Page 19 of Knife Volume 2

She hung limp in the ropes now, no longer fighting them, fully surrendered. Her head hung from her body, and every breath just brought more pain.

She was completely offered up — cunt and ass exposed, body arched backward and trembling, every large joint stressed and in agony.

And she was utterly at his mercy.

He’d focused almost entirely on her high-nerve-density areas so far, but it was time to give her nipples, clit, tongue, and asshole a break.

Well, they wouldn’t get a break, exactly. He’d continue to hurt them passively while he focused on other body parts.

He’d tossed everything for beef and mushroom stroganoff into the slow cooker after breakfast, and it’d probably been ready for at least an hour. He was hungry, and she needed some food and water.

Before he went downstairs, he removed the clit clamp, tied the crotch rope to the rear of the chest harness, added a knot to press directly on her clit, and secured the other end to the front of her harness, snugging the crotch rope tight while making sure the knots would torture her clit, cunt, and asshole.

Finally, he took the chopsticks off her tongue. Her wolf would have it healed enough by the time he got back, she’d be able to eat and drink.

She whimpered softly at the relief, but he didn’t acknowledge it.

Nor did he look back at her when she whined loudly at the realization he was going downstairs and leaving her alone.

In the kitchen, he loaded up a large bowl with enough stroganoff for both of them, filled large tumblers with flavorless Pedialyte, and headed back upstairs.

He put a six-inch-tall mat under her, and a wedge on top of it. She screamed when he took the nipple clamps off, and he popped her on the right tit hard enough to leave a handprint before calmly telling her, “Hush.”

The anchor rope pulling her right knee towards the wall had to go before he could carefully lower her to the mat.

When her torso finally rested on the mat and wedge, he could go a little faster, lowering the ropes until her legs were straight behind her on the mat. She’d landed as he wanted her — upper body angled with her face up in the air — perfect for him to feed her.

Her arms were still bound behind her, but most of her joints could rest in relief while she ate.

He took thirty minutes to feed her, offering bites of stroganoff and sips of electrolyte water through a straw. He ate plenty himself, sitting close, watching every swallow, every flicker of her expression. She was exhausted, but she ate every bite he gave her and, interestingly enough, his fingers touching her lips seemed to ramp her arousal right back up.

When he decided she’d had enough, he lifted her back into the air and tied her right knee out a little farther than before.

Chapter 8

Knife took a deep breath and looked her over carefully.

Her scent and breathing confirmed everything hurt worse now. Being bound back into the same stress position is fucking hell. The time away from it had given her some strength, had allowed those joints to relax — and the endorphins had faded.

He stepped back and felt the blood pulsing back into his cock while he watched her fight the ropes all over again, but it was time to get back to business. He’d brought a bucket up earlier, and he held it under her crotch and gave what she could only hear as a direct order.

“Piss.”

Nothing happened, and he counted to ten in his head before telling her, “I can put a catheter in your peehole to empty your bladder, if you’d prefer that method.”

Her scent flooded with horrified humiliation, but she finally let go, the sound of her urine hitting the bucket loud in the quiet room.

Most wolves don’t care about basic bodily functions because their animals piss in the woods without even considering being embarrassed.

But for Tuesday, being helpless and ordered to piss in human form away from a toilet — she had to be forced to do it, either by her own pain from holding it, or by a threat.

And he loved the extra layer of power it gave him over her. Such an aphrodisiac.

He dumped the bucket into the toilet, rinsed it in the shower, and then returned to blindfold her and press earplugs into her canals. Finally, just to make sure every sound was blocked, he settled sound-blocking earmuffs over her head.

For good measure, he inserted a small, vinyl coated spider gag. He had larger ones that overextended the jaw, but the smaller one would keep her from forming words. He’d reserve the super-painful gags for another time.

He reattached the weighted clamps to her nipples and set the chains in motion before he went downstairs to put what was still in the slow cooker into the fridge and clean the kitchen.