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He claps his other hand over my mouth, muffling the rest of my pleas as the blade of the knife drags over that sensitive tendon stretched to its limit at the apex of my thighs.
“Look at that. Your little clit poking out all wet and swollen. Begging for more, isn’t it?”
A stream of wetness trickles out of me as his eyes meet with my naked pussy and my blood rushes hot through my veins.
“Greedy little cunt. It’s begging for cock.Mycock. Before the end, you’ll be begging for a hard fuck, won’t you, Little Lamb?”
The pin-hard tip of the knife glances along my clit, zapping my nerves and making me arch and whimper, my muscles in spasm as he pokes it right there.
Right.There.
I squirm and do my best to retreat, the blankets soft and slippery under my ass. A dart of pain from where he cut me earlier reminds me of just how deep into madness he’s fallen.
“Uh, uh, uh…”, he tuts, “be still.”
Harder. Metal. Sharp. Knife. Harder.
Oh, God.
My heart is about to explode from my chest as he runs the blade up and down, easing it into my folds, spreading me one layer at a time like it’s a surgical instrument. He exposes me, peeling me apart, pushing, poking, until hot tears fall from my lower lids.
“Please!Stooop.” I call into his palm through gritted teeth, eyes squeezed shut, my throat as raw as my emotions.
“Fight as much as you want, pussy always tells the truth.”
I’m wet. So, so wet, and the shame covers me as he lifts his hand from my mouth. I cry out, his fingers running down my inner thigh while the knife finds my entrance, pushing into that most vulnerable spot.
Oh, God.
Again.
Right. There. At. My. Opening.
“I could cut your cherry from you.” His eyes lock on mine, the sun a halo around his head as I choke on the sob that tightens my throat. “I think there’s a medical term for cutting this tender flesh right here…” He rests the razor-sharp blade just inside me as I draw a breath and hold it, shaking, silently praying for this to be a bad dream. “What I would do would be a little different, but…what is it called?”
His lips press together as he ponders his own question, his eyes lighting up with realization.
“Episiotomy. Right? Yes, that’s it.
I. Can’t. Breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Ican’tbreathe.
“Please.”
“Yes, my little lamb. You’ll say please when I do it.” He sighs, sounding disappointed as the fingers of his other hand dig into my knee, holding me wide, the sunshine warming my already heated folds as I wonder how such darkness can be happening under such a perfect blue sky. “No, I think we both know that you want my dick to do the deflowering. I know I do.”
“I’ll do anything, just don’t cut me there,” I stutter, my gut twisting as the tip of the knife rests at my opening and time stretches out in front of me. Each second compounds into a minute, an hour, and everything starts to feel fuzzy.
I’m at his mercy. My muscles lock down, my belly quivering.
“Good girl. Youwilldo anything, but it’s good to hear you say it. Now, tell me you love me as I fuck you with my knife.”
Love him?
The birds are chirping overhead like everything in the world is as it should be. The sky is blue, and drifty white clouds remind me that just an hour ago, my biggest worry was acing my econ exam.
