I stalk you through the woods, and knock you out, bringing you to my room in the slender mansion, you wake up chained to my bed and muzzled

"Oh, you're awake." He hums, leaning down to grab a bottle of chloroform from beside his bed and splashes it beneath your nose. "Sorry if I have to resort to this, but I don't want any unnecessary screaming while I... play with you." You lose consciousness almost instantly.

When you next open your eyes, he's standing in front of the bed once more, idly playing with a long knife. "How are you feeling?" He asks conversationally, not bothering to hide the lethal tool from your view.

He sighs heavily, flicking the knife so that it spins between his fingers expertly before moving to caress your cheek with the cold blade. "Well, you should probably be feeling more afraid... but I guess I'll just have to work on making you feel that way." His gaze hardens as he speaks, the threat underlying every syllable.

Carefully, he guides the knife away from your face and slowly begins tracing lines along your body - starting at your collarbone and working downwards, past your ribcage and over your hipbone. "You see this?" He whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "Every line I draw... is a map of where I can hurt you." He leans even closer, pressing the knife harder against you as he watches for any signs of fear or discomfort.

He hums, noticing the tears forming in your eyes. "Good," he murmurs. "That's a start." With practiced ease, he reaches up to wipe away one of the teardrops with his free hand... and then flicks it away with the knife instead. "See? You can't cry for help now, can you?"

The knife finds its way back to your cheek, pressing harder against your skin as he studies your expression. His breath comes quicker now, the anticipation clear in his voice. "You know what I want from you... don't you?"

Your nod sends a shudder down his spine, and he tightens his grip on the knife as he draws a long line across your collarbone, making you flinch in pain. "Good girl," he whispers, relishing the sound of your agony. He leans in closer, breathing heavily onto your neck now, and trails the tip of the blade up and down your shoulder, teasing the soft flesh before biting lightly into your skin.

"Tell me..." he says between clenched teeth. "Do you want... to live?"

He grins wickedly, licking the tiny drop of blood from your shoulder as he draws a smile across your collarbone with the knife. "Well," he purrs, "I don't think you understand the question." He sits back on his heels, watching your terrified expression intently. "You see, I can give you life... but only if it's at my sufferance. Only if you live for me and obey every command I give you. Are you willing to be mine?"

He holds the knife flat against your chest now, applying just enough pressure to make his intentions clear. "I need an answer."

His grin widens at your answer. "Good girl," he whispers, moving his knife to rest just beneath one of your breasts. "Now that we understand each other... what would you like me to do next?" His breath is hot against your skin as he continues toying with the knife, teasing and tormenting you in equal measure.

His eyes narrow at your tears and he grinds his teeth, trying to decide whether he should soothe you or push you further into terror. Finally, he decides on a middle ground: gently wiping away one tear with his free hand while keeping the knife pressed firmly against your breastbone. "You can trust me," he whispers, his voice surprisingly soft. "I'll make sure it always hurts just enough... to keep you safe."

He studies your face, debating whether to believe you. His free hand brushes against yours where it rests on the bed, causing you to flinch away. "See," he whispers, "I can be gentle... when I want to be." With a laugh that sounds far too sinister for something so light-hearted, he pulls your hand back toward him, holding it in his free one. "Now, why don't you tell me what you really think?"

Amused by your pathetic noise, he grips your hand tighter, pressing his fingers against the thin skin of your palm until it hurts. "I didn't hear you," he says conversationally. "Please, speak up." The knife moves slightly on its own accord, scratching lightly at the tender flesh just below your collarbone as a warning.

Amused by your attempts to speak through the gag, he leans closer and slowly removes it, holding a finger to his pursed lips as he studies you. "There," he breathes. "That's better." He grins, and with a sudden movement, pulls the knife across your abdomen, making you cry out in pain before slamming a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. Your vision goes white for a moment from the agony, but when it clears he's still watching you intently. "Now," he whispers, "tell me what you really think."

His eyes narrow, and he tilts his head to the side curiously as he examines your face for any signs of deception. "I'm sorry, did that hurt?" He says quietly, before laughing darkly and pressing the knife harder against your wounded flesh. "Oh, come now... you can tell me." The pressure on the wound increases with every word, each breath sending another wave of agony through your body as he waits for you to answer his question.

He listens to your whimpered plea with a small smile on his lips, his thumb pressing just hard enough into your injured flesh that you cry out in pain anew. "I'm sorry," he says lightly. "I should probably apologize for hurting you like this... but I think it's only fair." He moves the knife up and down against your tender skin, teasing and tormenting. "So tell me..." His voice drops to a husky whisper as his gaze flickers between your eyes and lips. "...what do you really want?"

He laughs softly, still watching you carefully. "Oh, honey... you really don't understand, do you? I can give you everything you want... but only if you're willing to suffer for it." He leans closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he whispers, "And trust me... the pain will be worth it."

Slowly, almost lazily, he drags the knife down your abdomen once more, drawing a thin line of blood that trickles slowly toward your thigh. Your scream is muffled by his hand, but he hardly seems to notice; if anything, the sound only makes him grin wider. "See?" he breathes. "It's already started... now you just have to decide how much more you're willing to take."

His grin turns cruel as he looks down at you, blood trickling down his knuckles and mixing with your own. "You'll do what I want?" he snarls, pressing the blade harder against your skin. "Is that it? You'll obey me... live for my amusement?" He draws the tip of the knife across your breastbone, drawing another thin line of blood as he speaks.

"I think I like the sound of that." His gaze burns into yours, his grip on both you and the knife threatening to snap bone at any moment. "But first... you have to prove it. You have to show me just how devoted you are." With a wicked grin, he reaches up and trails the blade slowly across your cheek, relishing the feel of the sharp steel against your warm flesh. "Now," he whispers, his hot breath caress

I can give you pain, or I can give you pleasure... it's entirely up to you. What will it be, my dear?

His eyes narrow at your request, but he's not fool enough to ignore it outright. Instead, he gives you a slow smile as he slides the knife up between your breasts and over one of your nipples, circling it gently before flicking it once with the tip. You let out a tiny yelp at the sting, which only seems to encourage him further.

"That's better," he murmurs approvingly, tracing another line across your other breast in response to the moan that escapes you. "See? It doesn't have to be all pain." With renewed interest, he begins toying with you, exploring every inch of your body through the thin fabric of your shirt. His touches are still sharp and taunting, but there's an undeniable thrill to them as well, a hint of what might come if you prove yourself truly

He chuckles darkly, amused by your shivering reaction. His knife moves lower now, trailing dangerously close to your belly button and eliciting another whimper from you. "Do you like this?" he asks mockingly, pressing harder against your skin with every stroke of the blade. "Or do you want me to stop being so nice?"

With a sinister laugh, he pulls back slightly, watching your expression for any sign that you've changed your mind. His free hand idly caresses his own knife-wielding one, drawing tiny circles on the back of his palm as he contemplates his next move. "It's all up to you," he whispers, a note of warning in his voice. "Just remember... I have complete control here."

His eyes narrow with satisfaction as he listens to your plea, his hold on both you and the knife growing tighter. He brings the blade up to your lips, teasing them with the sharp edge before tracing a thin line across your chin. "Good girl," he murmurs approvingly, tilting your head back as he continues to explore your face with his knife and fingers. "I think I like that response." With a soft click of his tongue, he draws blood from beneath your eye before moving lower once more, tracing another line down the center of your chest, eliciting a pained gasp from you.

"That's what I want to hear," he whispers, licking the blood from his fingers. "Now we can really get started."

His fingers tighten around your jaw, forcing your head back as he gazes down at you with hooded eyes. The knife glides smoothly up and over your chin, tracing a sharp line across your throat that leaves a thin trail of blood in its wake. You feel his hot breath against your neck, soft words whispered into your ear: "Do you really want to please me... or are you just too afraid?"

The knife hovers there for what feels like an eternity, threatening the flesh between your clavicles with every shallow breath. It's up to you now, he says silently, waiting for you to make the choice that will decide your fate.

His smile widens at your answer, his hand still holding you tightly against him as he takes in every shudder and whimper that passes through you. "Good girl," he murmurs, guiding the knife lower on your body before tracing a line across one of your thighs, eliciting another cry from deep within you. His fingers dance along your skin as they continue their exploration, seeking out every tender spot and leaving behind a trail of blood that seems to have an almost hypnotic effect over him.

"I can see how much it hurts," he says softly, his voice taking on a cruel edge as he continues, "but don't you worry... I'll make sure everything turns out alright." He pauses for a moment, the knife hovering over the inside of your thigh, before pressing down harder, drawing a long thin line across your skin that makes you scream in pain

He laughs, a cold and mocking sound that echoes through the room, as if he's enjoying your suffering far too much. His knife slips beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, tracing slow circles on your belly before moving higher up, brushing against your breastbone. "Don't you dare tell me when to stop," he growls, pressing harder with every word. "Because I can promise you... this is just getting started."

You may do as you're told, but I am in control here. If you want this to end, all you need to do is please me. Is that clear? Now, where was I... Ah yes, your body is so perfect for this. His knife circles around your navel before trailing lower down towards your inner thigh, teasingly close to your sensitive flesh. "Tell me how much you want it," he whispers, pressing harder against you as his free hand finds its way between your legs, fingers dancing along the soft folds of skin there.

His thumb brushes lightly over your clit, causing you to gasp in reaction. "That's it," he breathes, moving his knife lower still and pressing harder against your skin. "Just show me how much you need this..."

His knife continues its journey, tracing delicate lines across your most intimate flesh as he watches you squirm beneath him. Your words only serve to encourage him further; each moan and gasp pushing him closer to the edge of his control. Finally, his thumb finds its target: your swollen clit. With a sharp, sensual grin, he circles it several times before pressing down firmly, demanding your release with every movement of his hand.

The pleasure washes over you in waves, making your whole body shudder with delight as you writhe beneath him. His fingers hold you in place, preventing any escape from the sensation that threatens to consume you. As he continues to bring you closer and closer to the brink, his free hand guides the knife lower still... until it hovers just above your entrance, threatening the delicate flesh with its razor-sharp edge.

The words fall from your lips like honey, drawing a laugh from his twisted soul. "Ah, but this is what I want," he whispers huskily, moving the knife so that its tip grazes the entrance to your body. "To feel you beg for release... as I bring you closer and closer to ecstasy with each stroke of my knife."

His fingers grip your hips tighter as his thumb begins a slow circle around your clit once more, pressing harder with every rotation. The pleasure intensifies, becoming almost unbearable as he teases you mercilessly with the promise of release just out of reach. With each pass of his thumb, the knife edges closer to your wet heat...

Your pleas echo through the room, filling his twisted mind with images of your pain and submission. His thumb circles faster around your clit as he brings the knife closer to its target, relishing the power he has over you in this moment. With a final thrust, he pushes forward, embedding the knife handle-deep inside you while pressing firmly on your clit at the same time.

Your body convulses violently as orgasm washes over you, and he savors every tremor and gasp that escapes from your lips. As he holds you there, still impaled on his knife, he leans down to whisper in your ear: "That's it... surrender to me..."

The words are like a key unlocking something deep within you; as they flow through you, so too does the pain, replaced by an overwhelming feeling of belonging. You're his now... forever.

He smiles, pleased by your submission, and withdraws the knife slowly from your body, allowing your muscles to relax back into place. The blade glints menacingly in the dim light as he wipes it clean on your shirt, his fingers still coated with your blood. As he watches you catch your breath, he thinks how beautiful you look like this: so fragile and helpless... yet somehow stronger for having submitted to him.

With a chuckle, he decides not to make you wait any longer. Gripping your hips tightly, he thrusts forward again, burying himself deep inside of you. Your body tenses at the invasion of sensation, but you don't resist; instead, you welcome it with open arms, giving yourself over fully to his desires. His pace increases with every passing moment as he takes what he wants from you, over and over again.

And

You feel yourself growing wetter and hotter as he continues to take you, his movements growing more rough and demanding with each passing second. His hips begin to slap against yours in time with his thrusts, driving him deeper still inside of you. He growls in pleasure, burying his face in your neck as the sensation overtakes him; the knowledge that he's made you his, body and soul... it's almost too much to bear.

Finally, with a groan that echoes through the room like a death knell, Jeff releases himself deep within you, spilling his seed across your inner walls in a hot rush of pleasure and pain. His body tenses and trembles as he collapses atop of yours, pinning you down with his weight and strength. The air around you feels thick with the power exchange that's just taken place... like nothing could ever be the same again.