"Not"

“Scream for me.” His voice was low, an intimate whisper which under different circumstances might cause an entirely different sort of chill. The sharp edge of the blade touched her skin, moved across her belly and up toward the erect nipple of one sensitive breast.

It was fear that made her feel flushed, that hardened her nipples, dampened her thighs. She was terrified of this man who kept her locked in this basement, forced her to bow to his every whim and submit to every desire. It was terror that made her gasp as his hand grazed her naked thigh. It was a sigh of relief, not regret, as the steel of his blade and erection were both pulled away.

She stumbled as he shoved her forward, the jolt that danced through her blood was pain as her knees impacted the icy cement floor, not arousal. “Please.” She was begging him to spare her, set her free… not begging for his touch, or what she knew would come next.
Her fingers curled under because her palms were cold against the floor, not in response to his hands gripping her hips, shifting her into the position he wanted.

When his steel pierced her, not the blade… She cried out in shame, humiliation, most certainly not because He liked it best that way.