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“If you’re willing to tell me, yes please.” There. That sounded properly respectful. Orlando outright laughed.
“I think that hurt you nearly as much as the nipple clamps did.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
Something sharp dug into her nipple and she froze. Was that the scalpel? A knife? A needle? Or was it something completely harmless that just felt scarier because she couldn’t see it and her nipples were already incredibly sensitive?
Juliet whimpered.
Not knowing what he was doing was the worst.
“Maybe I’ll cut out your tongue,” he said casually, and a tremor went through her body.
He wouldn’t.
Logically, consciously, she knew he wouldn’t.
But the animal part of her brain that knew she was tied down and helpless, that felt the blade moving over her skin, that part wanted to panic. To scream. To run. That part felt the danger, the possibility, regardless of what she tried to tell herself.
“Though, it did feel very good on my cock.” The blade dragged over her other breast. Cutting her? Or fucking with her? “Maybe you can keep it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Ah, now you want to be respectful?” His finger moved over the area the blade had just touched, like he was gathering more blood before he began painting on her stomach again. His touch stung.
It was a real cut.
“Yes, Sir.”
Hey, she was tied up and letting him play with sharp edges and her body. She knew when to keep the sass in check. Mostly.
“The real question is, are you turned on? Let’s check.”
She could hear the rustle of his clothing as he moved, feel his presence coming between her spread thighs. The table she was on was very much like a real medical table at a gynecologist’s, complete with stirrups that her ankles were bound to, and Orlando had them locked in rather far apart. There was no way he could miss seeing the glossy lips of her pussy and the way her juices were leaking down to the crack of her ass.
Juliet wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t getting the table wet by now.
“Nice and wet I see.”
Something cold touched her pussy.
Holy fuck.
She’d thought she’d frozen before, but that was nothing compared to her reaction now.
Don’t move. Don’t breathe.
He was touching her fucking pussy with the goddamn knife!
Cold metal slid between her pussy lips vertically, running along the seam of her vulva, and Juliet couldn’t suppress a whimper. It was the blunt edge. It had to be the blunt edge.
Even though it was a very light touch. So light that maybe it actually wasn’t the blunt edge and Orlando was playing incredibly dangerously right now. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.
Safe word. Say your safe word.
Which would mean she didn’t trust him. Because right now that would be the only reason to safe word. He wasn’t going to cut her.
He wasn’t using the sharp edge. He couldn’t be.
