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I don’t actually know this man. At all. And I’ve let him follow me to a secluded dark room, where he’s already said he might not even stop if I use the safe word.
Vault.
Say the word, girl. Say the FUCKING WORD before this insanity goes any further.
But even as I mentally try to scream some sense into myself as he inches the huge knife closer and closer to my most intimate area, it’s like I’ve gone into a trance.
My pulse races. My body tingles and throbs and aches in ways I’ve never felt before. A warm, enveloping darkness pulls me under, making my eyes roll back and my mouth go slack against the glass as the monster behind me shatters the line between excitement and fear, pleasure and pain, to smithereens.
At the very last second, his wrist twists. The knife turns ninety degrees, and when the metal drags over my throbbing clit, it’s the dull edge at the back, not the sharp, honed blade, that touches my body.
My mouth falls open, and a haunted, aching moan falls from my lips as he rubs the dull edge of the knife over my swollen clit.
He hears it, too.
The man rumbles a dark, sinister laugh. I cry out as he roughly pinches my nipple again, grinding his erection against my ass as he begins to rub the back of the knife back and forth over my clit.
“I didn’t realize what a little whore I’d found,” he rasps darkly, the hint of that European accent I still can’t quite place sending shivers through my core. “Tell me,” he growls. “Is it the thrill of danger that makes this slutty little pussy so fucking drippy and messy?”
He deftly twists the blade, letting the tip push down to just barely scratch my inner thigh.
“Or is it the pain that makes you such an eager little fuck toy for me?”
My breath is ragged and gasping as he twists the blade back again, letting the flat side roll back and forth, back and forth across my aching clit.
His finger roughly twists my nipple. Then, without warning, he suddenly slaps it—not ultra violently, but enough to send explosions of pain and pleasure searing through every nerve ending in my body. I cry out, choking on the heady rush of both feelings—the good and the bad—as they keep me in their grip.
“Answer me, slut,” he rasps darkly into my ear.
“B-b-both,” I mewl out with a breathy choke. My voice doesn’t even sound like me—the confident, poised, boss-lady Taylor helming a board meeting or commanding a court room.
That’s not who’s speaking right now. The voice that whimpers from my throat is submission personified.
Breathy and scared.
Eager and desperate.
Needy and subservient.
His wrist rolls back and forth. The back of the knife rubs over my throbbing clit again and again. My face burns with shame at the wet, slick, sticky sounds of my eagerness against the steel as delirium rolls over me.
I’m fucking dripping. I’m so wet I can feel it leaking down my thighs and turning my thong to a soaked mess.
The man chuckles darkly at my back, leaning around to let his teeth bite down hard on the hollow of my throat.
“What a desperate little whore I’ve found. What a filthy little pain slut I’ve uncovered, getting so fucking wet from a complete fucking stranger rubbing her greedy cunt with a knife.”
I shudder as his teeth drag over the bite mark he’s just given me.
“I can’t wait to watch you scream when I take every greedy hole you have, my pretty little slut.”
Suddenly, I gasp as his arm yanks hard. The blade cuts through the front of my thong with the ripping sound of lace against steel. In one motion, he flips the blade, and I inhale sharply as he drives it hard right into the papered wall next to the huge window I’m pinned against.
My panties are dangling from the blade, pinned in place barely a foot from me. He growls as he grabs a handful of my hair, twisting my head to force me to look right at the ripped lace dangling from his knife.
“Look how fucking wet you got for me, little toy,” he rasps darkly. “Just in case there’s still a tiny part deep inside you rebelling against this, trying to tell you that you don’t enjoy it, that you didn’t like it when my lethal blade made your pussy almost come for me, like the filthy little cum slut that you are,” he snarls. “Look how fucking messy you got for me.”
It’s almost too much. It’s so…real. So engulfing. So everything. Like standing too close to a bonfire, until the heat is singeing the ends of your hair and drying out your lips.
