Twisted Knife Blade Novels & Stories

Winnie’s POV "If you make a sound, I'll slice you ear to ear," a cold voice said into my ear and I suddenly felt something sharp at my throat. With a whimper I moved my gaze slowly to the side to see Trisha kneeling some steps away with a gun that was glinting in the moonlight, pressed to her temple. "Winnie," her voice trembled, tears running down her eyes. "Nobody has to get hurt today," the masked man leaning over me said, "Get up."

This is so, so wrong. Then, just when I think he’s finished, the cold steel leaves my neck, and I feel the blunt handle of the knife suddenly thrust inside me. My body jerks, and a sharp warning leaves his lips. “Careful, little deer. You kick, you’ll cut yourself.” His tongue flicks over my clit, unrelenting, as his hand twists the knife’s handle inside me. Each movement sends jolts of a twisted mix of pain and pleasure through my body, keeping me on edge. His free hand plays cruel games, the blade scratching lightly across my skin, my thighs and chest now marked with the same twisted care.

Loward's wound wasn't fatal, but both his eyes glared fiercely in her direction, his expression twisted with rage, Raeleigh curved her mouth into a faux smile. "I forgot to tell you, these butterfly knives are called 'Double Wings'. They come in pairs, but to someone as careless as you, it's unsurprising that you didn't discover them." Loward scowled at her. He lifted his hand with the intention to tug her down but Raeleigh exerted a little more pressure on the knife and he immediately went still. The feeling of flesh being cut off was painful, but what made it more excruciating was that the flesh was being cut with the blunt side of the knife. The present Raeleigh didn't have much strength,

I kicked and scratched and tried to wrench myself free of his deadly grip but it was useless. He was too strong, and my struggles only seemed to amuse him. He raised his other hand, and I saw a knife in his hand, the cool metal blade glinting when it caught light. The blade was ornate, and runes were etched along its length, symbols I didn't recognize but felt I should. But I gasped when I noticed the hilt. It had a motif of the snarling wolf and the thorns wrapped around it, the claw-like shapes framing the whole design.

Then I grabbed my sheath for my waist and inserted my seven inch parkerized blade. “Holy Moon Goddess! You look like you are going to war.” Rory squealed. I laughed at her energy. I look over at Aiden who is looking at me with some emotion I cannot name. The last thing I grab is my Kukri Machete. It’s eight inches long and completely black. There is only a thin silver lining along the edge. It’s great for combat, but I am going to slice through some of the targets. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Then I grabbed my sheath for my waist and inserted my seven inch parkerized blade. “Holy Moon Goddess! You look like you are going to war.” Rory squealed. I laughed at her energy. I look over at Aiden who is looking at me with some emotion I cannot name. The last thing I grab is my Kukri Machete. It’s eight inches long and completely black. There is only a thin silver lining along the edge. It’s great for combat, but I am going to slice through some of the targets. “Okay, I’m ready.”

I smiled wickedly knowing I wasn't going to give him the death he wanted so easily. Bringing out a bag of knives, I went through them. It was hard finding the best one for his body so I let my index finger decide. It scanned through them, cut after cut until I felt one that stinged like an ant bite. I grinned. The right one for his fine body. I brought out the knife, it took the shape of a sickle, but the edge was triangular like an arrow head. “Please… please!” He begged for mercy dragging the chain as I inched closer.

She reached for it, but stopped cold when she saw Tang pull out a knife from under his jacket. It was all black, sharp as hell, and definitely not made for peeling peaches. He twirled it once between his fingers, then leaned back with a grin. "So… who's ready for party tricks?" Yvonne's eyes widened. "Tang, seriously? What is wrong with you?" She clutched her chest, half-laughing, half-horrified. "Don't worry, Yvonne. I'm just bored," Tang said, flashing a brilliant smile as he toyed with the blade.

To see if he’d run screaming or if that twisted part of him—the one that gets hard when I pin him down—would wake up and watch? I turn back to the table. My fingers trail over the row of knives laid out on black velvet. Different lengths, different curves. Some for precision, some for pain. I pick up the one made specifically for skinning—thin, razor-sharp, slightly hooked at the tip. Knives have always been my favorite weapon, there’s so much you can do with it.

"Yeah? You really think that? You're such a hard-ass, Eros. Shit happens in war. We fight, we make up, we move on. Don't be such a pussy." "When you see Conti, tell him he should've burned with his house." I lunge forward, grab Bosco by the hair, and plunge the blade into his throat. He gags in shock. I rip it out and stab him again, and again, each time in the neck. Blood spurts from his wound. A nearby waitress screams and drops her tray. I plunge the edge and saw into Bosco's jugular up to the hilt before I shove him over, his body twitching, his blood pumping out bright red and arterial. I stand over him, breathing hard, as four Yakuza soldiers come rushing over from the bar with guns le