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I step back, taking in the sight of Red strapped to the chair, her body completely restrained and vulnerable. Her arms are chained over the sides of the chair, her chin hanging just off the edge. The position forces her chest down against the curved surface, leaving her back and ass exposed, completely at our mercy.

Shadow is beside her, his fingers deftly working as he braids her hair. Once he’s finished, he places the braid delicately over her shoulder, ensuring it’s out of the way. The gesture is almost tender, a sharp contrast to the intensity of the situation. It only adds to the anticipation, the tension thick in the air.

My gaze travels over the exposed curve of her back, her spine arching slightly as she tries to maintain her composure. I can feel her nervous energy, the way her body tenses and relaxes with each breath, waiting for what comes next.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my knife, the familiar weight comforting in my hand. The blade catches the low light as I step closer, positioning myself behind her. I bring the flat of the blade to her skin, letting it rest just between her shoulder blades. The contact is cool, almost soothing, but I can see the way she stiffens, a shiver running down her spine as she feels the cold metal against her flesh.

I start with her bra, sliding the knife beneath the straps. With a quick, deliberate motion, I slice through the fabric, watching as the straps fall away, leaving her upper body fully exposed. Her chest remains pressed against the chair, but I can imagine the way her breasts must be pressed against the hard surface, her nipples likely hardening from the cool air and the tension in the room.

Next, I move to her panties, my hand steady as I slide the blade along the side of the delicate lace. The fabric offers no resistance as I cut through it, letting the ruined panties slip down her legs, leaving her completely bare. Her skin flushes under the exposure, a deep pink spreading across her back and down to the swell of her ass.

I take my time, dragging the knife gently along her side, tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip. I’m careful, making sure the blade never breaks the skin, but presses just hard enough for her to feel every inch of the cold steel.

She whimpers softly under my touch, a sound that’s a mixture of fear and arousal. I can see her legs straining slightly against the straps, trying to close herself off instinctively, but she’s held too securely, too tightly. She’s completely at our mercy, and she knows it.

“Good girl,” I murmur, letting the tip of the knife glide along her inner thigh, close enough to her pussy to make her squirm, but not quite touching. Her body reacts, trembling slightly, the tension in her palpable. Her breathing quickens, and I can tell she’s trying to process the sensations—fear, arousal, anticipation—all mingling together.

I continue to drag the blade along her skin, each movement slow and deliberate, keeping her teetering on the edge. Her whimpers grow louder, her body writhing against the restraints as she struggles to cope with the overwhelming sensations. She’s caught between the desire to surrender and the instinct to fight, but I know it’s only a matter of time before she fully gives in.