Drawing Arms Novels & Stories

"Damn it! It hurts so much." "My love, sweetheart, you're going to rip my hand off," Bruno said gently, trying not to upset her. "You can rip off my hand and what's between your legs, and you still wouldn't feel what I'm feeling." Bruno turned pale at the thought of actually doing what she had said. Instinctively, he squeezed his legs together. He decided to endure her tight grip on his hand without complaining. That way, she wouldn't decide to squeeze anything else. The doctor instructed her to push with force, and she did so while breathing as they had instructed during the antenatal classes.

Completely different from the before it, the pain, it suffocated me. Ouch! I think to myself as I tense my whole body to hide the pain I feel in my arms, I imagine running my hands over them, but don't, not after what I saw in the mirror earlier this morning. I think about Elias handing me these clothes and how I felt the need to hide, and not wanting to undress in front of him in fear of the sore pain I could feel in my body. So I rushed to the bathroom, once there and sure I was not going to be disturbed, I carefully pride the hoodie off over my head, silently wincing as I do so. There I stood in front of the medium size mirror above the sink, the top half of my naked body reflecting back

I enunciated, emphasising my last words. "Now, focus on your stance." "Stand shoulder-width apart," I instructed her to create a little space between her legs. She did as she was told. "Stretch your dominant hand, by your dominant hand, I mean your right arm. The elbow should be almost straight." I told her, taking her right arm and handing her the gun. "The elbow of your left arm should be slightly flexed like an obtuse angle. Now, grip the handle firmly with your right hand, your pinkie, ring finger and middle finger should be wrapped around the handle firmly,"

Even my arm hairs, now actively trying to seek them out. With ease he throws one of the heavy holdalls, bursting at the seam with firearms, over his shoulder before reaching down for the other. The material of his T-shirt stretching tightly with his bicep. I can’t help but lick my lips at the sight of him, as I ashamedly gawp at him.

The baby was probably just a bitter memory now anyway. Two years later Adrastus is twelve years old. Adrastus listened to everything his teachers told him. The other kids got to play after school but the rest of his days were filled with weapons lessons, hand to hand combat and dark arts. His combat training was undertaken by his Aunt Athena and Uncle Ares. They were brutal and for some reason, he was the only student at these lessons.

Digging deep into my trembling arms. “Let go!” She screamed. I tried to balance myself but she was stronger. I tried my best and then I took the dagger back. I hold the dagger daring her to act but she stepped forward glaring at me. She held my hand back and we both held the dagger. No of us let go and before I could figure what was happening she launch at me again. A loud cry escaped my lips, the sound birds flying by filled the air. A sharp pain pierced through my shoulder in between my collarbone.

She looked at him, jiggling his saber around for a quick warm-up, "I must say, that's weapon looks exquisite, Mister Damaged." "Thanks, I got this new weapon not too long ago!" Creed honestly explained his intent. "Since you also use swords, I will try to learn from you! So you better not hold back..." The good and mysterious fact about Soul-Armas was that they were weapons that automatically fit in the user's hands. It would save the user's time in learning its basic handling and skills. That's why Soul-Armas was so popular, it was like muscles would automatically generate a muscle memory for the weapon. The only thing left for the user was to increase their expertise with it. People also c

"Don't worry, I'll take it easy on you. We'll start with something simple. Let's practice escaping from a grab." He reached out and gently grasped my wrist. "Okay, now try to pull your arm away." I tried to yank my arm free, but Davies held tight. "No, no, Steph. Don't use brute force. Use your body weight and momentum to your advantage." He demonstrated, showing me how to twist my arm and use my hips to generate power. I tried again, and this time I was able to slip my arm free. Davies grinned. "Great job, Steph! You're a natural."

Due to her discomfort, Yuna kept thrashing about, so he could only restrain her left arm to the side of the bathtub using a clean towel. At this, Yuna forced her eyes open and vaguely made out Yvan’s face. She experimentally tugged her left arm but quickly realized she couldn’t get free. Her face flashed with panic at that realization, and she wildly grabbed at him with her right arm. Yvan could feel her tugging at his belt, and he could clearly feel her cold fingers on his skin, which had accidentally slipped a few inches down his pants. His pupils dilated, and he instantly grabbed her arm. “I swear I will kick you out of the house if you don’t keep your hands to yourself,” he growled.

His whole posture was casual, almost mocking. I scowled, wiping at my face, only to spot the smeared makeup on the back of my hand. “I know this is your house, but ever heard of knocking?” He shrugged. “I did. Not my fault that you were too busy having a meltdown to notice.” He stepped into the room and closed the door with a soft click. Before I could protest, he grabbed my arm and pulled me upright. “Stop crying. It’s getting on my nerves.”