Authors Note:
This chapter delves quite a bit further into kink than my previous works.
CW: Consensual NonCon, Edgeplay, Knifeplay, Bloodplay, Bondage.
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I shivered as the night air gusted against me, biting with an icy mist. I had been waiting in these bushes for nearly half an hour now and it was all I could do to keep my teeth from chattering. The wait had paid off thought, she had come home a few minutes ago. I watched through the kitchen window as she set about making herself a small snack and a cup of tea. It was the same thing she did every night after work. It seemed she had been kept a little late, but even still she was nothing if not consistent. My heart hammered in my chest and my mouth went dry as I watched her. Her hair was a little damp from the moist night air and she had changed out of her work cloths into an over sized tee shirt. I had to bite back a groan when she bent over to grab something from a lower cabinet causing her shirt to ride up and showing off her thong clad ass.
I crept slow through her yard, keeping to the shadows. I had observed it often enough to know where every loose stone and stray branch was; it was easy to slip across without making a sound. I ducked down behind a shrub as I saw her leave the kitchen, passing in front of the sliding glass door just yards away. The thrill was roaring in my head and it felt like I could barely breathe. I didn't even feel cold anymore, I just wanted her. I waited though, this was my one real chance and I couldn't throw it away. She was planning on staying the weekend at her cabin to get away from work and focus on her painting. She wasn't expecting her wife until tomorrow, so there was no one that would interrupt us.
The night was incredibly dark, the moonless sky and dense woods surrounded me and the cabin on all sides. The only light was what little shown through the windows of the cabin and from the incredible star scape above. I forced myself to breathe as I waited; I knew in a minute or so she would settle down in her crafting room to get to work, and once she had gotten going, she would be nearly deaf to the world. I put a hand out and took slow purposeful breaths, willing myself to stop shaking. I had been planning this moment for months, carefully watching everything she did, learning every part of her schedule so we could have this moment.
Satisfied when my hand mostly stopped shaking, I checked my watch and nearly five minutes had passed. She would be engrossed in her work by now. Stalking my way across the last few yards, I eased my way as gently as I could to keep the old deck from creaking. I had put on soft-soled tennis shoes for the occasion. My feet were soaked, but they also ensured I didn't make a sound as made my way to the sliding glass door. I gently tried the handle, and it was locked. A slim metal shim easily flicked the latch open, and I carefully opened the door just enough to slip through before closing it behind me.
The cabin was dimly lit by warm lighting, various lamps and fixtures creating pools of light in the space. The floor was hardwood, but covered by plush rugs that made moving quietly across the living room simple. I knew the layout of the cabin by heart, having explored it many times while she wasn't here. Its decorations and furnishings were an eclectic mixture of rustic and modern. It will be a beautiful backdrop for my night with her.
Soft music spilled down the hallway as I made my way to her studio. Relaxing synth sounds were her favorite and she always had them playing as she worked. I breathed in the moment. My wet cloths, the warm cinnamon scent of the cabin, the subtle smells of paint and varnish from the studio, the soft tunes of her music, the light scratching of her brushing working across canvas. I tried to hold the moment in time and freeze it in my mind.
I moved into the doorway to her studio, standing tall and pushing my shoulders back to fill the door frame. My shadow washed over her and she blinked, looking away from her canvas she looked right at me. A dozen emotions flashed across her face surprise, recognition, confusion, and fear. Her face was frozen in a stunned expression, her jaw slack as her eyes froze on me. The fear filling her was exactly what I had wanted. It made my heart race with need, my stomach writhe as heat rushed straight to my core. It was a struggle not to rush her right then.
The small room is a riot of colors and shapes. Dozens of paintings and sculptures littered the room, no two alike. The back wall was a large window now covered by curtains, and the walls were the same dark logs that made up the rest of the cabin. She sat in the center on a stool in front of her easel, her hand frozen as she gathered more paint on her brush. She was still clad only in the over-sized tee-shirt, its loose folds only hinting at the soft curves beneath. I needed it removed; I was burning with my hunger for her now. I wanted to run my tongue over her ivory skin and grab her long raven hair in my fist. I wanted to devour her.
Her eyes locked on me, her face contorted in a mouth open expression of shock. A dozen reaction flashed across her as I strode towards her. Surprise, recognition, and Fear. The sudden fear in her eyes drove my desire to new heights. It felt like I was freezing and burning, like my heart would beat out of my chest.
"P.. Please." She whimpered as I took a step closer.
"Please what?" My voice surprised me. It was thick with need, almost a growl.
"No. Please no." She begged as she took another step away from me, stumbling over her stool and landing on the desk with a thump. I closed the distance before she could get up. She tried to jerk away as I reached for her, but only slammed into the wall the desk was pushed up against. I grabbed her by the throat with my free hand and pushed her back against the wall hard, careful to not completely choke her, but definitely enough to limit her air, enough to keep the fear in her eyes. She writhed under my grasp, hands lashing out at my arm as she kicked her legs. She struck me hard in the thigh and punched me in the armpit, but through the rush I could barely feel it. It was like the entire world had slowed down for this moment together. I pressed in harder and enjoyed the way her eyes bugged out from the pressure.
"Hold still damnit." I growled in her ear, thrilling at the way her pale skin prickled under my breath. Her struggles stopped, and I eased back a little. She fell back against the desk, gasping for breath. As she tried to recover, I pulled a pair of the handcuffs from my waist and closed them around her delicate wrists. She tried to push me away as I bound her, but she was too stunned to put up a fight.
No longer needing to worry about controlling her struggles as much, I spun her roughly, so she lay across the large oak desk length wise, her legs dangling off the end as I dragged her arms up by the cuffs. I felt myself throb with need again as she gasped from the pain of the matte black metal cuffs digging into her skin. I pulled a length of cord from a pocket and tied it around the chain connecting the cuffs, quickly forming a strong knot before wrapping the cord around one of the metal legs of the desk, binding her arms firmly above her head.
"You bastard!" She shouted, tugging hard at her now immobilized arms. I walked slowly around the table to her legs. Her shirt had ridden up in the struggle and left an expanse of her smooth legs and soft tummy exposed. Her pale skin nearly glowed in the warm light of the studio. Her face was now twisted into a scowl as her fear bled into pain and rage. Even twisted her sharp features were stunning, a smudge of blue paint decorated her forehead adding a blotch of chaos to her beautiful symmetry.
I couldn't hold back my desire anymore. The view of her struggling, bound on the table, half naked had me soaked. I could feel my wetness slicking my thighs, even past the damp my clothes had picked up. I wanted her fear back though; I wanted to control. I dropped the backpack I had brought with me and kicked it under the desk.
Reaching behind my back, I exulted in the whisper of steel sliding free from leather. The cool grip in my palm made my head spin with need. I worked on this knife for days, shaping it from raw steel. Nothing less than perfection would do for her, so I made it myself. Just another level of intimacy. Seven inches of perfectly heat treated S30V steel; the clip point blade was perfect. I spent hours bringing it to a mirror finish and working out every tiny imperfection of the edge until it slid across flesh like silk. The guard and pommel were brass, I had shaped myself, and the handle was fine elk leather I tanned. It was perfect, tonight was perfect.
Her shouting stopped as the knife came between us. Her eyes locking on its gleaming length. It was like a magnetic connection between us. When I moved the knife she moved, tracking it, reacting to me. It made us one like I can't remember us being before. Her eyes were wide, almost unblinking, and her breath came in ragged gasps from the fear and my assault. I relished in the swollen red mark I left on her throat.
"Now. You're going to hold very still and speak when spoken to understood?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. She nodded, her eyes never leaving the blade. I stepped between her legs, admiring how the edge of the desk dug into her soft thighs. Grabbing her shirt, I brought the knife under the threadbare cloth, edge up away from her. The slightest pressure slit the shirt up the middle with a quiet rip of cutting fabric. She gasped as I cut another slit across each sleeve and let the shirt fall away, now little more than a rag beneath her.
