Page 66 of Not Another Dark Romance

He says the words, but my brain is struggling to believe him as my heart pounds erratically in my chest. The fear threatens to suffocate me because I can’t calm my breathing. He slowly, so slowly, drags the knife down my length from base to tip. I’m trying to stay still so the knife doesn’t slip as I suck in deep, shaky breaths. The sensation is cold, hard, and utterly terrifying as I watch the red line trail behind the knife. My balls draw up tight against my body, a primal reaction to the threat.

He uses the tip of the knife to trace the sensitive ridge just below the head, and my hips jerk involuntarily. A sob escapes me immediately at the fear of what I just did, but when I look down, everything is fine. The knife didn’t cut me.

“Please,” I gasp, my hands trembling. “Zane.”

“Master,” he corrects instantly, pressing the blade against the skin directly above my erection. “Who’s in charge here, Pet?”

“You, Master,” I choke out, tears welling in my eyes from the intensity of this. “You are.”

“Right. Now, turn around. Hands on the counter. Don’t move.”

My limbs feel like lead as I obey, my back now to him, my ass completely exposed. I’m trembling so hard as I hear his footsteps retreat for a few moments before he comes back, and I feel something cold drizzle down my crack.

My breath hitches as his finger rubs against my hole. He rubs my entrance without actually pushing in. “Ever been fucked by a knife before, Pet?”

My knees give in, and I collapse slightly into the counter before catching myself and pushing back up.

“You know exactly what to say if this is too much, Little Psycho.”

“No. I’m not saying it,” I protest because I want this, even if my body has never been wound tighter in my entire life. I feel like I’m going to explode, break down, and combust. I’m suppressing both my fight-or-flight responses, willing my body to surrender. It’s a heady feeling, unlike anything else I’ve experienced in my life.

His free hand comes around to grip my cock as he chuckles wickedly, stroking it slowly, maddeningly. “Relax then. Let me in.”

I nod, and he backs off from caging me in, his one finger still loosening my hole while the other hand grabs the knife, trailing it along my lower back.

“Hmm, you’d look so pretty with my name carved in your back, don’t you think? ‘Property of Zane’ right above this perky little ass. Permanently.”

I shudder at the thought, but my mind goes back to how much I love the marker on my body. How much I’d love to wear his permanent branding, no matter how deranged that makes me. Makes us.

“Fuck,” I whimper and realize the thought caused my body to loosen up.

“There we go, Little Psycho,” Zane coos, sliding another finger inside me. “You just needed a little branding threat to get you ready to be fucked by my knife, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I admit, nodding as he continues to stretch me with his fingers.

“Good. I’m going to keep playing with my hole now.”

I try to force my muscles to unclench, to breathe through the overwhelming fear. He removes his fingers, and the pressure increases, and the slick, rounded plastic handle begins to breach me. It’s cold, and I try to tell myself it’s just a toy, but I know it’s a knife. He uses his other hand to reach for my cock as a distraction.

Zane starts to move the knife, just a little, a shallow, terrifying rhythm that matches the strokes of his hand on my cock. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re taking the knife so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be used however I see fit.”

The dual sensations are undoing me. The intrusion in my ass and the warm, familiar grip on my dick. The fear and the pleasure blend into a single, white-hot wave of sensation. I can feel my orgasm building, coiling deep in my gut, terrifyingly close.

“Master,” I sob, “I’m going to… I can’t…”

“No,” he commands, his hand stopping its movement instantly. The knife inside me stills. “You don’t come until I say. Feel how much control I have over your body, your pleasure, your pain. You feel it until I’m ready for you to fall apart.”

Another sob rips through me as I submit further, bending over the counter fully, sticking my ass out in surrender.

“You really are a slut, aren’t you, Pet? A filthy fucking whore, bending over farther so I can fuck this knife into your ass.”

“Yes, fuck, I am. It’s so good, so much.” Tears are streaming down my cheeks from the intensity of this.

“My perfect, fucked-up little toy,” he says, stroking me with one hand while the other twists the edge of the knife inside of me, stealing my breath.

“I am. I’m your whore, your slut, your hole to do whatever you want with. Your toy, Master. I belong to you.”

“Good,” he praises, his grip on my dick tightening, strokes getting faster. “And what do toys do?”