EIGHTH KNOT #5
He doesn’t answer. His hips set into a piston-like rhythm, each drive of his cock punching the air from my lungs.
His hand, the one not holding the fucking tanto, grips my hip so hard I know it will leave a perfect, five-fingered bruise.
The other lays the cold, flat side of the blade against my stomach, a fucked-up contrast to the fire he’s shoving inside me.
I’m an exposed nerve, and he’s grinding salt and fire in the wound.
My limp cock jumps painfully with every slam. There’s no chance of getting hard again so soon, but my hole clenches around him, milking his dick and begging for more even as my mind whites out.
“You see? See how honest your body is?”
Well, yeah, sensei, my body was always fucking honest to begin with, I want to say, but I’m too busy looking at him.
His hair sticks to his forehead, those pretty lips are spit-slick and parted, his face flushed red. He doesn’t look perfect like he always does, all proper and shit. He looks fucking aroused. Looks like someone who got his hands dirty just by touching me.
And that’s all because of me.
His control is fucking terrifying, too. His breathing is harsh, but his movements are precise and calculated. He’s drawing this out, watching me come apart, using my oversensitive body to wring every last reaction from me.
He rams balls-deep one last time, and then I feel his cum flooding me up. There’s no frantic thrusting, just pure ownership as he empties himself deep inside me.
It’s the most intimate and degrading thing I’ve ever felt.
He collapses atop me, and stays inside for a long moment. I can feel the frantic beat of his heart, or maybe it’s mine—who the fuck knows. I’m trembling, completely wrecked, soaked in sweat and cum and blood.
My body is not buzzing anymore.
Naoya-san pulls out slowly, and I feel fucked open and hollowed out, like there’s nothing left inside me but heat and breath. He zips himself up again, no rush, his hands steady. Then he looks at the ropes, runs his fingers over the thin cords cutting into my thighs, and clicks his tongue.
“Hold still.”
He reaches for the tanto, and I watch him sliding the blade between the ropes and my skin, cutting through them in one clean stroke.
He lifts me by the shoulders, gets me sitting up, and does the same to the ropes binding my arms. My wrists feel like they’re on fire from holding all my weight, and I grunt when the blood starts coming back. Naoya-san rubs circles into the swollen joints.
It’s weird how soft his hands can be after everything he’s just done.
“You held up well,” he says softly.
He stands, straightens his shirt, then walks off into my place without asking. I sit here, arms limp, staring at the mess he made of me—blood, cum, bruises. My chest’s a map of everything he touched. I drag my fingers through it, smearing red down my ribs, tracing the sting between my legs.
When he comes back, he’s got a bowl of water and a towel. He kneels beside me and starts wiping at the dried blood on my chest.
“I didn’t find a first aid kit,” he says. “You don’t have one?”
“Why the fuck would I?”
“You’re always fighting.” He sounds genuinely annoyed. “You should know how to take care of yourself.”
I grin through my teeth.
“A dog just licks his wounds. Works fine.”
Naoya-san stops, looks at me.
“You’ll buy proper medical supplies tomorrow. Gauze, antiseptic, bandages. You’ll keep them here.”
“I don’t fucking need that.”
He presses a clean spot of the towel against a cut.
“That wasn’t a suggestion, Kaito.”
He makes me lie down again, legs open, and cleans me up properly. The towel drags across the bruises he left, the blood between my thighs, all that mess I can’t even look at without feeling heat pool again.
When he’s done, he folds the towel, sets it aside, and exhales once through his nose.
“Now your punishment,” he says.
“Thought the blade was the punishment.”
“That was for you to enjoy. This is the punishment.”
“Yeah? What is it then?”
“You’re no longer my submissive. You won’t come back to the studio again.”
I push up fast, muscles screaming.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I won’t waste my time on someone who refuses to learn. I shouldn’t have touched you at all, but I was… attracted. For a long time.”
No. No way!
“No way! You can’t just—”
“I can.” He sighs. “You like submission, Kaito, I can tell. You crave it. But you won’t give it in words, or actions. You want to fight too much against it.”
He stands like he’s already decided. I grab his wrists.
“No! I can do it. I’ll do it right this time, I promise”
He stares at me, unreadable.
“I mean it, sensei. I’ll be good. I’ll behave. I’ll fucking—please!
“‘Please’, what, Kaito? You just need to say it.”
I bite my lip.
“Please, sensei,” I choke out. “I want to be yours.”
“And surrender?”
“Yes.”
“And trust?”
I already do that.
“Yes.”
“And what about me, Kaito? Will I be able to trust you?”
“Always. I promise.”
For a second, something shifts in his face—small, but there. He brushes my hair away from my eyes, thumb sliding against my cheek.
“Fine. Start by obeying me and buying your medical kit. You’re not allowed to fight until you have it. Understood?”
I huff a relieved chuckle.
“That’s it?”
“Want me to make you clean this place while we’re at it?”
I grin—probably a fucking ugly and mean grin, but it’s the only thing I can do. “No, the medical shit is fine. I’ll fucking buy it.”
“Good.”