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A slice against my hip catches me completely off guard. It burns, and burns. My breathing has become labored, and my blood is pumping vigorously inside my veins.
There’s another slight sting, trailing slowly down my sternum, and the pressure increases with each passing second.
I wonder if he’s drawing blood.
“Yellow,” I gasp.
The warmth returns between my slick thighs, teasing me, tossing me closer to the inevitable orgasm that’s calling out my name.
Green, green, green.
Suddenly, there’s a sharp cut against my chest, an unsettling pain. My thoughts are scattered, yet all I can seem to focus on is the fact that Jaxon could really do something like this to me.
Even if I wanted this, this is too much.
This time, he’s gone too far.
“Red,” I shakily say.
Jaxon removes the ropes from my sore wrists and ankles, and I tear off the blindfold in horror. Sitting upright, and staring down at my unharmed, naked, wax-covered body, I am at a loss for words.
Our eyes connect, and I am frozen in place.
Jaxon stands beside me, motionless. Quiet. Calm. Blowing out the candle, he places it back into the holder. The knives are zipped in the pouch on the tray, and there’s nothing sharp in sight.
“I don’t understand,” I softly say. “You cut me. I felt it.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Slightly tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrow. “Or, perhaps, I only made you believe you were being carved.”
What could he possibly mean? I felt the tip of the blade digging deeply into my flesh. Pulling his arm out from behind his back, he holds out a beautiful, red rose between us.
“For you,” he breathes.
Carefully accepting the flower, I admire its beauty, and innocence.
How?
As if he’s reading my mind, he speaks up. “The bottom.”
That’s not possible.
“You don’t believe me?” he asks. “Try it.”
Lightly tracing the bottom of the stem against the inside of my arm, it feels sharp, harmful. Although, it doesn’t leave a mark. My mind has been playing tricks on me this whole time.
I’ve been mind-fucked by my Dominant.
He sits close beside me. “I would never hurt you, Sasha. You’re safe with me.”
Lowering my gaze to the rose, I begin to battle my inner demons. Safe with him physically? Maybe that’s so. Maybe he would never cut me with knives, or whip me so savagely that I would be left with welts all over my back.
However, safe with him mentally? Emotionally?
To trust this man with my heart?
