Do Not Go Gently
She smiled, and leaned over to kiss me. Her breath was sweet, smelling of toothpaste and wine, and our tongues touched, just for a moment. I twisted against the ropes holding me down, and shifted to try to release the pressure in my pants. She drew back and laughed, that dark laugh that first drew me to her, and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Do be patient.” Her breath was hot, and I began to sweat.
“I’m going to turn out the lights now.” She moved easily over to the switch, letting her finger linger before flicking it down. The room went blacker than night, and I strained to know what was going on from the sound of her movements. A light step here, and a swallow there as she drained the last of the wine. The slither of silk over skin as she shed the burgundy negligee she’d been wearing.
The metallic shink of a knife drawn from a sheath.
She circled the bed, her bare feet padding lightly as she considered her next action. “Ooh, I do like this. It’s more…dangerous…this way, don’t you think? With a blindfold, you don’t know what I’m going to do – I have all the control. But this way, neither one of us knows. Neither one of us is in control.” She laughed, and I moaned deep in my throat. “Well, that’s not true, is it? I’m standing here, holding a knife in one hand, and, ohhh, touching myself with the other. Mmm. Whereas you are tied to the bed, aching – straining – to be touched. But you can’t do anything except cry out, and you won’t do that. Because I have what you want.”
Cold steel brushed against the bottom of my foot, just a touch at first, then slightly more pressure. I marveled at her ability to control the blade in the dark, to know just where she wanted to put it. And then just a bit more pressure, and I felt my skin break as she began opening me. There was less pain than I’d expected, and a growing numbness radiated from her first cut.
“Oh, I know how you like the pain, dear one. And there will be pain. For you. And so much pleasure. But I can’t have you going into shock just when it’s getting good, can I? Don’t worry – the numbness will wear off. Eventually.”
She leaned down and kissed my toes, lightly, then followed each kiss with a small pricking from the knife. As with the first cut, my toes gradually grew numb, first on one foot, then the other.
I didn’t know how I’d last until she reached her destination, but I did. The top of my feet. My ankles. My calves. At each step, she followed the same routine – a kiss, wet and lasting, followed by a gentle slicing, then numbness. I was amazed at how skillfully she moved, how I could barely feel the tugging as she sliced my skin free from the tissue beneath.
She paused as she got to my groin. This would be the last time we’d be together like this, and she savored it. She didn’t let me come, of course, but she did everything with her mouth that I’d ever begged for in the deepest reaches of my fantasies. And just when she couldn’t find a way to hold me off any longer, she took me deep into her throat and drew the knife up between my legs. She stabbed me, hard and deep, and I died twice – le petite mort and le gran mort pulsing through me at the same instant.
I didn’t see her weep as she finished her job, nor get to hold her as she sent my skin out to be harvested for donation to the underground organ clinics. I also didn’t feel the cancer eat me from the inside out, or suffer for months under the ministrations of nurses who wept as they cleaned the foulest things imaginable from my decaying body. This way, I got to give something back, and left the world the way I chose. What she got out of it, I never would know.