Novelas y relatos de Manacled

It was already getting dark, the sun's ray weakened, casting long shadows. Soft winds carry the scent of evening blooms and the warmth of the day dissipate. One could hear the soothing sounds of nocturnal creatures. Aunt Kathy was sitting in the waiting area with Mr Claude, he's clad in a tailored navy suit, crisp white shirt, and silver-gray tie, with an air of success and refinement that commands respect with his bespoke fragrance and sleek Rolex Daytona complimenting his personality. They were having a deep conversation and they were quite discreet. Tammy sighted them from a distance and walked up to them. Neither Aunt Kathy nor Mr Claude saw her coming, regardless, she didn't hear a thin

Brand awoke with a startling sense of déjà-vu. He was face down in sand and a large fur boot lay in his field of vision as he blinked. Faen! This time when he tried to push up, however, his arms would not cooperate. Iron manacles were locked around his wrists. Heavy chains rattled behind him as he struggled to turn over. He felt the pinch of the blade and smelled the coppery tang of blood as a rivulet ran down his neck. He froze, panting.

"Pleaseeeeeee!!! Pleaseee let me go!" I cry, feeling desperation fill my body as the man gabs the chain in between my wrists in efforts to have more control over my arm movements. I feel the man push me forward, having me stumble over as I try desperately to pull myself away from him. "Fighting will only make things worse." He says sternly before placing a black cloth bag over my head. I scream at the top of my lungs as I feel the man tighten the cloth's strings around my neck, causing total darkness to consume me. I stand in the middle of the room completely blind and bound, feeling entirely dependent on the man who did this to me.

There was another round of laughter and I tried to open my eyes all the way but the lids wouldn't move past the swelling around them. The musky scent of the damp cellar walls made me want to throw up,but when I gagged, nothing came out. “We should untie her and take turns….” The second voice suggested,excitedly. “Perhaps that'd take her out completely,” another said and although I couldn't fully process what they meant at that point,my mind wept. One of them roughly fondled my chest and the silver chains on my chained up wrists— sizzled deeper into my already burnt flesh as I tried to pull back.

Alpha Reed stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at my bloody and burned wrists and the silver chains that held them. “There is a lot that would be more fun,” He said, and I shivered as he caged me into his arms, pressing his chest to my back before grabbing my chains and ripping them from the wall. The implication of his words settled deep in my chest, and terror flooded my veins as his breath fanned over my neck as he spoke. “For now, you’re coming with me, white wolf.”

The walls were bare, peeling paint revealing warped wood, the air heavy with mildew and dust. A narrow hallway led to a smaller room, its door open, revealing a cot with a thin mattress, a blanket folded neatly, and a chain bolted to the wall—a manacle waiting. My stomach churned, my breath catching, the reality of my captivity sinking in. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment plan; Marcus had prepared this, every detail a testament to his obsession.

"Get them off! Please get them off." "What? What are you talking about?" Warm tears leaked from my closed eyes. I couldn't pry them open, the light was too bright, the pounding too severe. That didn't mean I wasn't aware. I was. Like insects scattering across my skin, the vines continued to weave and wrap; alive and possessed, they tied me to the bed, covering my legs, body, breasts, and arms. I couldn't move.

Kenneth’s gaze met mine, black, unyielding, feral, and the words he spoke were a command, a tether, a promise: “Do not move. Not now. Not ever. And whatever happens, stay with me.” I nodded, trembling, chest heaving, every fiber of my being screaming both fear and desire, because in that moment, I understood with absolute clarity that I was irrevocably bound to this man, this storm, this violence, and that nothing, not bullets, not men, not fire could sever the connection forged in blood and chaos.

~Macy's POV~ Both my wrists were bound in handcuffs, the cold metal biting into my skin, held right above my head at the headboard of my uncle’s bed. I was completely stripped of any clothes, leaving my body bare, exposed, and vulnerable for his viewing pleasure, as he stood inches away in front of the bedframe….stark naked, while his hand jerked off on his throbbing, erect dick.

"Standing. Facing each other. We need to be a pillar." We stand in the center of the cabin. Harlan ties us together. He wraps the heavy paracord around our waists, crushing our chests together. He binds our wrists at the small of each other’s backs. He binds our ankles. We are fused. A two-headed totem of flesh and desperation. "Good luck," Harlan says. He grabs a box of ammo and heads for the door. "I'll buy you time." He kicks the door open and runs into the night.