Page 55 of Corruption
I knew I had to craft a convincing excuse swiftly. “Because... Because you’re not worthy of shedding blood or ruining my innocence.”
Jared burst into laughter. “As if you have any innocence left.”
“I won’t kill you, so release me.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he remarked before lowering my hand. He then seized me by the throat and forced me against the wall beside us, just next to the fireplace. My back collided with the wall rather forcefully, but I barely noticed it amidst his invasion of my personal space and senses. It felt as though he was everywhere, touching every inch without actually touching anything at all. “You’ve let your chance of freedom go.”
“We both know you’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“That’s my aim,” he confessed before retrieving the blindfold and covering my eyes once more. I sighed in surrender, yet he allowed my hands to remain free, and I rested them against the wall, feeling its reassuring solidity. Jared retreated, then glided the knife down my stomach. I attempted to recoil, but the wall kept me pinned in place. Jared continued the descent, teasing my skin with the threat of pain. He traced the knife’s path down the top of my left thigh, nicking my skin before dragging it up the side of my thigh. I attempted to close my legs, but he planted one his against my right thigh, keeping me spread wide.
“No moving,” he ordered, and I felt him rotate the knife’s blade. I teetered on the tips of my toes as the icy blade slid over my sensitive skin. He brushed the flat side against my flesh, but I knew that one wrong move and he would cut me.
“F-Fuck,” I stammered, adrenaline coursing wildly through my veins, causing me to pant. It was a strange yet oddly captivating sensation, mixing with my fear and leaving me slightly dizzy. He swept the blade over me before withdrawing it. I sensed an odd pause, feeling nothing but his hand around my throat, yet a tiny sound hit my ears, and a peculiar thought crossed my mind. “Did you just lick the blade clean?”
“Your fear tastes so good,” he admitted in that dark, taunting tone.
“My goodness, you’ve truly lost your mind.”
“If you hope to come tonight, you probably shouldn’t refer to your Master as crazy,” he taunted me.
“I have no intention of climaxing tonight, so I’ll continue,” I retorted.
Jared found me amusing and leaned in closer. His breath caressed my lips, and for an instant, a forbidden desire to kiss him stirred within me. Yet, as I noticed this feeling, I resisted, turning my head away.
“Did I tell you that you could turn away?” he whispered darkly.
“Can’t we leave the kisses out of this whole ordeal? Haven’t you tortured me enough?” I asked.
“The torture hasn’t truly begun yet.”
“You’ve already cut me. I’d classify that as torture,” I retorted, turning my head even more to escape the warmth of his breath that danced over my skin. He carried the scent of wine, a pleasant aroma that almost tempted me to lean toward him once more. However, I steeled myself, determined to remain still.
“You don’t know true torture, but it’s cute that my slave has an almost sweet side, despite how truly dark she is,” he taunted.
“Despite what I’ve done in the past, it doesn’t define me now,” I asserted. “I can be sweet. In fact, I can be very sweet.”
“But the slave doesn’t get to decide what happens here, does she?” he remarked.
“Sure... Master,” I replied through clenched teeth, aware that if he wanted to kiss me, I couldn’t refuse.
“Do the kisses mean so much to you, or is it me you hate kissing?” he inquired.
I was uncertain what to reveal, pondering which answer would be the least painful to admit. I needed to decide quickly. “It’s you.”
“I thought as much,” he said, though a tiny voice within me labeled me a liar. I brushed it aside as Jared directed the knife back toward my nipple. Using the flat side, he applied slight pressure, running it down.
“Shit, you’re going to cut me!” I wanted to squirm, but I knew that would be a stupid move. I had to remain absolutely still as he slid the blade over my nipple until it reached the tip. I felt a small flicker of warmth rush through me as the pressure was released and my nipple was brushed with the knife.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “the knife is one of my favorite tools.”
“For what?” I asked, but he didn’t respond. Instead, I heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled. “Jared, for what?”
He still didn’t answer my question. He posed one of his own, “You enjoy it when I tie you up, don’t you?”
“No, I hate it. We’ve already established that.”
“Perfect.”
