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She holds the point of the knife over his heart and says, "Last chance to back out, boy. I shall not do this if you are unwilling."
Though his eyes are wide and his face deathly pale, he shakes his head. "I'm willing, ma'am. I need this."
She knows full well that he doesn't need it in the way that she does, but that's fine. A deal is a deal, and she will give him the help he desperately requires in return – in due time. First she will take this from him, a down payment and a taster.
Tilting the knife lower until cool sharp metal meets warm smooth skin, she can feel the slight give of his flesh. This blade's her favorite, perfectly-honed and so responsive that it's almost an extension of her fingers.
He is shivering despite the blazing fire, which can't be helped. There is a fear beyond conscious control, and in truth she enjoys causing it. Still, she says, "Don't move and don't breathe." He takes a deep breath and holds it, gaze fixed on her face, and the time for waiting is over at last.
She bears down with her knife, slicing into his chest. He flinches, but that was to be expected his first time and her control of the blade is absolute. She revels in the result, perfect pressure yielding the perfect amount of blood. It wells up and seeps slowly from the two-inch cut, crimson red a beautiful contrast to golden tan. Later she will make much longer incisions and pierce his flesh more deeply, creating patterns and hoping to leave scars. But this is how she always likes to start.
"Exhale, boy," she tells him, smiling, and he does with a pained groan. "Good."
Then she licks his skin clean again.