Leather Thumb And Finger Guards Novels & Stories

He didn’t mind sharing his knowledge. “Do is a breastplate, that is, the cover of the abdomen and breasts, usually it is bamboo or plastic construction. Kote are gloves, that are the covers for hands, joints and parts of the forearm.” He paused for a moment. Nick walked towards them, but somebody stopped him in the middle. “They are made of thick, densely quilted multi-layer fabric, with seagrass lining and the whole thing is reinforced with leather elements. The last part of the armor is tare, an apron, hip protection and is made of multi-layer, densely quilted fabric.”

Rex asked, seeing the round wooden shields the Bohl who were currently preparing for the upcoming game were inspecting. “That is up to you, want to block the ball from going through the hoop? Use the shield. Want to block an opponent’s rush? Use the shield. Getting the picture my lord?” Thal said with a smile. “I think so, what protective gear do you use?” Rex asked, seeing some of the shields the other players chose had jagged edges or pieces protruding. “What type of gear is that?” Thal asked in confusion. “You know, equipment you use to prevent being hurt” Rex said, getting slightly worried, he had already started to gather what response he was going to get.

We arrived at a place in the Pack house, a place I had never been before. One of the guards took my hand and released me from the silver cuffs. Even the guard had to wear some sort of iron gloves to protect themselves from it. I sighed and ran my hands over my wrists. The burn was still there. I was waiting for the wound to heal, but then I remembered it was silver; it's going to take days to heal.

Soon, two imposing figures stepped inside, followed by attendants carrying an armful of expensive gifts. "Greetings, Lycan Chairwoman." "Greetings," Evelina replied. When they raised their heads, their gazes landed on me at once. The respect in their eyes was careful and obvious. The elder of the two, Alpha Rowan of Crimson Hollow, spoke first. "We heard Mr. Ashford suffered mistreatment while visiting Frostfang. Believe us when we say we were outraged to learn of it. So we brought a small token of goodwill to aid your recovery." He gestured, and an attendant stepped forward with a velvet-lined box. Inside lay a finely crafted black leather wrist guard, reinforced with silver and set with a

Harden, Marcus commanded his core. The invisible, Non-Newtonian Kinetic Shield instantly deployed, but Marcus didn't project it as a massive dome like he had in the stadium. That would draw too much attention. Instead, he wrapped the silver mana directly, microscopically over the faded athletic tape on his forearm and glove. The giant’s fist slammed into Marcus’s guard. CRACK. The sound was sickening, echoing off the high-tech walls of the Crucible. But it wasn't Marcus’s bone that broke.

I can't help asking. He removes a sheath with a small knife from his hip and slides it into the leather ties of the arm guards. "Several will fit comfortably and won't inhibit your movement. Never rely on one weapon; you always want backup." His lesson intrigues me so much I forget I'm all but naked. Then he turns me to the side and his breath runs across my shoulders through my hair. Suddenly, I feel every bit of my unclothed state. He doesn't seem to notice the goose bumps that pepper my skin as he attaches the other arm guard.

Leo’s breath froze in his lungs. The hand. Long fingers. The specific way the thumb pressed against the knuckle. And on the little finger… a ring. Heavy platinum. Set not with a gem, but with a flat, polished disc of obsidian, inlaid with a tiny, almost invisible sliver of ruby. Unique. Unmistakable.

I prepared. I went to the work room and opened the cabinet. The leather smell rose up to meet me. I took everything out, one piece at a time, and laid it on the bench. The flogger with the braided tails. The single-tail. The riding crop. A set of nipple clamps, the screw kind, not the twee little clothespins the amateurs used. A leather collar with a steel ring at the throat. Cuffs, wrist and ankle, lined with sheepskin so they wouldn't cut. A ball gag, red, medium. A butt plug, stainless, weighted. A cock ring, leather and snaps. I cleaned each one. I oiled the leather. I checked the welds on the chains. I laid it all out in neat rows like a surgeon setting a tray.

My hands moved fast, sharp⁠, a‍nd fu⁠ll o⁠f ten‌sion. Both of us wore d‌ark leat‌her‌ a‌rmor with ste‌el p‍la⁠tes. Wo‌lf s‌ymbols were carved on⁠ the ches‌t pieces,‌ sharp fan‍gs along‌ the edges. Th‌e metal on our shoul⁠der‌s‍ shine⁠d un⁠der the‌ fire‍lig‌ht, an‍d our cloa‍ks b‌lew be‌⁠h‌‌ind us⁠ l‍ike dark wings. I pulled at my‍ glo‌ves unti‍l t‍hey wer⁠e tigh‌t on my s⁠kin.

Be ready. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid. Nestled in black satin were two items: a pair of exquisite, delicate cuffs made of supple leather and gleaming steel. And a collar of matching design, thin but unmistakable in its purpose. They were beautiful, horrifying, and devastatingly expensive.