Page 121 of Inferno

I can feel it heating every part of my body.

My hands shake as everything quickly bubbles up inside of me.

“Remember the rules,” Richard tells me, and it’s like an icy bucket of water has been tossed over me.

I can’t come.

But how the hell do I stop?

Clenching my thighs, the pleasure intensifies, a deeper, more electric current surging through me.

I want to scream until my lungs burn and rip my hair out in clumps.

Squeezing my eyes shut, all I see is Jimmy. The pleasure building, that was the only time I’ve ever felt this sensation wash over me.

Shaking my head, I jab the tip of the blade into my thigh. The pain is distracting me from everything else.

A warm, fuzzy feeling washes over me as I tune into the stinging.

Even as my pussy throbs around the toy, I make my first line in my thigh.

Carefully. Delicately. But deep enough to really feel it.

As I finish it up on one side and remove the blade, I let out a moan and heat rushes to my cheeks.

Everything is more intense. Almost unbearable as my body begs for release.

I quickly get to work on the second side, finishing on the straight line in the middle. Lightening the pressure on the blade, I add the swirl details inside of the letters.

“I’m done,” I pant the words out.

As I do, it turns up again. Tossing my blade to the side, I put my hands on the edge of the table and squeeze, gritting my teeth.

I can hear the blood whooshing in my ears. It’s as if a million jolts of electricity are being injected into me.

I can feel everything.

With every tap of my feet on the ground, I fight to control the powerful rush of pleasure. The pain in my wound is so faint, it’s almost nonexistent. Just a dull throb beneath the surface. Pleasure, forceful and consuming, sweeps through me, igniting a fire within.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I see fireworks of color explode in the darkness behind my eyelids.

“No,” I whisper.

And it cuts out, right on the verge of orgasm.

Exhausted, I let my head fall onto the wooden table, the rough grain scratching my skin, while a flurry of tingling erupts across my body.

I feel weak and on the edge of exploding.

“Sit up. Blindfold off.” I hear him over the ringing in my ears and reluctantly drag my body up.

Squinting as the bright lights hit my eyes as the blindfold is removed, I look down through one eye at my handiwork.

The blood, a crimson stream, drips down my thigh. I lick my finger, tasting the coppery tang as I smear the blood away.

“Not bad,” I praise myself.

Clean lines. The swirls are not my best work, but I’d like to see how anyone could perform under those circumstances.

---