The Kilt and a Prom Dress

October 19th, 2013

He wore his kilt! Finally! In public even. And he looked awesome. I wore my old prom dress, bright red, sleeveless and down to my ankles, with black thigh-high stockings and the old red heels. The engineer in a pretty sprarkly blue dress finished out our trio. I wore mine because he promised to cut it off, I’d been trying to plan that kind of scene for years, and it was worth the wait.

 

I was sitting with a group, to the side of the stage when he came over, big knife in hand. He grabbed some fabric in my lap and sliced it down through the hem. I must have move, because his finger slipped over the hilt and he cut himself on the back corner of the blade. Not bad enough to stop the scene, mentions of the first aid kit were made, but he dragged me up and out to the middle of the stage.

Circling like a shark, he grabbed bits of cloth and slice through. A shoulder strap fell to the floor, the other was sliced, but still lay across my shoulder, keeping the dress in place. Back cleared, the knife tip made a few light passes on skin. Delicious. Down to the skirt again. Stockings, too? Whatever you want. And the knife slid through nylon and tore through elastic. Bit by bit, the dress and stockings were shredded. Until it finally slid to the floor, and was tossed aside.

Still circling, he spoke to the crowd of another thing he loved about his big knife. Smack across my ass. Yelping and he continued to smack. Spinning because I had nothing to brace against, he kept circling for a bit. Then grabbed hold, braced himself and pulled me over his knee. I flailed and squirmed and squealed, trying to find balance and he paddled my ass. Finally giving up and slumping over his knee, he paddled harder, til I slid to the floor.

Kneeling now. He continued to circle, and I lose continuity. He cut loose a bit of remaining stocking, grabbed me around the throat a moment and then tied it round my right breast. Then beat on it with the knife while I screamed. Smacked my inner thighs a few times for good measure, too.

He tore up my dress with his hands, making a long strip and gagged me with it. Holding me still, he drug the knife across my back, in slow stripes. I whimpered after he finished each one, afraid to move while the blade touched me. Then he pulled me backwards, held me tight and cut the gagging strips away.

He was up again, grabbing bits of the dress, circling around behind. Nervous, but not moving, I waited. He tried snapping a piece, like a whip, but it was too light and not shaped right. So he knotted it instead, and it made a nice bludgeon. Far heavier than I thought that dress could become. He beat my back while I arched happily into it. Then around to my thighs. More screaming and squirming. Ow! Wooden floor hurts the top of my feet.

There was also the kicking. Booted feet, kicking my thighs further apart, kicking my crotch and my inner thighs. He pointed down at his boot once, and I kissed it and then moved forward to kneel on it, not sure which he intended. Then there was more kicking, and grinding of the boot heel into my thigh.

He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the wall, pulling me up, he had to give a verbal command to get me to my feet. Then he pinned me to the wall, spanking my ass while I yelped and writhed. 1. 2. 3. Orgasming in sudden stillness. I barely mumbled Thank you, Sir, before I was tossed back to the ground.

Kneeling again, dizzy and breathless. He knelt behind me, grabbing me tight, and I think there were a few more scratches across my back. Then he bent my head back and kissed me. I smiled up at him and kissed him again. So happy.

 

I cleaned up and discovered I had put the bodice with garter straps in the wrong bag, put on my red fishnet thigh-highs anyway, and wandered for a bit. He asked if I needed anything, and I said when I got cold, I’d probably want to borrow his jacket. He gave me his black button-up shirt instead. Perfect. About the time he started negotiating with the engineer for her scene, he tossed me into the circle shackles to keep my buzz going all night long.

Edit: There was also face slapping during this scene, but I still can’t remember where it fit into the rest, not that the last few paragraphs are in very good order, but still. I kinda lose my brain when he slaps me, right down into subspace in an instant. So very, very tasty and lovely, but it wreaks havoc on my memory and sense of time.

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35 Responses to “The Kilt and a Prom Dress”

  1. Fuuuuuuuck – that was awesomely hot to read! Thank you for sharing it with us!

    xx Dee

  2. Oh man. Hot! I have a shirt M ripped (am wearing it now, actually) a while back totally by accident when he was trying to get my attention, but he’s never cut anything off of me. Now that’s all I can think about. ~wanders off fantasizing~

    • PervertedImp says:

      Thanks! 🙂 I’d heard stories of clothes cutting scenes, and then participated in a silly one, before I got to try it myself. I highly recommend it. 😉

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