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The last time I saw Will he was a strange, scrawny kid. But we were both kids then, I suppose. We’d gone to high school together and while our social circles overlapped a little bit we had never really had any significant interaction. I remember him being something of an outcast, accepted by the jocks for his athleticism, but ultimately more of a quiet nerd at heart. We were actually pretty similar in that respect.
Ten years can do a lot to change a person, and the time had been kind to both of us. I had matured, developing gentle curves to suit my petite frame. I knew now what kind of look would make a man cross a room to talk to me, I knew that the shape of my lips gave men filthy ideas, and that my diminutive stature made them want to carry me off to bed. I also knew that my darker sexual proclivities could make a grown man balk. Will too, seemed to have come into his own. He’d always been tall but now he was well-built, his musculature suggesting time spent outside doing hard physical work. Will’s family owned a ranch on the outskirts of town, and he’d taken over the business now that his parents were older.
He was sipping at the neck of a beer bottle when I recognized him and smiled. Will’s attention flitted down to my lips, painted bright scarlet that night, and then back up to my eyes.
“Well, hello,” he says, brow slightly furrowed, even as a smile quirked his mouth. “It’s good to see you.”
It had taken him a moment to recognize me, even though I had dated a close friend of his. But I was used to this kind of look from men who had known me when I was younger; the surprised double-take, the startled attraction. It wasn’t that I hadn’t been cute enough back then, but the woman they saw now was a far cry from the innocent girl that I had been.
“It’s good to see you too, Will,” I reply, taking a drink from my own beer. He stares as I give the lip of the bottle a tiny lick to keep a drop of liquid from trailing down the frosty neck. His eyes are dark when I meet them again.
We begin to chat about what we had been up to over the years, work, hobbies, the typical catch up talk. One of the things that had always set him apart from the other jocks was his preoccupation with weaponry. It was a strange interest for a high school kid, but it made more sense if you considered that he grew up on a ranch. These days it seemed he forged and built his own artisan knives, a profitable side business in a southwest town like ours.
It would have been interesting to listen to him talk even if I hadn’t been picturing what he looked like with those callused hands wrapped around a knife. As I mentioned, my sexual desires ran a little south of mainstream and it wasn’t often that one of my partners agreed to knife play. But as I watched Will run the pad of his thumb across his lips as he described honing the edge of a blade, I wondered if I had met my match.
It takes a moment before I realize he has stopped talking and is staring at me intently. I sit stock-still as he leads forward to speak in my ear.
“You like knives, girl?” he rumbles, his voice suddenly husky. I swallow a moan, and grip his bicep to steady myself.
“God, yes,” I breathe in reply. He smirks.
“God has nothing to do with this, believe me,” comes his sordid response. His finger traces the skin just above my collarbone, leaving fire in its wake. I imagine steel stroking me instead of skin. “Let me take you home with me,” he whispers. I can only nod. His rough fingers grip my chin until I’m looking into his dark brown eyes. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?” he asks. I nod again and then he’s pulling me by the hand out of the bar and into the night.
He drives me in his work truck, heading away from the city lights and into the desert. He tells me everything he’s going to do to me. The ropes, the knives, the sex. He laughs darkly bahçelievler escort bayan when I tell him it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and tells me he’s impressed that I’m just as deviant as he is.
We drive until we reach a small secluded cabin on the edge of his property. Out here, the stars are unbelievably bright, and the only sound comes from a coyote far to the north. Inside, Will lights a fire in the fireplace and pours us both glasses of water. “I need a clear head for what I’m about to do to you,” he smirks. I can already feel my eyelids going heavy, a sign I’m slipping rapidly into sub-space, and I’m glad we took the time in the car to negotiate this evening’s events and safewords. “Take off your clothes and sit on your knees in front of the fire,” he instructs, leaving the room.
Normally I would feel incredibly nervous about stripping down like this, but the desire to experience his unique set of skills overwhelms my nerves. I need to bare my skin to him. I need his hands and his knives on me. I peel off the little white tank top, the jeans, and then the white lace underwear, piling them neatly in the corner. There’s a bearskin rug in front of the fire and I lower myself onto my knees, savoring the bite of the hard ground beneath me. Resting my hands on the tops of my thighs, I wait for him.
I don’t meet his eyes when he comes back in the room, keeping them demurely focused on his dusty boots. He crouches in front of me and lays out coils of rope on the ground. They’re the color of sun-soaked hay, and very clearly not the kind of restraints others have suggested using on me. These are no silk cords, no soft cotton cables. These ropes are meant to work, to hold, to bind. He also sets down a roll of knives, and unrolls it slowly so I can watch. Each blade sits pristinely in its own leather pocket. They’re finely made and wickedly sharp, glinting in the light of the fire. Will leans forward and wraps one hand gently around my throat, stroking my skin so lightly I can barely feel it. I wet my lips as his fingers trail down, skirting along my shoulders, the tops of my breasts. He pulls away abruptly.
“It won’t do to get distracted, now, would it?” he murmurs, picking up a coil of rope. “Lay on your back with your knees up.”
I can’t help but blush as I comply. My sex is completely exposed to him now, and it’s embarrassingly wet already. By the self-assured smirk on his lips I know he’s noticed. “What an eager little thing you are,” he says, bemused, but his voice has taken on that husky edge again, so I know he’s not unaffected by this. He starts tying the ropes around my legs, calves pressed against my hamstrings so that when I’m upright again, I’ll be bound in a kneeling position. The ropes bite into my skin so deliciously I want to cry. How have I gone so long without this feeling?
When he’s done, Will lifts me from my back and sets me on my knees again. I can see the outline of a massive erection underneath his jeans as he stands and moves behind me with another length of rope in his hands.
“Arms,” he tells me brusquely. I’m too far gone to even think about what’s going on or how I should reply.
“Yes, Sir,” I whimper as I move my arms behind my back at a right angle so that I can hold one of my forearms in each hand.
“Fuck,” he swears quietly at the title. He pushes my long hair to one side and makes quick work of binding my arms. When he’s finished he takes a seat in a chair across the room from me and I’m left kneeling in front of the fire. I can only imagine what I must look like stark naked on this bear skin rug with the light from the fire dancing along my body, my long chestnut brown hair falling in waves over my shoulder. I’m completely helpless in his ropes, my legs spread so that he can see just how much I want this, how much I want him.
He’s balgat escort taken a knife with him, one of the finest from the collection he’d set before me. It’s a nine inch beauty with a carved bone handle made precisely for his grip. He looks down at it, caressing the blade, running his thumb experimentally across the edge to test its sharpness. Then he raises his eyes to me. I can’t help it. I moan. He laughs darkly, but doesn’t move except to trace every inch of my bare skin with his gaze.
“I never would have guessed, you know,” he tells me. “You always seemed so sweet, so… pure, back then. Although that didn’t stop me from thinking about those sinful lips wrapped around my cock. In fact, it made it even hotter sometimes, thinking that you were so angelic.” His eyes dip to my bare breasts, then slowly lower to my gleaming wet pussy. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “I know you think you weren’t much to look at in those days, but believe me when I say I don’t know any of my old buddies who wouldn’t kill to be in my place right now.” He stands up and crosses the room. He moves like a man who is perfectly in tune with his body, a man who routinely uses all of those sharply honed muscles. He crouches in front of me again, taking my chin in his hand.
“I have to say, I never thought it would be me making you beg for it,” he tells me. He smiles, but its not warm, not friendly. It’s cruel and cold and it makes my pussy grow impossibly wetter. “Because if you want my knives, that’s what you’re going to have to do, girl,” he growls. He’s still clutching my face in his hand and I look up at him now, meeting his eyes.
“Please,” I choke. It’s almost a sob and it sounds so desperate, so depraved, that I blush again. “Please, Sir. I need…” I stall, unsettled by being forced to admit what exactly it is I’m after. He cocks his head at me, narrowing his eyes. I shiver despite the fact that the heat of the fire on my skin is almost too hot to tolerate. “I need you to hurt me.” His hand flies into my hair, gripping firmly at the roots, and with this gesture he’s made me his.
“What a pretty masochist you are,” he croons. I think he means for it to sound sarcastic but it comes out surprisingly sincere. He comes closer and bites my bottom lip instead of kissing me. Moving away from me, he picks the knife back up and holds it in front of me. “Are you scared?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper. And I am. But I’m also more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life.
He starts by running the flat of the blade against the top of my thigh. The feeling of the cold steel against my fevered skin is startling, shocking in its intensity. All of my self-preservation instincts beg me to fight this. I want to move, to run, to flee. But I know I have to remain perfectly still. My heart pounds fiercely in my ears as he runs the blade along my inner thigh, inching closer to my sex. He stops and looks into my eyes, as if daring me to stop him. When I don’t, he uses the knife’s deadly edge to make the smallest knick in the skin of my inner thigh. I shudder as a drop of blood blooms from the cut. We both watch in fascination as it falls delicately down my leg.
He stands suddenly and moves to kneel behind me so that my bare back is pressed against buttons of his shirt. It takes me some time to notice that his breath is uneven against my neck. Will may play the cool sadist, but he is just as aroused by this as I am.
Leaning forward, he presses his lips against my jaw bone and holds the flat of the blade against my cheek, leaving its cold, deadly pressure against my face as his hips grind into the small of my back. I can feel his belt buckle biting into my flesh, but I can also feel his cock, rock hard underneath the clothes he has yet to remove. But my attention can’t be drawn away from his knife for long because it’s batıkent escort bayan so close to my mouth that I could lick the razor sharp edge if I wanted to. And as if reading my thoughts, he drags the flat of the blade across my lips, in a perverse kiss for the weapon.
“Hold very still,” he whispers coarsely. His left hand in my hair, he pulls my head to one side, exposing my neck. His right hand holds the knife now and he brings it to my throat. I try not to breathe. The blade is so sharp I scarcely feel it bite into my skin as he makes a shallow cut. The slight pain comes afterwards, but the real shock is seeing the thin trickle of blood run down between my breasts. His fingers let go of their grip on my hair, and run in parallel with the little crimson droplet down my body, pausing briefly to palm my breast and pinch a nipple on the way. I gasp and feel my head fall back to rest on his broad chest. If he doesn’t give me more, I think I’ll come undone.
I’m shocked when I feel his knife hand slide lower as he suddenly, roughly slips the bone hilt between my legs and up inside of me. It’s cold and foreign where I want something hot and male, but we both become entranced at the sight of the white bone disappearing inside of me again and again while its deadly blade flashes outside of me, between my thighs in the firelight. I know he’ll make me orgasm like this, around this inanimate object he’s made with his own hands.
“Will?” I whimper, pleading with him for something I don’t know the name of.
“Yes,” he replies, using his free hand to give one of my nipples another nasty pinch.
I’m coming so hard my body seizes for a moment, and I can’t breathe, can’t see straight. I feel his arm wrap around my waist to steady me, but he keep fucking me with the hilt of his knife as a slick stream of cum rushes violently out of my cunt. When he finally pulls the hilt from my body, I’m crying from the intensity of the orgasm he’s given me. He lifts my hair gently from my neck to cool me down and presses a kiss to my spine. Slowly, he removes the ropes from my arms and legs, tracing some of the imprints that have been left behind with his tongue. As I lay on the rug, coming down from an impossible high, he stands and begins to remove his clothes. He’s still painfully aroused, and the sight of him makes me bite my lip.
“You good, little girl?” he asks me. I smile lazily and stand up with his help. My knees are still too weak to support myself and he seems to handle me like I weigh nothing at all. In fact, he suddenly lifts me up so that I have to wrap my legs around his waist. His eyes are incredibly dark now, urgent in a way I haven’t seen so far. Carrying me a short distance, he presses my back roughly against the wall of the cabin and bites the shallow cut he made on my neck earlier. My hips buck against his as pain spreads along my nerves.
“Beg me nicely for it,” he growls against my neck.
“Please fuck me, make me hurt,” I plead. His cock is buried in my pussy before I can take another breath. And it does hurt. It feels huge inside of me, like I’m being willingly impaled and he intends to destroy me from the inside out. Will adjusts the grip he has on my legs and ass until he finds the cut on my inner thigh and squeezes. This only makes me arch into him, driving his cock even deeper into me, and he looks at me like he’s never seen a woman before.
The fucking is brutal. He slams into me over and over again like I’ve done something to anger him and my back crashes into the wall holding me up. But when he commands it, I come again, screaming my pleasure, screaming his name. He pulls out of me and shoves harshly me to my knees, pushing his cock into my waiting mouth as he explodes, shooting hot cum down my throat.
He takes his time coming down, thrusting gently in and out of my mouth, staring down at me as my perfect red lips smear lipstick all over his cock. I know from the look in his eyes that he’s been waiting for this sight since he first recognized me in the bar. When he finally pulls away he crouches before me once again, his fingers tracing my now ruined lipstick.
“You need this,” he states simply.
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