Cut Novel Novels & Stories

Part of me wanted to deny the title, I’d only had sex with that one boy, but then I realised that to be a slut for God was an honour, not a shame. Father Hamilton stepped back and grabbed a huge pair of scissors from the small table and my pussy felt cold without the heat of his cock pressing against it. I was momentarily worried as he slid the scissors up my taught navel, the cold metal making me flinch. Slipping the scissors over the material of my bra between my breasts he closed the blades with a powerful clench of his hand. My ample teen tits had been straining against the supportive garment, when the bra was cut open the material sprang away from me to each side and my breasts spilled

Abel was stunned as he exclaimed, "That's impossible! This card has no limit. It's still under As—" He then abruptly turned to me and demanded, "Was it you?" At this point, I saw no need to preserve their dignity any longer. I let out a cold laugh and replied, "Yes. I canceled it. "This is my supplementary card. If I don't want you to use it, you can't. What are you going to do about it?" Before my words even settled, Cora pouted and clung to Abel's arm. "Abel, you have to handle this properly. I saw several bags I wanted to buy."

Connor's surgical knife was exceptionally sharp, its edge gleaming ominously. Nevertheless, Timothy remained motionless, almost as if he had resigned himself to whatever fate awaited him. In that tense moment, even Jason found himself holding his breath. With a swift motion, the knife sliced through Timothy's sleeve, drawing blood as it left a jagged tear in its wake. Observing Timothy's lack of reaction, Connor gritted his teeth and remarked, "You're truly tempting fate, aren't you?"

I grabbed a fresh set of clothes and walked inside the bathroom to shower, untangle my hair, and think about my next step today. I undressed, turned on the shower, and grabbed scissors from the drawer. I grabbed my long, curly red curls and sighed deeply before cutting them at shoulder level. My eyes focused on the blades unevenly cutting through the thick mop that reminded me of my mother every time. I bit my lip not to cry as I destroyed something she was so proud of.

He went over to the cabinet and returned with what looked like medical scissors. He crouched down in front of me. "I can do-" His eyes shot up to me, "Shh." I squirmed slightly, his one hand going to the back of my calf as he cut the lower part of my pants, going ever so slowly up the side. His hand moved up the back of my thigh while he continued and I was forced to steady myself on his shoulders. He stopped at the thigh, "There, that should give enough space." "Uh, thanks."

A video popped up from an unknown address, and she frowned as she took the phone. She tapped to play the video. On the screen, Tristan stood before the camera, his smile looking unnervingly pale. Behind him, two figures were bound to chairs, their bodies exposed. It was Delilah and Marvin. In front of him was a phone that was live-streaming the scene. He held a sharp dagger in his hand and walked toward Delilah, peeling the tape off her mouth. With extreme fear, Delilah shook her head vigorously as she pleaded, "Tristan, it's me, Lila! What are you…"

A receipt for my old life, paid in full. My training began not in a gym, but in a soundproofed basement. Marco was a brutal, efficient teacher. He didn't teach me to fight; he taught me to dismantle. "Again." Marco grunted, resetting his stance. I had failed to disarm him for the tenth time. My muscles screamed in protest. The brand on my abdomen pulled taut, a fresh reminder of my vulnerability. Sweat stung my eyes. My breath came in ragged gasps. On the eleventh attempt, I didn't think. I reacted. My hands moved faster, exploiting a microscopic opening in his guard. A twist, a pull. The practice knife clattered to the mat.

Ultimately, he sighed in exasperation before shaving my hair off and giving me a buzz cut. When I got home, Scarlet was nearly shocked to see that all my hair was gone. "Vi! What did you do to your hair? Why is it now a buzz cut?" "It's more convenient that way," I said. The comments suddenly popped up on the screen. "As expected of the main character's sister. She's a step ahead of everyone else." "Exactly! Who would want to waste precious water to wash hair instead of drinking it?" "Everyone's going to get a buzz cut next time, regardless of their gender!"

He shakes it off and takes a seat. I take a knee in front of him and start cutting the T-shirt off. I start at the bottom and go up to his collar. Then I cut the sleeve and toss the pieces along with the scissors. There's a huge gash from his shoulder to his rib cage. It wasn't done with claws. A knife. A small one. I stand to get a couple of towels. I place one on his lap and wrap the other around his waist. This is the first time he's let me get this close since the last time I helped stitch him up. I pour some cold water over the wound and follow it up with peroxide. He makes a sound that goes right through me. I rotate my shoulders trying to shake it off.

“But it was my favorite one. “ “You don’t have favorite ones. “ Oliver said lightly and sliced the thin cloth. He did it fast and skillfully. Oliver had done this so many times before, yet this was the first time he found himself holding his breath, hoping the wound underneath wouldn’t be as bad as his imagination was tricking him into believing it was. The cloth had stuck in the cut and he tried to remove it as carefully as possible. “This might hurt a bit. “ “No, it’s…just take it off. “ Oliver peeled the cloth and threw it away. The cut was above the abdomen. It wasn’t that deep, although it was still bleeding. Thank god, he thought, almost speaking the words aloud. “It’s not that bad.” C