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A s I bring the knife to the fabric of Red’s dress, the reality of the situation settles over me like a dark thrill. She’s seated in Shadow’s lap, his arms wrapped around her, gripping her in place. The bag over her head leaves her blind, heightening every other sensation, her breathing rapid and shallow. She can’t see what’s happening, but she can feel everything—the cool metal of the blade, the tension in the air, the pressure of Shadow’s body against hers.

With each deliberate slice, the dress falls away, exposing more of her to the cool air. The sound of the fabric tearing is sharp, each cut precise, as I reveal the smooth skin beneath. Shadow keeps her steady, his grip unyielding, his breath hot against her neck. She’s trembling slightly, her body caught between fear and arousal, every sense on high alert as she tries to make sense of what’s happening around her.

The bag over her head is a perfect touch, intensifying her vulnerability. She can’t see us, can’t predict what’s coming next—she’s completely at our mercy. The power of that realization sends a jolt of excitement through me as I continue to cut away her dress, piece by piece .

I can feel the tension in her body, the way she’s struggling to maintain control even as the last pieces of fabric fall away, leaving her exposed. Shadow’s hands grip her hips, holding her in place as I work. His eyes meet mine briefly, a silent understanding passing between us—we’re in complete control, and she knows it.

I press the knife lightly against her skin, just grazing the surface, and I hear her gasp, muffled by the bag over her head. “You feel good here,” I murmur, my voice low and deliberate, knowing she’s fully aware of the power we hold over her.

Shadow shifts beneath her, grinding her against the hard length of his cock through his slacks. I watch as her body reacts, her breath catching in her throat. Even with the bag over her head, I can sense the conflict raging inside her—fear battling with desire, uncertainty tangled with need.

The last of the fabric falls away, and I sit back, admiring her vulnerability. She’s nearly naked in Shadow’s arms, her breath shaky, her skin flushed with a mixture of arousal and anxiety. The bag obscures her face, but I can imagine the wide-eyed expression she must be wearing beneath it.

I let my hand graze her exposed thigh, a reminder of my presence, of the control I wield in this moment. “You’re ours now,” I whisper, my voice carrying the weight of what’s to come.

This is just the beginning. The night stretches ahead, filled with endless possibilities, and as I see the way her body reacts, the way she’s caught between resistance and surrender, I know that by the end, she’ll be craving every dark twist we have in store for her.