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She knew full well that if she said no or said nothing, he would merely tease her until, compelled by unbearable need, she not only acquiesced but probably begged for him to bare her. But that wasn’t what drove her to respond with a breathy “Yes!”
She said yes because she meant it.
Aurora needed her panties off, and she needed them off now. Because the sooner they were off, the sooner she would be allowed to come for him. She knew instinctively that it would be a while yet. A long, agonizingly drawn out while as he teased her mercilessly, but nonetheless, being fully bare for him would at least be a start. An indication that things were moving forward and perhaps she would be allowed to come before the frustration killed her.
Her hopes were utterly dashed, however, when he let the soaked gusset of her panties slap down against her pussy once again and said, “The truth is, you’ve been ready for a while, Aurora. But you kept me waiting for a year, so you’re going to have to wait a little longer.”
There it was. She had broken her agreement, and now she was being punished for it.
Maybe if she’d known the kind of effect Dante would have on her, she wouldn’t have run…
Before she could fully process her combination of desperate need and intense disappointment at being denied release, she felt the knife tip glide up her tummy and circle her still achingly stiff right nipple. After drawing it all the way up to the hollow of her neck, he slid it back down her left breast, circled her left nipple, and drew it all the way down her tummy again to trace the waistband of her panties. Without him having to say anything, she knew he was about to repeat the process.
When he retraced his course with the blade this time, however, there was one big difference. Upon reaching her nipples, he pressed the tip down on the very center of each stiff bud. Not hard enough to break the skin, or even to hurt nearly as much as his teeth had, but enough to be terrifying… and terrifyingly arousing. That she hadn’t expected.
He didn’t give her much time to ponder her feelings on the situation, because now he was dragging the sharp tip down over her bare body once more, pressing a little harder this time though still not nearly hard enough to break the skin. Once again, the blade slid beneath the waistband of her panties, but this time he flipped it over so the sharp edge pointed upwards and began to lift the material away from her skin on the left side.
“I think it’s long past time to bare this little pussy of yours.”
Then in one quick motion, he sliced through the thin material, leaving the left side of the garment resting against her thigh while only the right side remained attached. Holding the cut side of the panties in place with his free hand, he slid the blade underneath the right side and repeated the slicing motion. The front of her panties were now held in place only by gravity and the sticky mess of her arousal, which was just barely concealed by the remaining fabric. Going slowly now, he slid the side of the blade under the material just over her slit and with a flick of his wrist, the tip of the knife flew upwards, tossing aside the last remnants covering her, and with them the last of her modesty.
She was bare now. Fully bare, and completely on display.
He paused before speaking, presumably admiring the view he had just revealed.
“You’re even wetter than I’d expected, Aurora. You really are a naughty girl.”
She blushed at his words. Or rather, her blush deepened further—she had not stopped blushing since the moment she awakened.
Would he put the knife away now and touch her pussy with his fingers or his tongue… or his cock?
Not yet apparently. Because a second later, she felt the sharp tip tracing down one of her exposed outer lips and up the other. A teasing circle around her clit followed, then an even more intimate journey up and down her inner lips, before she felt the blade press down on her clit.
As with her nipples, it was hard enough to hurt but not to cut. But as sensitive as her nipples were, this little button was far, far more sensitive, and she drew in a gasp of both pain and desperate arousal as—with incredible precision—he used the very tip of the blade to pull back the hood of her clit before pressing that same tip down on her now unprotected nub. What had been a quick intake of gasping breath became a rapid series of shallow breaths as her heart rate spiked higher than she could ever remember in her life—and she had run track in high school.
It wasn’t that she feared he was going to cut her. For some reason she couldn’t explain, she knew in a deep, instinctive way that she would not be harmed today. No, her heart was pounding for another reason. If he could bring her this close to what she knew would be a painfully shattering orgasm with something as terrifying as a knife, how hard would she come when he used his fingers, or his tongue, or his cock?
He kept the knife there, with the pressure just enough to maintain an edge of pain without the discomfort being great enough to dampen her arousal. Then, using the flat side of the blade to hold the hood of her clit back, he reached down with his free hand and rubbed his thumb roughly over the fully exposed bundle of nerves.
It didn’t take long, barely a second, before she was on the edge and close to tumbling over into what would surely be a brutal climax. He pulled his thumb back just in time and left her there, squirming and quivering on the table.
Though she wasn’t worried about him cutting her, the instinctive fear of the blade still hovering so near her most sensitive body part was the only thing that kept her from thrashing her body upwards in hopes of forcing her clit against his retreating thumb and driving herself over the brink. She doubted the straps alone would have held her in place.
A few moments passed, and when her squirming finally ceased, he returned his thumb to restart her torment. He brought her close again, and withdrew once again, and once more the fear of the knife barely held her in place. He brought her close a third time and at this point, any inhibitions and shame were cast aside and she began to beg desperately for the orgasm she had continuously been denied.
This time he didn’t pull his thumb back completely, maintaining a gentle pressure just enough to keep her on the edge, letting her move neither over that edge to orgasm nor away from it. Her entire body ached with need. Her nipples and clit were impossibly stiff. She could feel her wetness slicking down her thighs and pooling on the table beneath her bare bottom.
She had never been so ashamed or so aroused in her whole life. In fact, she hadn’t known it was possible to be this ashamed or aroused.
Seconds passed—or minutes, she could no longer tell in the desperate haze of need that now clouded her mind—but still he continued. Finally, just as she felt she could bear no more and tears formed in her eyes, a more terrifying thought hit her.
It didn’t matter what she could or could not bear. It wasn’t up to her in any way. He would keep her here as long as he wanted to, poised on the edge of both climax and sanity. He could break her completely if he wanted, and all she could do was lay there and take it.
That realization turned her tears into sobs of defeat and humiliation. But the tears that soaked her cheeks were nothing in comparison to the flood from her pussy that was unleashed as she began to accept the reality of her body’s surrender. She had never thought it was possible to be this wet. As if to confirm for her the reality of her situation, her captor ran a single finger through her sopping channel and held it to her lips. Reacting as if on instinct, she sucked the tip of his finger inside, almost as if knowing that he would not allow her the orgasm he was denying her until her shame was complete.
And her shame would not be complete until she could taste it on her tongue.
“Are you ready to come for me, little slut?”
