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“You would never hurt me,” I whisper, wondering if he can hear the words as they slip from between my lips.
His hand dives to the backs of my thighs, slipping between my legs, caressing dangerously close to the dampness of my panties.
“You don’t know how badly I want to hurt you,” he rasps in my ear.
I lick my lips, suddenly desperate to have him hurt me.
“Maybe you should,” I croak.
His fingers tense around me, and he pulls me backward until we’re against the wall. He glances over his shoulder and reaches out, his fingers wrapping around the knob. I had no idea there was even a room right here.
He pulls it open, glancing around quickly before tugging me into the small closet.
It’s pitch black in here, and his gloved hand slaps against the wall. A dim light flickers on, and we glance around, our bodies molded against each other’s. I notice a simple metal shelf against the wall on one side, and an old wooden chest sitting on the other. It almost looks like a treasure chest, with a large lock secured around the top. It’s brown with leather edges, and I take a breath as I sit down. I set the machete knife over my lap, my neck cranking back as I stare at him.
He looks down at me, his knife firmly in his grip.
“I want to say you should run, but the truth is, I wouldn’t allow you to step a foot out of this door. At least, not until I’m finished with you.”
I lick my lips, though he can’t see how deeply my desire for him burns through my veins.
I open my mouth, giving him the first truth I’ll ever give him. “I want you.” My legs spread slightly, and I grip the edges of the chest beneath me.
He steps toward me, the blade of his knife slipping between my legs. “I could fuck you, or I could do what I do best, and make you bleed. Which would you like?”
My sex clenches, and all I want is for him to consume me.
The edge of the blade scrapes against my skin, and goosebumps pop up in its wake. The tip of his knife goes to the hem of my dress, and he pulls it up, stretching it until my panties reveal themselves.
He drags his knife to the strap of my red panties, and I let out a whimper as he turns the blade, cutting the strap in half, though it knicks my skin, and a trail of blood travels to the crack between my thighs.
He hums, his fingers sliding forward and dragging across the blood. It smears, staining my skin a light red. “You look divine painted in red.”
My hips shimmy forward until I’m on the ledge, and I can feel the blood dripping down my skin, on top of my sex. His knife is tinged, and he drags it to the other side of my panties, snapping that strap as well. I can feel my skin break, another trail of blood turning my milky skin a bright red.
“Do you know what it is you do to me?” he growls.
I shake my head, letting out a small moan.
“I want to break you apart. I want you to crumble in my fingertips. And I want to pull you back, breathe air into your lungs so I can do it all over again.”
He drags his knife down my thigh, and my legs tremble as he dips the tip into my skin, until my flesh blooms white. The skin breaks, and more blood runs free, dripping between my thighs and onto the chest between my legs.
“I want to bleed you dry,” he grunts, continuing his path down my legs. Every once in a while, the blade dips deeper, and my skin cracks, blood flowing down my legs. Until I’m bleeding for him, from small cuts in my skin that don’t cause me pain, but have me so wet, my arousal soaks the top surface of the chest.
“I want my bloody fingerprints to bruise your skin, and I want to mark you so the entire world knows you’re mine.”
I whimper, licking my lips as my pussy clenches.
Am I his?
What is this mayhem I feel in my chest for this masked man? Someone I’ve never seen.
It almost feels as if I’m falling for him.
Suddenly, he flips the bloody knife, grabbing the blade with his gloved hand, gripping it tightly as he brushes the handle against my bloody thigh.
“How dark are you willing to go for the man behind the mask?” he growls.
