Novel & Cerita Sweet Shackles Of Pain

A pistol crack of flesh on flesh. Pain explodes across my left cheek. It burns hot and bright. "One," I gasp. Smack. "Two." Tears prick my eyes. Not from the pain. From the humiliation. I am served up on a platter, bent over like a whore for their entertainment. Smack. "Three." I stare at the floor. I find a crack in the marble. Focus on the crack. The crack is safe. The crack doesn't feel shame. Smack. "Four."

"It’s sickening. It smells like desperation. It smells like two Alphas who dropped their favorite toy in the dirt and forgot to come back for it." "Shut up..." I gasp, my chin trembling. I press my wrists upward, the rusted iron shackles biting clean through my skin, letting warm blood trickle down my arms. The pain is the only thing keeping me anchored to reality, the only thing stopping me from crawling toward his feet. "Just... shut up..."

the captain said. “The shackles,” Sophia said as she looked at Micha. “They were everywhere. They are still holding people.” “What?” The captain said. “I will put money that my wife is right. The shackles were in working order. Those types as never all that used anymore. They had more than fifteen pairs hanging up all over the place.” Micha said. “it was a one of those few things that made me uncomfortable. Normal people would overlook it and not think twice about it. However, I know we had them on the ranch and could hold people when they got a little rowdy. We only had two pairs, though. Not seventeen in the barn out in the open.”

He gaze up at me "Whether you kneel willingly or I force you and shove my cock back inside that mouth as punishment for thinking it can speak back at me" Send me to hell and lock me back there, My cock comes alive at that threat. Straining wildly underneath my boxer. I want it "I see you want that" I gulp at being called out I shouldn't. I can protest. Actually, I can't... We've like seven men ready to pounce on me at his command and I remember him screaming at Shiloh to get away from me. My stomach tightens remembering the way darkness covered his bright eyes

No matter how much he tried to endure, no matter how much he tried to stay invisible, this house would always be a prison. Arden laid on the cold floor, his body trembling with pain that clawed at every inch of him. His back burned like fire, the iron’s mark still fresh, searing through his skin with every breath. His arms shook as he tried to push himself up, but the weight of his uncle’s blows and the sharp ache in his ribs forced him down again. His uncle and aunt had just left, leaving only silence. A silence broken by the shallow gasps that left Arden’s lips. He wished it would end. The pain. Everything.

Helpless tears ran down her cheeks. After all, it's already over! Almost over. The girl jerked the chain again and involuntarily hissed in pain, injuring her wrist on the metal. Deamara looked down at her hand. She inhaled through her teeth, and pulled harder, peeling off the skin. With her free hand, she closed her palm and fingers. She screamed and managed to pull her hand out of the shackles. She hugged her, soothing the pain.

And now that I’ve found my mate, I will not break. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the dark space I was in. Oh yeah, I’m in a dungeon again. This bitch has me on a torture rack with my wrists and ankles shackled and the chains pulled tight to stretch my limbs. It looks like the Shit Witch is trying to go medieval on my ass. No wonder my whole body hurts.

Xander POV The silver shackles that bound my wrists and ankles burned my skin. I winced and shifted my weight, wanting to prevent the bindings from touching too much skin. I slowly opened my eyes. There was no difference between having them close or open. Complete darkness surrounded me. Only the scar of Ida’s blue mark left a dim glow on my skin. But it wasn’t enough to see anything clearly. The clinking of another set of shackles resonated in the space, and I heard a grunting sound coming from another person. The other prisoner coughed and hissed as the silver stung them.

My body was strained and I could not voice the ache that burst through my body. Adrian promised me that he was different and I would never face the kind of torture I went through, yet here I was chained in the same position, in a cold damp cell while my clothes were slightly torn. My-now-uncovered-stomach was moving rapidly out of fear and the heavy shackles pained my weak body. I tried to make any sound or move my chained body, but it was no use. I could feel some drops of blood fall from my forehead down my cheek, and I could not wipe it. I was aware that I was bleeding from different parts of my body.

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.