Her hand was forced down as he pulled his cock out, and the hole was used almost immediately afterwards. Bones pushed to the side and groaned in agony while it plunged through the hole he'd just carved, blood covering like a sick lube that would do no good in the long run, all seconds before he plunged into her again. He reached up and tilted her head back, forcing it so that she couldn't see him as he thrusted into her body. The feel of the knife there, below her voice box, was obvious. It was a knick, nothing more, but a hint and a warning.

"You're oozing it," he said, tauntingly. "White and red oozing down from the wound. But I always ngh... enjoyed a good handjob, don't you?" The knife bit, cutting into her throat but not slicing. It punched a small hole a second before he reached for the poker again. It was crude, but she could feel the white hot heat forming a stoma, a hole right into her throat, below her larynx.

He would carve holes into her until she was a pin-cushion of places to fuck.