The harsh grip of the dagger’s handle rubbed against her inner walls and the pommel bumped against her deepest inner gate, each time it touched making Corr yelp and buck. Her slit was bruised by the cruel thrusts of her dagger’s hilt, the awful aching burn flaring brighter with each small thrust, though she did find pleasure enough in it to stir a dark heat in her belly that twisted tighter as her sister bit her.<br/><br/>At the command, Corr scrabbled for the words that would most please her sibling. “Ruhk, I’m yours, your mate, your Ksssneh.” The word meant both treasured possession and meat. Corr cried out again her body arching as Ruhk twisted the dagger. The thief was close to climax, panting shallowly and squirming against the rough hilt.<br/>