Page 14 of Bloody Savage God
“Put your legs further apart,” she orders, and I’m almost sad she can’t see the grin behind my mask. She’s being way too transparent in her ploy to assert her power.
Does she suspect that the last thing I ever plan to do is actually submit to her?
Probably. And yet, she’s still here, down on one knee to attach the ball stretcher to my scrotum, probably pleased with what she has to work with. Yet another reason to lift my spirits.
“Be quiet while I work,” Gianna says before continuing, placing her index finger and thumb around my scrotum, just under the base of my cock. With a hard yank, she pushes my balls down. The pain is immediate and sends a current of need through me even as I grit my teeth to avoid making a noise. Not because she ordered me to be quiet, but because it’s my way of embracing the pain.
No weakness, no fear. This is who I am.
Keeping a painful pressure on my balls as she continues to hold them down much farther than they usually hang, she picks up the back half of the ball stretcher and places it around the stretched skin above my balls. It’s like a metal half-tube, and wraps around my bits feeling rather cold. My balls attempt to draw up, but Gianna’s steely grip doesn’t loosen.
She’s as fierce as I’d known she’d be, and it’s exhilarating.
She takes the other half of the stretcher, and aligns it with the lower piece, turning it into a long thick ring that completely encircles the stretched out part of my junk. She pulls the stretcher up against the underside of my cock, while pulling my balls down, twisting the stretcher a bit to ensure my skin isn’t caught. It would almost seem like a considerate gesture, if she’d bothered with lube. Which she hasn’t.
When I don’t complain, I can see her lips draw into a line. She wants those pained noises from me, and it’s a fun game to deny her. She truly has no idea whom she is dealing with and the knowledge that she’ll go home wondering about me makes my blood boil.
She deserves to be left wondering about me, the way thoughts of her have driven me crazy over the past weeks.
Next, she takes the screw to actually secure the two halves that she’s been holding on to together. Twisting the screw in, she keeps going until she reaches the point where the stretcher is securely in place, then her eyes find mine and she keeps turning the screw.
This time, the pain is a lot more disconcerting and yet blood rushes to my dick, pushing through the tight space she’s created, almost as if my body is checking that it can still circle through me down there. The bobbing of my cock, hindered by the added weight of the stretcher, makes her grin a little, and the change in her expression makes her look even more beautiful. Pleased with herself the way she should be.
Unlike other women, she acknowledges how fucking good she is and damn if that doesn’t draw me in even more.
Leaning forward, she moves her mouth next to my ear. “Looks like you might just be a fun toy.” Her words hold reluctant pleasure, and the knowledge that I have her right where I want her to be is invigorating. She’s enjoying this as much as I am, which will leave her needing more. The same way that I’ll need more.
If only she knew she’s the only reason that I signed up for the Club Steel membership, I bet she’d be more careful about scening with me. But it looks like Ms. Always-in-Charge let her guard down when visiting her escape from life.
Shame, princess. Shame.
“Now let’s see about that blood play we were talking about,” Gianna interrupts my thoughts, and my mind snaps back to the woman in front of me. She’s gotten up from the ground, standing over me again, her expression almost gleeful now.
Blood play counts as part of RACK, risk-aware consensual kink, which, according to the boring introduction I had to suffer through, is permitted in Club Steel, though, as per club rules, requires a dungeon monitor to be present nearby. When I don’t remind Gianna of that fact, her smile grows wider.
“Brave boy.”
I snort. “I’m hardly a boy, and from what I saw earlier, boys don’t do it for you, anyway.”
My insolence has her tilt her head sideway in consideration, but instead of responding, she simply turns and walks to her bag. From it, she pulls a knife, following through on her threat.
My kind of woman.
Ronaldo Junior had gone on and on about the way she’d plunged a knife into his gut, and now I finally get to see her wield one in person. The idea that the kid got to see her true personality had me wanting to cut his eyes out. Now, my stomach muscles tighten in response, as if expecting her to gut me right here, which, of course, is ridiculous. There is no way Gianna would risk having to dispose of a body in such a public place, which leaves me safe to play with fire.
Or steel, in this case.
I’m kneeling, the ball stretcher dangling between my legs, when she approaches. I can’t move far with my hands bound and attached to the chain, but I tilt my head up to her, letting her see I’m all in for this. Not that she is likely to care. Her eyes have gotten that look I know all too well. It’s that expression I get when I want something and there is nothing that could stop me.
When she reaches me, she doesn’t pause before scraping the blade across my peck. She holds the knife perpendicular to the skin over my chest and it leaves a sensation similar to being at the barbershop when Petrov uses the straight razor on my neck. Unlike my barber, though, Gianna tilts the knife until the tip of it presses into my skin.
I don’t give her the satisfaction of looking down to see if she’s drawing blood. I’d be disappointed if she didn’t. Instead, I keep my eyes on her face.
She has her dark hair pulled up into a braid, keeping it out of her face. It leaves me free to admire her diamond face shape, with the slightly pointy chin and gorgeous olive skin that betrays her heritage. She’s fully focused on what she’s doing, drawing lines across my upper body that send sensations straight down to my crotch.
I have no idea how long she takes. My entire brain is focused on memorizing every single detail of her face. Like the little freckle near her right ear, and the cupid’s bow of her lips. Her lower lip is slightly fuller than her upper one, though not by much, and the red lipstick she wears is definitely meant to feature in my wet dreams.
Each scratch across my skin makes the corners of her mouth twitch upward, and I can’t help but find it endearing. The last thing this woman would tolerate is being compared to a little kitten with claws, but right now, that’s exactly what this feels like. The bit of blood play hardly warrants any true reaction from me, even if it’s enough sensation to keep my cock at attention.
