The Writer's Loft

He stood behind her as she braced herself against the mantle of the fireplace. A snapping ember landed on her thigh and she flinched, crying out softly into the ball bag strapped between her lips.
He had dressed her in his favorite attire; black-laced brassiere and panty set with matching garters and stockings, and those delicious five-inch heels made of fine Italian leather be bought for her on their last holiday in Rome.
He pulled the hunting knife from the sheath that hung from his belt. The etchings of the Damascus blade shimmered in the firelight. He pressed the flat edge of the blade against her cheek, just below the line of her ear and he knew she would soon become aroused.
He leaned close to her and bit down on her earlobe. She closed her eyes as she felt his teeth sink into her flesh. She inhaled sharply through her nose when she felt him release his bite and the blood rushed back to her ear.
“I’m going to take my time undressing you with my knife,” he whispered; his lips barely touching her ear.
She whimpered through her gag when she felt the knife slice through the shoulder straps of her brassiere which now dangled freely about her her torso. He reached around and placed the knife between her breasts. She looked down only to see the knife make quick work of the bow that held the cups of her brassiere together and she felt herself become aroused when he discarded the now useless lace in the flames that danced before them.
With his thumbs, he made quick work of the straps on her garters that held her stockings. There was something about the ability to deftly maneuver the snaps that would set her free that brought a greater blood rush to his temples than merely destroying them with the blade.
He then slid his hand between her thighs and smiled when he felt her arousal cling to the back of his hand. He wasted no time in drawing the blade through the fabric of her panties and held them to his nose, briefly inhaling the scent of her femininity before tossing them into the flames before her.
Her eyes flew open when she felt the flat edge of the blade that had been pressed against her cheek, now resting against her clit and lips.
“Is my slut, aroused?” he teased, and she slowly nodded her head.
He carefully removed the blade from between her legs and held it up for inspection. He could see her arousal glistening on the blade.
He unbuckled the gag and it fell to the floor as he told her to turn around. The warmth on her back washed over her and she found her thoughts swirling as the new sensations assaulted her mind.
“Open,” he said.
She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. He laid the flat edge of the blade against her tongue and she savored the sweet taste of her arousal blended with the metallic taste of the metal. For a moment, she considered closing her lips around the blade to add the taste of blood to her senses, but decided against it as he pulled the knife from her lips and placed it back in its sheath.
“On your knees,” he said firmly. “It’s time for you to worship me and then I’m going to do something with that dripping mess between your legs.”