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Assuming she didn’t die of fright first.
Mercifully, he removed the knife, placing it back into its box. Leaning over her once more, he stroked her cheek. “Relax, slave. It’s all good. You please me.”
His touch calmed her and his words warmed her. While she remained afraid, she was determined to get through this, not just for him but for herself.
Mason again went to the wardrobe, this time returning with a black satin sleep mask.
“Fear and anticipation heighten the sensation of pain. Use the breathing techniques you’ve learned to slow your pulse and calm yourself.”
He waited a few moments while she managed a deep, if rather tremulous breath, and let it out slowly.
“Better,” he said. “You’ve already demonstrated you can handle significant erotic pain. When you stop anticipating and just accept, it will go much better for you, I promise. This blindfold should help you with that.”
As her world was plunged into darkness, he added, “As long as you stay very, very still, you’ll be just fine.”
≈
Mason opened the knife box. Instead of the razor-sharp blade he’d shown to Hannah, he selected the one that had been purposely dulled with steel wool so it wouldn’t cut the skin, even if you tried.
He set the flat of the blade carefully on Hannah’s midriff. Predictably, she startled at its chill and drew in a sharp breath. She was trembling slightly, but otherwise remained still.
Returning his focus to the box, he picked up the packet of expired credit cards and withdrew one. The edge of a hard plastic card can feel quite sharp when dragged along the skin and leave a pretty mark to boot.
While he wouldn’t have hesitated to use real knives with a properly trained slave, Hannah was too new and too nervous for that. If and when he claimed her properly, she would not only permit him to engage in needle and blood play, she would come to crave it.
For now he would content himself with the mind fuck. He’d primed her to expect the blade, and that’s what her brain would believe was being employed. It would be a true test for Hannah—a test both of her submission and of her ability to handle erotic stress without freaking out.
He wanted her to succeed more than he was quite willing to admit. How had he become so invested, so quickly, in this woman? She was no longer just some trainee he was playing with for his amusement. He had a stake in her success. He was, at least temporarily, her only Master.
Closing the knife box, he shoved the card into his back pocket. Then he took the dead knife from where it balanced below her bound breasts.
Bending over her, he placed one hand over her heart as he touched the tip of the knife to the soft flesh just beneath her jaw. Hannah squeaked like a little mouse, her heart racing beneath his fingers.
“Shh,” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear, the point of the knife still at her throat. “You’ll fare much better, slave, if you surrender to me. All that tension you’re holding in your body right now will only accentuate the pain.”
“Mason,” she said in a trembling voice. “I’m scared.”
He pulled the knife away, though he kept his other hand on her heart. “Remember, a little fear is a good thing. It helps you focus. I’m going to push your submissive boundaries this morning, but remember, I’ve always got you. If you fall, I’ll be there to catch you.”
He was pleased when she seemed to calm. He stroked her cheek, again reminding her to breathe. When her breathing had slowed from a pant to something closer to normal, he took a step back. Replacing the dead knife in its slot, he pulled the credit card from his pocket.
Her breasts had darkened from the constricted blood flow. He slipped a finger beneath the rope to make sure it wasn’t too tight. Her engorged nipples were fairly begging for a pair of clamps. In time, once he’d acclimated her properly to knife play, he would add clover clamps to both her nipples and her labia to heighten her experience.
The breast bondage, aside from being beautiful and sexy, had the added benefit of sensitizing the nerve endings in the breasts. Holding the card so one of its sharp corners touched her skin, he dragged it in a light circle around her right nipple.
Hannah, expecting the knife’s blade, cried out in alarm. Mason ran his finger around the faint pink circle he’d left on her skin.
“Good girl,” he praised. Without giving her a chance to regroup, he ran the card’s edge around her left nipple.
Again, she cried out. Taking pity on her, as well as satisfying his own lust, Mason leaned over his bound slave girl and sucked one perfect, hard nipple into his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue. Her moan as he gently bit the tender bud made his balls tighten with need. He took the secondnipple between his teeth, biting until she again cried out.
“Try to slow your breathing, if you can.” He stroked her soft cheek as he waited for her to calm herself. “That’s better. You’re doing very well, my brave girl,” he encouraged. “We will continue.”
As he drew the edge of the card down her abdomen, it left a pretty red line on her fair skin. Hannah jerked hard in her restraints as he did this, her hands clenching into fists.
Mason tapped her fists. “Relax your hands, Hannah, and stay still. You wouldn’t want me to accidentally cut you, would you?”
“No, Sir,” she cried breathlessly, though he’d meant the question to be rhetorical. “Please, this is scaring me. My breasts hurt. I think I need a timeout.”
