Chapter Twenty-One
I woke up some time later, unsure of when exactly I had fallen asleep. The lights in the room were still on. I pulled one of the thinner sheets around myself, and walked to the door.
To my surprise, it gave way as soon as I turned the handle. The hallway was dark, and I no longer had the light of my phone to guide me. I crept through the hallway, running my fingertips against the wall to keep me in a straight line as I walked along.
I wandered to the first floor and into the kitchen. There was a muted desperation blooming within me. I walked in the dark to the opposite side of the room, my hip cracking against the edge of the table as I did.
I rested my palms on the tabletop, listening carefully to see if I had attracted any attention. When I heard no approaching footsteps, no call of one man for the other, I continued. The sheet had slipped from me sometime before, and I had not gone back to pick it up.
I grasped along the countertop, to the corner where the knife block rested.
I felt for a handle, and pulled out a small paring knife.
I ran the flat of the blade over my palm, but felt it was not the right weapon. I set it down on the counter, before feeling for another. This time, I had pulled out a serrated steak knife. When I touched my fingertip to the blade, and gently stroked the tiny, jagged metal teeth along the knife’s edge, I felt a welling of pleasure within me. I still had some self-protective instinct left.
I imagined sticking the knife into Vic’s chest, sawing the jagged blade through him, and feeling his hot lifeblood on my hands.
I walked back upstairs, my steps surer than they had been before. My eyes had adjusted to the low light, and I moved silently up the carpeted stairs, passing my bedroom door, before stopping to stand outside of Vic’s.
I reached down and grabbed the door handle. I tried turning it, but found that it was locked.
Panic seized me as I thought about the sound the doorknob had made: that gentle metal twist. I turned quickly and began to walk back to my room, but Vic’s door flung open behind me, and I could hear the handle slam against the inner wall.
I tried to run, but was not quick enough. His strong arms wrapped around me, and I drove the blade blindly. He threw us both against the wall, and I felt my side slam against the door frame. The knife fell from my hand and clattered against the strip of hardwood floor which ran along the outside of the carpet.
Vic grabbed my upper arm, jerking me with him to the ground as he retrieved the fallen knife. I could tell the blade had injured him by the sharp hiss of breath and the way his fist tightened around me.
“Come here,” he growled, shoving me into his bedroom.
He switched on the light, and I blinked my eyes against the sudden illumination.
Vic was holding my upper arm in one hand and the knife in the other. He threw me down onto the bed and I scrambled to sit up, while he loomed over my naked body.
“So,” he said, turning the knife back and forth in his hand, “what were you going to do with this?”
I said nothing, but a murmur escaped my lips.
“What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t catch that,” he said, grabbing my chin and roughly turning my face towards him.
“I was going to kill you,” I whispered.
At this, he smiled. “Well, I believe honesty should be rewarded. It’s about the only reason I don’t saw your head off with this thing right now. On the other hand, you do need to be punished for even thinking about hurting me. What do you think a good punishment would be?” he asked.
He was dressed in cotton pajama bottoms and a grey t-shirt. I could see the beginnings of his arousal in the strain against the fabric of his pants.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“But, you agree that you need to be punished,” he said.
He grabbed my ankles easily in one hand and pushed my heels against his chest. I tried to cover the greatest extent of my nakedness a little, but quickly abandoned even this effort.
He drew one of my toes into his mouth and sucked at it gently. I could feel his erection pressing against the back of my thigh as he switched to another toe. When he got to my right pinky toe, he bit down on the toe lightly.
“I think this one will do just fine,” he said.
He pressed the blade against the outside of my small toe, pushing the edge hard against it, but not breaking the skin. I wanted to escape, but I found I couldn’t. He was right after all. For harboring those thoughts about him, I deserved some punishment.
“Cut off your toe,” he said, lust dripping from every syllable.
I reached up without hesitation, to try to take the blade from him. Every fiber of my body was suddenly snapped into alignment with his intentions, every particle obedient to his command.
“No,” he said. “I’ll hold the knife.”
I stared up at him, taking in the direct intensity of his stare, feeling his rock-hard erection pressing into my leg.
Then, I realized his meaning.
I began to move my foot, my toe scraping at first lightly against the blade. I saw the first draw of blood, the way the crimson liquid trickled down the knife blade and dripped from Vic’s fingers. I moved a little more quickly, the pain flooding my nerves as I worked my foot against the blade he held.
When the knife met bone, I felt I couldn’t keep going. The pain was intense, and it was as though all the strength left my body.
Vic sensed me moving more slowly, and perhaps realized that it would be impossible for me to cut off my own toe. He pressed the blade hard, and clasped the inside of my foot with his other hand. He allowed me to initiate each movement, but he lent his strength to my efforts.
In time, we were through the bone. The blood had now soaked his hand, and ran in thick streams down his forearm.
Soon, there was only a sliver of flesh holding the toe to my foot. Vic shifted the knife to the other side of the toe, and looked back at me, wetting his lips.
I pushed my foot out again, looking on the complete dismemberment with relief. The blood continued to gush from the stump, and I felt my entire body relax. My core decompressed, and I felt the troubles which had seemed so important only a moment before melt away completely.
“You’ve made me so happy,” Vic said.
My feet were still pressed against his chest, and blood was staining the front of his grey shirt crimson.
In spite of myself, I smiled.