Menacing Pose Reference Novels & Stories

Receiving threats, or promises all day isn’t my favorite thing to do. The man I came here to kill looks like a model straight out of a magazine. You know, one of those motorcycle ones with the shirtless guy on the front? The one where the model sits with their legs on both sides of the motorcycle, their legs wide and muscular, their hands tatted and tightly gripping the handle as he stares the camera straight in the eye? Making it look like he’s staring through your soul and leaving you hot and bothered? I hate how my breath hitches at the sight of him. Shane is oozing with sex appeal, he looks like someone picked out his wardrobe for him. He’s chosen a black dress shirt that isn’t buttoned.

“If I ever hear you speak one more derogatory word about her, I will relieve you of your spine. And I will do it slowly, stretch it out for days, take you apart bone after bone till death seems like a mercy. I’ve let you off the hook a little too much, let you cross your boundaries. If you want to keep your neck still attached to your body, then stay away from me, stay away from her and pass the message along to the others. I will not tolerate such insolence again, especially towards my mate. Is that clear?” The most menacing thing about his threats was that it was done in a deceptively calm voice. The way he gets when his anger is soul deep. Midi looked so terrified and her fear made me fee

In an unexpected move, he withdrew his hand from my underwear, positioning me by placing both his hands on my ass cheeks, and then he knelt down before me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight before me. Vincenzo Capone, the future Capo of the Chicago outfit, was on his knees, his tailored suit juxtaposed against the tiled floor of the dressing room. His dark, intense eyes locked onto mine, filled with a possessiveness that shook me to my core. The sly smile that danced on his lips hinted at something darker, more dangerous, lurking beneath the surface. Even in this compromising position, he exuded control, power, and dominance that I couldn't deny.

" I knew you would come, brother" the man said with an eerie smile, gesturing at the empty seat in front of him. The two piece suit on his body molded his perfect physique, a limited edition diamond glam wristwatch was fastened on his wrist and a queer old watch was fastened on top of it, if not for the scar on the side of the face, the man would have been the perfect model for any fashion magazine, even though he was putting on a corporate business suit, it didn't lessen his menacing aura.

My tiny skirt had ridden up again, almost showing my ass as I walked. Marcus looked at me with dark eyes. "Pose for my friends, Elena. Hands behind your head. Chest out like a good girl... now turn around and bend over slightly. Show them that pretty pussy of yours." I obeyed every instruction. The need of his validation made me feel slutty. I posed with my hands behind my head, pushing my bare breasts forward. My hard pink nipples pointed straight out. Then I turned around, bent over, and lifted the back of my skirt, fully exposing my round ass and glistening wet pussy to all of them.

MATURE CONTENT AHEAD #RULE 1: I WILL SERVE, OBEY, AND PLEASE MY MASTER. I lie naked on a cold, hard surface, my wrists and ankles bound tightly to four wooden posts. The air is thick with anticipation and the faint scent of leather. My heart races as I hear footsteps approaching. The man who owns me, my master, strides into view. His tall, muscular frame is adorned with a black leather harness, accentuating every curve and ridge of his sculpted body. A leash dangles from one hand, its collar sparkling with silver.

I could barely move, my gaze drifting until I locked eyes with Kim, his hand slipping beneath his jacket toward his concealed weapon. The stranger’s arm wrapped around me possessively, as though he were helping a drunk friend. His voice, dripping with menace, whispered threats. “I’ll have you begging, tearing into you like a wild animal.” His words pierced through my foggy mind, triggering something fierce inside. With the last shred of strength, I forced a weak smile. “You’re a dead man walking.”

Cali is so very non-wasteful of clean water and dirty energy. There is something about a woman's body posed in extension, vulnerable, with her arms over her head, as Deni was posed. I think it makes her much more attractive and desirable. Maybe part of it is the total lack of defense in the posture, with the arms extended they cannot hinder any action. Plus, nothing is covered, she is totally exposed. Her breasts stand proud on her chest, her pussy is completely out in the open and the prominence of her mound is evident. Her mouth is there for the plundering by the man's lips should he desire. If such a woman is within reach there is an almost overwhelming urge to put ones hands on her, to f

“Eyes, throat, knees. But we’ll work up to that. For now: balance.” He nudged my feet into place with the toe of his boot. “Wider,” he said. “You’re not posing for a portrait. You’re trying not to get knocked over.” I adjusted. The stance felt weird at first—exposed and defensive at the same time. “Good,” he said. He reached for my forearms, lightly adjusting the angle. “Hands up, elbows in. You want your bones to help, not just muscle.” His touch was professional. Impersonal. But my body still flinched, a reflex I hated.

He grabbed the man's throat and slammed him back against a shipping container with a sickening thud. "I am not a King," Dante hissed, his face inches from the choking man’s. "I am the reason the air you breathe isn't toxic. I am the reason the Sovereigns didn't turn this coast into a glass floor. You don't need to like me. You just need to fear me." He tightened his grip, and I felt a sharp, electric spike in the back of my skull.