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Warmth seeped into my gut, my cock swelling as I slowly brushed the back of my fingers up her quivering thigh until they nudged the pout of her sex.
She flinched, squeaked as I smoothed the thin material so that it clung to her folds. She was covered, but lewdly exposed.
The darkness inhaled, and I felt my intentions slide from good...
To nothing like good.
Delight turning wicked.
I slipped the blade under the fabric just beyond the crotch of her panties, and the sound in her throat cracked. With a slow, deliberate twirl, I let the sharp edge scrape against her skin as it tangled in her underwear, winding tighter and tighter so that the lingerie would dig and bite into her slit, press on her clit.
“Val, I—”
I slapped her ass cheek. The force rocked her ass against the hardness of the blade, and she snapped back into place.
No more words—just that rough, erratic pant. I could listen to that for days.
Tugging the knife free, I taunted, “I bet you’re still wet. Shall we check?”
The sound she made could have been a no.
Could have been a yes.
I gripped her underwear by the crotch and pulled the material away from her body until I could see her cunt.
Wet.
Oh, she was glistening. I was going to paint her thighs with the evidence of it.
“Guess what?” The smile in my voice was indulgent.
“No.” She squirmed, tugging, but she could not move.
As if.
I stabbed the knife into the taut fabric, the blade slicing between the cleft of her butt cheeks.
“Don’t. Fucking move.”
I yanked—a hard, violent tug that ripped and shredded fabric.
It was too much for her to be quiet, but I enjoyed the scream.
I repeated the motion.
Grab. Stab.
Shred.
Again.
Until there was no underwear left. Nothing but flesh.
MORE.
My hand shook as I lifted the knife up to her skin.
MORE.
