Bowsettes Novelas e Histórias

The strings were tied differently and fasteners and strings could only be fixed and opened by someone else. I had designed it to ensure a romantic and seductive wedding night for the groom. The blouse was already fitted with a push-up bra to make it look more sensuous. Shit!! I was in a soup. Very hot soup. I didn't realise it when Maya selected this particular design for Srusti that I would be the groom and would have to open the fastenings. Even when I got it fitted for Srusti, I didn't realise it or I would have changed it.

"Your short Basharr skirts won't keep you warm here." "I meant how tight they are," Violet said. "I'm cinched into this so well I can't tell where I end and the dress begins." "King Curzon said you look perfect," Olivia replied, as if that was the only standard she could fathom. Hestia held out a glistening bow made of oak. The warm yellow wood shamed the sun above them. Violet took it and hung her quiver from a stand nearby. She nocked an arrow and stretched the string back to her mouth, struggling against her dress to get full range of motion. But Violet was patient when a bow was in her grip—she took two deep breaths, waiting for the right moment.

My fingers instinctively released the bow, as if touching it had burned me. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t realize you were here. I was just—” “Fascinated by the bow?” He cut me off, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “That’s understandable.” He stepped forward, lifting the bow from its stand with a reverent touch, his eyes gleaming with something close to admiration. I stood frozen, unsure of what to say. “This,” he said, running his fingers over the bow’s design, “is the boss’s favorite weapon. He calls it Lady Rosaline. No one is allowed near it. No one is even permitted to touch it.”

I smiled, a slow, sensual curve of my lips, as I reached for her wrists. The restraints were crafted from the finest leather, soft yet unyielding, designed to hold her securely without causing discomfort. I wrapped the first restraint around her left wrist, the leather sliding smoothly against her skin. The buckle clicked into place with a satisfying finality, and I repeated the process with her right wrist, ensuring both were securely fastened to the bedframe.

She had crafted a bow with the help of her master, which had slots for three arrows. For the entire month, bows were her steady partners. The arrows from it flew straight and right on the target. She realized that the bows and arrows were just the tools because she shot with her heart. Her passion for it grew at an alarming rate. She even designed a wooden ring that had a metal button ring on the base. One push of the button and the metal spike would come out from all sides, which if tipped in poison could kill the enemy immediately.

‘That is the main priority right now. With a swift movement, she put the phone back and then proceeded to adjust the sleeves of her uniform blouse while discreetly pushing the safety button of her mini crossbow—this disables the crossbow— that there is n needle in the firing cartridge and that the launching stage of the crossbow was concealed entirely to the training wrist wrap that was fashioned into a metal form. Making it easier to hide the metal mini crossbow and yet no one would suspect as it was hidden inside her sleeves and that if people did see it, they would think that it was just a simple wrist wrap.

I focus her attention on the task at hand. Beatrice summons weapon after weapon, but by the seventh, she struggles to craft another without losing one of the first ones she conjured. We established seven to be the maximum amount, with thirty-five feet the safe distance away from Beatrice before the weapons deteriorated. With this information out of the way, she picked to train with Bow and arrow.

“Gee Fox? You're just a toy and always will be—” “Gia?” A voice cut through my haze, and I turned to see Bobby, the manager of the club. “Yes, Bobby?” I replied, peeling off my coat to reveal my micro mini skirt that showcased the black thong underneath, knee-high transparent black socks, heels, and a cropped corporate white shirt, complete with a tie to fit tonight's high school theme. “Private room service. Tobias Whitlock,” he said briefly.

I try to take care of her at work and outside work, her husband does everything he can to keep her out of trouble. Norah pouts, and I pull her out of the kitchen until we're in a safe, quiet zone. She shows me a small vile wrapped in a silky napkin, watching with wide eyes to see my reaction. "What the hell is that?" I have to ask. She grins. "It's another poison to add to my collection. I finally got the belladonna extract," she explains. "Are you crazy?" I whisper-shout, looking around. "This is a restaurant! You have to stop bringing them here!"

They never missed a class in the three years they attended. And then Nathan turned up and Charlotte left for New York. Camille sighed in defeat. “I’ll think about it but I’m not making any promises.” Charlotte grinned, willing to take that for an answer for the time being. “Great. Okay one more thing…” Camille could help but feel exasperated but quickly recovered when Charlotte held up a set of wristbands. They weren’t the awful elastic ones from the eighties but rather loops of thin leather donned with beads made of rose quartz and jasper. There was a simple macrame fastening that allowed the wearer to tighten and loosen them with ease while being light enough and snug enough to be able mov