The tip of the blade cuts into his white shirt, tearing into it across the chest with an audible rip, a button popping off and flying across the room. He laughs as I step back, holding the knife ready, but the truth is I have no idea what I’m doing. My training never included knives, and from what I saw earlier I’m hopelessly outclassed.
“Oh, my little kitty has her claws out I see,” he mocks. Glancing down, I see red begin to stain the edges of the cut in his shirt. He follows my gaze. “Careful with those claws, kitty. You might hurt somebody.”
Without warning, he launches forward. I try to bring the knife up, but he’s on me too fast, taking hold of my wrist and pushing it out to the side as he backs me against the island. I grunt when he grips my hip and turns me roughly, facing me away from him, then leans in hard, forcing me to bend over the marble slab.
“I’ll take this,” he says, and pries my fingers apart, taking the knife out of my hand. I gasp as I feel him cup me with his other hand, gripping hard against my pussy. “Oh, you like this game,” he chuckles. “You’re so wet for me I could fill a glass with your juice. And maybe I will. The scent is,” he takes a deep breath, “delicious.”
“Don’t,” I tell him, squeezing my thighs together, then mewl, my eyes turning in their sockets as he forces his fingers against my slit.
“Don’t what? Take what’s mine?” He moves his fingers again. “Tell me this is mine, Rose. Say the words.”
I shake my head, then grit my teeth when I feel a point against my back. The knife. Fuck. Every nerve ending is on edge, my body tensing as my dress bunches against it. I try to keep my breathing slow and steady, so that my chest doesn’t rise too quickly against it, but it’s difficult.
“Say the words,” he demands.
“Fuck you.”
Apollo digs the knife in harder when he reaches the small of my back. Then it disappears, along with the hand between my legs. For a second, I think that maybe I’ve pushed things too far. That he’s not sure I want this and is going to back away. I want to tell him to continue, but I don’t want to lose that control. If he isn’t willing to take it, I’m not sure I want to give.
But all those thoughts are gone in an instant when the sharp cold edge returns.
My blood runs cold as I feel it slide between my thighs, then begin to rise up. Surely, he wouldn’t? I draw a quick breath, then start to struggle to free myself.
“Say the words, kora. My little kitten, all you have to do is tell me this pussy is mine, to do with as I like.”
For the briefest moment, I almost give in. I almost end the game. Then I regain my resolve. “No.”
“As you wish.”
My breath stalls as he moves the final inch quickly, the knife pushing my panties into the valley of my pussy. I have no idea if the liquid that trickles down my leg is cum or…blood. The thought of it, running red, makes me hotter than I’ve ever been. Would he do that? Do I want him to? God, holding back the urge to squirm is impossible, but somehow I’m managing it.
I whimper as I feel the knife being drawn back, through my slit, and finally relent. “My pussy is yours,” I whisper, and feel him stop.
He leans in close, his hand delicately brushing the hair from my face. “What was that, kora?”
“I said my pussy is yours. You can do what you like with it.”
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Tell me the truth. You’re a virgin, but you’re still a slut. For me, you’re a slut, aren’t you?”
“No.”
The knife presses in harder. “Say it.”
“I—I’m a virgin. And a slut. Your slut. Only yours.”
“Good girl.”
I let my thighs relax, and he withdraws the knife. The thought of my panties stained with blood is both terrifying and exciting beyond measure. I want to look. I want to see what he’s done, but he’s still leaning over me so hard I can’t move.
“Now, let’s see my soaked little prize, shall we?”
Apollo doesn’t wait for my answer. He pulls at the hem of my dress, and then I hear it tear. I feel cool air on my ass, then my back as he slices through the only item of clothing I have with me but I don’t care. I feel liberated, sexy, worshiped. I know I shouldn’t. The things he’s saying and doing to me should make me feel dirty and frightened, but somehow I know I’m safe with him. That this is something I could stop if I wanted to.
If I truly demanded it, he’d back off, I’m sure of it.
When the dress is cut away, he peels it gently to either side, and I feel him grip one of my buttocks. “Such pretty little panties. Did you wear these for me?”
I nod. “It’s all for you.” The words tumble from my lips without a moment’s thought, natural, easy. I’ve submitted now, he’s dominated me, and all I can do is comply.