Sweet Shackles Of Pain Novels & Stories

For now. Sullivan’s hands trembled as they wrapped around my wrists. His touch was careful, almost apologetic but there was still harshness in them, like his will could not even make this process less painful for me. I heard a click as the cold bite of silver shackles wrapped around my wrists, it made me hiss. Sullivan locked them in place, securing my arms and pulling them outward. The chains stretched tight between two towering suspension poles, pulling me slightly off the ground, leaving my feet barely able to brush the stone floor.

I managed to ask, my voice weak and barely audible. His gaze dropped to the shackles around my wrists and his jaw clenched. His ocean blue eyes blazed as if the sight of my situation made him so mad. The danger lurking beneath the depths of his orbs made me know he was beyond livid. With two long strides, he managed to close the gap between us. He got down in front of me and held the shackles on my wrists. The initial sting of pain as the shackles pressed against my skin made me wince, but the pain soon vanished when the shackles broke into pieces under the brutal grip of the man. For him to crush wraith steel just like that proved how strong he was, and I was starting to wonder if he was ju

"What have I done?" The alarms started to scream. The sound was high and sharp, cutting through the basement like a blade. Red lights began to flash against the grey walls. I knew that sound. It was the sound of a lockdown. It was the sound of a hunt. I looked at the silver shackles on the table. They were broken, twisted like cheap wire by a force I didn't even know I had. My thighs and stomach burned where Sabrina had pressed the hot silver. The pain was dull now, blocked by the pure terror sitting in my throat.

Kael POV — First Person Pain is a strange thing. At first, it screams. Then it whispers. Then it settles in and becomes a companion you never asked for but can’t escape. I kneel at the center of the stone chamber, wrists bound in moon-forged chains that burn cold against my skin. Not hot. Never hot. The Moon’s punishment isn’t fire. It’s truth. Every link hums with it—memories, regret, jealousy, betrayal—threaded straight into my bones. I can’t shift. I can’t call my wolf. I can barely breathe without the weight of what I’ve done pressing harder against my chest.

A bone-deep pain instantly tore through my body. I let out a muffled gasp and collapsed onto the cold floor. Cold sweat drenched my back in seconds. I felt as though my soul was being torn apart. Yet, compared to the heartbreak from just moments ago, this pain felt much milder. With my gaze locked on the bone ring, I whispered to myself, "Just five more days, Tori Dawson. Five more days, and you'll be free from this ridiculous farce."

I wanted to hurt her the way she was hurting me. But the chains, thick and heavy, jerked me back with brutal force, just as before. The rusted metal bit even deeper into my wrists, sending a searing, white-hot pain through my arms and shoulders. I managed to shuffle forward barely two or three steps, a desperate, pathetic shuffle, before the chains pulled taut, snapping me back. The sudden, violent stop sent a fresh wave of agony through my body.

This thought sent another wave of pain through her chest and she gasped for breath, her vision fogged with fresh tears that due to her shackles she couldn’t even wipe away. But despite her trauma, the insistent ocean finally demanded her attention. The churning, foaming water pulsed through the cavern, smashing into the shelf and sending an intermittent curtain of spray in front of her. Panic pushed the pain from her heart, panic and the will to survive. She fought against her bonds, hoping to have some impact upon the manacles about her wrists. She pulled and squirmed, her teeth clenching with the strain of it, until her metal bonds raked into her wrists and she cried out with pain and frus

Then she throws it in his face. He screams like he’s being burned alive—and he is. His skin starts bubbling instantly, like acid’s eating it away. The silver shackles stop his body from healing. When she throws another jar of it, he starts convulsing. Now soaked in pain and blistered raw, she grabs the shock cables. My heart starts racing. I realize what she’s about to do. She clips the wires onto the screws already buried in his body. He’s in so much agony he barely reacts.

Chad’s POV The stench of rot and rust clung to the air like a curse. The walls sweated moisture, the floor was cold concrete, and the only light came from a dying bulb flickering overhead. Every flicker stabbed at my skull. Every sound echoed too loudly. I lay on the thin mattress, wrists bruised from the handcuffs they kept dragging me around in, ankles raw from shackles that had become part of my skin. My body ached in places I didn’t know could hurt. They wanted me broken. They wanted me silent. They wanted me to suffer.

She took out a few cans of beer, drinking them on the balcony while gazing at the luminous lights… She was thinking about everything that happened to her from the past… The frame ups, her shotgun marriage and her struggles while she's living far away from home… They appeared blurred but the wounds remain fresh. It hasn't been cured despite undergoing a medical procedure to get rid of them. The pain surges and intensifies when she sees him, the man that secretly stabbed her without even knowing.