Xander had lifted Amanda high, his hand held firmly around her throat, as he held her there, with his beloved knife held in his free hand. "Remember, I own you, my Pet. I gave you the scar." "And I will give you a deeper one," she said matter of factly,
Xander had lifted Amanda high, his hand held firmly around her throat, as he held her there, with his beloved knife held in his free hand.  "Remember, I own you, my Pet. I gave you the scar."  "And I will give you a deeper one," she said matter of factly, stories
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anonStories From Unregistered Users
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Memories of Blood (untitled piece)
This is a short piece of Memories of blood, not sure where I want to put it yet...
Loose chapter in Memories of Blood... Love it!

Xander had lifted Amanda high, his hand held firmly around her throat, as he held her there, with his beloved knife held in his free hand. "Remember, I own you, my Pet. I gave you the scar." "And I will give you a deeper one," she said matter of factly,

through her clenched teeth. "Watch yourself," Xander warned, placing the cold tip threateningly, almost teasing, as if he was gonna cut, and reopen the wound, on her already scarred flesh. One that he had given her previously. One that was there, because of him; a scar that had been his mistake, as much as the blood had been. But, he had withdrawn his hand, at the last second, for she had his heart; and on her heart she wore the scar. He loved her, he thought to himself, finally admitting it to himself, and he feared, that she knew it, and so continued to test him...

Now, every thought had been intertwined, every thought shared, even the most intimate ones. And, there were consequences for everything, he should've known that, he should've remembered, like he had made her remember the scar, he thought to himself. She replied, coldly, with a thought meant only for his ears alone, I will make you remember the blood, like I will never forget the scar, which made him temporarily release her, dropping the knife, as he stumbled backward. Such a dark thought, almost as dark as his own, if not, darker; and it had been because of the blood, the blood they had shared, and the blood he now regretted. The spilling of it, the sight of it, and the memory of it, stained permanently in his mind, and twice as deep...

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