#perforated sheet price

[fineholeindia]

Why Opt for Top Perforated Sheets Manufacturers?

Selecting a leading perforated sheets manufacturer is crucial when securing high-quality perforated sheets. These top-tier manufacturers are celebrated for their commitment to innovation, superior quality, and customer satisfaction. Here's why choosing a renowned manufacturer is pivotal for your perforation needs.

Innovations in Perforation Technology

Top-tier producers in the perforated sheet manufacturers in India category consistently advance their technology and infrastructure to cater to diverse client demands. This includes offering tailor-made perforation designs ideal for specific applications, ensuring you receive the most effective solution for your projects. Opting for an industry leader means choosing a partner at the cutting edge of perforation technology.

Commitment to Quality

Quality is paramount; top manufacturers uphold rigorous standards to ensure every product meets and exceeds expectations. This commitment extends to employing world-class facilities and materials and producing perforated sheets that excel in strength, durability, and performance.

Cost-Effective Solutions

One of the significant advantages of working with a top manufacturer is the value of the perforated sheet price. These manufacturers offer competitively priced products without compromising quality. They utilize their extensive experience and capabilities to produce various perforations—round, square, slotted, or custom—at prices that deliver excellent value for your investment.

Wide Range of Applications

Perforated sheets are versatile, finding applications across many industries, such as architecture, automotive, and pharmaceuticals. Leading manufacturers possess the expertise to cater to all these sectors by providing sheets that enhance natural lighting, ventilation, and the aesthetic appeal of structures.

Global Reach and Reliability

The reliability of a manufacturer is crucial, significantly when your needs extend across global markets. Top suppliers maintain robust production capabilities and efficient logistics and export facilities to ensure timely delivery worldwide. Their extensive network and strategic partnerships aid in streamlining the export and import processes, making them a reliable choice for local and international demands.

Focus on Specific Materials

Manufacturers like those specializing in MS perforated sheet production ensure that each material meets specific industry standards for strength, hardness, and resistance to environmental impacts. This specialization guarantees that your material requirements are met with the utmost precision and quality.

Customer-Centric Approach

Finally, the best manufacturers prioritize customer satisfaction above everything. They are equipped to offer 24x7 support, with expert teams ready to assist at every stage—from selection and customization to post-purchase service. This customer-centric approach ensures a seamless experience and support whenever needed.

Conclusion

Choosing a leading Best perforated sheets manufacturer for your perforated sheets means more than purchasing a product. It's about entering a partnership that promises and delivers excellence in innovation, quality, cost efficiency, and customer service. Ensure your projects benefit from the best in the business and experience a partnership beyond the transaction.

Source: https://602b65761ca07.site123.me/articles/why-opt-for-top-perforated-sheets-manufacturers

[koz123]

Perforated sheets are becoming increasingly common for many businesses and industries. Hence, you need to look for the best manufacturers that can help you get the best deals.

[wiremeshes]

Perforated Sheet Manufacturers

Perforated Sheet Manufacturers, Jeetmull Jaichandlall (P) Ltd. offers high-quality perforated sheets in various shapes & sizes. Contact them for bulk orders!

[svstainless]

SV Stainless Steel: Premium 3mm Stainless Steel Sheet

SV Stainless Steel: Premium 3mm Stainless Steel Sheet include its superior quality, corrosion resistance, strength, and versatility. SV Stainless Steel is dedicated to delivering only the finest stainless steel materials, and this sheet is no exception. Its corrosion-resistant properties make it ideal for challenging environments, such as marine, chemical, and industrial.

[banarswalawirecrafts-blog]

When we started our supplies of Welded & Wire Mesh the quality parameters were different, the pricing policies were different, the supply pattern were different than today. The market for Welded mesh in Bangalore has grown and so has the supplies. We take pride having supplied to this growth in demand and carved a niche today.

http://www.banaraswalawirecrafts.com/

[bitten-fruit]

you re-enlist

And Captain John Price absolutely doesn't want you to. He begrudgingly takes you to his office to sign the paperwork - and shows you what your decision has brought you.

18+ MDNI - 5k words

tags: John Price x f!Reader, power play, oral and vaginal sex

a/n: To get some content on here I've pulled this from my longfic Licking Wounds on Ao3. Trimmed/tweaked it a little to make them tumblr friendly :)

“Just... let me sign what I need to.” You breathed, exasperated.

Captain Price sat behind his desk, leaning back insouciantly in his chair, bouncing his knee in irritation. His cautious and tired eyes flitted between yours, considering his words before he spoke.

“This is your last chance to change your mind.” He grunted.

You sucked your teeth frustration. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“You should.”

“Why? Will my presence really be that fucking draining for you?”

He quickly absorbed your sudden anger, mirroring it as he stood from his chair, leaning against the surface of his desk on white knuckles.

“You know that’s not what this is about.”

His tone was by turn seething and pleading, glowering at you with gruelling severity.

You scoffed. “Oh, so it would be.”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t be childish.”

“Childish?”

Evidently fed up with your petulant bickering, his head dropped from his shoulders as he grunted in frustration. “I just... I can’t understand why you’d come back to this.”

“You can’t?”

“You had the chance to get away from it. You got out.”

“Got out. You think I got out, do you? That once I got shipped back to London I was done with it all?” You groaned, impatient. “Just let me sign the goddamn paper."

There was visible dispute burgeoning behind his lips, but he stayed silent – leaning forward to tug open one of the drawers of his desk. He pulled out a pad of blank paper forms, hesitantly but methodically tearing one sheet free along the perforated line. He flipped it, placing it down on the wooden surface and twisting it so it faced you, pushing it towards the edge in your direction with his fingertips.

He plucked a ballpoint pen from the steel mesh cup on the edge of the desk, before dropping it on top of the paper form with a quiet clack.

Crossing his arms, he stood upright with a huff and watched you scrutinisingly; glare challenging yet reluctant.

You quietly swallowed, stepping abashedly towards the desk and leaning over it, holding the pen between your fingers and pensively clicking the end of it with your thumb.

Jaded eyes scanned each word, the tip of the pen trailing each line as you read. You checked box after box, writing down the answers to probing questions as though you were completing an exam under the shrewdly watchful eye of your professor. Existing health conditions, current medication, family lineage, previous rank, promotable status. It would almost be nostalgic, answering questions such as these again, for the first time since you were promoted to sergeant four years ago – if it didn’t carry such painful weight, and weren’t so rife with sordid history.

The nib of your pen met that dotted line, finally, at the bottom of the form. Your eyes looked at the conditions and implications of your signature, that thick paragraph above the box, though not a single word was absorbed by your busy mind. It didn’t matter – you knew the consequences of that pen meeting the paper. Even if the Captain wished it, signing your life back into the hands of the SAS was not something that could be easily revoked.

He seemed to relish hopefully in your hesitation, his breath slowing as he watched you consider, pen hovering cautiously over the paper.

You briefly glanced up at him, from under your challenging eyebrows, meeting his eye. His stiff gaze wordlessly pleaded with you, his mouth in an austere line.

Steadfast, you ignored his silent dispute.

You signed the dotted line.

There.

Done.

No backing out now.

A soldier again.

You were astonished at the adrenaline a mere signature could pump from your heart, quivering with it, as you dropped the pen to the desk and stood upright.

His steely eyes did not leave you, face replete with a medley of discernible emotions; ire, anxiety, remorse, solemnity. Arms still crossed firmly over his chest, you listened as his heaving lungs drew in a deep, exasperated breath.

He licked his teeth before he spoke.

“That’ll be all then, Sergeant.”

He dismissed you bluntly, coarse voice dripping with derision. A crease formed in your forehead, taken aback by his sudden dismissal, breath hitching at his use of your rank instead of your name; sergeant, a title he hadn’t referred to you by in two years.

It was as though he was satisfied, doing his best to show you what your decision had brought you, to make you regret it. You were his subordinate again. Just his sergeant.

“I knew you’d enjoy it in the end, Captain.” You seethed, tone draped in sardonicism, an immediate retaliation.

His brow furrowed as he looked down his nose at you. “Enjoy what, eh?”

“You finally get to order me around again, don’t you?”

“You-”

“Am I dismissed? Or are you going to command me to drop and give you fifty?” You growled pettishly, scowling up at him. “It must’ve been hard, not being able to command me to do your bidding while I was a civilian. But that didn’t stop you from trying, did it?”

He grunted, an increasingly enraged sigh escaping his chest. “I didn’t want to be giving you orders again.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, I didn’t. Just because you don’t know what to do with yourself when you’re not being commanded to do it, doesn’t mean I’ve been waiting for the chance to.”

A kick to the stomach, you worried you’d lose your balance with the blow.

Grimacing at him, you stepped your weight onto your back foot in reaction to his venomous accusation.

“Fuck you.”

You hissed it through your teeth, unable to conjure up any intelligent rebuttal, only lashing out with the reprisal that your frenetic emotions scrambled together.

He sniffed irately, adjusting his arms over his chest.

“Can’t talk to your captain that way, Sergeant.”

Your jaw hung loose in disbelief, overcome with a cold rage that made your body quake as it flooded your arteries.

“Fuck you,” you repeated wryly, daring. “Are you going to order me not to talk back to you, sir? You prick?”

He glared at you with challenging contempt.

“You want me to give you an order, do you?”

“I want you to get off your fucking high horse.”

“Yeah? Am I too honourable?”

“Honourable? You’re a sanctimonious p–”

He put his hands on his hips, brashly sucking his teeth before he interrupted you.

“Take off your shirt.”

His hoarse command pierced the thick air like a bullet.  

The wind was viciously sucked from your lungs, then, your racing heart jolted under your ribs with such voltage it felt as though you had been shocked by a defibrillator. You could only stare at him, stupid, waiting for him to relent, to take it back, to say that he was kidding.

His expression, now, was unreadable. You weren’t certain whether he was purposefully keeping his countenance devoid of emotion – or, if, you had abruptly lost any and all ability to understand him or his intentions.

He was a stranger, but a familiar one. A captivating one.

Before you could stammer out a semblance of a response, he continued.

“That’s the sort of order you’ve been wanting from me, isn’t it?” He goaded darkly, seemingly smug at his ability to render you flustered and wordless with one short sentence.

Dumbstruck, still, you could only swallow a pointed breath as you desperately tried to read any clear objective in his shrouded blue eyes.

“Go on.”

He’s not kidding.

“You wanted an order, I gave you one.”

Fuck.

You were completely staggered by the whiplash. Your distended heart thumped so vigorously in your chest you thought it might crack a rib.

There was a conviction within you, somewhere, to question him. To question if he was being serious, to ask him if this was some kind of sick joke to make you regret your decision.

And while you believed that was the case, that it was a derisive retribution, a game to get back at you – there was a stronger urge to play along. To meet his challenge, to execute his dare.

Meeting his indignant gaze with yours, you tucked your fingers under the hem that sat between your waist and hips, peeling it up your torso and stretching it over your shoulders, then past your head. Sweeping your loosened hair out of your face, you held the thin black fabric in the other hand before dropping it to the linoleum floor. You shivered a little in the cool air of the room, your stiffening nipples concealed by the cups of your rarely-worn grey marl brassiere – practical and unsexy.

But the look on his face was telling; he hadn’t truly expected you to comply.

That surprise waned quickly. His dark eyes tried their best to hold your stare, but they failed him – raking over your torso, jaw clenching as his gaze stuck brazenly to your exposed cleavage.

Trembling with adrenaline, you waited for him to say something. Anything.

You expected dispute; you anticipated he’d say, I wasn’t serious. And that would be a satisfying reaction – your effort to make him uncomfortable would prove a success, a victory, you’d have the last figurative word.

He wiped down his face with an open hand, rubbing his beard anxiously as he wrestled with what to say, how to react – maybe some attempt to restrain himself. He leaned against the surface of the desk, resting his weight on his knuckles.

Through gritted teeth, he uttered his next command.

“Bra.”

You swallowed timorously.

It was surreal, really, you worried you were hallucinating – you imagined that in reality he was shouting at you to stop, but you were unable to hear him over your carnal psychosis.

But it was too late now, to stop yourself. You were driven to finish what you started. Changing your mind now, pulling your shirt back over your head and running out the door – would leave you questioning whether any of it was real. You wouldn’t survive in that oblivion, between reality and dream, fact and fantasy.

You needed proof.

You reached behind your back, contorting your shoulders to allow your fingers to grip the clasp against your spine. Your breasts pillowed out of the top of the soft cups as you stretched the band to unhook it, before slipping the straps down your shoulders. It slid from your chest, down your arms, gently – it, too, fell to the floor; you dropped it on top of your abandoned t-shirt.

You drew in a quivering breath, the skin of your breasts tingling as the goosebumps elicited by their exposure trickled across their soft flesh.

He sucked in a heavy breath, deep and slow, rugged and rasping. He took a step, and you retracted slightly; but you watched like cautious prey, as he walked around from the far side of his desk, to the front of it. He leaned on the very edge of the surface, not quite sitting on it, as he insouciantly crossed one boot over the other. His lascivious eyes did not leave you, absorbing every feature, every curve, like he was admiring an artwork.

Despite the metre and a bit of distance from him, you felt the dense heat that hung in the air between the two of you, radiating from him like he was a fucking oven.

“Trousers.”

A brief conflict almost escaped you, but he quickly smothered it.

“Off.”

Whatever reluctance that lingered melted away, then, dripping off of you like a layer of sticky ice cream – by virtue of the unwavering sternness of his command. And that, you realised, was where your comfort lay; where there was no ambiguity, no remorse for a poorly made decision, no culpability for your actions. If you were following an order, the onus was on him.

So you followed it.

Your kittenish fingers went to the button of your grey cargo trousers, popping it undone, slyly pulling down the zip of your fly. You flayed back the open waistband, pushing them down your hips, struggling briefly to pull them past your ass; its recent plumpness made your pants a touch too small. The polyester fabric loudly shuffled in the distended silence as the trousers fell down your legs, into a puddle at your feet; you stepped out of them as though out of a pond.

By the time you looked up to meet his gaze once again, though, he had already charged at you; quickly taking the base of your head with large hands and pulling you towards him. He forced his eager lips against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, such an aggression that your first primal instinct was to resist him with claws against his chest.

But you were quick to surrender to him, relishing in the taste of him, his tongue, his breath hot in your mouth, you sucked it deep into your chest. Your starving hands coiled up and around his neck, scratching at the tense muscles in his heaving back through the fabric of his uniform jersey; hooking into him in some feline effort to make sure he was real, to prevent his escape, to keep him from being stolen away.

His mouth wasn’t on yours for long, though, dragging wetly across your jaw to your neck, the crook of your shoulder; he chewed at your soft, fervid skin, teeth skimming and barely digging into the tendonous flesh. His vicious hands gave you no reprieve, clutching at any part of you that could force you closer, tighter against him – ensnaring the meat of your hips, your waist, kneading at your sensitive breast with the other.

He separated from you only briefly, though his possessive hands didn’t leave you. Crouching slightly, he hooked his arms behind your thighs, under your ass – deftly hoisting you upwards with no visible effort. You clutched the back of his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips to maintain your balance as he lifted you, turning on his heel and carting you towards the desk. He quickly used a free hand to sweep aside the papers, flinging them to the floor in a confetti; he put you down hastily, keeping you close, the cold surface of the varnished wood biting at your bare skin.

He gave you a transitory respite, carefully checking your face before he went any further; likely ensuring you weren’t crying this time, that he hadn’t crossed an unspoken boundary. Whatever look you gave him in return was outside of your control or perception – but it was an invitation, evidently.

He dove down to kiss you again, but fleetingly – his savage lips trailed down from yours, biting their way along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. You leaned back slightly on the desk to allow his avid venture, his ravenous mouth biting and suckling wherever it landed; drowning momentarily in the softness of your breast, cupping it with his wide hand to push the pillowy flesh against his face.

That wasn’t his final destination, though. His mouth only brushed over your nipple, sloppily kissing down your tensing stomach as he lowered himself to one knee, clutching your waist with both hands on his journey downward to hold you still. You felt your heart in your throat, in utter disbelief; you could only suck down jagged breaths as his lips grazed against your lower belly, just above your hip, teasing the elastic hem of your underwear. He gingerly kissed your mound through the thin cotton, controlling hands holding your hips by the bone.

Too rapacious to taunt you for long, he tugged sharply at the hips of your panties, leaning back so he could pull them down your thighs, over your knees, off your ankles. Your foot rested gently on his collarbone as he paused in apparent admiration, your exposed, spread pussy mere inches from his face; his breath despite its heat was cold against your wet, feverish skin. You felt embarrassed at his close inspection, his unashamed reverence – but his murky gaze broke away from your intimacy, instead meeting your eye. He wore an expression of unassailable pride, though cloaked in an avaricious hunger; he stared at you cruelly from under his brow, daring you to deny him.

Hitching your legs over his arms so that they rested on his shoulders, he clutched the side of your thigh with his mammoth hand while he pushed his lips into the inside of your leg, high enough, close enough, to make you quiver in desperate anticipation.

Piercing eyes still locked on yours, peering up from your eager flesh, his husky voice murmured deeply into your skin.

“Is this what you wanted?”

He jibed, almost a growl, as though teasing you for your recent behaviour – scolding you for acting out instead of asking for it, causing a scene instead of using your words like a grown-up.

Another kiss, higher, closer, teeth grazing the supple meat of your inner thigh, coarse beard prickling against the burning skin of the edge of your cunt.

You couldn’t think of the right answer, if there were such a thing, to his question – your head was by turn empty and running a million miles a minute. Really, you didn’t even know the answer.

Was it what you wanted?  This entire time? Has it been what you wanted since the last time, in his barrack in Urzikstan? Since the gala? Or, even, since you met him?

Your answer left your wet throat before you had the sense to question it, or rationalise it.

“Yes.”

You breathed, a whisper, barely, almost a squeak. You weren’t certain that it was the truth, either – but it was what you wanted now, so it was honest in some sense.

With firm hands he adeptly tugged your hips so you perched precariously on the very edge of the desk, allowing him ease of access to you.

He cruelly denied you still, placing maliciously soft kisses against the slit of your pussy, torturing you with only a light pressure while you willed him to dive deeper. An ardent whimper fled your chest, quiet and pleading.

Whatever carnivore he was doing his level best to restrain escaped its prison at your sheepish sound; his monstrous hands dug deep into the flesh of your hips, maw lunging forward and pointed tongue parting your slick folds like he was searching for water. It dipped into you only briefly, a momentary taste of the dripping syrup he seemed to take pride in inducing from you – before he used it to glide up to your clit where it was nestled. With ravenous lips he suctioned it into his mouth, devouring you; dextrously chafing your sensitive bud with a flat tongue, maintaining a vacuum that made a dangerously loud and needy moan escape your throat.

He only hastened his torment in response, drinking you like he might die of thirst, breathing heavily through his nose so as not to allow you even a second of relief from the unbearable suction. Feverish claws clasped at the top of his head, running through his short hair and scratching at his scalp, holding his head where you wanted it. Your head hung back off your shoulders, briefly staring at the panelled ceiling before your eyes unwittingly fluttered shut, doing your best to swallow the choked cries that threatened to make the whole army base aware of your depravity.

Your constricting legs inadvertently tried to push him away, your body overwhelmed and desperate for a break from his ruthless consumption, almost too oversensitive to be pleasurable – but not quite. He restrained you tightly, though, not allowing you to flee from him for even a second; his firm hands controlled your hips with an alarming strength, head moving with you as though predicting the direction of your attempts at escape, mouth not separating from you once.

One hand retreated from your side, but to quickly prevent your bucking his constraining arm slithered over your lower stomach, clutching the far hip and using his elbow to hold you down to the desk. His free thumb, then, crept to your cunt under his chin. Despite how slick your skin was, drenched in both your clear sap and his saliva; the clenching muscles of your vagina were squeezed so tightly he had to push his thumb into you with effort, almost popping as it broke past your resistant entrance.

That seemed to weaken his resolve, the tightness of your muscles clamping around him rhythmically, in tune with the burgeoning, forcible orgasm that threatened to crash over you like a tidal wave; he released a ragged, resigned exhalation into your skin. You felt yourself beginning to drown in it, that swirling ocean. The floor, the desk, the room sunk in it, slipping away from you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, only him keeping you afloat.

But he stopped, then, thumb begrudgingly slipping out from inside you, suddenly releasing his merciless suction and separating his wet mouth from your yearning pussy. You groaned in dispute, cut short, a sharp rush of air escaping your overwrought lungs.

“Not yet.” He grunted hoarsely, barely audible.

Brows twisted in pleading frustration, you looked down at him, meeting his frightening glare as he pushed himself to stand; beard glistening with the wetness of you, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” You whined breathily, panting as you watched him tower upright, looming over you in licentious authority.

“I’m not having you come yet.”

His injunction was authoritarian, uttered darkly, his rumbling voice so hoarse it sounded animalistic; a growl, a threat. He stood between your legs, still, you watched in quiet, anticipating obedience as his livid hands tore at his belt. Ferociously unbuckling it, as though it would fight against him – he tugged open the button of his trousers, ripping down the fly and unsheathing his rigid cock from his straining boxers; menacing, it dropped heavy out of the elastic waistband, the solid shaft landing against your ravening cunt with a hard, wet slap.

You winced slightly at the sore impact, and his humanity seemed to return to him momentarily; softening face inches from yours, his attentive blue eyes scanned your features for reluctance.

“Tell me no.” He urged throatily, “tell me no, and I’ll stop.”

A shaky breath seeped through your lips, your delirious gaze flitting between his eyes, lashes fluttering as you processed his promise.

“I don’t want you to stop, Captain.” You uttered weakly, entreating.

His careful eyes darkened quickly at your bashful plea, watching your lips form the syllables of his rank like you were stroking him with it. His dominant hands returned to your hips, then, clutching at the bone and lifting your pelvis so it was angled right, just where he wanted it.

His clouded glare didn’t leave yours, his fingers dipping into your saturated pussy as though scooping the viscous fluid that dribbled from you; you watched, beguiled, as he rubbed your juices up the thick shaft of his cock, coating the head in it, briefly unable to stop himself from fucking his fist, huffing carnally, while he was lubricated by your watery come.

With a tug of your legs that were coiled around his hips, you grounded him, impatient; his sinister gaze met yours again, watching your wanton expression as he obliged you and dragged the soft head of his cock down your slit, the cruel pressure against your agitated clit making your body twitch. He restrained your spasm with his free hand your waist, keeping your pelvis still, as the tip of his length nestled between your lips, pressing against your clenching entrance.

Gripping himself by the stiff base, he pushed past your tight opening with his full weight; stretching it tautly around the girth of his cock as he stuffed you with it. You let out a pained squeak as it abruptly filled you, ramming against your cervix with a pressure that made you flinch.

The sharp soreness briefly frightened you – you had been deprived of the sensation of that angry thickness inside of you, ever since…

You didn’t let your mind go back there, not for a second; your eyelids shot open, desperate gaze sticking hurriedly to your Captain, his riled and yet gentle expression bringing you back to him, rugged but soft hands holding your hips as he impaled you on the length of him. You clutched the fabric of his jersey tight over his chest, gripping his arms, his shoulders; keeping him real, corporeal, there with you. He let out a strained grunt as he pulled you down onto him, as deep as your insides would allow him to go, to the hilt; he held you there, forcing you to squirm.

Your delicate hands held his warm neck, leaning forward as you pulled his head down to kiss him; mouth open and tongue desperate to taste him again, to feel his hot breath against your face, the soft scratch of his beard on your chin. He returned your kiss, tender, compassionate – a stark juxtaposition to his ruthless incursion; rutting into you powerfully but methodically, slow but hard, deep enough to be painful.

But the hurt was translated by your aroused nerves into a bestial pleasure, using your goading legs to pull him further into you, you felt his cock push against your aching organs. It raked against your sodden walls on its way out, a slight sting as it dragged along your taut opening – before filled you again, abrupt, sharp; it forced a sweet cry from your fevered chest into his mouth. He grinned arrogantly against your lips, a ragged, breathy chuckle taunted you in response.

You separated from him, then, lying back over the surface of the desk; you arched your back, angling your hips so that his length beat your walls more viciously, wrapping your legs around his waist and clutching at the edge of the desk above your head with straining claws. Exposed to him now, on display, his thrusting only increased in vehemence, speed, depth; carnivorous hands digging into the meat of your hips as if you might slip away from him, forcing you down on him with each rut.  

Eager for release, your fingers glided down your stomach, navigating diffidently to your clit; you drew wet circles over it, letting out a soft whine as you pleasured yourself with the rhythm of his accelerating thrusts.

“Shit.”

He groaned huskily at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, his face twisted into an exasperated rapture, forcing himself to slow down slightly so as not to push himself over the edge too quickly.        

He stopped you, hastily; a stern hand tightly ensnaring your wrist and tearing your fingers from you. He pulled your arm upward, pinning it firmly to the wooden surface underneath you, holding your hand by your head. He leaned over you, then, making you watch as he held his free hand to his lips, spitting lecherously into his fingertips; they found your clit without needing to look, stroking the oversensitive spot inexorably, the pressure cruel and unrelenting. His head hung from his shoulders, mouth landing against the hot skin of your shoulder, placing gentle kisses along your collarbone as he ruined you.

The union of the two sensations – his cock, hard as stone, fucking into your stomach, and merciless fingertips tormenting your swollen clit; it surged within you, frayed nerves electrocuting you as your inevitable orgasm loomed, its delay rendering it incensed and sorely overpowering.

He must have felt the muscles of your walls clamping down on the length of him as it dawned on you, the change in the music of your sounds; aching whines growing louder, crawling from your labouring throat.

“You gonna come on me, are ya? Beautiful thing?”

He growled into your skin, only increasing the severity of his torture, relentless in his goal to finish you.

Your delirious tongue was unable to form a word in response, only releasing a high-pitched and arduous cry as your unforgiving orgasm collided with you, waves of carnal heat pulsing from the base of you, the muscles of your bullied pussy clenching tightly around his avid cock.

“That’s it.”

He grinned against your neck as he kissed you there, moving with you, allowing no escape.

“Good girl.”

With no apparent intention of slowing down to offer you a reprieve, he instead began speeding up, forcing you to squirm and shriek in dispute at the overstimulation. Your desperate, animal fingers clawed at his wrist, struggling to tear his stiff hand away from your cunt – but he relented, eventually, falling victim to his own pleasure as he shifted his focus to fucking you harder, deeper.

He scooped an arm under your back, lifting you just slightly from the surface of the desk as he hovered over you; the other hand holding the bone of your hip tightly, keeping it steady while he rammed you. You listened in rapture to his grunts of ecstasy, gentle hands clutching the back of his neck, nails grazing his hot skin as you coaxed him to chase his own release.

You pressed soft lips into his bearded cheek, comforting, reassuring him; and that seemed to do the trick, bringing him too close.

“Fuck.”

He groaned hoarsely in begrudging pleasure as he paused, for just a hesitant second, before reluctantly tugging his cock out of you and slamming the wet shaft of it it against your mound.

You panted heavily, holding your forehead against his, relishing in the sensation of his hot come shooting over your stomach, painting you; it dribbled down your sides, down the creases of your hips, dangerously close to your cunt. He winced against you, twitching involuntarily as he pushed the last of his semen out of the head, drooling onto your febrile skin.

You kissed him, again; he tenderly pressed his lips against yours in return as he took the moment to catch his breath. His mouth left yours after a moment and landed in the crook of your neck, his heaving body hung over you, propped up by his elbows on the desk under you. You felt him kiss under your ear, his warm breath and prickling beard sending a shiver down the nape of your neck.

You wanted to say something, anything – but there were no words you could think of to offer him. Gratitude? An apology? Your brain was fried, fucked into pliable mush.

Instead you lay in silence, embracing him for as long as it would last, doing your best not to consider the consequences that lay ahead of you as a result of such an unbelievably foolish lapse in judgement.

He’d been your captain for only a few minutes, and you had fucked him already.

And yet you wished the moment could last infinitely; savouring his gentle lips as they planted drowsy kisses on your neck, tired hands caressing your waist in what felt like wordless praise, a silent gratitude.

Despite the reservations, the guilt, the doubts that stormed around you, deafening; your thoughts encircled only one thing, one source of comfort.

He was your Captain again.

[16woodsequ]

Sunday Steve - Day Eleven

Things that would be new or unfamiliar to Steve in the 21st century, either due to the time period he grew up in, or his social-economic status and other such factors.

Day Eleven: Toilet Paper

People used many things as toilet paper before commercial toilet paper was available. As indoor plumbing became more common toilet paper became more necessary because pipes were not designed for almanac pages or newspapers.

In the late 1800s toilet paper was still a luxury but it was being developed. "In 1890, toilet paper started to look a lot more like stuff we’re used to seeing today. It came on a roll in perforated sheets. It was a tough sell though because no one wanted to admit to buying it. In Germany, a company called ‘ Hakle’ overcame the problem with the slogan “ask for a roll of Hakle if you don’t want to say toilet paper.” (Link)

Late 1800s toilet paper. 2500 sheets.

Charmin began marketing its toilet paper around its softness in 1928, as well as selling economy-sized packs of four rolls in 1932 (Link).

There were two types of toilet paper. Soft and hard. "The hard paper was more affordable and was very shiny on one side of it" (Link). Hard paper often had printed text on it (most of the examples I've found are British).

Every source I've found says that toilet paper began to be advertised as "splinter free" in the 1935. Most casual articles don't dig into what this actually means, but I found some ads for the infamous splinter free toilet paper.

Splinters resulted from the manufacturing process, and as you can see in the below images the splinters were usually very small. I haven't been able to find out how genuinely inconvenient this splinters were.

1930s toilet paper ad (Link) (Link)

You can see the various marketing methods for soft toilet paper, treating it like a medical issue and appealing to women.

You can also see 3 rolls being sold for 20-25 cents. I think that is very expensive for toilet paper in the 30s. I've found a source showing 2 rolls of Clifton toilet paper being sold for 9 cents in 1932. (Link) And this link shows 4 rolls of crepe toilet paper being sold for 19 cents in 1930 (Link is behind a pay wall but I managed to download the price list). I'm guessing the rolls in the splinter-free ads are soft toilet paper, and the cheaper examples I found are hard toilet paper.

1930 grocery price list. Toilet paper is the third item, listing four crepe rolls for 19 cents.

In 1940 one roll is being sold for 15 cents (Link), but it's not clear if this is soft or hard toilet paper. I'm guessing soft since it's almost the price of four rolls in 1930.

My guess is Steve paid around 9 cents for 2 (19 cents for 4) rolls of hard toilet paper. I doubt he bought soft toilet paper since it cost about 20-25 cents for 2-3 rolls. But I can't know the prices for sure.

One thing for sure is modern toilet paper is softer than the paper Steve would have bought. Britain didn't even start manufacturing 2-ply toilet paper until 1942. Over the years soft toilet paper become the norm (although institutions like schools often have thinner, harder paper).

Given this information, Steve would probably be used to buying harder, cheaper toilet paper for about 9 cents for 2 rolls/19 cents for 4 rolls. Soft 'expensive' toilet paper would be surprising as the norm, and I think he'd find our massive packs of toilet paper shocking. Although as we'll see, soldiers were provided Waldorf paper, which seems to be a more softer, expensive brand.

Army Toilet Paper

Soldiers were provided toilet paper with K-rations and later with C-rations. A soldier would get one accessory packet a day with either ration and it came with twelve sheets of Waldorf toilet paper.

(Link) Accessory packet with Waldorf toilet paper.

You may have seen the factoid that British soldiers were rationed 3 sheets of toilet paper per day compared to American soldiers having 22 sheets. I believe this is a misinterpretation of this book discussing the resources available to American soldiers on base in Britain (pg. 288). But after further research I think the actual number of sheets British soldiers got a day on the front was 4 sheets. (Link) American soldiers got 12 sheets included in their K-ration. (Link)

If a soldier ran out of toilet paper they most likely had to make do. I've seen stories of pages from books being used, or even paper bills. (Link)

Bonus

First paper towels sold 1931 (Link).

1936 paper towel ad

Facial tissue paper originated from gas mask filters in World War One. Kleenex were marketed as a cold cream and makeup remover in the 20s and began being marketed for colds in the 30s. (Link)

1930 ad for Kleenex for 25 cents.

Personally, I don't think Steve would have spent money on either of these things, but they did exist.

[plusmetals]

Haynes 188 Sheet Suppliers in India

Haynes 188 Sheet in Mumbai, Haynes 188 Sheet Importers in Mumbai, Haynes 188 Sheet Suppliers in Mumbai, Haynes 188 Sheet Exporters in Mumbai, Haynes 188 Sheet Stockists in Mumbai.

HAYNES 188 Sheets is a cobalt-nickel-chromium-tungsten alloy that may be readily fabricated for aerospace and commercial gas turbine engine applications, including combustion cans, flame holders, liners, transition ducts, and afterburner parts. HAYNES 188 Coils is generally found in hot sections of engines in burner cans, ducting and afterburner components. In recent years, Udimet 188 Coils has been eclipsed by Alloy 230 for many applications due to improved properties. Udimet 188 Plates has good forming characteristics and is capable of being forged, hot worked or cold worked, although it does work-harden very rapidly so frequent intermediate annealing treatments are recommend for complex forming operations. Buy Alloy 188 Plates at reasonable price from us.

What are Haynes 188 Plates?

Haynes 188 Plate is a cobalt-based alloy that is composed of nickel, chromium, tungsten, and molybdenum, along with other elements. It is known for its excellent high-temperature strength, resistance to corrosion and oxidation, and good weldability.

What are the properties of Haynes 188 plates?

Haynes 188 plates have excellent high-temperature strength, good oxidation resistance, and good resistance to corrosion and erosion. They also have good weldability and formability, making them suitable for a wide range of industrial applications.

What are the applications of Haynes 188 plates?

Haynes 188 plates are commonly used in high-temperature applications, such as gas turbine components, exhaust systems, and heat exchangers. They are also used in chemical processing, power generation, and aerospace applications.Specifications:AMS 5608 / AMS 5609Standard:AMS, AMS and APISpecialize:Shim Sheet, Perforated Sheet, B. Q. Profile.Size:0.5 MM TO 200 MM THICK IN 1000 MM TO 2500 MM WIDTH & 2500 MM TO 12500 MM LENGTHForm:Coils, Foils, Rolls, Plain Sheet, Shim Sheet, Perforated Sheet, Chequered Plate, Strip, Flats, Blank (Circle), Ring (Flange)Finish:Hot rolled plate (HR), Cold rolled sheet (CR), 2B, 2D, BA NO(8), SATIN (Met with Plastic Coated)Hardness:Soft, Hard, Half Hard, Quarter Hard, Spring Hard etc.Grade:Haynes 188 (UNS R30188)

Haynes 188 Plates Equivalent Grades

STANDARDWERKSTOFF NR.UNSHaynes 188–R30188

188 Haynes Plates Chemical Composition :

GradeCMnpSSiCrNiCoBFeLaWHaynes 18805-151.25 max020 max.015 max20-.5021.0 -23.020.0 -24.0Bal.015 max3.0 max03-1513.0 -15.0

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[knitmeapony]

Small company of awesomeness ahoy: The Portland Stamp Company sells lick and stick stamp sheets that are "pinhole perforated using a vintage perforating machine with moisture-activated gum on the back". They're compatible with laser printer, risograph, letterpress, silkscreen, typewriter, rubber stamp, and most kinds of manual art like paint, markers, etc etc.

They have multiple sizes and a variety pack at very reasonable prices!

They have an artist series with proceeds going to various very good causes.

And they just have fun stuff:

Pretty much every one of the artist options is a banger. They're not valid postage, just for fun, but you gotta love the vibe.

[scorpioblinds]

Are you trying to find the best security solution? You only need to look at Scorpio's IntrudaGuard®. As your "Knight in Shining Armor," IntrudaGuard® is robust, useful, and reasonably priced. It is made from a single sheet of marine-grade aluminum that has been properly tempered. Its unique perforated pattern assures longevity and ease of maintenance. With its innovative bonding method and corrosion resistance, IntrudaGuard® provides a smooth and dependable shield without requiring unattractive fixes. With IntrudaGuard®, you can improve your home's security and experience unmatched peace of mind. You can rely on Scorpio to provide the highest level of power and reliability.

[fineholeindia]

Perforated Metal Sheets Manufacturing, Features, Applications

The perforated sheets are usually made of steel sheet that’s often punched from circular holes by a drill.

[datainteg]

Check out this listing I just found on Poshmark: VERA BRADLEY 'Merry Mischief Snow Day' Pen Journal Travel Mug 3 Pc Gift Set -NWT.

[custompackagingsupplies]

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[boxyfont]

Elevate Your Writing Experience with Boxyfont Stylish Notepads

Stylish notepads are more than simply a place to scribble down notes; they're a reflection of your style and ingenuity. Whether you're a student, a professional, or someone who enjoys journaling, a fashionable notebook can add a touch of elegance and inspiration to your daily routine. When buying trendy notebooks, consider the following characteristics and options:

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[favouritefab-blog]

Finding the Right Supplier: Sanitary Napkin Raw Materials in Tamil Nadu

Introduction: When it comes to manufacturing sanitary napkins, choosing the right supplier for raw materials is essential. In Tamil Nadu, a state known for its manufacturing prowess, finding reliable suppliers for sanitary napkin raw materials is crucial. This guide will help you navigate the process of finding the right supplier for your sanitary napkin manufacturing needs in Tamil Nadu.

Types of Sanitary Napkin Raw Materials:

Absorbent Core Material: Typically made from wood pulp and super absorbent polymers (SAP).

Top Sheet Material: Often made from non-woven fabric or perforated film to keep the surface dry and comfortable.

Back Sheet Material: Usually a breathable film to prevent leakage and maintain freshness.

Adhesive: Used to secure the napkin in place on the underwear.

Release Paper: Protects the adhesive before use.

Wrapper Material: Used for individual packaging of napkins.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Supplier:

Quality: Ensure that the supplier offers high-quality materials that meet industry standards.

Price: Compare prices from different suppliers to find the best value for your budget.

Reliability: Choose a supplier with a track record of delivering materials on time and in good condition.

Customization: Look for suppliers who can provide materials customized to your specific needs.

Certifications: Check if the supplier has relevant certifications for quality and safety standards.

Availability: Ensure that the supplier can meet your demand for materials consistently.

Top Suppliers of Sanitary Napkin Raw Materials in Tamil Nadu:

Favourite Fab: Known for their quality raw materials and reliable delivery.

Tamil Nadu Suppliers: Offers a wide range of materials at competitive prices.

Chennai Enterprises: Specializes in customized materials for sanitary napkins.

Madurai Industries: Known for their eco-friendly and sustainable materials.

Coimbatore Corporation: Offers a variety of certifications and high-quality materials.

Conclusion: Finding the right supplier for sanitary napkin raw materials in Tamil Nadu requires careful consideration of factors such as quality, price, and reliability. By choosing the right supplier, you can ensure that your sanitary napkins meet the highest standards of quality and safety.

Factory Address:

Gata No. 34, Mauza Khadwai, Tehsil Kirawali, Runkata, Agra, Uttar Pradesh, India-282007 📩 office@favouritehub.com

Contact: 8800775462

[machinedalal]

Used Numbering & Perforating Machine for SALE

Morgana - FSN

Buy Directly from SELLER -

Manufacturer: Morgana

Year: 2000

Machine Availability: Immediately from stock

Price: 4500 EURO

Location: Bulgaria

#print #press #machinedalal