Playing with his toy by hitting my nipples with his knife.

When I woke he was gone; my heart sank. The room was empty. I got up and went into the bathroom, and there stuck on the mirror was a note telling me he was meeting a client and would be back in two hours and he had signed it with a kiss and the time. I looked a the clock and relasied I had 40 minutes left.

 So I filled the bath with hot, hot water and bubbles, lots of bubbles and lowered myself carefully into it, savouring the heat, enjoying the feeling of the hot water on my sore nipples.

I say silently in the water, thinking about all of the things that has happened in the last few days, and that I would be leaving soon, back to my other life and I was filled with such overwhelming sense of sadness and loss, of how unfair life can be and self pity...lots and lots of it, washing over me with the bath water as I sank beneath it.

I knew he would be back soon, so I dried myself, put my rope on and waited near the door on my knees....and exactly two hours from the time on the note I heard his key in the door.
He came in, passed me his briefcase and collapsed into the chair. I put his case on the floor, and waited.

He called me over, so I crawled across the floor to him and knelt in front of him....................I took his shoes and socks off and began to massage his feet. He sat there watching me, and then reaching down he slowly wound his fingers in my hair my hair and pulled me  towards him. When my face was level with his crotch he got out his very hard cock and told me to make him cum.

So I knelt on the floor, between his legs, taking him in my mouth, licking and sucking, running my tongue round the head of his cock, feeling it jump under my touch, feeling it swell, teasing him, taking him deep in my mouth, licking his balls, and when he was ready to cum, I was so excited at being allowed to have him cum in my mouth, but at the last moment, he pulled my head back and came all over my face.

I felt his cum dripping down my face, onto my lips, desperate to lick it but I stayed still as he covered me in cum.

He got up and walked away, leaving me kneeling , my mouth feeling empty without him.

He called me over to him and began to bind my tits, he slipped the rope over my head and under my breast , pulling it tight, biting into my flesh. he wound it round and round, and over my shoulders, and began to tie each breast , tighter and tighter till they were swollen and beginning to turn red.....................

"Now for some fun my little slave, now for some fun"

And his hand went to my neck. he began by stroking it gently, very gently, and then slowly, almost imperceptibly he increased the pressure, keeping his eyes on mine, locked together, tighter and tighter until things began to swim, till the tingling in my hands came, till things began to turn black around the edges.........................................and he released me.

He picked up the vibrator and ran it over my sore and swollen nipples and then shoved it deep inside me and once more his hand went to my throat, I began to feel the need to cum, a big need to cum.

"No slave , not yet"

And his hand squeezed tighter and tighter  and once more I began to feel things slipping away from me.
I didn't fight it..........I stayed there under his hand, feeling helpless.

He released me again and took out the vibrator. picked up the crop and began to gently tap my nipples with it..the pain was deep and heavy, then he began on my cunt, the end of the crop catching my cunt lips, the inside of thighs and he squeezed.

He laid me on the bed, opened my legs wide and began to slap my cunt hard, alternating it with the crop, I was so desperate to cum I was on the edge of tears, begging him  to let me, pleading, but his hand reached once more for my throat and this time he squeezed hard, closing the air off, while his other hand was ramming into my cunt, deeper and deeper,, fucking me.

And as I came he still held my throat, and I fought against his hand in my cunt and I fought against his hand on my throat as I bucked and writhed and when I thought my lungs would burst  when I felt I was about to pass out he let go of me.

He gave me a minute to get my breath, he stood me up, put the hood on me again, tied the rope around my neck and pulled it tight. He took the end of the rope and looped it over the door of the bathroom and tied it to the handle inside, with a  slam, he pulled the door shut and told me what he had done.
I was on  the balls of my feet, he once more put the string from my nipple bars back in my mouth and told me he was going to play with his favourite toy.

I asked him, through gritted teeth what it was and he replied "You slave, you"
.
I remember the feel of it, the vibe in my mouth, on myn ipples , on my cunt, being pumped in and out of my cunt.
I remember the feel of his hands on me, piching, squeezing, poking, stroking.
I remember the feel of his mouth on me, licking me, biting, sucking.
I remeber the crop tracing down my body and waiting for its strike which never came.
I remember hearing him open the draw where the knife was , and trying to move away from it, and he telling me if I moved, if I  bent my knees the rope would cut off my airway.
I remember having to to stay still

The knife ran down my body, over my very swollen tits, feeling like it would split them open. he hit my nipples with it. He ran it up the inside of my thighs and around my cunt, and reminded me not to move.
He took the knife and pushed it into my mouth so I was holding it with my teeth around it..............................and then he made me cum.................very very slowly puling my cunt lips , stroking me, finding my G spot and playing me until I felt I would explode into a thousand pieces ....................and I came all over his hand.
He lifted me up, opened the door, relased the rope and lay me  face down on the bed.

With my arse in the air, he spanked me until it was glowing and he fucked me, like he had not fucked me for moths.........hard and deep, demanding, holding my hips and pulling himself deeper in, grabbing the rope and pulling on my tits......and when he was done, he  filled up his toy with his cum.

I heard him get  out his camera and I heard him take photos of me, he held open my cunt and took photos of his hand inside me, he took photos of my tits, of the ropes. he removed the hood and took photos of my face, covered in a mixture of sweat and dried cum.

He undid the ropes and kissed where the marks were, he stroked my body, kissed me all over, and then taking me by the hand he said
 "I have always looked after my toys and put them away when I have finished with them."...and I began to worry that I was going into the cupboard again, but he smiled and patted me on the bottom and told me to shower, we were going out to meet a friend.

Will I ever be able to ask for the knife?

I did think about what aisha  said about enough being said about the knife, and oatmeal girl's comments made me think maybe I should just leave it at that, but at some point I have to face this knife "thing" and decided that maybe here was a the place to begin.

I know he has a knife, I know he has a few, not a great big collection, just a few.

He knows about my past, he knows all about previous things that have happened to me, he tries to get inside my head, to probe and poke, to explore and expose everything, so there is nothing hidden.....and mostly he has done that. There are a few dark corners where things are hidden, not necessarily from him, but maybe more from myself, and there lurking in one of those corners lives a knife.

Its not my owner's knife.....but a knife from long time ago, from a different life, when I was not the woman I am today, but from a time that began to make me who I am.

The knife belonged to my partner, well it belonged to me actually, it belonged in my knife set on the side in the kitchen, but when he picked it up and put it to my throat, it belonged to him...............when he placed the edge of the knife under my chin and began to push...........it belonged to him, when he held me over a bowl of boiling water and the knife was the alternative it belonged to him When he threw it on the floor  and stumbled out of the room it once again belonged to me.

When I moved the knives , and put them away, they belonged to me............but when he came home in a drunken temper or when he was angry with something he thought I may have done, if i was late,or the dinner wasn't to his liking, there were times when the knife became his again............and he would threaten to cut my throat, to do the same to the children, to cut my face so no one else would want me,to hurt me with the knife.

So this is why the knife stays in the dark corner in my mind............hidden and away.........

So the first time my owner got the knife out, I thought I would die, not in a good way, but I really thought I might die, like I had so many times before, when there had been a real possibility.

I was mesmerized by the knife, not wanting to look but fearing that if I took my eyes off it for one second I would not know where it was, I fought to retain some control over myself, he called me, he touched me and I shrank further into the corner, in the end he called me by my given name and told me the knife was going away, he would not be using it, it was gone.

And strange as that may seem, it was easier to be like that, to feel something, than to be so resigned to my fate as I had been in the past;  that I had actually got to the point where I no longer cared if my ex carried through with one of his threats to me , because it was easier than living with the constant fear and uncertainty. 

So feeling scared, being allowed to be scared was good...........it was a relief.  When I calmed down, when he held me, wiped away my tears, held me more so I couldn't move and inch, when he told me to breathe, when he put his hands round my neck and controlled each breath until I was calm, when he got the stories out of me, and he understood more about me and my reaction, when some ghosts were laid,
I remember how I felt, I felt like I had let him down, along with all the other feelings, that is how I felt. It was not something he made me feel, and he told me I wasn't to feel it.

I know he has a knife, I don't know where he keeps it.

Sometimes he gets one out and lays it on the table beside the bed.........sometimes it is on the floor, it is in its case, sometimes it is on the bed.................and then I get jumpy, it still makes me cry. He has got it out of the case and shown me and that makes me cry..........not hysterically any more but it makes me cry.
Occasionally he runs it over my body, in its case,but he has promised me that he will not take it out and run it over me until I ask him.
 
And will I ever ask him?

I don't know. I would love to be able to........................its not a trust issue, its a little black hole in my soul issue.