Marge In Chains Novels & Stories

“You two should hang out and bond over your mutual love for Korean dramas.” I forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah, we should. Let’s begin, shall we?” “Yeah, sure.” We started working on the assignment – discussing our thoughts, objections, and opinions and writing them down. About 30 minutes into it, Alex pulled out a bag of marshmallows. I watched him as he opened it carefully as if any rough or sudden movement would crush the marshmallow and render it unfit for human consumption. He proceeded to pick one and put it into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he chewed it, making a sound in his throat. It felt like it was just him and his marshmallows that mattered. It was as if he was shooting a comm

This Loki guy sounds like the type she can push over, and Cherry doesn’t need that. Margaret made a face. “You know how stubborn she is. I’ll just introduce them and hope for the best. Anyways, enjoy the rest of your day.” She walked past me, continuing to type. She was lost in her own world. Thinking about the next thing she can use cherry for. Margaret is wonderful, but even I know she’s just like her daughters. Each of them has a mask. They’re burying something that is eating away at them. Even a good girl like Sheryl has her dark secrets.

“And maybe she needs more than your chains to feel it.” The corridors of the Alpha quarters were quiet, too quiet. Silver lay awake on her bed, staring at the carved ceiling beams, her chest tightening with every whisper that seemed to slither into her mind. At first, she thought it was just her imagination, her insecurities gnawing at her like they always did. A wolf without a wolf. A broken mate. A liability. But tonight, the whispers felt… alive. “You hear them too, don’t you?” she murmured to herself, curling her knees to her chest.

The room is wide, cockroaches will never enter here. "What? Aren't you all happy? Creating stories that ruined my whole life. I'm so happy with that," Jackson is playing a game on his big television. The chain on his neck is sturdy that can never be broken easily. There are no things that Jackson could use to remove the chain from its tie. Whenever he pulls, a gas automatically sprays, makes him immediately fall asleep. "Bro, don't be sad. Dad said you can come back when everything is fine," "Bullshit, Jeffrey. Just get out of here. And don't fucking touch my wife, she's pregnant,"

I was so immersed in my grief that I did not notice that Eric did not contact me for a week. I should call him, with that thought, I tried to get up, but could not even move due to the injury to both legs. "Maid..." I called out. "Yes, ma'am." A maid entered the room, her eyes lowered respectfully. "What do you need?" She asked in a very polite manner. I started to look at her face in surprise. I was surprised by the sudden change in the staff's demeanor towards me. Since when did the employees of this Mansion start respecting me?

She said, shrugging as she went back to her case. ***** Margo dug through it for a while muttering to herself here and there until an excited squeal escaped her lips. She peered over the top of the case at the man and chuckled. When she came out from behind her case she held a corkscrew in her hand. Kane eyed it out of curiosity as she approached the man who was struggling against his chains. “What are you going to do?” The man whispered. “I’m just making sure you do a few things for me first.” She chuckled darkly.

“All clear. Door flung open upstairs. Plus, the old hag is gone.” “Our business is done here,” said the third, taking command once more. “I’ll be in touch in a few days.” And with that, the first bent to extinguish the candles, along with any chance Marge had of seeing their faces. They descended up the stairs, and into the dark, taking no notice of her in the shadows by the stair in their eagerness to depart. She waited, far longer than was likely necessary, before getting up from her position. Her bones ached, stiff and hardened from the cold floor and her joints cracked loudly in the quiet basement room. But her mind was reeling, bringing focus to her whirling mind despite her rattled bod

No plea for mercy. "How much did she pay you, Marge?" my voice sounded hollow, echoing off the damp tiles like it belonged to someone else. "A few cartons of cigarettes? A bit of protection? Whatever it is, it isn't worth the extra years this will add to your sentence." "In here, a Rossi favor is worth more than gold," Marge said, her voice dropping into a lethal growl. She took a step forward, the steam curling around her like a shroud. "And besides... I always wanted to see if a billionaire’s wife bleeds the same color as the rest of us."