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again. A beat later, he drew a barely there line from her heel to the arch of her foot. Her eyeballs ached, she squeezed them so tightly closed, but she didn’t flinch even when he kept going and crossed her most ticklish spot.
    “Good. Exactly like that.” He removed the point, leaving her skin sensitive and tingling.
    The sound of a zipper provided a small distraction. The zipper hissed too long to be his fly. He must’ve opened the case he’d carried into the room. Mikal didn’t give her time to contemplate the case’s contents.
    “There’s an art to using a knife. The hilt should fit the hand correctly. Length and weight need to be something the wielder is able to control without straining the wrist. The edge should always be very, very sharp. But you know about the importance of sharp edges, don’t you?” He ran his hand up her leg from ankle to thigh and stopped with his thumb pressing into a taut tendon as if testing the resilience.
    She swallowed. She did know about sharp edges. Her nerve endings fired with awareness and anticipation. Mikal’s hand was so close to her pussy, she could vividly imagine the thrust of his fingers into her wet channel. But he wasn’t there to fuck her.
    “Tell me about edges.” Steel touched her flesh, heavy against the back of her knee.
    She dragged a ragged breath into her lungs and tried to concentrate on not moving. Dull or sharp, the knife could do serious damage to the spot he’d chosen.
    “Callista. Tell me.” He scraped the knife over her skin, up and down the sensitive hollow, just like he would if he was spreading frosting across a tender layer of cake.
    “Edges.” She barely dared to move her lips. “It’s important to keep them sharp.”
    He took the knife away, leaving her strangely cold in its absence. “‘It’s important to keep them sharp’ what?”
    Her stomach lurched, rebelling at the response he wanted.
    “Say it.” He smacked her ass with the flat of his palm.
    “Master! It’s important to keep them sharp, Master .”
    Mikal rewarded her compliance by returning the blade to her flesh. He scraped down the back of her thigh with short, light strokes, the same way she would apply a razor to remove hair. The pressure was strangely soothing.
    His voice penetrated her encroaching mental fog. “Can you tell me what else is important for a knife?”
    “They need to be sterile,” she murmured.
    The knife’s motion stopped. “What?”
    She shivered. She couldn’t help herself. “Master.”
    “Yes. Sterile is important. You wouldn’t want to develop an infection or pick up a blood-borne disease if you were accidentally…” Fire licked at the crease where her thigh joined her buttocks. “Cut.”
    “Ow. Ow, ow, ow. Stop.” Callista strained against her bonds and added, “Master!”
    “Don’t like that after all, do you?” Mikal pressed his fingertips to the fresh wound. “It’s barely even bleeding. Just a scratch. But you thought it was a good idea to present yourself to a stranger and ask him to use a knife on you, with nothing but a safeword to protect you.”
    “I made a mistake.”
    “We already established that.”
    Mortified by what he must think of her, she hid her face against the sheets.
    He teased the curve of her hip with his knife. “Any idea what you were really looking for when you settled on this?”
    She shook her head and it wasn’t exactly a lie. After the incident in his apartment earlier in the day, she’d fixated on knives, and the knife she’d imagined at her neck. But even though she realized now that cutting wasn’t what she truly wanted, she hadn’t understood that when she cooked up her scheme to find release at Bondage. Now she knew differently. Cutting was merely something slightly less insane than what she was really looking for.
    “Well, you can keep thinking about it for the next forty minutes. I’m interested in what you come up with. For now…” He trailed off into silence and scored her