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“Your cunt is so tight around my finger. I’m going to need to stretch this out before I stick my dick in you,” the masked man growls. Then he harshly removes his dripping digit from my pussy and tears my panties off in the same motion. The rough treatment of my panties against my skin surely left a burn because it stings like a motherfucker. Those books always make it seem like a sexy, pain free procedure. I’m quickly realizing those books are all a bunch of bullshit.
I’m still lamenting to myself about my underwear incident when something hard runs through my slit, slow and deliberate before breaking past the barrier of my entrance. When I realize it's lacking the warmth of a body part, I’m still holding my breath. I try not to move a muscle.
Son of a bitch.What is he fucking me with? He pushes the object farther into my pussy, and I’m ashamed at the lack of resistance it has due to my slickening core. It’s hard to decipher but I’m fairly certain it has squared edges, and they’re scraping against my inner walls. When it hits just the right spot, I writhe forward, and a slight gasp escapes my lips. Hopefully, the man didn't notice my blunder.
"You're going to slice that sweet pussy of yours if you move another inch," he informs and my body returns to its frozen state.
Oh. My. God.
It's the knife inside me. I'm being fucked with the handle of his goddamn knife… which means he has to be holding the blade. His pace quickens and I have no clue how he is pounding into me so roughly while holding the sharp end of a knife. I scour my mind as I’m being violated from behind, trying to remember if he was wearing gloves. If he isn’t, he’s cutting the shit out of his hands. He thrusts a few times and it feels odd at first. I'm not used to something of this shape being inside me. There’s a bite of pain, but the pleasure is slowly creeping up and taking the reins. Good thing I’m on my knees because my legs tremble from this new sensation. Lava begins to flow from low in my belly, the heat cascading to between my thighs. My wrists are getting pretty raw as I quiver with the building fervor. I'm on the edge of coming. I need merely a few more seconds of his manipulations but his movement stops mid thrust while the handle is inside me.
"No," I whine, but then mentally curse myself when I realize I gave voice to my desire.
Shit, I fucked up.
"Was my filthy little whore about to come?" he asks in a deep throaty chuckle. “And don’t lie to me. I can smell your answer.” Hopefully he doesn’t see the way my sex clenches around the weapon at the vulgarity in his words.
"I knew you were a bad girl and would enjoy this, but you'll have to earn an orgasm. I want to hear you beg."
With that, he again moves the instrument of exquisite torture inside of me in slow circular motions. His momentum builds and I’m ashamed at the squelching noises it makes as it jackhammers into my body. He thrusts faster and faster, simultaneously adding a twisting motion. I can feel the object getting deeper, meaning the sharp blade is getting precariously close to entering me.
The climax he had interrupted me from having is now bubbling uncontrollably within me, intensifying with each second and thrust that goes by. My hips have to be bruised from constantly hitting the hard back of the seat. My stomach muscles ache as I try to use my core to keep my head up so all the blood doesn’t rush to it. But all this is background noise compared to the loud shrill of need building in my core.
“P…please,” I whimper. I can’t help it. He now has me begging and I don’t care. I have a one track mind and that track is leading me to an explosive orgasm.
Suddenly he yanks my head back with a fistful of my hair, pulling me back into his large frame. I’m panting from anticipation and fear, the heady concoction as confusing as it is intoxicating.
"That's a start, Bambi, but you know one word isn’t enough. When I told you to fucking beg,” the hard plastic of his mask presses against my cheek when he demands, “I meant I wanted you to fucking beg as if your life depends on it." His last words are a sentence all by themselves. His comment hangs on the humid, sex scented air. He releases my head and I fall forward, silence coats my skin, replacing the sweat and rain.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I whisper my ear-splitting plea.
“I need it. Please, make me come.”
I can hear the smile on his lips when he says, “When you’re willing, you’re no longer prey.” He returns to fucking me with the weapon relentlessly, taking what he wants from my pussy.
It feels so good I can't help but scream my need, "Yes, please. Give me more."
A finger probes the puckered rim of my backside, pushing into it slightly. I’ve had plenty anal experience with myself and a dildo, but never with a man, and never while my pussy was being fucked at the same time. And I especially have not been penetrated with something as solid as the hilt of a knife. So when he withdraws his partially penetrating digit, relief washes over me. I may have asked for too much. In this situation, I don’t know if I can handle both of my holes being filled at once without having a complete mental breakdown.
My reprieve is short-lived, though. With his free hand, he grips one of my ass cheeks in a tight squeeze, opening me up, exposing me further. I’m sure the freak is admiring my forbidden hole. Then I hear the distinct sound of him spitting. The warmth of his saliva drips down my crack to the hilt of the knife.
"You call that begging?” He asks but I know it’s rhetorical. He makes a tsking noise before continuing, “My little girl, there’s a big distinction between pleading and begging. And I’m about to show you the difference,” the masked man growls then without warning and at the same time he yanks my head back by my hair and viciously slams his cock deep inside of my asshole, “Beg harder!” he yells into the void of my despair.
“FUCK” I scream. Beg for him to stop or beg for him to continue? I think he’s leaving that decision up to me. The pain by the sudden intrusion is slight and swiftly, quickly giving way to a soft buzz of pleasure. His dick feels way thicker than it did when it was in my mouth not too long ago.
He pummels into me with wild abandon, both to my detriment and the detriment of himself. How is he thrusting his hips so closely to the blade of the knife? If it’s slicing his skin, he isn’t showing any sign of it. I’m fairly certain if his willy was getting cut, he wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about hammering into my backside.
I’ve never felt so full, with him setting his pace to the rhythm of a song only he can hear. The knife goes in, his cock pulls out. Over and over again, the pain in my scalp is a reminder of my position but I welcome the stinging it brings. The line between pleasure and pain is as thin as the membrane separating the knife and his cock. His dick must also feel the hardness of the foreign object as they slide against each other. Thinking of him also getting pleasure from this has that volcano of yearning wanting to erupt again, I almost don’t recognize the breathy moan that falls from my lips.
“Mmmm…yes. God, yes!”
"I know you get on your knees to pray, but with what we're doing, he wouldn't approve. So instead of calling out for a man who can't save you, pray to one who can fuck you on your knees, because there's no god here, Bambi."
With those words, his cock and the knife slow to a snail's pace. It’s a nice change from the previous harshness and it’s just as good. The trembling in my legs turns to a full-blown body shake, and I can’t hold back my reaction any longer.
“I’m so close. Please don't stop. I need you to keep fucking me,” I moan my plea.
The masked man removes the hilt from my sex and it thunks as he drops it to the floor. What is he doing? Why is he stopping?And why do I want him to continue?
