Straitjacket Story Novels & Stories

He was essentially paralyzed in this beginning stage of the shift. Discarding the syringes, I reached into the bag again and removed a crude set of pliers. The stranger fought against my hold as I grabbed his hand, prying his fingers out of the fist he tried to hold. I gripped the claw of his index finger between the metal teeth of the pliers. Applying pressure, I squeezed until the nail was firmly secured within my grip. The scum wriggled against his restraints. The persistent pain of the partial shift already feeding into his fear. “You will talk,” Jaden said casually from behind me. “They all do.”

The two women had formed a strong bond and become a little family and now she promised to do all she could to help Maria. Paolo did not care about what Maria had suffered, the first thing he did when he returned for his son's second birthday was command them to lock up the children so he could have his ‘fun’ as he put it. When the Nanny had done what he asked the two women stood before him trembling with fear, they both knew what was coming. ‘Striscia.’ [Strip]’ He said sitting in his favourite Louis XV antique armchair, he crossed one leg over the other his obese tummy spilling over his knees but that did not stop his perverted lust. When the two women were naked his eyes raked over them, s

Letta automatically started to cough while holding her neck. "What's going on here?" Marco asked, glaring angrily at the nurses and the mother. Marco then looked at Letta, who was still coughing. "Darling, are you okay?" Marco asked, and the next moment, Marco widened his eyes when he saw Letta’s neck turning blue due to the strangulation by the unknown woman. Marco immediately opened the bottled water he had, helping Letta to sip it slowly. Although Letta still seemed to be in distress, the choking was indeed not a joke. Seeing his wife's bruised neck, Marco immediately looked back at the mother who was still struggling to lunge at his wife.

Before she could ask another question, the man suddenly pinned her to the sand, trapping one of her wrists above her head with a single hand. "Relax," he said in a low voice that somehow made her even more nervous. "If I wanted to hurt you, your body would've been broken long before now, Red." His hand tightened against her chest before he captured her lips in a rough, possessive kiss. Pain shot through her. Fiora clenched her teeth, forcing herself not to scream. For some reason... She was certain that struggling would only make him more dangerous. "Darius." Another voice suddenly echoed across the beach.

He smelled like strong mints and rubbing alcohol. "Please," I whispered, my voice cracking as I pulled my hands closer to my chest. "Please, don't. I won't do it again. I won't try to leave." "Quiet." He grabbed my right wrist. His grip was like an iron vice, his thick fingers squeezing the bone until it throbbed. He slammed my forearm down onto the cold metal armrest of the chair, and before I could pull away, he dropped a heavy, padded leather strap over my wrist, buckling it tightly. He did the same to my left arm. I was pinned. I couldn't move anything but my head.

As he walked out the door, she knew she would never see him again and he never saw the tear slip down her cheek as she watched his car pull away. Within seconds of hearing the scream, Emma and Caleb’s guns were drawn and they were racing upstairs. A man, presumably Bill, was holding a gun to Jenny’s head. “N.Y.P.D!” Caleb yelled. “Drop your weapon!” “Drop your weapon!” Bill yelled back, defiantly. “I’m just running my business and I don’t need cops poking around in it!” “Jenny, are you okay?” Emma never shifted her gaze from the pimp. “I don’t want to die,” Jenny whimpered, mascara running down her cheeks. “Please, I don’t want to die.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as I struggled to comprehend the swift turn of events. A man grasps my wrists, binding them behind me, my hands throbbed with an uncomfortable pressure. At that moment, a surge of strength radiated through me, fueled by the injustice of my situation. With a sudden burst of determination, I resisted the hands that sought to imprison me. My muscles strained as I fought against the binds, as I desperately attempted to break free from the clutches. The surrounding voices escalated, a mixture of surprise and anger. The courtyard transformed into a battleground where my struggle for freedom intensified. The accusing eyes now widened with shock as the unexpected

Liam's voice was frosty as he said, "Mr. Yacano, it seems you've forgotten about what I said earlier, haven't you?" "L-Liam, let me go—" Cirroc coughed. He felt a little suffocated as Liam was holding his collar tight. He then grabbed Liam's hand with all his might, trying to free himself from his grip. However, no matter how much he struggled, Liam still did not let his collar go at all. His struggling motion only got his neck strangled even tighter instead. "You—Hurry up and let me go. If you dare to do anything to me, my father—won't let you go—"

She straddled him, her legs over his middle. “Put your hands up, near the bed posts.” He did, and from behind the posts she withdrew a Velcro covered strap, that she fastened around one wrist. Then the other wrist. She was a little nervous, being imprisoned like that. But it happened quickly, before she had time to fully process what was happening. “And now the legs,” she said.

The perfect place for interrogation. "You're the fifth person to interview me. I must be important." "Bobby," waggled his restrained wrist. "Belly chains, handcuffs, shackles. Am I a serial killer?" "Are you, Bobby? You almost killed the girl at the beach?" "She was stung by a jellyfish, and I was trying to help." "She's in a coma." "Sounds like she's allergic. Why am I here?" "Where is your family?" Stralath touched the edge of the metal desk and then tested to see if it was indeed secured to the floor. It was.