Be Still

July 21st, 2012

She stood very still as he circled her. Looking over her body, head to toes. The smile on his face predatory, hungry. He stopped behind her, close. She could feel his breath on her neck. The cloth came fast. Covering her eyes and tied tightly around her head. He brushed by her and grabbed her hands, quick loops and her wrists were secured. Lifted above her head and tied off to the beam. She shivered in anticipation as he stepped away.

Back. His presence large in front of her. Metal at her throat. Tugging, ripping, he cut through her shirt and bra in one quick pull of a rescue hook. The straps were gone in two sharp tugs. She was topless. He grabbed the top of the skirt and pulled her against him. Kissing her hard, he tore the skirt away with one hand and one hook.

He stepped back, and she could feel him pacing around her again. Eyes closed behind the blindfold, she tracked him. Excited, aroused, scared, shivering with cold and energy.

His fingers snaked up into her hair, pulling her head back tight, and a knife was at her throat. She gasped, then froze. He dragged the blade down the center of her chest, eliciting a whimpering moan. She fought to remain still as the tip traced her hips bones, trying not to gasp too hard.

“Be still.”

He let go of her hair, and dragged the knife around her hip to the base of her spine. She clenched her fists, a focus for her energy. He drew the knife up her spine, and back down, teasing. Moaning softly, she clenched her jaw. He slid back around in front of her, drawing the knife across her belly and up to her breasts.

Taking a tight hold on one, he pressed the tip of the knife against the nipple. She gasped sharply, and let it out in a sharp squeal. He pressed harder and her head dropped back, breathing hard. He made large X’s across the nipple with the blade, pressing in with the length, first one way then the next. She thought for sure he would draw blood.

“I can you know.” he answered her unspoken thought. “No one here to see.”

Dropping that breast as her head came up in a snap and a whimper, he moved to the other breast. Dragging the knife from top to nipple and then around underneath. Lifting it with the flat of the blade, he dropped it and slapped the nipple. She squeaked and jumped a tiny bit.

“I said, be still.”

“Yes, Sir.” She gasped, tightening her fists and her resolve.

“This knife is very sharp, when I cut you, and I will, I want it to be my decision.”

“Yes, Sir.” She bit her lower lip.

He set the tip at her shoulder and pulled it fast down to her opposite hip and before she could finish gasping, did it again in from the other shoulder. She clenched her jaw to keep from shivering too hard as she moaned.

Then the knife was at her wrist, trailing down her arm, sharp and tickling, she tightened her fists, jaw and squeezed her eyes tighter to maintain control. Barely breathing, until he reached her chest, and catching it again as he started up the other arm. When he pulled away, she let it out in a hard gasp, and a few whimpering moans. Cut short by the knife blade pressed against her throat, his hand in her hair, his body pressed against hers. He kissed her roughly, pulling her lip away with his teeth as he disengaged.

She felt him crouch down in front of her. The tip of the knife on the side of her heel. He drew it up the inside of her leg, the pitch of her moan going up as the knife rose. She nearly lost it as he dragged it over her labia and barely regained control as he continued down her other leg. She wanted to shake and jump and orgasm, but she held still.

He dragged the knife in short horizontal lines on the insides of her thighs. She gasped with every one. Then he sank his teeth in to replace the knife and she screamed. She could hear him snickering when he pulled away as she gasped for breath.

“Now then, I think I want some blood.” He stood up in front of her again. “But where to start?”

He dragged the blade lazily from shoulder to nipple to sternum to nipple, down to her belly, around her hips, to her back, up her spine and in figure-8s around her back. Slapping her ass with the flat of the blade, she could hear him hmming in contemplation, as she struggled to control her body, breathing and fear.

“Breathe!” He commanded her. “Don’t you pass out on me, I haven’t even cut you, yet.”

She took a deep, steadying breath. She trusted him. It would be fine. She wouldn’t even see the blood. She trusted him. He wanted it. It would make him happy. She wanted it. It would be fine. Breathing, concentrate on breathing. She settled into her body, into her lungs, into the ground. Solid. His presence, warm, strong.

The knife tip was still exploring her body. Her ass, legs, back, sides, belly, breasts, arms, neck, throat, hips. Dragging, poking, sliding easily over her flesh. She focused on the feeling, the arousal, the cool metal on her skin. Moaning softly, breathing deeply, holding herself still for him.

“That’s better. Good girl.”

He lifted her right breast in one hand, and she felt the blade on her skin. Harder, sharper than before. She felt him cutting the straight lines of his first initial into her flesh. Then he set it down and lifted the other, cutting the first initial of his last name into that one. He let it down and she let out the breath she had been holding. The cuts stung as he wiped them with alcohol, and she was concentrating so hard on breathing and not panicking that she barely noticed him untying her hands.

He was behind her, lowering her to the ground, pulling her into his lap, her back against his chest. Wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her ear and neck.

“Good girl, such a very good girl. All done now, it’s okay you can let go.”

She collapsed into his arms, every muscle relaxing at once. She burst into tears, and burrowed back against him, as he continued to hold her and reassure her. She mumbled her thanks over and over, shaking and crying and gasping. Slowly she melted, and relaxed, a puddle in his arms, calm and so incredibly happy. He pulled off the blindfold, lifted her chin, and kissed her tenderly.

Thank you.

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Happy, Peaceful, Content

November 10th, 2011

This is a good week. With his help, I was able to follow him out of the swirling chaos and realize that’s just what it was. Chaos caused by going in circles and trying to throw everything together at once. Stepping back, realizing that just because there are new things, doesn’t mean they have to disrupt everything. We can still have everything we already had, we can even focus on making what we have better. Nothing is being lost, and there is a lot to gain.

So, when I sat down to blog today, I didn’t know what to write about. He asked what’s on my mind. I said peace, contentment. So, write about that. It is really true. After the last few weeks, just sitting here, happy and content feels wonderful. We’ve had a good week, starting with good discussions, a fun contract night, more open discussions, an amusing knife-play class, and I got to be a demo bottom for a very long flogging lesson, spiced up with a dragon tail and a couple big plastic clamps. I didn’t last very long in those – damn mother nature and over-sensitive nipples – but I did communicate clearly when I needed to stop. It frustrates me when I can’t breathe through pain, but I have even less luck with it while standing. The flogging, however, was very nice. Her first time, and not bad at all. On the third song of sticking with the rhythm and very few poor shots, I got a bit spacey. Fortunately, the tells are second-nature reactions to bad shots, so I don’t have to concentrate all that hard to give them. And then cuddles and home for dinner, explosions and a warm bed I didn’t have to get out of until after the sun was well up.

It just feels so good to have the calm, quiet contentment return. There are still fears, everyone has fears, but we can talk about them, all, together. We can lean on each other, we can accept that fears don’t make truth, and that going forward is the only way to find out, to live life, and to have everything we ever dreamed of. This is an awesome adventure we’ve embarked on, and I am eager to see where it leads next. And if I trip and fall, well, what’s a skinned knee to a masochist? I’ve got plenty of loving hands to help me back up.

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Public Play, Part Two

September 16th, 2009

I helped a couple friends create scenes this weekend, and participated slightly in other informal scenes. Mostly I wandered around watching, being the voyeur. The first night I did not play at all. I just blinked at people reaching out to grab the ring on my collar. Whatever happened to respecting protocol?

Night Two. I had two scenes.

Lover asked what I wanted, and for once in my life, this weekend, I knew what I wanted and I asked for it. I wanted Rope. I wanted No Escape. I wanted as much rope as he could possibly use. We even dropped by my apartment and picked up all my new rope. There was a wooden frame laced with thick bungee cord into a spider web. He used all 150 feet of my new hemp to wrap me up. A chest harness, a corset, thighs wrapped, calves wrapped, arms wrapped. Then he used his own rope to secure every wrap of hemp to the web, as well as his rope cuffs to finish securing my hands, and a few extra ropes to lace my ankles to the eyelets on the frame. He pinched my nipples as he secured me, and then, with borrowed knife, he traced what flesh he had left exposed. He made me orgasm at knife point, over and over. Hard, soft, thrashing and still. The knife went away and he went back to pinching my nipples, taking his sweet torment while he made me orgasm for his pleasure. Then down to taste me, finish me with his tongue. He untied me slowly, pausing to steal orgasms ever now and then. Took me down, wrapped me up in his jacket and held me until we were both back to ourselves.

Master/Husband asked what I wanted, I told him I wanted sharp things. I wanted the Whartenberg Wheel, I wanted the two-pronged claw. He added a knife. He laid me out on the bed, and dragged the sharp metal along my skin. I yipped and screamed and moaned and gasped. Sensations wonderful, sharp, and delicious covering my body. He delighted in my sounds, repeating motions that created his favorite sounds. Drawing red designs in my flesh, but not cutting, never cutting, though oh did it feel like he was. Delighting in the twitching, tickling that drove me crazy, and the moan of satisfaction at the sharp stabbing that ended it. Until I could take no more, and raised my arms to him, and he entered them wrapping our arms around each other and just holding tight, sharing our love for each other.

And those were the good parts. But both scenes had parts that I will remember separately from the wonderfulness that I enjoyed with my partners. Both scenes had the intrusions that are the reason I shy away from public play. The beginning of the first scene was repeatedly intruded upon by our other lovers, poking and pinching me as though they were included in the scene by default, without asking. The second scene, others were invited to listen and comment on the noises I was making, and He held other conversations apart from our scene. Minor distractions and intrusion, but annoying to me, when I want to have a scene where I can lose myself in the scene and Be with my partner. Perhaps that is asking too much in public?

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