Chapter Six: Release
Hello everyone! Sorry for your wait, chapter six is out! I've been hit hard with school and life, but I'm back! Please enjoy chapter six: Release!
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~Chapter Six~
The knife, balanced delicately in one paw, shined in the evening light. It was a craft knife, but to modest it held the grace and cold beauty of a surgeon's scalpel. Her hand was steady as it rested on her knee, no fear polluting the childlike grace that her body still held captive. No fear, no worry, no anxious hesitation.
She waited only for the right moment.
Marcus was inside, playing a video game. He thought she was in her room, but she had slipped past him. The self-same grace captive-held lent itself to stealth. Mother was equally unaware: this was the fourth day of Victoria's five day trip, away for business. it was also the fifth day since Modest's fight with Marcus, which had triggered her revelation.
The interveneing week had been the hardest she'd ever experienced. Every time she had seen her twin, a knife cleanly slid between her ribs and pierced her heart. The wound, many times opened, was ragged and raw, pulsing with every beat of her young heart.
The glint from her knife was gold in the failing light and she looked up from it, glancing above the railing of the Crow's Nest. The sun was close to the horizon and the evening star was shining, observing.
It was almost time.
Three days ago, Modest had sent Naomi an email, apologizing for her behavior. She had not acted fair and she knew it. As of this morning, the wolf had not emailed her back. Two days ago, Marcus had called Naomi, only to get her father who told the boy that Naomi was with friends and unavailable.
The sun touched the horizon.
Modest looked down at herself. Her black t-shirt was plain, unremarkable, her immature thirteen year-old breasts bulging slightly against the fabric. Her skirt was a navy blue color, long and flowing. It pooled around her as she sat, cross-legged, in the precise center of the Crow's Nest.
The sun was almost gone.
The knife glittered as Modest started lifing her skirt away from her lap, bunching it up at her waist, exposing her thighs and white panties. The briefs were new; this was the first time she had worn them. She looked at the knife in her hand, her scalpel. It remained steady. Her heart was beating hard but she was not afraid, and her hand was unwavering.
The point of the knife against the fine, white, thin fur of her inner thigh sent a thrill through her. She felt no fear and pressed, hand steady as ever, sliding the short, razor-sharp blade into her own flesh, close to the hem of her panties. The pain was sharp and biting, but it was exquisite, and she cried out not in pain but in joy. She pulled ever-so-gently and that pain multiplied as the sterile silver sliver of steel opened a two-inch long badge of her inner torture.
The red blood, flowing freely over the white fur of her thigh, was beautiful. The crimson stained her fur, and as she watched the steady flow her new panties caught the liquid and crimson blossomed from the hem; it was, she reflected, like watching a rose bud open.
The sun had set; only the stars remained to watch on.
~~To Be Continued~~