Springlock Suit Blueprint Novels & Stories

"Pick up. I know you're screening." A grunt on the other end. "I need a favor," Leo said quickly. "This doesn't violate the bet because I'm not asking for money. I'm asking for logistics." Silence. "I need a suit," Leo explained. "But not a nice one. I need a suit that looks like I bought it at a thrift store, but fits me perfectly. Polyester blend. Maybe a slightly frayed cuff. But tailored to within an inch of its life." Oryn’s deep, gravelly voice finally came through. "Why?"

He hadn't removed the tattoo or changed the password, suggesting that Liam still held a special place in his heart. So, when he mentioned needing a marriage partner, it was probably a way to provoke someone — the chief attorney mentioned by Wendy, the one called Sophia. Looking at the code for the door lock, where "L" represented Liam and "S" likely stood for Sophia, it seemed her replacement had been perfectly deciphered. Suzy couldn't quite put into words the emotions swirling inside her at that moment. She had initially intended to take off her coat and go straight to her computer to work. However, as she lifted her gaze, her attention was immediately captured by the large bag in the foye

Celestine's POV Lorenzo raises a dark blue two-piece suit above his head. "What about this?" I observe it. The color and material are both nice but... "No. Not good enough." "Ahh." He groans, keeping the suit back on the hanger. "Which do you deem good enough then?" He gestures to the rack filled with suits. A black suit catches my eyes and I pull it out, holding it against his body as I take a good look at it. I shove it into his chest. "Go try it on."

A sharp knock rattles the door ten minutes later. "Franklin, open up!" Tahlia kicks the bottom of the door. "I've got the suit. Shoes are at the door." "Leave it," I call back, cracking the heavy door to pull the garments inside. Tahlia is already walking away, a vicious smirk playing on her lips. She has left me a tailored garment from the Black Snake Vrig elite collection. It is a piece meant for a supreme high-ranking male model—cut so narrow across the ribs and low across the collarbones that it requires an immaculate, hyper-lean hourglass frame to wear without tearing the seams.

Hand-finished, brushed and then polished along the inner edge so the contrast between the matte outer and the bright inner reads, to anyone who isn't us, as a piece of expensive jewelry. The band is slightly narrower than the training collar, but it’s heavier. The closure at the back is a small flat lock that takes a custom key. There’s no buckle. There’s no quick release. Once it goes on, it doesn’t come off without the key, and I have the key. Oliver stares at it without speaking for a long moment. His hand on the box has gone white at the knuckles. He’s breathing through his nose and his chin is wobbling slightly as he fights to keep his composure.

I turned to the folder and began to look at the suits available. On almost the last page there was a tuxedo with a a double breasted vest that had eight buttons. The jacket had a single button that gave it a sleek design. The two toned black paisley pattern was sophisticated and unique. It had a matching bow tie as well. The size indicated that it would fit me perfectly. “I’ll take this one if you still have it.” “Oh, good choice! That’s the only one I have in that as well. Let me run back and get it for you to try on.” Diane was off in a flash to get it.

Before sitting down on the bed, I declare. I smacked my head a few times before exhaling loudly. "So, suit yourself. Besides, I'm on my way to work." He said this as he exited the bathroom. I felt myself opening my mouth wide open more than a hundred times as I stared in awe at Arthur. He was a dapper because he was neat, spruce, and stylish. Arthur wore a dapper 'STUART HUGHES DIAMOND EDITION' suit. The suit is made of Cashmere wool, silk, and 480 o. 5-carat diamonds scattered on the side.

I grabbed a piece of hair and twisted nervously. "Okay, well this is how our lockers work." She glanced at the yellow paper again. "Left 32." She turned until it reached a line two after thirty. "Right 12." She spun the knob to the right, going all the way around once and then stopping on the line two after ten. "Left 7." She turned to the line two after five. Then she pulled up on a silver lever and the locker opened. "See, easy." Her blue eyes twinkled. I had a feeling it wouldn't be as simple as Sydney made it look. "Thanks."

It was possessive, packed with a sort of absolute ownership. "See how the O-rings glitter at your throat, isn't it pretty? And examine the lock that goes with it, isn't it lovely?" He showed it to me, a coronary heart-shaped lock. He had cautiously selected a collar with a silver underlay so that it can be wiped clean and wouldn't easily collect skin oil. As for the size, it was almost two inches in width. "Yes, it's so pretty and the lock is so lovely." Tears fell down my cheeks. He stroked them from my eyes before fixing the collar. "You'll get used to it when you see it in the mirror each day, my little slave bunny."

I'd just finished cutting all four locks when a group of security guards arrived, with Jake among them. The head of security, Patrick Lewman, pointed at the locks I'd tossed aside on the ground and jumped in fury. "Who did this?" I gave a short, humorless laugh. "Do you see anyone else here?" That only made him angrier. He pointed at me and roared, "Who said you could remove the clamps without my permission? Do you know this entire complex is under my supervision? You have some nerve to remove them without authorization!" I almost laughed at his words. My car had been clamped, and I wasn't allowed to unlock it? What kind of logic was that?