By The Sword, Part II

Part One can be found here

When the chill subsided, she let out a gasp and readied herself. Inhale the light, exhale the dark. With a steady hand, she drew the sword down across her breasts, the tip trailing coolly across her here nipples.

With the tip resting on her right nipple, she held it there. Gripping the handle with her right hand, she applied downward pressure on Chance, feeling the bite of the sword softly…then harder…then harder. She could take it, she could feed it.

When she felt the sword start to puncture, start to prick, she eased it off, and catching her breath, smelling her strong scent, slid the sword down her stomach, giggling as she trailed it, snakelike, in waves.

When the blade reached her pussy, she stopped, tilting the sword in a clockwise motion, letting the fine edges glide across her slit carefully.

She thought of Chance killing, she thought of the blade between her legs, thinking any moment it could carve into her and bleed her out. Her light would go out in an instant, her body left to be found by the guards when their patrol takes them to the armoury.

The sheer thought of balancing her life, her arousal, with this blade caught in her throat as a whimper. She let it out to bounce on the cobblestone walls, filling the chamber with life.

For a moment Avellana laid still, twisting the blade in a rocking motion, moving from one side of her lips to the other. Again, she thought of death, again she thought of adventure, again her senses flooded her, the blade, catching onto the skin of her thigh, marking her, her own scent all around her, the cool air on her body – on the floor amongst weapons and armour, Avellana felt alive.

Her thighs stinging, she gripped the handle with her soaked right hand, lifting the blade upwards again over her slit. It grazed her clit as it went – and, involuntarily, her legs began to spasm. Her thighs clenched shut around the sword and she let out a noise half way between a giggle and a shriek.

With her thighs interlocked around the blade, she felt important, and because of that, she felt stupid. She wanted it all, the risk of death, the kiss of adventure, the dance of life. And with her thighs wrapped, she eased her ass off the ground, raising her slit into the blade. Just like before, she felt for the moment the blade would puncture flesh and just like before she eased off, resting the edges across her clit.

Avellana imagined in that moment that she would’ve looked silly, thrusting into the blade, lifting her ass in the air, to grind ever gently across the blade. Even so, she dare not stop. There was pleasure there in the thrust, yes, but there was a pain. Edging this pain across her slit prodded at the pain, seemed to satisfy the sting. And with the sting came a sense of relief. The itch had been scratched – had needed to be scratched again. And again.

As her slit met the blade, her left hand pinched her nipple, twisted it, pulled it. Each time she met the prodding pain, she pulled on her nipple, stretching it till the pain bit her back.

When a wave, a striking, silky wave, crashed over her – heat and cool spiralled out from her fingertips to her head. Tears came in her eyes.

Avellana didn’t want to come. Not yet. Not really, but everything cascaded down onto her body and out through the slash in her thigh where the blade at cut her.

She rose her ass up one last time, twisting her head to the right, her vision becoming obscured by her luscious locks of hair. Pain, sharp and searing, courses through her body, running from the slash in her thighs out through her nipples writhing in anguish.

Avellana let out a cry as her orgasm reaches its crescendo – and as it began to subside, as her legs began to spasm and her breathing began to regulate, she hugged Chance close to her body. For after she had come back into her body, she would begin again. This time with the candle wax.