I'm wearing you out first. I'll let you fight because struggling against me will drain all of your strength. I'm watching the panic build in your eyes as I pin your wrists above your head. There's something special about watching a person sit and fight down their panic, watching them try and calm themselves so they can find a way out, only for every attempt to fail.
You swallow down the bile in your throat as I start to work your top off. The sound of a knife clicking open stills the last dregs of your panicked struggling. Stubborn buttons and lacy underthings are cut aside while the heat from your body warms the cold blade.
I'll take my time in exploring your chest, searching out every sensitive spot. Slowly kissing across your ribs before I move across your belly. Little by little your panic will mix with pleasure. You'll squirm before catching yourself, ashamed at how easily you respond to my attention.
“Am I the first one to take the time to find all these spots? Or has it just been that long pretty thing?”
How ashamed will you be when you moan for me? How ashamed when you reflexively arch into my mouth? How desperate will you be to grab my head and pull it into you as I finally wrap my greedy lips around your nipple?
How quickly will all those emotions chill when my knife presses against you?
“Just hold still dear. I'd hate to hurt you.”
When I've had my fill; when your chest is littered with hickies and bite marks, I'll drop myself lower. The last stitches of whatever you were wearing cut away and left to fall around your hips.
How hot will your shame burn when I point out how badly your body aches for me? Will you deny, protest? Or just sit in mortified silence?
Warm, inviting, so perfectly soft and yielding. My mouth is all the things the knife isn't as I take you past my lips.
How long until you're arching into me again? You'll whimper for release, though I think you don't know if you mean from knifepoint or across my tongue. I'll take my time here, the same as with your chest. Carefully mapping the spots that make your thighs twitch, memorizing what makes you draw in with those beautiful little gasps. I'll drag your body to the edge before yanking you back to reality with the tip of the blade pressed to the inside of your thigh.
When your body can no longer bear it, I'll allow you to finish. You'll shake, knicking yourself as your body vibrates and twists in desperate passion. After, while you listen to me swallow you down, some clear headed part of you will relax, hoping this means I'm finished with you.
I've taken so long learning the motions and responses of your body, building you up, so I'm going to savor you long past you the point you think you're done.
You'll stay. I'll take everything you have and more. You'll learn the consequence of catching my eye.
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