Page 67 of Hunting Pretty

I was already bare-breasted. Already tied up and laid out for him. But losing my underwear, my last shield, felt… final.

Like something would change in me if he took away that last thing between us.

Like I’d never be the same again afterward.

Like a part of him would claim me forever and I’d never be able to wash him out.

He paused with his knife against the material, holding it away from my hip so it pulled taut against the blade. “Then say it. Obey me.”

He’s not real. He’s not real.I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that he was just another hallucination of my broken mind, praying he’d be gone when I opened them.

But I knew he wasn’t. I’d been taking my meds like a good girl.

In the silence between my gasps, the antique clock on my dresser ticked. The world felt like it stilled.

Nothing moved.

I opened my eyes and realized he was waiting for my audience.

He grinned. Right before he cut away the other side of my panties with a dramatic flourish of his arm.

I let out a sob, the built-up tension inside my chest needing somewhere to go.

Using his free hand, he twisted the torn front of my panties in his fist and pulled slowly, the material rubbing along my slit, causing sweet illicit friction as he took away my last shred of clothing.

I tried to squeeze my thighs together, but his weight on my thighs kept my legs where they were.

He lifted my torn panties in a bunch to his nose and inhaled, letting out a deep gravelly groan. “Fuck, you smell so fucking sweet.”

Shame flooded me in hot waves. Those panties were wet.Iwas wet. And even if he couldn’tfeelthe dampness through his leather glove, he couldsmellit.

I could do nothing except watch in horror as he stuffed my panties into the pocket of his dark pants.

He turned back to me, clicking his tongue as he let his heated gaze run down my naked body, down my breasts, my stomach, and to my naked pussy, burning me.

“I gave you an order and you disobeyed me?” he asked, head tilted to the side. “What kind of punishment do you think you deserve, huh?”

Fuck. Fuck. I wanted to kick out, to scream, to fight. But I couldn’t move.

He waved the knife point between my mouth, my nipples, and my pussy. “Eenie, meenie, miney, moe…”

My gaze darted between his eyes and the threatening blade. “W-What are you going to do to me?”

To my horror, he flipped the knife in his hand, catching it by the blade in his gloved fingers. “I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

The chill of the air against my wet pussy felt so real, but I wasn’t ready to admit that this was happening.

I remained motionless as my shadowy stalker smiled and lowered the rounded handle to my face, the edge of the knife biting into his glove.

I hope it hurt him.

But probably not.

I didn’t see him bleeding.

“Suck.” He pressed the end of the handle of his knife against my mouth.

I pressed my lips closed and glared at him.

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