Free Avalon Revisited by O. M. Grey

over my right forefinger. It covered the entire digit, jointed in all the right places, as if it were silver armor. The pointed tip extended another two inches from my finger tip and was razor sharp. “I won't cut deep. I just enjoy some blood with my fucking. All right?”
    She nodded, relaxing a little. Judging from the scars on her back and legs, she wasn’t new to a bit of rough play. Judging from the ol’ chap across the hall, I was likely far from the most sadistic client she has had in her tenure.
    I went over to her and whispered in her ear, using my special power of persuasion, “Do you trust me?”
    She nodded again, and her eyes began to close. I wasn’t rusty at all.

    Careful to keep the armored finger raised off her skin for the moment, I ran my hands up and down her back. She moaned through her gag.
    “You will enjoy this immensely,” I breathed into her ear, bending over her and pressing my body fully against her entire frame, grinding my erection into her backside. She moaned again.
    I stood up and pulled the sash down off my face, for she could not see behind her, so there was no fear of being recognized or later identified. I dropped my trousers to my knees, as I wouldn’t be moving from this position any time soon, and set the finger blade against her back.
    She gasped and then giggled as the pointy tip tickled the skin on her back. I traced the blade down her back to her plump ass then down one thigh. As I came up the other leg, I slid two fingers inside her, feeling her wetness therein. She squeezed them tightly, using her skill, honed over decades. Yes. Something to be said for experience. Sliding them out and back in, I continued tracing the blade around her back and buttocks, heightening her and my anticipation for what was to come. She swelled up around my fingers and I moved them faster, inserting another. Her breath came faster and she drenched my hand with her juices. Appetizer done. Now it was time.
    I removed my fingers and positioned myself behind her for the main course.
    “Are you ready?” I asked.
    She whimpered a reply and nodded her head. I slowly slid myself inside her much to both our delights and began rocking against her, shaking the table as I did so. The thrusts were slow and deep, making full contact with her at the end of each. One hand held onto her hips while the other continued to trace the frigid blade against her back. Simultaneously with a particularly hard thrust, I pressed down slightly and cut into her skin, just deep enough to draw blood. She gasped, tugged against the restraints, and squeezed my cock in the most delightful way. Blood flowed from the wound, accumulating in the indentation along her spine. I stopped and admired the dark red pool against her fair skin. Folding myself on top of her, I lapped up the dark drink and started thrusting again, harder and faster than before. When I could get no more blood from one cut, I made another, slowing down between each cut and then diving back into her as I soaked my tongue anew. With each cut she gasped and moaned until finally she came as I made the final cut, a little deeper than the rest, but by no means mortal. I drank deeply and slammed into her until I exploded inside. My mouth bathed with her blood, and my body anointed with our mingled juices. Her knees buckled and she relaxed against the table, catching her breath.
    After wiping off my mouth and my nether regions with her robe, covering my face, and fixing my trousers, I shoved five pounds under her stomach, whispering, “This is for you if you stay right in this position until after I leave. Agreed?”
    She nodded. Sweat droplets decorated her brow. Her fair back was mottled with drying blood, but the wounds had already begun to congeal. She would but need a rest, and all would be fine. I untied one of her hands.
    “Count to twenty before getting up, then forget me,” I spoke softly, dropping the false accent, and brushed the hair from her face.
    She