The other night while lying in bed scrolling through a sea of Tumblr porn vaguely looking for something to share with @domsigns I came across a picture of a knife, a very sharp beautifully curved blade being used to cut a woman’s pubes. Sadly, because I was tired and not concentrating I didn’t mark it and so I now can’t seem to find it again which is really annoying and resulted in me wasting far too much of today fruitlessly searching the darkest corners of Tumblr for it. However my point in mentioning it is that this image inspired a day filled with thoughts of knives. Actually that particular image seriously made me consider growing my pubes so that he could slice them off with his sharpest blade.
Of course my Tumblr search for the picture didn’t help matters because scrolling through thousands of knife play images only served to make my knife lust even worst and soon I was thinking about the feel of sharp cold steel being dragged over the flesh of my arse and how that makes me twitch and the sensation of the heat that erupts in those raw welts that the blade leaves behind in its wake. That thought quickly spiralled into wondering what it would feel like on my breast.
Of late I have become quite enamoured with bruises and marks on breasts. It is not something we have indulged in very much because I am very nervous about damage being done to my breast tissue which is clearly not as robust or as muscle filled as that on my arse. However for reasons I cannot explain I have become increasingly attracted to the idea of him marking my breasts and so the jump from the knife on my arse and back to my breasts was an obvious one.
It does not end there though. I want him to cut my knickers off me, grabbing the crotch in his hand and ripping the knife through the flimsy fabric so he can get to my cunt because what he really wants is to pushing his hard cock into me and just to make sure I am paying attention to his what he wants he holds the knife to me throat while he takes his pleasure in me.
I find knives thrilling, there is something raw and primal about them that just speaks to my kink. They are instant, urgent, menacing, they speak a thousand threats which just a glint of light on their shiny blade. There is nothing ambiguous about a knife. Its intention is dangerously clear. I like that. Knife play totally taps into my submissive kink. It demands my attention and plays with the ideas of helplessness, force, power and control and does so with such easy and simplicity all while looking beautiful.
They not only look beautiful but they leave beautiful marks, sore red marks that throb for hours afterwards and sting like fuck the next day when you get into the shower. Sometimes there are tiny little beads of blood that decorate the welts, like dark ruby gems that quiver on the surface of my skin. A knife knows it job very well, if it is sharp enough, but what really gives a knife its dangerous edge is the person willing to use it on you.