Exhibit A: Week 11 - It Takes a Very Steady Hand
I’ve been waiting for this day for months.
I twirl the scalpel in my fingers, reveling in the way the light of my basement reflects off the smooth metal. It’s beautiful -- breathtaking, even.
But it’s not as beautiful as him.
Chase stares up at me from his seat -- his wonderful blue eyes wide with fear and sparkling with tears. “Shhh,” I murmur, wiping the tears away with my thumb. He flinches, but otherwise remains still as I trail the blunt edge of the blade down his cheek. “It’ll hurt less if you don’t move.”
He can’t move, of course. I made sure to bind his legs and wrists to the chair he’s sitting in. Wouldn’t want him to be able to get away, after all, now that I finally have him all to myself. My breath catches in my throat at the thought. He’s mine. All mine.
“What do you want from me?” he squeaks.
His voice hits pitches that seem almost unnatural for a man his age. And it’s the first time he’s so much as spoken a word to me. My heart skips a beat and I twirl the scalpel again, keeping my eyes on his. What do I want from him? I purse my lips, tapping them with the blade.
I could start with how he’s ignored my presence for the past year. How he’s simply overlooked me for another man at least ten years his senior. But he’s here, his entire attention focused on me, and it feels almost...petty, to bring those things up, now.
I circle the chair, taking in every inch of his physical perfection. Sandy blond hair, thin build. Ass to die for -- though I can’t really see that, right now. Those things, though? Have nothing on his eyes.
When they meet mine again, I move in close. Position the scalpel just over his jugular. I can see his heartbeat quicken, which just makes me smile as I bring my lips just below his ear. “You,” I breathe against his neck.
More specifically, him, covered in his own blood by the time I’m done. Not like I’m going to tell him that, though. There’s no way for me to miss the tremor that moves through him-- especially not as I grab his chin with my left hand, exposing the sensitive skin of his throat.
With a smooth, practiced motion, I press the blade into his neck, just lightly enough to produce a thin trickle of blood. I can’t resist licking it away -- can’t keep myself from chuckling, either, as Chase shudders when I do.
The tears are unmistakable, now, his whole body shaking as I begin to carefully cut away his clothes. Strangled sobs escape him -- but he doesn’t dare try and break his arms free -- doesn’t even dare to breathe when the scalpel moves dangerously close to his lap.
Guess he’s trying to listen to me -- we’ll see how still he’ll be once the knife is slicing through his skin. My jeans feel tighter at the thought, though I ignore that as I cut the last bits of fabric away.
Not like he’ll be needing clothes when I’m through with him.
I look over his naked form, drinking it all in. His skin is nearly flawless -- the rest of him truly is just as perfect as his face. Not like I didn’t already know that, though. With the amount of time I’ve spent watching, waiting for the right moment, I know Chase just as well as he knows himself..
And I know he doesn’t like pain.
The first, real cut I make? I drag the knife so slowly over his skin -- resist letting my eyes roll back as he gasps and cries out. I want to watch his face -- how it screws up in pain, how his eyes flutter closed. The whimpers that escape him when I’m done with that first cut are so fucking incredible, there’s no way I can stop at just one.
Not like I ever intended to.
With a knife as sharp as this, I have to be careful. Have to keep my own hands from trembling with excitement as I mark him as mine over and over. Totally don’t want to cut too deep -- not yet. But Chase? He is an excellent canvas. Tears are still streaming down his face, but his body no longer shakes in between each stroke.
“Please,” he sobs, arching his back as I cut him through the bars of the chair. “Please just -- just stop.”
My hand pauses. There’s blood everywhere -- all over him, all over me from all the times I couldn’t resist getting close. It doesn’t phase me any, but when I move to look at Chase’s face again, it’s pale, almost green. I lift his chin, smearing his blood along his cheek as I brush my fingers against it. “Just one more,” I tell him, spinning the scalpel in my fingers. “I promise.”
His eyes widen and he bites his lip, another silent tremor running through him. “Okay,” he whimpers, and a grin sweeps across my face. Still, my heart feels heavy. After this last one, he won’t be mine anymore.
But it’s not like he’ll be anyone else’s, either.
If you would like to see the competition I'm up against, the rest of the entries for this week can be found here! Please go out and support your favorites. <3
I twirl the scalpel in my fingers, reveling in the way the light of my basement reflects off the smooth metal. It’s beautiful -- breathtaking, even.
But it’s not as beautiful as him.
Chase stares up at me from his seat -- his wonderful blue eyes wide with fear and sparkling with tears. “Shhh,” I murmur, wiping the tears away with my thumb. He flinches, but otherwise remains still as I trail the blunt edge of the blade down his cheek. “It’ll hurt less if you don’t move.”
He can’t move, of course. I made sure to bind his legs and wrists to the chair he’s sitting in. Wouldn’t want him to be able to get away, after all, now that I finally have him all to myself. My breath catches in my throat at the thought. He’s mine. All mine.
“What do you want from me?” he squeaks.
His voice hits pitches that seem almost unnatural for a man his age. And it’s the first time he’s so much as spoken a word to me. My heart skips a beat and I twirl the scalpel again, keeping my eyes on his. What do I want from him? I purse my lips, tapping them with the blade.
I could start with how he’s ignored my presence for the past year. How he’s simply overlooked me for another man at least ten years his senior. But he’s here, his entire attention focused on me, and it feels almost...petty, to bring those things up, now.
I circle the chair, taking in every inch of his physical perfection. Sandy blond hair, thin build. Ass to die for -- though I can’t really see that, right now. Those things, though? Have nothing on his eyes.
When they meet mine again, I move in close. Position the scalpel just over his jugular. I can see his heartbeat quicken, which just makes me smile as I bring my lips just below his ear. “You,” I breathe against his neck.
More specifically, him, covered in his own blood by the time I’m done. Not like I’m going to tell him that, though. There’s no way for me to miss the tremor that moves through him-- especially not as I grab his chin with my left hand, exposing the sensitive skin of his throat.
With a smooth, practiced motion, I press the blade into his neck, just lightly enough to produce a thin trickle of blood. I can’t resist licking it away -- can’t keep myself from chuckling, either, as Chase shudders when I do.
The tears are unmistakable, now, his whole body shaking as I begin to carefully cut away his clothes. Strangled sobs escape him -- but he doesn’t dare try and break his arms free -- doesn’t even dare to breathe when the scalpel moves dangerously close to his lap.
Guess he’s trying to listen to me -- we’ll see how still he’ll be once the knife is slicing through his skin. My jeans feel tighter at the thought, though I ignore that as I cut the last bits of fabric away.
Not like he’ll be needing clothes when I’m through with him.
I look over his naked form, drinking it all in. His skin is nearly flawless -- the rest of him truly is just as perfect as his face. Not like I didn’t already know that, though. With the amount of time I’ve spent watching, waiting for the right moment, I know Chase just as well as he knows himself..
And I know he doesn’t like pain.
The first, real cut I make? I drag the knife so slowly over his skin -- resist letting my eyes roll back as he gasps and cries out. I want to watch his face -- how it screws up in pain, how his eyes flutter closed. The whimpers that escape him when I’m done with that first cut are so fucking incredible, there’s no way I can stop at just one.
Not like I ever intended to.
With a knife as sharp as this, I have to be careful. Have to keep my own hands from trembling with excitement as I mark him as mine over and over. Totally don’t want to cut too deep -- not yet. But Chase? He is an excellent canvas. Tears are still streaming down his face, but his body no longer shakes in between each stroke.
“Please,” he sobs, arching his back as I cut him through the bars of the chair. “Please just -- just stop.”
My hand pauses. There’s blood everywhere -- all over him, all over me from all the times I couldn’t resist getting close. It doesn’t phase me any, but when I move to look at Chase’s face again, it’s pale, almost green. I lift his chin, smearing his blood along his cheek as I brush my fingers against it. “Just one more,” I tell him, spinning the scalpel in my fingers. “I promise.”
His eyes widen and he bites his lip, another silent tremor running through him. “Okay,” he whimpers, and a grin sweeps across my face. Still, my heart feels heavy. After this last one, he won’t be mine anymore.
But it’s not like he’ll be anyone else’s, either.
If you would like to see the competition I'm up against, the rest of the entries for this week can be found here! Please go out and support your favorites. <3