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Eager to get started, he turned his attention to Mason’s knife kit. Each of the six knives was kept in a black velvet bag, nestled in its own groove in the oblong wooden box. Of different lengths, five of the knives were extremely sharp. The sixth knife was a “dead knife.” While the tip was still sharp, the cutting side had been purposely dulled with steel wool so that it wouldn’t break the skin. But Ellen didn’t know that.
He chose that knife first, removing it from its velvet bag. He held out the knife for Ellen to see. As she watched, he touched the sharp tip of the knife to the pad of his thumb. He pressed lightly, just piercing the skin. A moment later, a drop of bright red blood appeared.
Ellen drew in a sharp breath. Her lips parted and for a moment he nearly succumbed to a sudden desire to touch his thumb to her mouth and let her suck the blood from it. Instead, he plucked a pre-moistened wipe from its plastic box and blotted away the blood. He also wiped the blade.
Moving close to her again, he touched the side of the blade to her jugular. She drew in another breath as the cold metal touched her skin.
A rush of power surged through him as potent as any drug. Leaning closer, the blade still touching her throat, he spoke quietly into her ear. “When you have a knife at your throat, there are no more options. Submission is your only recourse.”
“Oh, god,” she groaned softly, her body quivering as she blinked rapidly. “I’m scared.”
Damon lowered the knife and set it down.
“Shh,” he said, placing his hand over her heart, which was beating like a caged bird’s wings. He leaned over her so she could see his face. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said breathlessly.
“Good. I want you to trust yourself as well. Remember who and what you are, Ellen. You’re a strong, brave submissive. You handle erotic pain beautifully. There’s something primal about this kind of edge play. It can evoke intense emotional responses. I’m going to take you deeper today than we’ve gone before, but I promise you that I will keep you safe.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, visibly calming. “Thank you, Sir.”
He chose another knife. The blade was about six inches long, the handle nicely weighted. Ellen’s gaze instantly riveted to the gleaming blade.
His inner sadist raring to go, Damon smiled.
“We begin.”
≈
Every fiber of Ellen’s being felt wildly alive. He hadn’t even started yet, and already there was so much adrenaline sluicing through her that she felt almost translucent.
She wasn’t sure whether she was glad she could see what was happening in the overhead mirror or not. A part of her wished he’d blindfolded her, as Master Mason had. But another part was morbidly fascinated by the prospect of seeing her own blood.
She held her breath as Master Damon lightly touched the blade to the hollow between her collarbones. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he drew it lightly down her sternum. She felt the scrape and her gaze flew to the mirror, heart pounding in expectation of blood.
But all she could see was a thin pink line, barely visible. Focusing on the knife, she realized he was using the dull side of the blade, for now. She relaxed a little, remembering to draw some air into her lungs.
“That’s right,” he crooned in a low, sexy voice. “Relax, sub girl. Surrender to the process. We’ll take our time.”
The knife traveled lower, running down her abdomen to her pubic mound. Though he was still using the back of the blade, she tensed again, her breath catching in her throat as he dragged it to the top of her vulvar cleft. She squeaked in alarm as the cold blade glided lightly over her spread sex.
“Shh,” Master Damon repeated, pulling the blade away. “Slow your breathing, Ellen. Draw on the submissive grace I know you possess.”
Ellen managed to draw in a shuddery breath. She was genuinely frightened by the prospect of being cut. But at the same time, she was intensely excited. Her nipples ached, her clit pulsing between her legs.
She glanced up again at the mirror. Despite her fear, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining.
“Are you ready for me to continue?” Master Damon asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
He again placed the tip of the blade at the hollow at her throat. This time he scraped the blade a little harder along her skin, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. He scraped a pink circle around each nipple. While it hurt more than the first time, Ellen felt calmer. He wasn’t going to cut her. At least not yet.
Still, she shivered and barked a small yip when the blade again danced over her labia. She considered asking him to slow down, but realized she didn’t want him to slow down. Despite her fear, she felt brave and wild and free.
“More,” she gasped without meaning to speak.
Master Damon’s face appeared above her, an eyebrow cocked. “More?” he repeated.
