He watched her furiously typing on the computer. She was still wearing her pajamas, a ragged t-shirt and a pair of baggy, thin flannel pajama pants covered with ducks. Did she know he was standing behind her, watching the curve of her shoulders and the way her hair clung and curled around her neck? He doubted she even knew he existed. He fondled the knife he carried with him everywhere. It seemed eager to be flicked open and used.
She didn’t notice the subtle metallic click. Maybe it was drowned out by the plastic clicking of the keyboard’s keys. In two swift steps, he was across the room, grabbing her ponytail and holding the knife against her throat. “What are you—“
“Not another word!” he said sternly. Now he had her attention, “Close your eyes.” He saw her cheeks flush. Was she angry because he disrupted her? It didn’t matter. He dragged her out of her seat, knife still pressing lightly against her throat. For a moment, he savored the feel of her warm body against his. Could she feel his dick starting to bulge between the fabrics that separated their skins?
“Keep your eyes closed,” he ordered as he pushed her forward. In the bedroom he found the blindfold. He put the knife down long enough to put the blindfold on. As he was picking up the knife, he noticed the handcuffs on the dresser.
She was cuffed and blindfolded. She was also fully clothed. What next? He pushed her against the wall and traced the blade down her cheek, around the curve of her jaw and ever so slightly poked the hollow of her throat…not enough to make her jump, just enough to make her gasp. It was delightful. He muffled her mouth with his hand. There was no need to do it, since she wasn’t protesting or trying to get away from him, but it turned him on even more than he was before. He ran the knife over her t-shirt. Her nipples were awake and a prime target for poking and scratching with a sharp object. She cried out when he tapped her right nipple with the knife’s tip. He smiled and wondered if she was as turned on as he was.
He watched as the knife slid easily down her torso. It was almost as if the knife had a life of its own and his hand was merely the vehicle as it circled her belly and the roundness of her hips. He held the back of the blade between her legs. “I should make you fuck the knife.” He whispered to her. He could feel the heat between her legs, even through the flannel bottoms. “Hump it,” he ordered her. It was a small blade, but she was eager to please and more than likely terribly horny at this point.
It was time for something different. He grabbed a handful of the t-shirt and slashed it. The fabric tore easily. She gasped. Clearly she couldn’t believe he ripped her shirt. He grabbed another section of fabric and slashed it. This was fun! Soon, bits of flushed skin were peeking out from the t-shirt. He took his time, widening tears and slashing the fabric. She had stripped for him before and he had undressed her, but none of that compared to this. Slashing through the flannel pajama bottoms was a bit more difficult, but once the slashes were made, they tore easily. He cut the waistband and ran the knife down the fabric on the inside of her leg. It was like opening a birthday present. He ran the blade up her leg, leaving a faintly red scratch. He did the same thing on the other leg. He was savoring the feel of her skin, her scent, her arousal as the blade now touched her bare, intimate skin. He stepped back and took a look at her. Her face was flushed, as was what he could see of her chest. The shirt looked like something a girl would have worn in the ‘80s. He quietly put the knife on the floor. He savagely started tearing her shirt with both hands, tearing away the sleeves and opening the shirt until it was nothing more than a used rag discarded on a heap of other used rags.
The knife was in hand again, tracing her body, leaving red designs in its wake. At times he poked her, just to make certain she wasn’t bored. It occurred to him that her back side had been completely ignored. He pushed away the pile of cloth around her feet and turned her around. The knife now had a blank palette. He poked at the very sensitive skin behind her knees. It was obviously taking all she had to not move, kick him, laugh, or scream out as he poked and scratched that area. The knife made a beeline to the sweet spot where her ass and legs met. He stood against her, the knife digging ever so slightly in her skin. He knew she wanted him to cut her. He also knew she wouldn’t be able to stand this torture much longer. The point of the knife traced the outline of her cuffed hands, her spine, and the pattern of her hair around her shoulders. Again and again he let the knife leave its mark. Sometimes it glided quickly; at other times it dragged languidly, creating a more complex design.
He moved her to the bed and forced her legs wide apart. Her pussy had been rather neglected ever since he had stripped her. He used the blade to shave away what little stubble existed in her bikini area. He gently poked at her clit, smiling at her cries and moans.
The knife was pointed at her throat. He told her that if she moved, she’d stab herself; she better be careful, he warned. He got off the bed and took a good look at her. He could tell she wasn’t in the most comfortable position with her hands behind her back, but she was obviously more focused on the knife.
He grabbed a sword and a toy knife in his closet. She recognized the sound of the sword being taken out of its sheath. “You’re going to fuck my sword,” he told her, well aware of the double-entendre. He took the knife from her throat and laid the long sword on her body. The blade was nearly as long as her torso. She shivered from the cold weight. He could see that she was wondering if he was serious.
The sword was more unwieldy than he had hoped it would be. He was able to position it so she could feel the point ever so slightly touching her pussy. He grabbed the toy knife. It looked fairly real, but it wouldn’t be able to cut melted butter. He plunged it deep into her and began fucking her hard with the knife, as hard as he really wanted to fuck her, but it would have to wait. She screamed out, “You’re fucking me with that sword? It’s going to cut me!”
He calmly replied, “But, it’s only a toy.”