Page 111 of Vicious
I’m still wearing a second stocking, and my breath hitches when I see Chase pick up the scissors again.
“I’ll tell you as soon as I have you completely naked and open for me,” Chase answers. He smirks as he repeats the process of cutting the stocking off.
My breathing gets more uneven, and I feel my cunt throb.
But Chase has to pull the stocking off just as he did the first, and now I’m truly naked, lying on a pile of cut up fabric and lace.
“My lovely May,” Chase says, leaning down to kiss my stomach. “You’re going to love what I’m about to do to you.”
I’m not so sure about that, but then, he hasn’t really done anything I haven’t enjoyed in some way, much to my genuine annoyance.
He straightens and goes to one of the cabinets, smirking at me over his shoulder before he unlocks it with his fingerprint and opens it. He pulls out what looks like a toolkit, and I freeze.
“That better not be like… pliers and a nail gun or whatever,” I say, afraid for the first time in a while of what he might do to me. It’s not that I really think he’s going to hurt me permanently, but the idea of being at a psychopath’s whim—and Chase is still a psychopath, despite what he might say or do—isn’t always one I’m eager to experience.
Chase comes back to the bed, running his hand over the toolkit.
“Wait!” I blurt out.
He gives me an amused look. “I’m not waiting any longer, May.”
“No, I mean… Can you take your jacket and shirt off?” I blush harder at having requested it, but I don’t want Chase to be fully dressed while I’m naked.
I can tell he’s surprised, but Chase’s smile softens. “I suppose I can indulge you.” He carefully unbuttons his jacket and the shirt, both of which probably cost more than the rent at my old place.
Inch by inch, he reveals his chest and abdomen. The swimming really does wonders for his physique, and I have to admit he’s a very attractive man.
“Any more requests before I start torturing you?” Chase asks, still amused.
“A kiss?” I say, still stalling despite my curiosity and dread alike.
Chase laughs and bends forward to kiss me. I squirm, trying to get closer to him, but the bindings keep me from getting too far off the bed.
I groan when he moves away, but he kisses my jaw, my neck, all the way down to my breasts.
“I’m going to start here,” Chase says, as if I’m supposed to understand what that means. I don’t have time to wonder, though, because he bites one of my nipples.
My eyes flutter closed, partially from the sensation and partially from the anxiety that comes from not knowing what’s coming—the anxiety, and the arousal it brings because like everything else, this is a mystery.
I whimper when he pulls away, wanting more of the pain.
“All right. You’ve stalled me enough.” Chase unzips the tool case.
I can’t see what’s inside from this angle, although I strain to see. Chase notices and smiles at me.
“I’ve been thinking. Since you love sewing so much, we should combine your two passions,” Chase says.
“My two passions?” I ask, confused.
“Sewing and pain.” Chase holds up the case to reveal what’s inside.
It’s a set of long, sharp needles.
My breath catches, and I stare at them. “Um, no. If you want me to get a piercing, you can take me somewhere that does piercings.”
“You want piercings now?” Chase smirks at me.
“No!” I quickly try to correct myself, though now I’m flustered. “No. You’re already talking about carving hanzi into my skin over a fucking scar. I don’t need piercings, too.”