Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
He sobered as he added, “I plan to challenge you today, Ellen. Given your reluctance to use a safeword, I order you to tell me if you need me to slow down or stop something I’m doing. A blood play session is not the time to power through. Part of submission is sharing what you’re feeling with your Master, especially if you’re heading for a freak out, especially when there are knives involved. Got it?”
Ellen sobered too. “Got it, Sir.”
After breakfast, Damon took Ellen into the playroom. He instructed her to lie on her back on the padded bondage table. Once she was in place, he noted the thick leather straps that were attached to the table at various intervals. He brought the body straps across her abdomen and hips. He noted with approval that they were secured with Velcro for quick, easy removal in the event of an emergency. The cuffs at each corner of the table that he used on her wrists and ankles also had Velcro closures.
“Can you move at all?” he asked once he was done.
Ellen squirmed a little and shook her head. “No, Sir.”
She was completely at his mercy, just the way he liked it.
“Good. I wouldn’t want to accidentally cut you.”
Her eyes widened with the delicious erotic trepidation of the true masochist. She looked sexy as hell, bound and spread eagle on the table. Her rich coppery brown hair spread like a fan around her pretty face. Her nipples jutted from the creamy mounds of her breasts. Damon’s cock throbbed at the beautiful sight.
Eager to get started, he turned his attention to Mason’s knife kit. Each of the six knives was kept in a black velvet bag, nestled in its own groove in the oblong wooden box. Of different lengths, five of the knives were extremely sharp. The sixth knife was a “dead knife.” While the tip was still sharp, the cutting side had been purposely dulled with steel wool so that it wouldn’t break the skin. But Ellen didn’t know that.
He chose that knife first, removing it from its velvet bag. He held out the knife for Ellen to see. As she watched, he touched the sharp tip of the knife to the pad of his thumb. He pressed lightly, just piercing the skin. A moment later, a drop of bright red blood appeared.
Ellen drew in a sharp breath. Her lips parted and for a moment he nearly succumbed to a sudden desire to touch his thumb to her mouth and let her suck the blood from it. Instead, he plucked a pre-moistened wipe from its plastic box and blotted away the blood. He also wiped the blade.
Moving close to her again, he touched the side of the blade to her jugular. She drew in another breath as the cold metal touched her skin.
A rush of power surged through him as potent as any drug. Leaning closer, the blade still touching her throat, he spoke quietly into her ear. “When you have a knife at your throat, there are no more options. Submission is your only recourse.”
“Oh, god,” she groaned softly, her body quivering as she blinked rapidly. “I’m scared.”
Damon lowered the knife and set it down.
“Shh,” he said, placing his hand over her heart, which was beating like a caged bird’s wings. He leaned over her so she could see his face. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said breathlessly.
“Good. I want you to trust yourself as well. Remember who and what you are, Ellen. You’re a strong, brave submissive. You handle erotic pain beautifully. There’s something primal about this kind of edge play. It can evoke intense emotional responses. I’m going to take you deeper today than we’ve gone before, but I promise you that I will keep you safe.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, visibly calming. “Thank you, Sir.”
He chose another knife. The blade was about six inches long, the handle nicely weighted. Ellen’s gaze instantly riveted to the gleaming blade.
His inner sadist raring to go, Damon smiled.
“We begin.”
≈
Every fiber of Ellen’s being felt wildly alive. He hadn’t even started yet, and already there was so much adrenaline sluicing through her that she felt almost translucent.
She wasn’t sure whether she was glad she could see what was happening in the overhead mirror or not. A part of her wished he’d blindfolded her, as Master Mason had. But another part was morbidly fascinated by the prospect of seeing her own blood.
She held her breath as Master Damon lightly touched the blade to the hollow between her collarbones. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he drew it lightly down her sternum. She felt the scrape and her gaze flew to the mirror, heart pounding in expectation of blood.
But all she could see was a thin pink line, barely visible. Focusing on the knife, she realized he was using the dull side of the blade, for now. She relaxed a little, remembering to draw some air into her lungs.