Page 79 of Hard to Judge

I exhale. “I am here to let you cut me. I’m here to see blood.”

His lips brush mine too lightly. Then his tongue is there, prying its way into my mouth. I let him in and relish in the softness of his lips and the determined way he explores me. His hand roves my neck, working the tenseness from it. Slowly, they move down my body, plying me with his hands as though they are a drug.

Too soon, he pulls back, and I hold my whimper.

“Good fucking girl, sunshine.”

I relax into the hold of the cross, letting my head fall back and his praise sink into my bones.

He shifts away. Awareness narrows again. The hysteria still rattles around me, but it’s caged by my willingness to be, to experience.

The tiny sound of metal scraping metal challenges the cage’s integrity. My throat goes dry.

Hota’s fingers slide under my lace shirt and dance up my belly. The fabric goes taut, pulling my middle forward and making me bow.

An unfamiliar sound fills the room. It’s base and nightmare-inducing.

A blade severs the material. The fabric screams.

Gooseflesh assaults my skin as cool air rushes in. My shirt now gapes and hangs by my sides.

Something sharp stings my throat.

I swallow a whimper.

It doesn’t bear down on my skin. It only drags across my sternum to the elastic of my bra. The point digs into my flesh.

My breath sounds ragged in my ears.

The material of a very expensive and gorgeous matching set gives way. My breasts hang free. I’m not given a moment to think before the dangerous point burns a circle around my breast and stings my nipple.

“Hota?” I whisper, trying and failing to keep the whine out of his name.

His mouth closes around my other nipple. Teeth pin in and tug.

“Oh god.” I’m stuck in this in-between, desperate for touch and release while utterly terrified.

I hold still, scared to move, and make the blade cut my skin. Even though I know that’s why we’re here.

Hota makes a meal of my breasts, sucking and nipping, teasing and nearly cutting. Pretty soon, I can’t hold my head still. It thrashes left and right. My breaths heave.

An orgasm hunts me like prey.

Before it can pounce, Hota straightens.

The point of the blade drops to my waist.

“When I cut your pants and shred your panties, I’ll find your cunt soaked, won’t I?”

Truth forms a lump in my throat. When the lump should be from shame. “Yes.”

I arch into the blade, not caring about anything other than finding release.

“Greedy little slut.” Hota’s words rattle against my neck for a second before he bites.

“Yes! Fuck!” I scream and writhe, desperate for his hands on me and his cock in me. “Cut me, already. Whatever it takes. I need your cock.”

He licks a line from the bite to my ear. “Cock doesn’t come with a cut. Blood does.”

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