Punk Lace Code Novels & Stories

"What do you think?" "Damn, you're hot," he said, his eyes roaming from my head down to my legs. "Payton, you look like a succubus." "I do, huh?" I was putting on black long lace socks with straps to my waist, black lace pants which had its own straps that joined with the straps on my waist and went all the way to my stomach and formed a circle at my chest area, around my black bra.

Target: Get drunk and get laid. So I moved through the dancing bodies, nodding my head to the beat and grabbing another cup as my previous one was empty. But as some of the girls sidled up to me, twirling their hair, my irritation grew. One puck bunny I’d seen sucking Matt’s dick under the stairs tried to slide her hand up my arm, but I just knocked off her ugly nails and glared until she backed off. Just great Dorian. I muttered to myself, aware I was blowing any chances I had with the ladies.

I draw the lace back up over it, careful that the satin sits flat. "Forward." He steps toward to the cross and I help him into the cuffs. Wrists at the upper diagonals, padded leather, the buckles snug. Ankles at the lower diagonals, the same. He’s spread wide enough that the lace is taut against him, the line of his erection clearly visible at the front, the head pushing up over the waistband. I step back. I look at him. I have rigged scenes for us before. I have hung him in shibari for forty minutes in front of a roomful of people.

“I’m going to get changed.” “Again?” “I’m wearing my pajamas. I changed after you passed out on the couch.” “Oh.” He looks me over. “You look good. I didn’t even notice.” I will not blush. I will not blush. I will not—dammit. “Well, I think everyone else will notice my pants have little dancing elephants on them. And I’m not wearing a bra.” “I did notice that.” “Pig.” I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s making it worse, Quinn.”

She wore a lace panty in purple colour, with stone only covering her nipples. The rest of the body was shown, her hair was long till her hips, all red, the skin was tan and a tattoo of the letter 'J' was on her left side of the boob. The girl named baby lightened up a cigarette and handed it to Jewel. "Let us teach you the pole dance," Sweetpea said to Amelia who refused to do it. The little girl was too stubborn, she was too innocent, also. "Anyways, leave her. Van Dough will teach her a lesson." Jewel said and all of the girls left her alone, practising the pole dancing.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains into the room, casting golden spots on the floor. When I woke, I saw that Dante was still sleeping. His toned body looked beautiful in the morning light. His well-defined features appeared even more striking in the sunlight, just like Marco had looked in his youth. I got out of bed quietly and walked to the large walk-in closet, pulling out an Eralian handmade shirt I'd prepared long ago. It was from Marco's favorite brand—purely handmade with perfect stitching, and very expensive. I'd bought it specifically for this moment.