“You should be careful. My hands could slip,” he said with a smile.
The knife dragged along her exposed inner thigh, and she froze.
His eyes locked on hers as the knife slipped under her panties, then with a slight shift, he pulled up and cut them off easily.
That’s what made her breath catch, the way there was no pause when the knife cut through the fabric. It was so sharp it slipped through the silk effortlessly.
He didn’t tie her down the way he usually did, but she was immobilized by fear instead of rope. The tip of the blade dug into her skin as he ran it up her thigh, over her belly, around her breasts.
She closed her eyes when it got to her neck. It was a mean little pressure, the tip of the blade. She didn’t know if she was bleeding already. She didn’t think he would cut her. Would he? He seemed so different with a knife in his hand. His chuckle at her fear, far more sadistic and cruel.
The knife pressed against her lip, then her cheek, then just below her eye. She stopped breathing, paralysed.
“Such a pretty girl,” he whispered into her ear.
“I can change that real quick,” he said seriously.