EXTRACT FOR
Grotesque
(Anna Mann)

"When, Master H?"

Emiko broke all the rules by asking the question. It was not her place to ask why or when?

Heinz knew exactly what she needed to hear, but he wasn't going to give the satisfaction of an answer. It was all part of the game that he was playing, he saw the frustration in her soft brown almond eyes, he saw the longing and the need, and if he were to be honest he knew his own frustration was building just as fast. The girl needed relief, so did he!

But not yet he warned himself. It was becoming a mental exercise, and the restraint that he was showing spoke of a strong character. A Teutonic character he added, he liked to think himself akin to one of ancient Germany's famous fighting order. Honour and strength, fortitude and honesty... but with a ruthless and cruel streak woven into his being. 

The English had their Knights Templar, Emiko's own people had the Samurai, and the German's had the Teutonic Knights. All strong, all honourable... but also without exception... violent.

So many nights he had awoken to find the naked teen clinging to him, and how he wanted to take her! To roll her onto her stomach and press her face down into the pillow as he forced his hard cock between her perfect round cheeks, to feel the resistance of virgin muscles as he thrust forward hard, to hear her squeal and moan as he ploughed a tight passage never before explored.

But he had always warned himself to be patient. He wanted the first time to be the climax of weeks of stimulation and frustration. He wanted to work her to the point that she literally begged him for pain and abuse. She had arrived at the airport secure in the assumption that he wouldn't be able to wait to draw her blood, and that was what he had wanted her to think. Now with each passing day he saw her weakening... right up until the point that she dared to question him.

"When, Master H?" 

She is close to breaking.

I'm close to breaking too.

He had looked down into her eyes and grinned, then reached forward to cup a fat and firm breast. "You want to wear my scars... don't you, slave?"

He watched a tear forming in the corner of her eye and felt his erection swelling. "I am yours to cut my Master, my body is your canvas."

"I like that," he chuckled, "In many cultures scarification is practised, as Europeans would opt for an ink tattoo, whereas certain African tribes create raised scars... Yes, I might turn your skin into my canvas, I may paint you with scars... It would make you living art."

"Please Master." Emiko lowered her eyes again and pushed her chest forward. Heinz chuckled silently before releasing his grasp on her breast, he was adding to her frustration, he saw her arousal clearly, their talk of scarification had hardened her nipples before his eyes, now he would turn away and force her to wallow in the vexation of yet another anticlimax.

Oh no, as much as he would love to take a blade to her soft and creamy skin, he would force himself to wait.

And there are lesser pleasures he reminded himself as he twisted his fingers into her black hair and lifted her to her feet. Painful and degrading, but not so much that they will detract from the grand finale.