werewolf knifeplay with a silver knife
"Don't move an inch."
You pointed your knife threateningly at the werewolf backed up against the headboard. Normally you'd have no chance against her — she was six-foot-five and strong enough to rip you in two on any other day. But the silver blade in your hands meant that she had everything to fear from you.
You shifted the knife in your hands, holding it barely an inch from her throat as you leaned in. Her fur, rising and falling from her scared breaths, singed against the blade. “Be careful. Or do you want to find out what happens when you move?”
Her words came out stuttering in terror. “I-I- d-don’t—”
“Quiet, mutt.” You pressed the silver blade closer, just grazing the skin below the collar wrapped tightly around her neck. Her eyes widened in fear as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. You smiled, breathing it in deeply. She whined softly in pain, her muscles tensing beneath your body. You moved a hand to her fur-covered breast and squeezed, feeling her heart thump faster and faster underneath as the knife singed her neck. “You’re mine. Got it?”
She gave a silent, almost imperceptible nod in return. All you needed from her.
“That’s right. Good girl,” you purred in her ear. You relaxed, taking the edge of the knife away from the werewolf’s throat. Her heartbeat slowed. You repositioned, straddling her torso and looking down at her. “Although… there’s still something I want from you.”
Switching hands, you pressed your knife just below the base of her snout, and ever so carefully traced a line up to her chin. She whimpered from the burning pain, barely audible. You gently lifted her chin with the very tip of the blade, forcing her wide amber eyes to meet your own domineering gaze. Her fear was delicious. Your free hand made its way up to caress her snout. You leaned in, unable to resist her taste any longer. Her breath was warm on your face as you closed the distance, your lips meeting at last.
