Page 75 of Knife Volume 2

And after she lasted through twenty-one seconds, he finally unplugged the damned torture-wand, lifted her and turned her in bed, crawled between her spread thighs, and gently, oh-so-gently, took her abused clit into his mouth, sucking gently. Licking tenderly.

Her broken sobs turned to broken moans as his tongue traced soft paths around her clit, softly pulling it into his mouth, coaxing her higher and higher with perfect care.

And when she was close, he lifted long enough to say, “Come when you want, as many times as you want, my beautiful little painslut.”

The first orgasm rolled through her slowly, like an endless wave, pulling long, broken sounds from her throat as she came apart under his mouth.

He didn’t stop.

He kept licking her through it, then slid two thick fingers into her pussy, curling them against her front wall while his mouth worked her clit. The second orgasm hit harder, deeper. She cried out, hips trying to lift, but he held her down and kept going, drawing it out until she was shaking and gasping.

For the next three hours, he systematically rewrote her nervous system.

He stretched her slowly, working one finger after another into her sore, swollen pussy until he was fucking her with four thick fingers, pressing deep, opening her wider than she thought she could take. He edged her mercilessly for long, torturous minutes, bringing her right to the brink only to pull back and make her beg wordlessly with broken whimpers. Then he’d let her come — hard, shattering orgasms that left her sobbing and convulsing around his hand.

He fucked her pussy with four fingers, threatening his knuckles at times, while the massive plug stayed lodged in her ass, the dual fullness making every thrust feel overwhelming.

He removed the plug and rose over her, pressing into her ass and then making his cock go fatter. And fatter still.

He fucked her slow — all the way in, all the way out. And all the while, his fingers played with her super-sensitive, overheated clit, forcing orgasm after orgasm from her exhausted body.

He made her come with his mouth, with his fingers, with his cock buried deep in both holes, until she lost count completely.

Every climax felt bigger than the last. She was floating, shaking, sobbing, flying — completely lost in the overwhelming blend of pleasure and the sweet, aching aftershocks of pain. He was everywhere. Inside her. Around her. Owning every trembling inch of her body and soul.

And during the final, soul-soaring climax, she felt it again, the electricity of his aura brushing hers, pressing into hers. No, that wasn’t right. It joined with hers, so they were one fucking soul. A single being. There were no words for the experience. Knife’s wolf and him, Tuesday’s wolf and her. All four present in the same vibrational channel because this went beyond space and time. For an infinite, shattering moment, there was no separation between where one ended and the next began.

She felt his heartbeat inside her own chest. Felt him feel her feeling it. And throughout all of it, her body was stuck down on the bed writhing in the throes of the most intense orgasm possible while their souls merged and danced in pure frequency.

And then she crashed back into her body for the final minutes of the orgasm, and thoughts were no longer possible.

When he finally pulled her into his arms and held her close, she was a boneless, shaking, tear-streaked mess — wrecked in the most exquisite way possible, and utterly, completely owned.

She pressed her cheek against his chest, listened to his actual heartbeat, and understood that whatever had just happened was not something she was going to be able to unfeel. It’d left a mark way more permanent than the ones his ropes had embedded into her flesh.

He’d somehow branded himself onto her soul, or perhaps they’d branded each other’s souls. Somehow.

She rolled in his arms and pressed backward into his torso, his chest, and felt his heart beating in time with hers while his arms held her close, and it dawned on her that the man who’d carefully thought out a series of painful trials and tasks and then spent three days taking her apart, conditioning her to be completely, totally his… he’d spent the last three hours putting her back together, and she’d never felt more loved.

Chapter 31

Knife held his exhausted girl and considered the timing. He had an hour and a half before he needed to leave, but it was time to end the power exchange.

He was opening his mouth to do that when he changed his mind. Another thirty minutes of aftercare, and he could end it as originally agreed upon — an hour before he left.

He held her another five minutes, kissed her temple, and then stood and walked her to the shower, washing her hair while the warm spray hit her body.

She leaned into him, boneless and completely trusting, and he massaged her scalp before working the suds through the strands with slow, careful strokes. He rinsed her gently, soaped her body, and let the water soothe every mark he’d branded into her flesh. She sighed softly when he massaged her shoulders, and the sound settled something deep in his chest.

He conditioned her hair so it could have a few minutes while he washed his own body, and then he carefully rinsed it. She was exhausted, so he sat her in front of the mirror and blow-dried her hair, working it with his fingers until it was nearly dry, and then let her work the huge round brush through it while he moved the dryer with her motions. Slowly giving her autonomy before he handed the whole thing back to her at once.

When they made it downstairs, he pulled some fat from the roast to make gravy while she sat at the table and watched, wearing one of his shirts without wrist or ankle cuffs. Covered for the first time in days, since his shirt came nearly to her knees.

“Power exchange is over,” he told her. “Come fix your plate. Totally your choice what to put on it.”

She breathed out in relief. “It was a lot. Part of me will miss it, but yeah. It’s time.”

They ate silently a few moments, and he considered how best to start the weekend debrief. What could he ask that she was most likely to answer fully?