Danger and the Knife

Boring, ordinary and bland are simply not my style. I have always been attracted to excitement, risk and especially danger. My love of the dangerous has put me in numerous dubious situations over the years, but it has molded me into the person I am today. It has led me to make poor decisions and forced me to learn a great many things the (very) hard way. Be it the drinking and drugs, the fast driving, the people I have associated with, the fighting or the women I have been attracted to, all of them are out of an inherent love of danger. The trouble it has caused me is immense, but I would not take back a single choice.

There are too many people out there who have never seen the darker side of this world, I am happy not to be counted among them.

Your wrists and ankles are bound tightly, the rope leaving red marks on your tender flesh. Your eyes gaze at me from your vulnerable position on the bed. In them I see a mix of excitement and fear. The blade is freezing and reflects the sunlight like an icicle on a sunny winter day. I move it close and run it across your cheek, producing a shiver which runs up your spine.

“Don’t move.”

You can feel the blade’s cold kiss even after it has been removed from your flesh. You ask me if it is sharp. Running it across my chest produces a deep red line across my breast. The slow release of blood from the rift provides your answer. There is no pain, for it is sharp as a razor’s edge. I have a desire to fulfill, something which has been burning in me for a long time.

I need your flesh on mine.

The dull side of the knife on your stomach draws yet another shiver from your body. My eyes gaze their warning into your brain. I will not warn you again. I pull the knife upwards, slicing through the sheer top you are wearing, gradually revealing your milky skin to my stare. The blade travels up until it is free of the fabric, resting below the pool at the bottom of your neck. I flip it over and gently graze it downward across your breast. My body follows the path of my instrument as we continue our descent.

The delicate line the icy knife traces across your stomach is followed by the warmth of my lips. Polar opposites, one right after another, create a sensation in your burning pussy which compels you to fight against your bonds. I slide the knife into your panties as you hold totally still, waiting for the inevitable. It easily separates the lace from your body, revealing more to my eyes.

I allow the edge to take the place of my lips and follow the course my kisses normally would up and down your thighs. I can feel you struggling against your restraints, even though you know your efforts are futile. The knife slowly traces the curve of your leg as it inches toward your naked burning sex. It creeps closer and closer, I can see the fear in your eyes and feel your heart beating as the dull side makes contact with your lips.

“Trust me.”

Your compliance compels me to reward you. Your cunt is leaking all over my sheets, I can see it pouring out and running down your ass. I place the flat blade against your stomach as I begin to slowly lick up the mess I have created. I pull you into my mouth and suck the nectar out of your hole, savoring every drop I receive. The knife continues to trace from your breast to your stomach to its resting place just above your clit.

“Do you feel that?”

“Yes.”

“Do not move.”

My tongue floats back and forth across your clit as I slowly slip two fingers into you. You begin to lift your ass off the bed, but are pushed back down under the threatening touch of the knife. My delicate kiss on your pussy has melted away into urgency, my two fingers curl inside of you, extracting your juice for my pleasure. I can feel you starting to quiver; you release the warm flood into my mouth while letting out a cry. All the while your body remains completely still, paralyzed by the fear.

I lift myself off of you and slowly trace the blade back up your torso, coming to rest on your throat. You stare into my eyes as I hold the knife to your throat but you do not speak. I kiss you and tell you to be ready, the pressure of the weapon increasing slightly as I push my cock inside of you. Your mouth opens and your eyes roll back but you do not move and you do not speak. Your eyes give me the signal, tell me you are ready. I cross the threshold and am completely inside of you now; you stare directly into my eyes. I can see your fear, I can smell your fear and I can taste it.

“Trust me.”