Be Still

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.