Page 64 of Knife Volume 2

But punishment was cleaner. She’d earned this and he was delivering it. There was no question about whether it was too much because too much was the fucking point.

Punishment gave him license to hurt her worse, to give her more pain than he’d ever apply in a normal scene, and the sadist in him was fucking glorious with it — drunk on her raw screams, her frantic writhing, the rich scent of her suffering and submission.

He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone, and he loved hurting her like this even more. Loved taking her past what she could take, pushing her until she could only make animal sounds, no longer even close to human.

His love didn’t fight with the sadism. His sadism was woven into the love, inseparable from it. Hurting her at this level was an act of intimacy so complete it had no equivalent in the rest of their lives. Loving her and brutalizing her weren’t two different things — they were the same thing, expressed in language they both understood.

When he finally set the strap down, he ran his palm possessively over the blazing, bruised flesh of her ass and thighs, feeling the heat radiating off her skin.

“Who am I?”

“Sir,” she managed through broken sobs, her throat raw. “My Sir.”

“Kneel.”

She didn’t take any time at all to roll off the sofa onto her knees, and he smiled with satisfaction.

He lifted her into his arms, carried her into the kitchen, and settled her on her knees on the island, still crying and shaking, and he stepped back.

Punishment doesn’t always get soft and cuddly aftercare.

He unclipped her wrist cuffs and unbuckled them.

“Hands to the back of your head.”

She obeyed immediately, and he started with the chest harness, wrapping the ropes tightly around her ribcage. Her breathing immediately became shallow, restricted little gasps that made his cock twitch. He worked the ropes above and below her breasts, cinching them until her flesh swelled and bulged between the strands, her breasts slowly turning pink, displaying them beautifully, and he watched them begin to darken before he moved to the next step.

“Kneel up.”

No way could she stand yet, but her knees were fine. He quickly fashioned the harness to hold the crotch rope, and took his time getting the cruel hemp knots exactly right — one pressing hard against her clit, one nestled between her pussy lips, and the last seated firmly against her asshole. He pulled it tight, so every tiny movement would grind those knots deeper.

He worked with a quiet, focused pleasure, knowing this pose would grow more and more agonizing the longer she stayed in it.

He removed her blindfold and all four cuffs. “Sit your ass down on your feet.”

She immediately obeyed, and he smiled.

It took a little finagling to bind her left leg bent closed, but he managed it easily enough, and then created the bicep tie-off on her right arm before creating a complicated rope ankle cuff on her right leg, and two wrist cuffs.

And now, to make things interesting.

He slid her right leg back, lifted her foot, and tied the ankle cuff off to her right bicep. It only took a few minutes to connect her wrists with a rope running under the existing one, and her body was suddenly forced into a gorgeous, graceful arch.

Her spine bowed beautifully, and her trapped breasts thrust forward, already deep red. Her breath came in shallow pants because that was all she could manage.

The ropes locked her into a pose of painful, helpless elegance, and he stood and admired his work.

She was stunning. A living piece of erotic art. The ropes bit deep, her breasts already beginning to turn purple, her breathing shallow and labored. The three knots in the crotch rope would torment her constantly. The extreme stretch in her hip and thigh would burn hotter with every passing minute, and her triceps would pull and strain without relief.

And the longer she stayed like this, the more exquisite the agony would become.

His inner sadist purred with satisfaction. He’d turned her into a beautiful work of torture, and she had no idea the ways his ropes would slowly and relentlessly devastate her in the coming hours. Would reduce his strong, beautiful chef to nothing but agony without thought.

- - - ❖ - - -

Tuesday was so tired after two nights of bondage, but her body was an exhausted livewire, every nerve raw and over-sensitized. She balanced high in the center of the kitchen while Knife chopped onions that made her eyes water. She fought for air, fought the constraining ropes around her ribcage, and tried to make the most of every shallow breath despite the damned onion fumes making her nose run.

She couldn’t see her breasts without hurting herself, but she assumed they were a deep purple because they felt like two swollen stove burners, radiating heat. Her mind didn’t know which pain to focus on, because while the scratchy ropes around her ribcage scraped across raw flesh with every strained, desperate breath, they scoured her entire fucking groin. The three brutal knots in the crotch rope pressed and ground mercilessly against her clit, pussy entrance, and the tight, sensitive ring of her asshole with every tiny twitch and shiver.