You've just come in from a long day at work. Your boss was harsh, the customers were rude, and your coworkers were useless. Just as you get your bra off and crack open a beer to unwind for a little bit before deciding what you're going to do about supper, you hear a knock on the door.
You try to ignore it and sip your beer, but the knock is persistent. After a moment, you get up, set the beer down, and look through the peephole. I'm standing outside in a FedEx uniform with a package under my arm and a clipboard in my hand. Just as I'm about to knock again, you open the door and shout, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!" at me.
All at once, my face darkens and you realize you have made a mistake. You see a predatory fire in my eyes as I glare back at you. "Bitch, all I needed was for you to sign for your package" I say, shoving my clipboard against the door and wrenching it all the way open. "But I was raised in a world where needy bitches like you have the courtesy to answer the door when someone knocks."
I step into your door, my 6'4" frame towering over you. I drop the package inside your door as I grab your arm. You tried to evade me, but my long arm is too fast and you find yourself caught.
You freeze in shock for a moment at my sudden assault. When your senses catch up to you, I've crossed the threshold, shut your door behind us, and am throwing you over my shoulder as I make my way to your couch. You flail your arms frantically and kick the air uselessly as you find yourself balanced on my shoulder.
Just as you take in a breath to scream, I casually toss you to the floor, knocking the wind out of you. "I think you've been loud enough already, don't you?" I growl. As you try to catch your breath, I've dragged you up by your hair and thrown you belly-first over the arm of your couch. One of my large hands easily covers your mouth and nose, cutting off your air.
You can hear me fiddling with my belt buckle with the other hand while I bend over and whisper to you. "I think an apology buttfuck is in order, don't you? Nod your head yes, be a quiet little bitch, and I'll give you the privilege of oxygen." You spend a solid ten seconds trying to refuse me, but my grip on your face is implacable and the burning in your lungs grows until you can't stand it anymore. As your body screams for oxygen, you nod your head in defeat, humiliated at your surrender.
My fingers release your nose and you breathe in sweet release, lost for a moment in the simple pleasure of filling your lungs. As you regain yourself, you realize that I'm pulling your business slacks down to your knees. "Wow, you're quite the boring bitch today, aren't you? gray granny panties? Really? I can tell you didn't have a night of fun planned."
You find the indignity of me criticizing your choice in underwear strangely erotic, and you feel a warmth growing in your crotch even as your cheeks flush. The nerve of this man, criticizing you for wearing a perfectly comfortable pair of underwear to work! Your attempts to voice your outrage come out as muffled grunts.
A snick followed by a thin, cold pressure up against your anus causes you to freeze. "Now then" I say "I've pulled out my boxcutter and am about to make some alterations to improve these boring panties you have. If you don't mind, I'd like to use both my hands to do this; I'm much less likely to slip and cut deeper than just the cloth. However, I'm going to need you to stay very quiet and still while I do so. Do you think you can manage this, or do I need to freehand this to keep you compliant? Grunt once if you'll be an obedient little slut."
The sound you make comes off as more of a muffled squeak of fear than a grunt, but I seem to be satisfied that you agree. I take my hand away from your mouth. True to your word, you stay absolutely still and quiet as I fiddle with your underwear, terrified of the damage I could do. You have difficulty at first figuring out what I'm doing to them as I seem to be messing with the seam on the right side. Then you hear a quiet rip as my razor-sharp blade slices through the thin cotton cloth. Another deft rip on the other side, and you feel the back of your underwear fall down. The tip of my blade presses lightly against your neck.