Delicate
You wanted rough sex, but perhaps your idea of rough was different than mine.
"Handcuff me now, bitch," you spat at me.
Of course there is no way I can refuse you when you talk like that, so I did.
Then I opened your pocket knife and started with a simple cut, to release the tension beneath the taut skin. Flesh that tasted of peaches and sweat and sex. One small cut that tore into a gash when I twisted you around my fingers. So easy to do, with no resistance from you. But how could you produce a recognizable word with dirty, shit-stained underwear shoved into your mouth? I could have stopped there, but the look of terror in your eyes only ignited my wrath. I had to release myself of you.
So I went to the kitchen to find a bigger knife, instead coming back with a cheese grater. Slowly I began to rub it against your thigh, rubbing you raw like you did to me only minutes before. I was enjoying the skin slowly shredding, but my love for you was greater and I wanted you to have a quicker release.
Now your restraints would help me find my control without having to worry about yours. I went back to the kitchen for the larger knife, and decided to cleanse myself of you because I wanted to be pure for my first time.
I stepped directly into the shower since my outer mask of clothing had already been carelessly strewn on the bedroom floor. The scorching water flooded over my hair and skin. I began to wash away the slimy mucus caused from your need. I had to prepare myself before I washed between my legs since I knew there would be pain. So delicately, like you, I massaged my lips until the pain turned into pleasure. I did not finish myself though, because I knew this sexual energy, that had no prior release, was what kept me going now.
Instead of drying myself I slipped into my fuzzy bathrobe and headed back into the bedroom, letting my rage continue so I could finish what I have wanted to do to someone for years. Without preamble I let my teeth sink into your upper arm and bit down until I felt your flesh give way. I wanted to remove a piece of you, not so I could keep it with me, but I simply wanted to see what the jagged mark would look like.
Your words, "You can bite, but not rip," flow into my mind as your blood floods into my mouth. Your look of horror changes as your eyes begin to glaze over. My rage changes as I begin to laugh.