His(41)

I let go of the breath I hadn’t remembered holding in. He reached over and opened the drawer from his bedside table.

“First, though,” he said, “I told you I was going to take what I wanted. You call it torture, I think. But I rather enjoy it.”

From the drawer he pulled out his knife.

I began to scream.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, twisting away from him as he brought the knife up to my chest. I thought of the professor, of the pieces of skin stripped away from his body. Everything around me went black - the beautiful room, the expensive decorations. In the dim light my eyes could not stop staring at the point of the knife.

“Stop moving, kitten,” he said, his voice calm under my screams. He pressed one hand down, his fingers spread across my collarbone. His leg braced against my leg and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t move.

He slid the knife under the middle of my bra, between my two breasts. My screams turned ragged as I ran out of breath, trying not to let my chest heave. The air had been sucked out of the room, and there was no oxygen left. I would black out. I would—

He twisted the knife up and cut my bra in half with a single quick movement.

The noise coming from my throat now wasn’t a scream. It was a high-pitched whine, a keening while I tried not to move. The blade of the knife was cold against my skin, and he slid it down slowly, down over my belly. I imagined one more twist, my guts spilling out of my body.

Instead the knife kept moving down, down, until he had slipped it under the fabric of my panties. It rested cold against me and then he moved again, yanking the knife up. I screamed again, once, but the blade only slit the fabric.

“Darling kitten,” he whispered. He pulled off the scraps of silk lingerie, leaving me completely naked. I choked on my breath as he reached over me, but he only set the knife back down in the drawer and pushed it shut.

I needed my medication. I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate. The screams had taken all of my oxygen and around me the world was turning hazy.

Then he bent down and kissed me softly. All of a sudden, my world refocused on his eyes, his gray eyes. The haze receded. I could see every small detail of his face. The dark stubble on his strong chin. The curve of his eyebrows swooping low on his forehead. The hard lines of his cheeks.

“Kitten,” he said, “I want you to be mine. And I will take what I want.”

He kissed me again, as lightly as butterfly wings, and I did not respond. I could not respond. Every part of me was tensed, shot through with adrenaline.

“Before I am done, you’ll want it too, kitten,” he whispered. “I know you will. Maybe you already do.”

I was shivering now, and his hand moved over my stomach, sending goosebumps rippling over my flesh.

“Cold, kitten?” he asked. “Let’s start by warming you up.”

He moved down, his pants sliding against my legs as he did so. One hand cradled my breast, and he squeezed just hard enough to make me moan.

“Oh, kitten,” he said. “Do you already want me?”

“No,” I whispered. “No, please—”

He leaned over and kissed my nipple. Then pinched it, twisting. I screamed and he released the hard nub. Then he licked it, circling it with his tongue. The soft touch of his tongue after his twisting fingers made me ache.

Then he pinched it again, harder, and rolled it between his fingers. Pinched again. Then sucked. The warmth shot through my skin.

He moved down and I tried to squeeze my thighs together, but the rope held my legs apart no matter how I twisted.

He kissed me softly all around, from my hips down to the soft patch of hair just above my slit. As he kissed me, I could feel myself growing hot, swelling between my legs.

Without warning, he sealed his lips around me and sucked hard enough to hurt.

“Ah!” I yelped. He stopped, as suddenly as he had started, and went back to kissing me, sucking little spots all around my swollen nub.

Back up to my nipples, and this time when he sucked on my nipple I imagined him sucking down there, and I ached, oh god, how I ached.

His hand slid down, his fingers parting, two on either side. His thumb pressed into the top of my thigh as he stroked me a millimeter away from where I needed it.

“Please…” I trailed off.

“Tortured yet, kitten? Maybe. Not quite enough for me. You were screaming before. You’ll scream again.”

He squeezed his fingers together on either side of my slit and licked, one long slow stroke of his tongue that sent me shuddering.

“Ohhh,” I groaned.

“Don’t pretend for me, kitten.”

“I’m not… I’m not—”

“Hush.”

He licked me again, and then his hand came back up to twist my nipple, hard, at the same time as he thrust two fingers into me. I gasped at the pain mixed with pleasure. My body didn’t know how to react.