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I look at him, but he is looking down, at the face of the knife aimed at my pussy. I close my eyes again just as I feel the cold blade pressed to my clit. The moan that escapes my throat now is strained, strained with pain from the inability to move, because the sensation is too much, the danger, the fear, the ecstasy—tears build up at the backs my eyes.
Then he takes it away, and I breathe out frantically, my eyes searching for his, for the strange calm and reassurance he brings me. He centers me and I am both relieved and hungry for more.
I watch him swiftly flip the knife in his hand, the thick hilt aimed at me.
“I must say, little siren, I was not expecting you to like this quite as much.”
My breathing is still erratic and there is not much I can do to calm it down. I look at my breast and I see a thin drop of blood coming out of a small, shallow cut, half an inch long at most. So different from what Adrien ever did to me, so delicate. Pleasure was never the purpose of his actions, and no matter my dubious consent in this situation, Niklas’ eyes tell me a different story altogether. If I did not know any better, I would think that most of this is for me… not him.
“I wonder what else you will like…” his words bring me back to the present as he kneels in front of me. He allows me to see his hand before it disappears between my spread legs. His palm open to me, dangling the knife by its blade between his index and middle finger, handle aimed at my pussy, coming closer and closer.
He looks into my eyes and this time I do not need him to tell me not to move.
He touches the handle to my opening, and I feel my world splintering, the crack in my walls getting larger, electric shocks spreading goosebumps over my skin, my breath hitched in my throat, my nipples so hard he could probably finish me by just touching them. My whole body is a storm, a silent, electric storm that ravages everything in its sight and when he pushes the handle of that knife inside of me, the sheer sensation sends me to a world I have never seen before. A world full of lust, desire, and fulfilled fantasies. A world I have been searching for my whole life.
He pulls the hilt out, then slowly pushes it back in until I can feel his warm palm against my pussy. When he pulls back out, I swear I feel like I could come from the sheer idea that he is fucking me with a knife. He goes back in again and again and again, in deliberate movements that ensure my safety, yet the idea that he could cut me is disturbingly erotic. My head falls back against the wood and my eyes fly to the mirror, watching myself get fucked by the knife that was meant to protect me from him.
I feel the walls of my core squeeze the hilt of that blade as it glistens in the mirror, disappearing again and again inside of me and I am so close, so close to coming undone from the sheer erotic image of myself in this predicament.
Yet as fast as it started is exactly how it finishes. He pulls the knife out of me, my orgasm dissipating with it, and it takes everything in me not to scream in protest. I hear the blade hit the floor as he throws it to the side, and I watch him rise to his feet, we are at eye level now, yet somehow he is still towering over me.
He growls, he actually growls and that exquisite fear returns in my bones. My eyes go wide and his hand grabs my throat just as his other hand flies straight between my legs.
“Sing for me, little siren,” he all but whispers.
Dissatisfied by my silence, his fingers rip through my pussy straight up to the knuckles, hurting the flesh of my lips. He thrusts in an out violently and the wet sounds my pussy makes fuel me with lust and I moan in a broken whisper. I do not want to sing for him, because this is what he craves, what he needs, and I need to stand my ground. If he pushes me, I am pushing back. But then I feel his fingers spreading inside of me, stretching my walls, drawing pleasure out of my core before one more finger slides in and my body burst into flames.
My moan breaks the barrier of my lips and fills the heavy air around us. My pussy clenches in response to the delicious stretching and my eyes water with the pain his knuckles leave on my lips.
Through this decadent torture, every time I feel the pressure in my head becoming too much or my lungs screaming for air, he loosens his grip on my throat, and I wonder how he knows that it is the right time to pull me away from the edge.
His fingers spread me again, my pussy stretching too hard. My eyes go wide, and I feel a faint burn against my perineum, but he fucks me harder, deeper, somehow distracting me from the burn and I cannot hold it in anymore. The pleasure is too much and I moan, I moan with a strained cry leaving my lips as his thumb catches my clit and pushes hard, moving in a rhythm that makes the chaos explode inside my body. The storm is not silent anymore as I scream and it bursts through my core as I come undone on his thick fingers.
The thrusts turn slow and demanding, pulling more of me through my pussy, milking me dry.
I finally focus on his eyes and I freeze.
He is not done.
This is his game, and I shiver because I am about to learn another rule.
My pussy is wet, tender yet relaxed from the orgasm that still echoes through me and then I feel him… a fourth finger pushes inside of me, stretching me to the point of burning and I cannot stop the words that leave my mouth.
“Please… no, please… stop.”
Then he does something, hooks his fingers and moves in a way that touches something inside of me that spreads fire through my body and I tremble so hard, I swear he touched the pleasure center of my brain. I moan and he grins again.
“Are you sure, little siren?”
No. I am not sure, yet I am about to sayyeswhen his fingers begin thrusting in and out, my body attempting to arch against its restraints. I cannot take it, the pleasure and the pain combine too well, right there between my legs, deep into my gaping pussy. I feel everything I never knew I needed as he pushes pain inside of me and pulls pleasure out.
I lost control over my body, but he took it and harnessed it, wrapped it tight with a fucking bow and gave it back to me as a present laced in lust, chaos, and desire.
Panting hard, I look at myself in the mirror, at his large body in front of me, his right arm moving frantically as he finger-fucks me raw. I look spent, broken and undone, yet more like myself than I ever have before.
In this dark room, tied to a St. Andrews cross, as I watch in the mirror how he releases my throat from his grip and sinks his teeth into it… I break.
My pussy spasms uncontrollably with my second orgasm, hurting from his four fingers stretching me, and I cry in pain laced with that sort of pleasure that you can only imagine, but never think you could ever feel. A pleasure that can only be birthed by filthy acts, and as I watch myself fall apart, my head falls onto his shoulder and I wonder… what else can make me feel this type of ecstasy?
I feel him tugging at some of the ropes that hold my body tied to the cross and my arms fall limp over his shoulders. It takes seconds for him to undo the others, almost like he pulled on a magic string that unravels them all.
He carries me to his bedroom and lays me on the bed. I watch as he rips the clothes off his body and the sight of him instantly wakes me. He is a marvel. Heaving breaths pump his thick chest dusted with hair, his shoulders wide and strong, his fists clenched, pumping blood through the veins strained over flexed muscles, his legs strong and thick.Goddamn gorgeous.Then his cock. Oh… his goddamn cock, long and thick, veins strained under the thin skin leading to the thick head glistening with pre-cum.
My eyes travel back to his and ice and fire spread instantly through my body, both at the same time. Don’t ever assume the monster has finished his torturous game. He will bleed you dry and when he is done, he’ll fill you up with your own blood, only to bleed you again.
