Chest Piece For Men Novels & Stories

“No. No. It's for half a year.” Okay. That made sense, and it looked plausible. “Did the furniture actually come with the house or..?” He scratched the back of his head. “It did not. I bought them.” “What was the total cost?” “I don't know. I didn't count.” I stared at him, not knowing what to say. Who exactly was this man? He owned a Porsche, could afford an extra fifteen grand, and furnish a house without wanting anything in return. Yet, he was a sheriff for a suburban area.

"Then again, it's not like Vincent is any different." Still, Ves sought a more decent example. He found a couple of interesting images. Some armor designers neatly avoided this issue by adding a chainmail or plated skirt. While that would work brilliantly with certain mechs, he was sure to draw Vincent's ire. A man never wore skirts, after all, and his client wanted to flaunt his masculinity, not negate it entirely. He eventually spotted some codpieces that looked a bit more fitting for modern times. These codpieces skewed rounded shapes and instead used sharp angles in a combination of triangular and rectangular forms. These examples evoked the suggestion that they were there to do their jo

Celeste waits for Zared to get dressed and she leads us out of the room. There are rows of corsets, “These are for men” she points to the far side, “and these for women.” I walk past them and see different kinds, longer and shorter models with heavy boning and lighter boning. All are beautifully made, I pick a longer lighter boned one in a beautiful black satin with paisley print and a shorter heavy boned one in a cream colour with navy blue pinstripes. Zared takes off his shirt, his eyes trained on me. The hurt is evident.

He had something on his mind and whatever it was, it wasn't good. He also wasn't dressed casually. Instead, he was in full tribal warrior gear. Soft moleskin pants hugged his lower frame. Lace-up boots covered his feet and shins. His upper body was bare except for an interlocking buffalo bone breastplate. Inch and a half wide leather strips wound around his wrists. And in addition to traditional weaponry of knives strapped in various places, Ever also had a Glock handgun holstered around one meaty thigh. No, this definitely wasn't an informal visit.

Beneath that, I was wearing a body strap, also provided. It was tight. It felt like it was probably a size too small, but, knowing the Magic Man, that wasn’t an error. It had taken some time for me to get it on. Leather and metal rings. It was like a body suit without material, without cloth. A body belt. It strapped my upper thighs, waist, chest, and arms. The torso part was cut to highlight my chest and my lower stomach. Nothing on the groin or lower half section, except for straps that pressed right at the top of the pelvis and ran back to encircle the glutes and connect to the waist.

I want the thing in the window. I sort through the hangers until I find it near the back. It’s black leather, with a thick collar that connects down the center of the chest to a heavy waist belt. Secondary straps branch off, designed to cage the ribs and wrap around the upper thighs. A leather strap runs from the middle of the back downwards, where it would go through the crack of my ass, connecting to a cock ring in the front. The cock ring is removable, so we’d be able to take it off and replace it with a different one, or leave it off entirely, depending on what Kir wants to do to me.

I was struck too. The only thing Elio wore from his waist up was a chain of beads which slanted vertically from his right shoulder and to the left side of his waist. A white faux fur neckpiece hung around his neck with another red and white beaded neckpiece. He looked so good and as he turned even I was thrown off because I couldn’t remember his abs being that scrumptious. If it were up to me, he would wear that every day, every single day. Around his waist was a black belt which held a faux leopard skin apron or loin-like material which sat on two thick brown cotton fabrics aligned together, tied at his waist. The fabrics left space so when he walked, his whole leg was in display. The man w

For all I knew, he could be hiding a pointed chin. The hair on his chest was so thick that it formed a velvet backdrop for the gold rings around his nipples. And it continued down a muscular torso into a pair of skin-tight jeans with the top button undone. Even though I tried not to look, the front of his jeans bulged with the outline of a third appendage that extended halfway down his leg. It was probably a trick of the light, an overstuffed Christmas stocking, or he’d gotten one of his slaves to bleach his clothes to create an optical illusion.

The red trim seemed to pulse against the black fabric, a quiet but bold statement that mirrored Aiden's own presence–controlled yet impossible to ignore. His slacks matched the jacket, the same deep black that fit him like a second skin. Every inch of fabric was meticulously chosen, emphasizing the powerful lines of his legs and the fluidity of his movements. The jacket was not fully buttoned just enough to reveal the curve of his chest beneath, the fabric parting slightly at the center. Aiden's chest was well defined, carved by years of training and discipline, each muscle clearly visible through the fabric. It was a glimpse of strength, not flaunted but present, like the hint of steel bene

He said grabbing a black jeans from him closet. He took his joggers off then pulled his jeans on quickly and I didn't fail to see how sexy he is. I bit my bottom lip as I saw how his gray Calvin Klein boxers sat on his ass that made his jeans sit perfectly on him. He button his jeans then put on his black Gucci belt, white and black Nike barrage, black and white polo shirt along with a small diamond chain and black stud earrings. He looks so sexy, yummy and edible.