He gives a nod that she’s okay and I keep going, only stopping when I’ve had my absolute fill of her tight little cunt.

VI. Blade

PART 6

BLADE

A gentle hand touches my cunt and my eyes flutter open.

“You almost killed her.” Kane growls as I look at him. He’s staring down Daze, shaking his head at him. “I will fucking kill any of you who hurt her tonight.” He warns the men, removing his hand from my pussy to motion his thumb across his neck in a slitting motion. Haven’t they all hurt me, or does he simply mean don’t kill?

He probably doesn’t want the annoyance of cleaning up a body.

Or maybe, just maybe… he cares.

Who are you kidding, Macey? He’s a literal rapist.

“Oh!” Blade croons, “Speaking of slitting throats.” He laughs, “It’s my turn.”

I groan when Kane moves, nervous for what’s to come.

Blade is claiming his spot in between my legs now, his tan skin mixing with the shadowed room. I don’t need to ask what his kink is, from the look of the long shimmering blade that’s wrapped in his palm, I already know.

“You’re awake.” He smiles.

I nearly want to be unconscious again.

He pulls the knife to my throat. “What has been your favorite thing tonight?” He wonders, his tone and muscular body animated.

“Before you fuckers showed up!” I spit in his face.

He moves down and takes the knife with him. The cool metal of his blade touches the delicate skin of my clit and I still completely. “Don’t lie.” He cackles. “You don’t have to be shy with us, we’re all taking your virginity tonight.”

He gestures his knife around the room, at the other four men who are steadily keeping their cocks hard for me, for my body. “That means you’ll never forget us; you share a bond with us.”

He slides the knife up my stomach, not penetrating my skin. “We own you.”

Then, he slips his throbbing cock inside of me and stays still. “Don’t move.” He warns, “This isn’t like with them. You could seriously injure yourself if you fight me and I don’t want that, okay?” His voice is so calm, collected and reassuring.

“It will be all your fault if you get hurt. Stay still.” He repeats. My fault? My fucking fault?

And with the upmost control, Blade holds his inked hand steady. A tattoo of a tattoo gun on his arm, “You’re a tattoo artist.” I don’t know why I said my thoughts outloud.

His eyes brighten, “I am, but tonight your mark won’t be made with ink.”

“What?”

As the knife pierces the skin above my hip I jump, making it worse. “I said don’t move.” His tone is calm and even, matching the smooth flick of his wrist as he carves me.