The Fingers Are Blank To The Thumb の小説・ストーリー

I berated him with a low grating tone, yet enough to send the fear to chill his spine. "I'm sorry, sir... I... Wh... What's the knife for then?" He asked as I put back the knife inside my coat. "Do you think Cassie would be satisfied if I allow her to cut one of my fingers? No... maybe two or three..." I said while staring at my palms, looking at the fingers and wondering which one was least useful to me. Probably shouldn't cut the thumbs, needed them for a lot of official business. Maybe the middle fingers and the ring finger should be an exception as well.

Somehow it banished my dark thoughts, and that could only be a good thing. “If you’re okay, make the ‘O’ signal with your index finger and thumb. If you’re not, blink three times.” He squeezed my fingers in his hands, just to make sure he had my attention before letting them go. Nodding my head, I made the required signal and tried not to let myself think about anything but James.

The tip grazes my nail and the air leaves me in a thin, ragged sound. “Cut off her thumb and index,” a voice orders, sounding flat and final. What?!

"Everything begins here. If you lose your stance, then you'll lose the fight." "Yup. Sounds exactly like werewolf yoga." He looked at me sharply, "Take this seriously, Iris." "Okay, okay." I lifted my hands the way he showed me, with fists clenched tight. He adjusted them with gentle but firm hands, his fingers brushing my skin in ways that made it very hard to concentrate. "Your thumb goes outside your fist, not tucked inside," he said, demonstrating. "Otherwise you break your thumb, do you understand?" "I didn't know that, actually."

I shake my head, a small smile still on my lips “Don’t worry your pretty little head for that. Just remember, I’ll protect you!” I extend a fist in his direction, a fierce grin on my face. Zen stares at me and my clenched fingers for long enough to make me embarrassed. “You have to bump it with your own fist.” I tell him, shaking my own one He raised his fist, lightly touching mine “Like this?” “Yep!” A laugh bubbles past my lips “This is a sign of achievement in my world!” “Like the thing with your thumb?” “That’s a sign for ‘everything’s okay’ or ‘I’ve got this.’” I tell him “Something like that, depending on the context.”

Not that I care. I hold out my left hand for a shake. He stares at my hand in confusion and then shakes it begrudgingly. In one quick, fluid motion, I tighten my grip on his hand, turn his hand over and with my right hand, slice the pad of his thumb with my blade. I then quickly press his thumb down onto the card leaving a bloody thumbprint behind.

He was completely silent, his left hand holding a fresh roll of white medical gauze, while his right arm rested flat against the counter. He was trying to re-dress the wound blindly with one hand. Because his right fingers were heavily swollen and locked in a stiff, protective reflex from the rooftop damage, his coordination was compromised. He was trying to use his left thumb to anchor the edge of the gauze against his palm while wrapping the roll around his knuckles, but the fabric kept slipping against his slick, bloody skin, unraveling onto the dark marble with a soft, frustrating rustle.

"Are you wet for me?" "Yes." "Hmmm..." A slight curl appeared at the corner of his mouth as he flexed his hand open, placing it on my tummy then sliding his fingers down to my lace-covered mound. I was thrown into a moment of bliss, forced to grip his arms as he fingered my pussy through the thong, his thumb wiggling against my clit. I realized that only after I spread my legs wide open, allowing him complete access. Stars floated in front of my eyes as his fingers kneaded, moving up and down, his thumb swirling in lazy circles.

Isn't this such a low level? But suddenly, Nicko grabbed his right hand and opened his hand so that his five fingers were open. He really didn't understand what this young man meant. Then Nicko even slammed his palm on the table quite hard and made a clack! All five fingers were broken instantly at the same time. Julia Thompson screamed in pain, then Nicko raised his left hand. Julia had no time to think, but the young man instantly made his left hand like his right. Now all of Julia's fingers could no longer be moved. All the joints are broken and just hanging on the skin.

With a solid blink, I jerk myself from the blue sea and absorb the rest of him. He's wearing a white, button-down shirt with the cuffs hanging loose. The top three buttons at his neck are undone displaying a bit of his chest and flawless skin. The material of the shirt stretches over his heavily muscled biceps and forearms and across his equally defined torso. He untangles his fingers from my hair and rests his hand beside my hip. His other hand is on his knee. His fingers are long and powerful. A heavy gold ring with a large black stone is on the ring finger of his right hand. A simple gold band circles his thumb. His left hand is bare. I've never been fond of men wearing jewelry, but on Mo