Pin Against Wall Novels & Stories

The walls are a medium yellow, with one wall having a light blue flower wallpaper design. There’s a little eat in dining area, with four chairs and then a bench on the far side. It’s absolutely cozy and welcoming. The wall behind it has a wrought iron piece of a wolf howling at the moon and the insignia for the Midnight Moon pack. I recognize it from several similar pieces that are in their packhouse.

I was stammering and my feet moved backwards unconsciously, hiding my lower body behind the kitchen bar counter. "Oh, don't worry. The safety pin was on. It wouldn't be fired even if I pull the trigger," he said calmly, taking the gun and showing me the safety pin. Then he aimed the tip at the wall and kept pulling the trigger to show me that the gun was not firing. I kept trying to cup my ears when he did that.

Corvin asked. I swallowed. “If ‘do it’ means ‘hit it in the right spot and hope the system interprets it as a narrative beat, not vandalism,’” I said, “then yes.” I lifted my piece of rebar. “Everyone step back,” I warned. “If this goes wrong, we’re going to have a lot more company.” They obeyed, shifting a few paces back, forming a loose semicircle. Corvin stayed closest. Of course he did. I took aim at the thin seam along the panel’s side where the casing met the wall—the spot that, in every movie, somehow always popped open when someone hit it hard enough.

They held his arms and pinned him against the wall, trying to prevent him from leaving. Anderson saw five men in the room, not counting Anita. Two had pinned him against the wall, one old man sitting on an old chair, and two others beside him with Anita. He had never seen the two that were pinning him before. It was not surprising, considering the size of the place. The two other men, were the cook and the bald man that was folding the sheets earlier. They were all staring at him.

Suddenly my eyes fall on the racks settled in the corner. Racks! As far as I know, safety pins are used to secure the uprights of these racks. I can find one in them. I rise on my feet and quickly walk toward the racks. And luckily, there are many of them. I smile and unpin one. Turning around I approach the girl again and shove the pin inside the lock. I twist it a few times and in the seventh attempt it unlocks. Then, I unchain her and take her in my arms. She hasn’t stopped sobbing yet.

he said, his tone turning serious. I stood up from the desk and walked over to him. Behind the painting, where the gold frame met the dark wood paneling, there was an uneven shadow. Julian ran his fingers along the edge of the wood. "The paneling here isn't flush with the rest of the wall," he explained, pointing to a tiny, microscopic gap in the wood grain. "It’s a false panel."

My eyes swept over the walls. Shelves. Cabinets. Steel beams. Then I noticed it. A draft. Faint, but real. Cold air brushed against my wrist near the far corner of the room, behind a tall shelf of maintenance records. I crossed the room immediately and shoved the shelf aside with both hands. It moved only a few inches, but it was enough. A narrow metal panel had been built into the wall behind it. No handle. No label. Just a thin seam in the concrete. “Adrian.”

she whispered to herself, her breathing shallow and rhythmic. She didn't strike the center of the composite wall panel. High-security synthetic panels were designed to distribute concussive force across their surface area to prevent breaching. Instead, she slid her hand along the seam where the desk met the wall, finding the exact point where the structural mounting bolts were anchored into the frame. A mounting point creates a localized stress concentration. It was the weakest link in the physical equation. She raised the heavy crystal base and slammed it into the seam with every ounce of leverage she could muster.

"That response is still way too lame and empty for a girl who wants her king." Without giving me a single second to think, he grabbed both of my wrists, took my hands up over my head, and pinned them securely against the wall behind me. He leaned his massive upper body down over my shoulder, tilting his head until he placed his nose directly on my armpits. He drew in a long, deep breath, his chest expanding significantly as he inhaled my natural scent deeply into his lungs.

Hold the pinch and tell me how the pain shoots down to your dick. The thought of his dark nipples hardening under his fingers makes my cock throb. I pump once, hard, imagining biting them myself, drawing blood if I wanted. Domcraver: I’ve pinched it hard, Sir. Pain is shooting straight to my dick, making it leak. Domintothecore: Keep pinching. Now, bend your waist, your ass to the mirror. Spread your cheeks wide with both hands and expose that tight hole. Take a pic from over your shoulder. I want to see it wink at me.