I woke up this morning still chained to your bed. I thought the last time I closed my eyes was going to be last night. But somehow I am awake. My whole body aches and my pussy feels like its on fire. I know you cut me last night, and I know you intended to kill me. So why did you stop? Just as my thoughts start to clear, you walk in, with your favorite toy – that fishing knife. You ask me how I am feeling after my surgery. Surgery? What surgery?
You laugh at the confused look on my face and then walk over to the side table and pick up a glass jar and show it to me. My eyes have trouble focusing on whatever it is in the jar. Its bloody and looks like some sort of piece of flesh. Its round but the edges are clearly cut and there are strings of blood or something all around it. Even the outside of the jar is smudged with bloody hand prints. Then I remember…
You took that blade to my pussy last night. You drugged me and told me to enjoy the pain, and that I deserve it. You inserted that knife into my tight cunt, slicing the sides as it went in. The blood began dripping onto the floor. I thought you were going to gut me right there on the bed. But you didn’t. You slowly slid the long thin blade out of my pussy and admired the blood on the shiny silver surface. You put it in my face and made me lick it clean – slicing my tongue in the process. Then back between my legs you went.
You took my clit between two fingers, pinched and pulled it out. With one swift motion, you swiped the blade down and off it came. Blood sprayed everywhere and I was so dizzy I couldn’t even scream. My tiny little pussy destroyed forever. And for all the pain that I got from it, I couldn’t even have an orgasm because you took my button. And there it sat, in that dirty glass jar, forever and ever. A constant reminder of what a useless pain whore I really am.
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