it started out as a joke, right?
a few drinks in and we were talking about kinks. i mentioned something about knives and your eyes lit up.
the next thing i knew, you were tracing that shiny blade across my body, not enough to break skin..though you could if you wanted to.
cutting down the fabric of my dress, breasts spilling out and nipples already hard from the cold air. you could see it, the way my breath hitched.
my head tilting, baring my neck to you willingly as I felt the cool metal against the pulse point under my ear.
i know you wouldn’t hurt me..not really. you’d stop if i asked, but what if I didn’t want you to stop?
what if i lay there, still. feeling your fingers tug down my panties and swirl around my clit before pushing inside me, making me gasp. the sharp edge of the blade digging further into my flesh. not breaking skin, yet.
and what if, maybe, you dragged it down..down…until you were right where i needed you most. but this time, i didn’t move. not an inch, my breath coming in short pants. and despite myself i felt my legs spread involuntarily.
“stay still for me baby. can you do that?” you’d command, firm..but gentle. checking in. I’d nod, once, a sharp jerk of my chin. i was okay. i trusted you explicitly, even now.
you wouldn’t do it, but you could if you wanted to. completely at your mercy.
then, i’d feel it. not the blade, no. the rounded edge of the handle, stretching me out and i’d gasp. hips pressing down slowly, but you’d stop me.
“don’t. move.” you would say, sharper now. i would freeze, fuck. i’d stay still, waiting until you’ve decided I can listen well enough for you to finish what you started.