I obeyed, moving into position. I lay my cheek down against the rough old asphalt, keeping my ass up and my knees slightly spread. I felt so exposed out here — the sounds of nature all around me. Occasionally, I’d hear a car pass on the road and I’d hold my breath, certain that at any moment, I’d hear someone shout that they could see us. But the fear of getting caught was part of the thrill.

“So beautiful,” Manson said, pushing my skirt out of the way. He buried his face against me, licking up my dripping arousal, his tongue probing my pussy, my ass. I gasped at the stimulation, groaning as I pushed back against him. I was so close to my orgasm I was shaking, but he stopped before I could plunge over the edge.

“You want to be owned so badly, don’t you?” he said, his voice a murmur. I couldn’t be sure if he was truly seeking an answer, or if he was merely talking to himself. “You want someone to take control, you need it. You don’t want any more frustrating choices, you don’t want to have to think about being judged or rejected. You just want to be a beautiful toy we use as we please.”

There was a click, and I turned my head slightly so I could look up at him. He’d flipped open his knife, the shining blade catching the knife. I remembered the feeling of him slicing open my skin, how much it had excited me to see my own blood welling up.

I felt drunk on the scene he was setting for me — the pain, the edging pleasure, the surety that in that moment, I was entirely at his mercy. He could do anything he wanted to me, and I savored that feeling of merely being there to serve.

He knew what I wanted, the cravings I feared.

The blade traced lightly over the swell of my ass, taunting me.

“Do you want me to mark you, angel?” he said, ravenous desire in his words. “Do you want to bleed for me?”

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that not only did I want that but I trusted him to do it. “Yes, Master. Mark me, please.”

He made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a snarl. The blade tapped against my ass and he gripped my hip, holding me in place. Slowly, carefully, he cut into my skin. His pupils dilated; his expression completely transfixed as I whimpered softly at the sting.

I was submitting all control to him, but he looked in awe of me. As if I was something to be revered, my endurance admired, my service treasured.

There was no other feeling like that.