Leather Punching Tool Crossword Novels & Stories

"You'll learn to never betray me again." Standing naked before her, I walked to a drawer built into the wall, a drawer I knew she dreaded. I pulled it open, revealing an array of whips, each one crafted from different materials and designed for different purposes. I selected a thin, braided leather whip, the kind that left precise, stinging marks.

Thеу арреаrеd to bе оk, but quite red. Thе nеxt item he ѕеlесtеd from thе саrt wаѕ a leather ball ѕtrеtсhеr, muсh lіkе thе оnе I hаd at hоmе but about thrее іnсhеѕ іn wіdth. When hе circled undеr mу balls with hіѕ thumb аnd fоrеfіngеr I knеw whаt was соmіng! Mу bаllѕ wеrе аgаіn рullеd аwау from my bоdу аnd as the раіn approached unbearable hе ѕnарреd thе ball ѕtrеtсhеr around thе ѕасk as tіghtlу as he соuld.

"Thank you, Elizabeth. I wasn't sure that you were ready for this. Thank you." From the box, he takes the flogger, red and black leather, soft and flexible. He tests it on the back of his hand, raising eyebrows at the sheerly erotic snap of the leather over his skin. Then he takes the paddle, again red and black leather, again testing it on himself. The nipple clamps he experimentally tries on his little finger. The riding crop, he examines closely, tests on his own arm with a sharp 'Thwack' that sends a thrill through me, then says, "I think we'll build up to that. "Time enough for everything..."

Her attention fell to his erection, which was pointing skyward and throbbing violently. Grinning, she extricated a quirt from the jumble in the drawer. With a slowness designed to torment him, she drew the braided leather across her palm. “Zane tells me this is for after you’re warmed up. We’ll set it aside for now.” She laid the lash neatly on the bed. In his reluctance to drag his eyes away, he missed her making her next selection. She held a wooden paddle, seven inches square with a high gloss finish. The handle was wrapped in rubber to prevent it from slipping in a sweaty hand. Having been on its receiving end, Trey knew it dealt out a smack. “Zane says this is good to start with. I’ve d

Gunnar was still very much asleep behind me so I decided to take the risk. I'd happily face any type of punishment if he caught me. I pushed the pile of t-shirts aside and pulled out what looked to be a leather whip. At the end of the whip was the word 'SLUT'. There were other attachments as well. They had every term of degradation you could think of and then some. I pulled out the one that had the word 'BITCH', inspecting the smooth leather and wondering how many times he had probably used it. On how many women he had used it on.

"The short knife... did you leave it in the slush?" Michael didn't answer with words. He reached into the side of his leather boot, pulling out a second, smaller bone-handled scraper—the kind the stable boys used to clear the winter ice from the horses' hocks. The metal was dull, rusted at the hilt, but the point was still narrow enough to fit between the limestone mortar lines.

A man stepped forward with a smile and slowly unwrapped the leather material to showcase a series of tools. Her eyes caught a whip that had a wooden handle. The belts after it was adorned with iron that had been sharpened and made pointed. It would tear anything that it fell on. A gasp escaped her lips when she saw the sharpened iron on the belts of the whip. Next to the whip was an instrument that looked like what one would use to curl your hair. It looked like a hair curler. With two tongs just like the average one. Next to the hair curler was a round instrument with a long chain on both sides of the circle. Her stomach churned when she imagined all these instruments being used on her.

Kir I pull the flogger from the heavy canvas duffel. Thirty tails of dense, oil-tanned leather. The handle is braided, weighted with lead in the core so it balances perfectly in my palm. It’s not a toy. It’s a tool designed to overwhelm the nervous system, and I know exactly how to use it now. I let the tails drop, swinging them back and forth to straighten them. Oliver stares hard enough to hypnotize himself. He’s on his back on the mattress.

It hit the floor, the lock snapping open from the force. The contents spilled across the floor. I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing as I looked at the items scattered on the rug. My blood turned to absolute ice. First, Hazel picked up a thick wooden stick. It was wrapped in dark grip-tape, the wood stained and chipped, looking like it had been used to strike hard surfaces... or soft skin, over and over again. Next, she pulled out a small, gleaming metal blade, the kind of tool that could slice through skin with barely any pressure at all.

I hurried back to my bag and pulled out the small leather roll I’d bought in Aetherion. The tool kit. Hammers. Small tongs. Files. Everything a beginner metallurgist might need. I carried it over and set it carefully on the workbench. “I brought these.” Bjorn unrolled the leather slowly. His large hands lifted each tool one at a time. Inspecting. Testing the weight. He grunted approvingly. “Good tools especially for small hands.” Relief flooded through me. “You think so?” “Balanced.” He set them back down.