Page 51 of Knife Volume 2

Eventually, the flogging stopped, but he immediately put the suction bulb back on her clit, and her cry was from a combination of the agony and unquenched, desperate need.

But her next screams were long and loud, because she didn’t have to see the Delrin to instantly understand the brutal line of deep, bruising fire he applied to her right inner thigh, then immediately her left. Then two more. And two more. The thick, vicious rod bit deep, lighting up the sensitive skin with white-hot lines of anguish. She thrashed wildly in the ropes, her wrists and ankles straining, body swinging with no way to protect herself. The pain was unbearable and absolutely perfect.

She thrashed so hard, the bulb came off her clit, but he merely popped the swollen nub with his hand a few times to make her scream, and then put it back on, cranking the suction until she thought her clit might split open, it swelled so fucking much.

And then the cane started again, the cane hitting at different angles, crossing the aching, deep bruises she could feel forming in lines.

Eventually the cane stopped and the flogger returned, painting her inner thighs in fast, overlapping figure-eights that turned the whole area into a pulsing, fiery mess — surface pain over the top of deep.

She was shaking hard, sobs racking her body when he stepped between her spread legs. His cock pressed against her asshole, and he shoved in with a single, violent thrust.

And then it grew inside her, going impossibly large in mere seconds. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. It’s possible her heart skipped a few beats while he stretched her ass far past what it could handle all at once.

And he only gave her about five seconds to deal with it before he started moving, fucking her like a caveman, knowing he was hurting her. She could scent his arousal, his dominance, and especially the scent she’d come to associate with his sadism — a different kind of arousal, full of dark, feral pleasure. A predatory satisfaction and outright joy at her pain, at the power he had over her in the moment.

And fuck, if that isn’t part of what she needed from him: his power, control, and unadulterated sadism without apology.

Eventually, she sucked air in and screamed to the rafters, unable to do anything else while he pounded her asshole and opened her wider and wider. It was a long time before he buried himself to the hilt and came with a low growl, filling her ass with long, heavy pulses.

His scent was still full of power and control, sadistic pleasure, and she whined with need. She wasn’t close enough to an orgasm to have to hold it back, but fuck, did she need release.

He stretched to the side, and she held her breath, every muscle locked tight as she waited for whatever pain would come next. Waiting to find out what he’d reached for.

Chapter 21

Tuesday held her breath when he pulled out. Waiting.

Not even a second after her ass was free, before it had time to close, the bastard rubbed cinnamon oil all around her stretched, gaping rim. The sharp, vicious burn flared instantly, like someone had poured liquid fire straight into her raw, abused hole. She thrashed wildly in the ropes, a broken, guttural scream ripping from her throat as the oil sank deep into her sensitive, freshly-fucked flesh. The merciless burn spread inside her like acid, making her asshole clench and spasm violently around nothing in a desperate, useless attempt to ease the searing pain.

She whimpered and shook, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, the fire so intense it felt like her body was trying to turn itself inside out.

“The cool thing about cinnamon oil,” he told her conversationally, “is that by morning your skin will have absorbed nearly all of it. At most, I’ll get a pleasantly warm tingle when I fuck you.” She could hear him smiling. “However, I applied enough to give you a minor burn. You’ll still feel it tomorrow morning, but I won’t.”

He coated her pussy with the burning oil next, working the liquid between her wide-open lips and all around the entrance to her hole with slow, deliberate fingers. Spreading and respreading the blistering fire like a painter making sure he didn’t miss any spots.

Her screams went crazy when he pulled the bulb from her clit, both because of the increased sensations when it came off, and because she knew what was coming.

His cruel fingers rubbed the fiery oil into her hood first, and then under it, directly onto her clit, coating every swollen, hypersensitive inch. It felt like her clit fucking glowed in merciless, pulsing waves, and the agony of the fire engulfed her from the top of her mound all the way to her asshole.

She let out a long, keening whine when he pressed the massive plug against her ruined, burning asshole — but her screams turned frantic when she realized he’d lubed it with cinnamon oil. She fought it with everything she had, but he pressed hard and forced the ribbed silicone into her, stretching her already-tender hole wider than his cock had, the fire sinking deep into her with every inch he worked inside her.

“All those little ribs let me get so much more oil onto it, and then into you,” he noted once it was in. “Don’t have to ask if you felt it.”

He patted the plug, wiggled it, and then pressed two fingers into her pussy. Then three. Four.

Her breathing grew ragged, and he pulled them out and flicked her clit. Hard.

She breathed out in relief when his fingers worked at the clamp on her right pussy lip, but he only moved it a little higher and clamped it right back on. Then the same with the left, moving them to fresh spots so the pain flared all over again.

She scented him closer. Near her face. Cinnamon burned her sinuses, and she shook her head.

It didn’t matter, though. A warm finger rubbed gently over her lips, and a second later, the vicious fire hit, igniting her lips like liquid flame, searing into the sensitive inner flesh as well — and every breath felt like she was inhaling embers.

He kissed her cheek. “Now all your fuckable holes can burn.”

Then he released her left leg.

Nothing else. Just the one leg. Ten seconds later, she couldn’t figure out what to do with it. Holding it up wasn’t an option, but letting it dangle strained her hip and knee. Not just strained them, fucking hurt them.