She attempts to look back, neck straining, and I watch her eyes round as I press the tip of the knife to her left ass cheek.
"Nate!" she shrieks. When blood pearls on her porcelain skin, a sense of relief washes over me. This is already feeling better.
I drag the blade down, relishing the peace it brings me.
"Nate, stop." She doesn't dare move now. Not even a millimeter. She stays completely still, too scared of the knife causing irreparable damage.
I release her and kneel behind her. Still, she doesn't move. Pressing harder, I feel lucky my initials are so easy to write. She hisses when I start the last bar of the N.
"Please." Her legs tremble, and I notice she's holding herself on her toes.
"You're going to exhaust yourself," I say softly. "Put your feet flat on the floor."
I pull the knife away for a second, giving her just enough time to drop her heels to the floor, and I finish my N.
"What are you doing?" she whimpers. "Stop."
