Submitted by megan on Sun, 02/08/2009 - 22:11
She looks satisfied with her work. I try to move, my shoulders and quads strain against the rope. I watch the pinched skin turn white then red then angry. She hasn't missed a single part, just left my head free, all the better to see her with. I writhe and her small knots rasp against my clit my slit my asshole.
Standing on the bed in her boots, over me, she waits, watching, silent. I calm myself. My pussy red and wet from the rope's bite.
She pulls her hands from behind her back, the short blade a flash between her nimble fingers. In one movement she swoops, places the point perfectly between my thigh and the rope, the flat side into my fat, the other sharpened fresh for me. I tense, against the cold metal, the potential cut.
That's right, she whispers, stay still.