Prompt 1

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He smirks impishly, teasingly dragging the tip of his sword up my neck before stopping at the junction of neck and jaw. The pressure barely enough to draw blood but I still tilt my head up, bangs framing my face and heart hammering.

My lungs burn, my arms and legs are splattered with dried blood, both his and my own. I straighten up against the wall and, with dreading realization, curse my tattered backless dress. 

As I struggle to stay upright in this position, knees on the floor and back against the cool wall, I hear a deep mocking chuckle.

He drags the point up to my chin, the action tilting my face towards his. We make eye contact and I glare at him hard, eliciting an amused smile from those annoyingly pink lips.

"This isn't the last time you'll be on your pretty little knees, kitten."

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