“I’m real,” I say as my chest heaves and sweat pools in my armpits. The smell of my fear fills the room. “Cassius, no scarring.”
“Shhhh…” He places a finger to my lips and balances the point of the knife against my erect nipple. “Careful now,” he says and stabs lightly, causing a lancing pain to radiate just above my heart. My eyes water as I gasp at the blood beading up on the stiff peak. Cassius rubs it around my areola like rouge.
“That’s a sharp fucking knife,” I murmur, dizzy at the sight of my own blood and worried about what he might do to me next.
“They have to match,” he says as though speaking to himself. He pinches my other nipple so that it stands stiff and straight, then stabs at the center with the knife’s point.
“Fuck,” I whimper. I’m so confused by what is happening right now. He never told me there’d be knives involved. Or cutting. Or pain.
“There, there,” he soothes, placing his thumb at the pebbled skin to catch the droplets of blood. “Very pretty.” He licks the remainder from his gloved finger, which is somehow more disturbing than the cut itself. Is he, like, a cannibal? “Now let’s see what you’ve got down here.”
He lifts off me just long enough to slice through my sleep pants. Like it’s nothing. I lie there bleeding, frozen with fear, unable to move or even breathe while he continues to slice away at my clothing until there’s just a scrap of underwear between my junk and his knife.
“The fuck are you doing now?” I demand, trying to sound tough even as I tremble beneath him.
“Your heart is racing.” He places his palm flat against my chest.
“No shit. Because you are fucking terrifying right now.”
“Am I?” This earns me another depraved smile and absolutely zero assurances. He lays the dull side of the knife against my cock and asks, “Why are you so hard, precious? And so wet?”
“I can’t help it,” I proclaim, worried he might punish me for it.
“I know why. Because you’re just a dumb animal who can’t control his need to fuck. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes. Yes,sir.” Seems like a good time to be polite. The knife presses against my lips, cold as ice.
“Kiss it,” he says, and I pucker up to the cool metal, never taking my eyes off him. “How do you think you’d look without lips?”
“Not very pretty.”
“Just a bloody hole to stuff my cock inside,” he muses with a sadistic smile. He places two gloved fingers at my mouth and I part my lips until he’s slipped them all the way inside, tempting my gag reflex to revolt. “I could remove your teeth too so that you’d have to gum it.”
Would he really do that? Fuck me.
“You’re wondering if I’d do it?” he asks. “Probably not. I’d miss seeing this gorgeous smile.” He removes his fingers and pinches one cheek hard enough to leave a welt. “But here.” He grabs my balls viciously with the same hand. “If you ever strayed, these would be the first to go.”
“I won’t,” I assure him, shaking my head to really drive the point home.
“I wouldn’t want to do it. It would give me absolutelyno pleasureto separate you from your testicles, but I’d have to teach you a lesson. Be still now, precious. We don’t want any accidents.”
I hold my breath as Cassius methodically cuts away the rest of my underwear, like a surgeon, slicing through the fabric until it’s just ribbons held together by the waistband alone. I’ve seen him filet thick cuts of meat with the same precision. How much of this conversation is only fantasy?
“Now spread your legs, slut.”
“Do I have to?” I moan, clenching my ass cheeks tighter together.
“You’d better or I’ll have to use my knife to do it.”
He sits back while I slowly raise my knees, spreading for him as I have so many times before, only now with the spine-tingling terror of what he might do to me.
“Wider,” he demands.
I force the heels of my feet to the edge of the bed and arch backward so I don’t have to watch what he’s doing. A gloved finger, already slick with lube, enters my hole. I shiver from the cold intrusion as he shoves it all the way in, then groan from the pressure he puts on my gland.
“Fuck,” I mutter, hating myself for liking this so much.
“Whore,” he says. “Just as I suspected.” His finger pumps into me, causing my hips to respond, fucking myself on one measly digit and proving to him that I am a whore, even under duress. Too soon he removes his finger, then lifts my balls with the flat part of the knife. Having the cold blade pressed against my junk makes me want to cry. “Do you know how much your testicles weigh?” he asks.
