Not brittle silence. Real laughter. "To second chances," Helena said, lifting her glass softly. "To building forward," Lily whispered, the words half a vow. They touched glasses, the sound fine, almost sacramental. With each bite, stories started to fill the space between. Brenna had a story about Lily as a toddler, sneaking beneath the kitchen table to escape piano lessons and bribing the cook with pilfered chocolates.

Jamie The morning light filtered through Lena’s bedroom curtains as I woke up sore, sticky, and completely wrecked. Every part of me ached — my pussy was swollen and tender, my asshole throbbed, and my throat felt raw from how deep she’d fucked it. Lena was already awake, watching me with dark, possessive eyes. She was still naked, her body looking even more tempting in the daylight. “Morning, my little secret slut,” she purred, sliding her hand between my thighs. Her fingers found my sore, leaking cunt instantly. “Still wet for me even after everything I did to you last night?”

I sank onto the edge of the bed, the room shrinking until there was nothing left in the world but the glowing cherry of his cigarette and the weight of the metal in his hand. The alley was over. The nightmare was just beginning.

My eyes widened when I saw a knife behind on him. “Wait, is that a sword? A real sword? Wow, I just saw something like that,” I said and tried to touch it, but Grant quickly tapped my hand, but there was still a small wound. Is that sword so sharp? “Look at what you did. You are, give your hand to me,” he took my hand and covered his hand. I was closed by a little light that came out of it, after that— it’s disappeared; therefore, I immediately looked at Grant and my writing.

Sexual freedom had been a destructive drug she was hooked on, and the older Lara got, the more blatantly Linda had flaunted her beliefs and her men. Lara had found that even more deeply offensive than the screaming fits of abuse her father had regularly endured. Forced to live in the mayhem of her parents’ deeply destructive marriage, Lara had also been forced to stand silent and blind on the sidelines, neither commenting nor taking sides. Perhaps that was when she had begun to repress her own emotions… “Earlier, you wanted to know why I never talk about my family,” she said flatly. “Since you’re so curious… here it goes! My mother was once asked to leave the Northern Star Hotel because the

"We give it power. We do whatever it takes. We do not leave until it is done. We do not rest until the shadow is bound." Cassian took my hand. Theron took my other hand. Lysander pressed his hand to my back. The bond blazed—gold and silver and blue, brighter than the torches, brighter than the sun, brighter than anything I had ever felt. The light filled the crypt, pushing back the shadows that had been hiding in the corners for years, decades, centuries. And the binding began.

He ordered. The glass was cold against my skin as I lay back, the chandelier lights above me glaring down. Marcus spread my wrists above my head, binding them with leather cuffs and fixing them to the table legs. My ankles were next and he secured them wide apart until I was utterly exposed. The woman circled me like a predator, running her long manicured nails along the glass table. “So helpless,” She purred. Her hand skimmed up my thigh, making me quiver. “Touch her.” Marcus smirked as he settled into the sofa, man spreading like a king watching his entertainment.