Drawing Blood

(NOTE: This post contains explicit sexual imagery and descriptions of BDSM play.)

His hand held my hair tightly as he fucked me, whispering in my ear that I was his. I stuttered, “Can I ask for something?” He stopped to listen. “Will you use the pinwheel? I really want you to draw blood from me right now.”

“I’ll consider it,” he said, and continued fucking me. A few minutes later, he got off of me, reached into a drawer and rummaged around for it. He first went after my leg, hungrily, and I yelped.

“Tell me first,” I gasped, “Let me know it’s coming!”

He rubbed my leg gently. “Okay.” I felt the cold steel points of the pinwheel touch the small of my back. “Now,” he said, and I breathed out as he pressed it hard into my skin and dragged it across my skin. “Now,” he said again, as he drew another line next to the first. He continued, all over my ass and down my legs. “I’d like to cut the back of your neck,” he said, and gently touched the intended area. I hesitated. “Will you allow this? I’ll stop as soon as you give the word.” I paused, then told him I was ready. “Now.”

Again and again, the metal wheel drew lines of pinpricks on my skin. He touched his finger to the blood welling up on my neck, and then brought it to my lips. He put the pinwheel down and thrust himself back inside of me. I desperately wanted him to cut me again while he fucked me, to feel his mouth hot on my neck, licking up the drops of blood.

As if reading my mind, he leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “I want to cut you again.”

“Yes, please,” I moaned. “Please.”

“I want blood from you. Feel this, now.” He cut me again, ripping the wheel into my flesh, and buried his face into my neck as he continued to fuck me, harder now, urgently. When he came, I could feel his release, as if I were coming with him, the intensity rocking both of us. He allowed me to come, then, and cleaned my back as I lay face down on the bed, half unconscious.