I freeze.
He trails the knife down.
Over my collarbone. Between my breasts. The flat of the blade pressing against my overheated skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I’m barely breathing, hyper-aware of every millimetre of metal against my body.
“Good girl.” His voice is soft. Approving. “You’re being so good.”
The knife circles my n****e.
I whimper. The cold metal against my sensitive flesh is almost unbearable – not painful, but intense. Every nerve screaming awareness, my body simultaneously terrified and aroused.
“Please – ” I whisper. ”Please – ”
“Please what?” He presses the flat of the blade against my other n****e. “Please more? Please stop?”
“I don’t – ” I can’t think. Can’t process. ”I don’t know – ”
“Then I’ll decide for you.”
The knife trails lower.
Down
