“Hold this” he says placing the blade between my lips
I look up at him, eyes wide, questioning
“Bite. Down.” It is almost a whisper he says it so softly but I know that tone. It might sound soft and gentle but the truth is anything but that. I close my teeth on the metal and he lets go of the handle
“Don’t you dare drop it” he warns “I don’t want it buried in my foot, or yours for that matter. If you drop it you will definitely regret it. You won’t drop it will you?” He continues
“Will you?” He prompts again as he unbuttons my blouse
“Cat got your tongue, Slut?” He is taunting me now, a smile on his lips as pushes my blouse aside and reaches into my bra pulling one of my breasts free from the black material. I can feel the drool pooling under my tongue and just starting to gather in the corner of my mouth. I try to swallow it back but as I do the blade pushes into the edge of my mouth.
He finds my nipple with finger and thumb. His eyes watching my face intently as he slowly but surely starts to apply pressure and then twist and tug. I find myself biting down even harder on the knife trying to control the moan that wants to escape my lips. He reaches for my other breast, both nipples are now trapped between his fingers. I push out my chest almost rising up on the balls of my feet trying to push myself into his hands to relieve the pressure.
A little droplet of saliva runs down my chin
“What’s this?” he asks capturing it on one of his fingers and showing it to me. “You seem to be a little damp Slut. I wonder….” but he doesn’t finish the sentence, instead he reaches down and lifts the front of my skirt, pulls my knickers to one side and dips a finger into the folds of my cunt
“More than damp” he whispers into my ear as he leans into my body and presses his finger deeper into my cunt. “Absolutely dripping in fact” and then he is wiping my juices on my face, down my cheek and across the top of my lip.
“Can you smell yourself?” All the questions make me want to roar at him but all I can do is give a low moan which turns into a little snarl as he laughs at me. Something about that snarl or the look in my eyes, which I know burn bright, flick a switch in him and he pins me back against the wall, forcing my legs apart with his and buries his hand back between my thighs, pushing first one then two fingers deep into me. My jaw is aching now and the knife feels so heavy in my mouth, the handle end keeps dropping down slightly as I try to relax the muscles and then bite back down again. I will not let him win, I will not drop it. He hooks his fingers inside me rubbing at the front wall of my cunt and I instinctively rock my hips in response. I want him to touch my clit. I want to touch my clit. The drool runs down my chin and I bite down even harder onto the metal of the knife. I reach under my skirt and push my hand down the front of my knickers seeking out my clit but just as I manage to locate it he is tugging the knife from between my mouth.
“Not yet” he growls at me as he pulls me over the bed and bends me over the bed. His is hurrying now. His actions urgent and determined. No more taunting, just need and want. Lifting my skirt he grabs at my panties and slides and wet blade between them and the skin of ass and then with one swift movement slices them open. His other hand reaches for his fly and then he is guiding his cock into me. My remnants of my knickers hang from my waist, my skirt pulled up, my blouse open and my tits escaping from my bra. I look to the side and in the mirror I see her, disheveled and wanton. I see me.
“Dirty little bitch” he mutters as he notices me looking at myself.
He drags my blouse up over my back and draws the sharp blade down my back leaving a bright red fiery welt across my skin. I reach down between my legs and as he fucks himself into my cunt I rub at my clit. He continues to decorate my flesh with more knife marks that burn across my back until my orgasm breaks and I come in a series of tight throbbing spasms around him. With a groan he discarded the knife and and grabs my hips driving his dick harder and deeper into the heat of my body as his own in the search for his own climax.
The knife lays discarded on the bed beside us. The marks it has left on my back throb against the cool of the sheets and my jaw feels tight where I have gritted my teeth for so long. I reach for the knife and pass it to him.
“I didn’t drop it” I say proudly
“Not this time” he replies
I love knife play. It even has it’s own category on my blog to reflect that. I have written about my love of knives, I have written fiction centred around knife play, like the piece above and I have taken many a knife picture because well knives turn me the fuck on! I originally intended for this piece, inspired by this image that has been sitting in my photo folders for a little while now, to be a little vignette and I was going to write two others featuring knives but, well, I basically got carried away and it turned into something a bit too long to be called a vignette.
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