Toilet Bound Novels & Stories

Its walls, once a symbol of security, now felt like they were closing in on me, locking me into a future I couldn’t escape. I slipped into a simple white dress, the fabric light against my skin but heavy with unspoken expectations. Kneeling down on the floor, I folded my hands in my lap and waited, the silence of the room pressing down on me like an invisible weight.

About hunger twisted with vulnerability. Ronan looked at her like a man crawling through fire who just found water. “I do.” Her fingers moved with skill and precision, looping the rope around his wrists, binding him firmly but not cruelly. She took her time, letting each knot reinforce the truth neither of them had spoken aloud. He needed this. And she needed to be needed this way. She finished the tie and pressed her palm against his chest. “Breathe.” He did. His eyes fluttered shut, a shiver coursing through his body.

When the final roar of the shadow cut through the night and faltered, when the forest itself seemed to exhale at the cessation of its threat, Kenneth pulled me against him fully, arms wrapping around my body, chest to chest, lips brushing mine in a kiss that was not born of fear but of desire, intimacy, and the recognition that the tether between us had become absolute, unbreakable, and eternal, and in that press of his body, in the warmth and gravity of his presence, I felt a profound clarity, a pulse of love, trust, and survival that tethered us irrevocably, a bond that had been forged in fire and blood, sharpened in chaos, and now burned brightly in the night as an unassailable truth that

It didn't feel tight at first, but then she wrapped it round the section between the wrists and tied it, cinching the whole thing down. Then she guided my bound wrists above my head. Standing me in the centre of the room wasn't a matter of a controlling neatness as I'd assumed. It placed me directly below the hoist that was used to help wheelchair users on and off the toilet. I heard her fasten the clip on the end of the hoist to the cloth round my wrists.

Emily's bound hands twisted uselessly behind her back, the zip ties cutting into her wrists. ‎Victor's free hand slid up her skirt, pushing the fabric aside. He found her panties and ripped them off with one brutal tug, the elastic snapping against her hips. Cool air hit her exposed pussy, and she clenched her thighs together instinctively. But he forced them open wider, his thick fingers probing her folds. ‎

The curtains fluttered wildly in the night breeze. Furniture had been overturned as if a violent struggle had taken place. But there was no attacker. Only a single guard lay on the floor. Blood spread beneath him. I gasped. "Is he...?" Matteo knelt beside the man and checked for a pulse. After a few tense seconds, he stood. "He's alive." Relief washed over me. "Barely," Matteo added. Two guards immediately carried the wounded man away. I looked around the destroyed room.

"I have you, Kaela." "Now," I begged, my hips lifting instinctively off the bed, searching for him, completely consumed by the heat threatening to burn us both to ash. "Draven, now." He didn't hesitate. Draven reached down, unbuckling his leather belt with one hand while keeping me pinned under his weight with the other. The heavy leather clattered to the floor alongside the rest of his clothes. "No turning back," he whispered, his knuckles brushing the silver marks on my throat, which were now glowing red-hot in the dark. "Once we do this, the bond locks. The mountain won't be able to separate us.”

His Italian leather briefcase moved. A glass of water sitting on the island fresh, condensation still forming. Someone had been inside. Alex’s heart hammered. He moved quickly, quietly, scanning the living room. He grabbed the nearest object, a marble vase worth $5,000 and raised it like a weapon. Then… The bathroom door opened. And Wilson walked out. In a towel. “BRO, WHAT THE?!” Wilson screamed. “You almost died,” Alex snapped, lowering the vase. “I swear” “YOU ALMOST KILLED ME!” Wilson yelled louder, clutching his chest.

Adrian sank onto the edge of the massive bed, cock still very hard, skin burning where Luca had touched him. He was trapped. And the devil had already started his slow, filthy corruption.

AÏDON'S POV; Death. The stench is horrid as it overshadows the overbearing smell of disinfectant and fills the entirety of the dimly lit hall. I'm unable to resist neither the slightest wrinkle of my nose as I expel a heated breath of air nor the twitch in my left hand when the putrid smell wafts up my nostrils and causes my stomach to stir unpleasantly.