Page 15 of Noire Moon
He’s using the dull side, angling the tip of the blade… but it would only take a split second for him to flip the grip in his hand and start drawing blood. There’s no doubt in my mind that he is enjoying the power play that comes with having me panting and folded in half with my ass in the air for him.
“Fucking filthy slut.” Punishing words hit me next, filled with the taunting of his voice. The man is hovering so close to myass that he must be crouched down at eye level, and my core clenches with a building wave of sensation. Christ, I’m so turned on and embarrassed and terrified; my body doesn’t know which way is up.
My nipples are hard diamonds, rubbing against the inside of my top, which in turn is shoved up against the leather cushion. Just enough friction in this demeaning position to lure me closer and closer to moaning out loud, while also not anywhere near enough to really do anything other than keep winding my body up.
The ache in my core is blooming and blossoming and announcing itself with horny glee.
Next, I feel the threatening, pricking sensation travel along my skin as my masked stranger runs that deadly tip from the back of my knee, up, up, up, along the inner swell of my thighs. This time, digging in and applying just enough pressure, I can tell there will be tracklines of raised, reddened welts left in the wake of his movements.
A dark, devious hum of satisfaction marries with the precision of his movements.
Now he’s running the steel up and over my ass cheeks, pausing to slide the tip just beneath the lacy edge of the fabric in order to hike it up higher, tightening the fabric against my pussy, before repeating the same actions on the other side.
Again, he uses the knife to dig the tip in and draw long lines, leaving welts that set my skin on fire. Along with the ever-present and entirely unspoken threat of drawing blood, Copper Mask knows he doesn’t need to say a thing. My imagination is running haywire, coming up with all sorts of scenarios where my body is left cut open and bleeding out on the floor.
“Look at the mess she’s making. Her cunt is dripping... bet she’d beg to be cut open, too.”
I squeeze my eyes tighter.
“Nothing to say?” The raw amusement in his voice at the power imbalance here sends flames licking up my cheeks.
No, I can’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. If I utter a single word or noise, there’s every chance they might punish me even more than they already are.
So I bite my lip and flex my fingers against the leather.
“Didn’t think so,” he says.
From the other side of my hips comes the sound of Bloodied Mask shifting his weight, but it’s hardly more than a scuff of his boots against the floor.
“I’ve had enough. Cutting her open seems like a fun idea.”
Oh, fuck.
Reflex makes me start to struggle in an attempt to get my feet back under me. But two sets of heavy boots keep my legs spread wide open.
Copper Mask lets out a dark laugh. “Oh, no, you fucking don’t, love.”
And then I feel it. The smooth, cool tip of his knife slips beneath the soaking wet gusset of my panties. My entire body is trembling, and I’m reeling at how completely helpless and entirely fucked I am. He twists the weapon, and I can’t stop the yelp that escapes my lips. There’s no time for me to react more because there’s just an unnatural sensation against the most intimate part of me.
Cold metal against my overheated, delicate skin.
The press of something so hard and unfamiliar against my sensitive pussy lips.
It all feels foreign and wrong and jarring. He could so easily maim me right now; it’s sick.
With the kind of wicked precision that makes my stomach churn, he manipulates the blade and slices straight through the fabric. There’s a momentary tug against my body before a gust ofair hits my skin. My soaked entrance is fully exposed, and they’re both going to see every drenched inch of me.
Another shove of the knife against my flesh comes when he does the same on one side of my hip before the material peels away completely, and he uses the knife to flick my panties onto the floor.
I’m left gasping as two masked men stare at my bare pussy.
Chapter 6
“Look at the filthy slut. Dripping wet at the thought of two strangers fucking her.” The voice of Copper Mask has moved around somewhere behind me as he speaks. “She probably likes getting fucked in her sleep, waking up soaked and aching, wearing nothing more than little black panties and a t-shirt.”
My arms are instantly coated in goosebumps. Those words of his are crass and shouldn’t be making my pussy throb… but more than that… he’s just described exactly how I sleep at night, including the exact items I usually wear to bed.
That can’t be anything more than a coincidence. Right? How could this possible murderer, and confirmed member of some exclusive secret society, possibly know that’s theexacttype of outfit I more often than not sleep in?
