All I can think about now is getting stabbed. Being held down, hand to the back of my neck, especially if I’m pinned down. Someone pressing back against my hips with theirs, and driving a knife into my side. God, it would hurt so good.
Feeling the blood flow and gush out of me, the pain, god the rush of pain. It makes my hips twitch just thinking about it. Trying to breathe and only taking short little gasps, barely able to speak. Especially if they grind their hips forward into mine, knowing I can’t do anything to stop it. Keeping me in my place and wounding me horribly, because it’s so, so easy, and they can. Thinking about feeling the blood flowing out of my head and making me dizzy as I make a pool of it underneath us.
Them cooing at me and praising me and letting me know I look so, so pretty bleeding out like this. For them.
Feeling my organs shift as they pull the knife back out, spilling forward onto the floor. I squirm and pant and whine but I can’t get any words out and they know this. So they stab me again and again, in my back, between my shoulder blades, along my side, in my stomach, in my chest, everywhere. Anywhere they want to. I am just a hunk of flesh for them to carve, and all I can do is thank them so, so sweetly for allowing me to experience it. If i manage to actually form the words.
