Thrice Bound Chest Novels & Stories

His face was so swollen, so distorted by the bruises, that he looked like a stranger. "No," I choked out, the word catching in my throat, "No, no, no..." He was tied down to a chair, his arms lashed to the sides so tightly his hands were turning gray. A thick strap held his chest back against the slats, and his chest... God, his chest was stained with nothing but blood, and still trails of dark blood was still splashing onto his lap. Every time he tried to take a breath, his chest rattled, a wet, broken sound that tore through me.

Jaxon begins the binding with loving precision. Thick black silk ropes slide sensually over my skin as he ties my wrists together behind my back. The smooth outer silk feels cool and luxurious at first, but beneath it the coarser hemp core scrapes teasingly against my sensitive wrists as he tightens each knot with firm, deliberate pulls. The fibers bite into my skin with a delicious, constant pressure that makes my pulse throb against the bindings. He wraps the rope around my breasts in an intricate harness, the rough texture dragging slowly over my soft flesh before compressing it deeply. Each loop is tightened with care, the coarse strands digging into my skin, making my full breasts swell

I could feel the sharp vines stretch, winding down to my collarbone, fusing with flesh, branding me with something ancient and cruel. Xareth didn’t flinch. He simply stood there, calm and composed, slipping his hands casually into his pockets like this was routine. “Poor girl,” he said in that same mocking calmness. “It’s not just a pretty piece of jewelry. The Chain of Thorns is laced with soul-binding magic. The more you resist, the more it digs in. The more you suffer.” Blood dripped from my lips as I coughed violently. My lungs felt like they were filled with fire. My entire body convulsed as pain ripped through every inch of me, like molten lava surging through my veins.

Alpha Dane asks Klaus picks up one of the books and hands it Alpha Dane, already with its pages open. “This here, this states that the only Wolf-human to have been bound more than once, was bound three times. “Okay.” “The third time killed them.” He looks at me, heavy sorrow in his eyes. “In theory, you should be dead.”

Something she made up to make me feel close to her. He knelt again and pulled the chest from the earth. It was heavy, far heavier than its size suggested, and he grunted with effort. But it was real. He set the chest on a flat stone and pressed his palm against the lid. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the iron bands glowed—faintly, briefly—and the lock clicked open. The symbols on the wood pulsed once, then faded. Inside, nestled in faded velvet that crumbled at the edges, were three objects.

Just enough to remind every wolf in the territory that boundaries were being tested tonight. My lungs burned with each ragged inhale. I knelt in the center of the thick furs, thighs trembling, skin slick with sweat and the telltale honeyed glide of my own arousal. The heat inside me had nowhere to go but outward, threading through the invisible lines that bound me to them. Thorne. Aurelius. Cassian. My triad. My owners.

Each time with a man felt more thrilling than several nights with women. Now, he knew very well that it would be over. His lust for the body of men would be over when he found his bound. He also knew there was no doubt that his bound would be female. Afterall, it was the norm to be bound to the opposite gender and since he is heir, no heir could go past the norm. Not if they wished to be denied their rights to the throne. It didn't matter if he fucked around with all the male slaves or servants in the world, just as long as his bound was female. It just had to be female.

The woman backed away toward her medicine shelves, giving me some space. As the warmth spread through my chest, I suddenly felt like something was off, but I couldn't quite place it at first. My left side felt itchy, so I reached down to scratch the skin beneath my clothes. Then, a wave of blinding horror washed over me as I painfully realized that I could not feel the fabric of my chest binds. They were gone. I slapped my chest in panic, my heart stopping as I stared down at my loose shirt. My mind raced into a dark spiral, wondering if there was already a group of warriors waiting outside the tent flaps to arrest me and take me straight to the gallows for the deception.

I should never have trusted any of them. The basement reeked of damp stone, mildew, and rot like something dead had been left to fester down here for decades. They shoved me toward a heavy oak chair bolted to the floor, and bound me tight thick hemp ropes coiled cruelly around my chest and stomach, squeezing so tight I could barely draw breath my arms were wrenched backward and tied to the chair legs until my shoulders burned and went numb.

"Slow. You've got broken ribs during heavy training last night, this'll hurt." "Edith." "Sit. Up." I obeyed. The room tilted, righted itself. Rayna held me steady with both hands like I weighed nothing, which maybe I didn't anymore. "We're binding your chest," Edith said, plain as reading a grocery list. "You're small enough that it won't be hard to bind. Wolfless, no pack marks, no scent anyone's tracking, you're already a shadow. We're just giving the shadow a name."