Chapter 34
Lydia POV
The tip of the knife bore into my body as I traced it
up from my ankle bones to my thighs. She watched me intently. This, however,
felt like torture. I personally didn't know what I was doing. At this moment, I
was just tracing lines on my skin.
The knife wasn't as sharp as I thought it would be,
and something told me I wasn't the first to use it. The fake cock, going to her
house, the knife, and taking me out for a drink—it's all an act. Many more
girls have fallen victim to this, and that's why I was trying my best not to
see her in another light.
"Use your other hand and massage one of your
breasts; do it slow and sensual. Imagine it's me touching you...only me."
Her voice lowered, just a few decibels short of a whisper for my ears to hear.
I nodded, complying with what she was saying.
I softly squeezed my non-existent breast. I was
getting the nipple hard and firm—for what? My skin had red welts as if it had
been struck by a belt.
"Spread your thighs."
It felt as if her words had power, because my legs
unhesitatingly spread, the odor of my arousal touching my nose. I was getting
too turned on by this.
"I want you to let the blade explore. Shut your
eyes, think about my lips and arms as the blade of the knife."
That was really hard; not to think of it as her hand
instead of a blade. The few times—many times—I experienced her touch, it felt
nothing like a mere blade.
"I want you to let that blade wander so much that
you are eager to push it right in."
I doubted that; but I should stop letting my thinking
ruin this moment. It was supposed to be sensual, filled with thick tension
between my body, mind, and a cold raw blade. I should open my mind. Make the
best of it. What if one day I can't get to fuck her cock? I know for sure I'll
use my finger and not a blasted knife.
I leaned into the sofa and comfortably spread my
legs—opening my mind to all possibilities. The blade—it's Zayn now. It's not a
cold, silver cutting tool for the kitchen—it was Zayn.
I slipped my fingers from massaging and upgraded them
to the task of trailing circular patterns on the tips of both my nipples; each
nipple got at least ten seconds of foreplay. I had the blade wandering just
between my thighs.
"Good girl. Get a little dangerous."
With my eyes still closed, I raised a brow; what did
she mean by that? Wasn't this blade thing already dangerous? Is she saying this
is just the tip of the iceberg?
"Spread it just close to your entrance."
I complied. At a snail's pace, the tip of the blade
made slow, zigzag patterns, probably forming more red welts. I moaned as the
icy tip touched my entrance.
My other hand pushed up to my neck and gently squeezed
it—I squeezed it as she had last week—hard, yet filled with so much passion
that I might pass out.
I began to softly roll my hips on the icy tip.
"Oh, fuck, you're such a good girl."
I arched my back, this time with a three-inch curve. I
slowly stopped choking myself and trailed those fingers down to the outline,
stopping right at my waist. I did this a few times, and shivers bubbled up my
spine.
"Trail the knife further. Let it play around your
lower body." She requested, her eyes penetrating me. I felt jealous of my
own self that she was getting the pleasure of seeing everything.
As I ran the blade up to my waist, a newfound wave of
feelings hit me. I let the blade run a course of 180 degrees before pushing it
back down to my hot area. I could feel that desire as my pussy convulsed,
yearning for something to be shoved in and hit my spot. I wished to be fucked.
"Oh fuck!" I whimpered, as I let the tip of
the blade into my entrance. My mouth gasped open in
pleasure—fear—shock—pleasure—confusion. The tip felt good. It felt much like
her moistened tip when it first slid in.
"Just a little further."
I gasped again when I felt her arm hands clasped onto
mine. Her fingers gave that demanding hug, impeding me just to push the tip a
little further.
I felt her inch it further. As my eyes were about to
peel open, her lips touched my ear. "Don't you dare open those eyes,"
she growled. I felt her moving the tip, dabbing it in my creamy juice.
"Mhmm." I moaned as I slowly ground on it.
Just one wrong move, and I would've basically impaled my pussy just for some
pleasure—it would be worth it.
I felt the tip being slowly removed, and she had our
hands going down on the blade. She then let it flip. "How do you
feel?"
"I want you to fuck me," I whimpered,
turning my shut eyes toward her face. My lips puckered, trying to reach out
blindly, but failed successfully as I only got to feel the shadow of it grazing
my quivering lips. Now I felt the handle; it was warm, and I wasted no time
pushing it aggressively into me. It stopped just right where the blade would
end. Her hand slowly slipped from mine.
"Fuck yourself like how you'd imagine I do
it."
"Oh Doctor..." I found myself not being able
to call out her name. "Dr..." I trembled.
I could hear her passing air through her lips at a
smooth pace. "I just love the way you call me that."
I thrust the knife in and out of my silly wet pussy.
"Yes, Doctor..." I pushed my legs up, much like she would, and began
pumping the handle in and out. It slid with that wet and slick grace.
The blade wasn't girthy enough. I couldn't feel a
throb, and I found myself thrusting aggressively, trying to get to my high.
"Will you please fuck me after this? This is
torture," I whimpered. "Please," I airily pleaded.
She only chuckled. I couldn't tell which part of the
room she was in, but her eyes sure felt close-set on my skin.
I decided that the handle alone couldn't get me to my
high, so I called for backup and had my fingers pressed firmly on my clit. I
wiggled, and a scream parted my lips.
"You scream all you want; no one will hear you,
Lydia."
"I see you're using your fingers. You've finally
let go."
My head searched for her voice—still no luck finding
it. I rubbed my clit at an aggressive pace.
My high was coming; I couldn't help but burst out a
laugh. It was coming. I flicked my clit and smacked it slightly. It was here.
"Good girl."
"I'm a good girl?" I giggled. This was
fueling me, and as if she knew, she continued to add fire to my fuel.
"You're a very good girl." Her tone
deepened, almost like delving deep into the open blue; it was dark and
beautiful.
"Oh yes!" I cried out. "Please don't
stop calling me a good girl?"
"Such a good fucking girl." She whispered
this last bit, and that was all I needed to hear as my pussy gripped onto the
handle and the orgasm blew through me like a punch to the gut. I came almost in
a riding position and began riding the handle of the knife.
"Oh fuck... Oh flip... Oh!" I cried loudly.
I felt her softly patting my head. "There, there,
my baby. It's too much, isn't it?"
I rode hard as one single wave gave me an impact I
didn't know I could get. I snapped my eyes open and flung the handle out,
growling like an animalistic hungry tiger, and lurched onto Zayn, who was
directly between my legs.
I gripped onto her strong arms and pushed all my
waistline movements into her pelvic area, where I rode out the rest of my
orgasm.
She held me gently, and she still whispered sweet
words to me.
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