We took a moment to catch our breaths. She was still spread out on her back, her arms and legs wide. Tantalizing.

*I reached for my knife. Slid it from the sheath in front of her face. I slid the flat of the blade down the center of her belly and then sat back on my heels, between her legs. I placed the point on the inside of her thigh, just above the knee, and drew it up. I could barely see in the dim light. I had to do this by touch, by sensing with my hand how much pressure I put on her skin with the steel tip.

No. No. Please don't cut me. Don't cut me. Not there.

When I reached the top of her thigh, I traced the blade across her labia�she held very still�and lifted. She shook her head from side to side. I placed the tip of the blade on the inside of her other thigh, just above the knee, and started again.

When I finished with her legs, I moved to her breasts. As I traced pink lines around, I told her to describe the pain to me. Like a burning line, she said. I put the knife away and fucked her again.

I lit candles. We took a short break, and when we resumed, she was in denial.

It's a dream. It's just a dream, so it doesn't matter if my body is responding to this. It doesn't matter what happens to me.

I thought about frightening and bullying her out of it, but I decided to let her go on that path. I allowed her freedom of movement again. But her whole body was tensed up. I cradled the back of her skull in my hand and said, relax. She melted in my arms, the tension dropped away like water poured from a bucket.

We kissed more. She responded. We fucked again. Then I slipped a finger into her ass and my thumb inside her cunt, massaging the thin wall between. She protested again. Don't do that.

Why not?

Don't.

When it seemed I was done with her, she wanted to know what I planned to do with her. Would I kill her?

You don't get to know how the dream ends until it happens.

She was cradled in my right arm. Relaxed. Weary. Not as defensive as she had been. With a little tug, I rolled her body into mine, as if to hold her tenderly, opened my mouth wide over the side of her throat, bit down and drank deep.

She fought. She pushed at me. Eventually she grew limp. She went into convulsions. I pulled at her harder, as if squeezing and sucking out the last drop. And finally she was completely still.

I let go of her body and watched as she rolled back flat on the bed. I pulled my arm out from under her. Stood up. Buttoned my jeans, and walked out.

Downstairs I washed my hands and drank some water. Then I went back up to the attic. There Sara sat, grinning widely.

That was so hot.

Pretty evil, huh?

Oh, yeah.

We had our usual, post-sex talk about all the aspects we really liked. Kissed. Held each other. Checked the time.

Time for one more.

We didn't think she'd have much left in her, so we just spread out a towel and not an additional bed pad. Silly us.

Casualty list: three towels, two bed pads, my t-shirt, the comforter, and both layers of sheets.

*This date report is not necessarily in chronologic order. Things get to be a mixed up blur, and I can't always remember what happened when. It's as close as I'm going to get it.