Page 11 of Knife Volume 2

When they reached the stairs leading down to the member rooms, he told her, “I guess you’ve figured out Matty just says what he’s thinking. As for my brothers… we cut up a lot.”

“Yeah,” she said, voice steady. “It’s… different, but it’s real. I can deal with that.”

“Yes, we are absolutely real. Glad you can see it.”

When they reached his room, he pulled her inside, closed the door, and ordered, “Strip and bend over the bed.”

Just to be certain she understood what was about to happen, he reached for his belt, unbuckled it, and swooshed it out of the belt loops all at once.

This was the first test. She’d agreed he got sex on demand, and that she had to obey all orders involving sex or a scene. She knew she’d be punished if she did not.

She stared at him, eyes dark with challenge, frozen.

He considered whether to issue a warning or just go into action, and decided a warning seemed appropriate for this first order. He wouldn’t tolerate this once she got into the groove, but they were just getting started.

“I’ll quite enjoy forcing you into position and using zip-ties to hold you there, if you don’t want to obey. I’d rather not start with a punishment session right out of the gate, but if you need it, I can oblige.” He was careful to issue it conversationally. No anger, no violence. Facts.

Another two seconds, and she walked to the shelf with his basic bondage stuff — cuffs, zip-ties, carabiners, chains, clamps — and picked up the blindfold. She took her clothes off and folded them, put them on another shelf level, walked back to the bed, put the blindfold on herself, and bent over the bed with her ass presented like a fucking gift.

Part of him wanted to tell her he decided whether she could see or not, but he appreciated her gumption and decided to let it go. This time.

“Good girl.”

He used the belt like a strap, wrapping the buckle end around his fist and wielding the length of it. It landed with a sharp crack and she jerked. A muffled sound escaped, and he wanted more.

But he gave her a short warm-up before he laid into her, closely monitoring her scent. She’d obeyed, so this should be a treat.

And for a masochist, a treat meant just the right amount of pain. Usually, for his little painslut, that meant more than she thought she could handle.

He laid lash after brutal lash across her cheeks and the backs of her thighs until both were striped beautifully. Deep red lines with bruises already forming, and he kept at it until her scent was a war between pleasure and pain, and his cock throbbed so hard inside his jeans it fucking hurt.

He loved being fully clothed while she was completely exposed. Someday, he’d negotiate a long scene with her, days and days, and she’d be naked and exposed the entire damned time.

But he needed to get his cock out to fuck her, so he dropped the belt, lowered his zipper, pumped some olive oil into his hand, swiped his dick with it, wiped his hand on her lower back, and ordered, “Spread your cheeks.”

While he’d whipped her, he’d heard others coming downstairs, and now he heard more. It seemed his brothers had realized they wanted time with their ol’ladies, too.

Her hands reached back to spread herself open for him, and he pressed into her asshole, pushing her forward until her chest rested on the bed, without her arms to hold her up.

She grunted when he slid inside, and he told her, “Lace your fingers together over the back of your head.”

Her nipples were going to slide back and forth on the comforter every time he shoved in and pulled out, and there’d be nothing she could do about it.

He grasped her hips with both hands and slammed inside her. It took three times before he was in to the balls, her asshole gripping him tight, and he didn’t give her time to get used to him before he pounded her fast and hard.

He remembered her noting she’d heard others the night before, and had a feeling she was trying to be quiet — which didn’t work for him, so he made sure he hurt her exactly right, forcing sounds from her because she was damned well going to enjoy sex with him down here without worrying about the others hearing her.

Didn’t matter what he chose to do to her, she wasn’t going to worry about being heard, so he hurt her with his cock until her yelps, shrieks, and whines were loud.

He scented when she was close, right on the edge, and growled, “Don’t you fucking come. You don’t have permission. Fucking hold it, little painslut.” Her desperate whine went straight to his cock. He loved the way she fought it, the way her scent thickened with frustrated need while she desperately tried to obey.

And he kept fucking her, taking great joy in all the things her scent told him, because it was all pleasure and need now, the pain merely a seasoning that added to the ecstasy, and that knowledge brought him to the edge, but he wasn’t ready to come yet, so he pulled out and gave her another dozen strikes of the belt. Since she wasn’t expecting them, and they came on already brutalized flesh, she screamed through every one.

While she was still reeling from the belt, he rammed his dick back in her ass, and her screams came again, the tender tissue forced open and invaded all over again — opened and stretched, the friction and violent intensity back with a vengeance.

His intention had been to hold off his own orgasm by pulling out for a few minutes, but her reactions took him right back to the top, and he wasn’t done with her yet, so he told her, “Don’t you dare come,” while he emptied himself deep in her ass with a low groan, pulsing hard while she trembled and fought not to come.

The second he pulled out, he ordered, “On your back. Center of the mattress. Knees by your damned ears.”