If you’d asked me a year ago if I would ever enjoy any sort of knife or blood play, I would have thought you were crazy. This time last year, I didn’t even know that consensual cutting was a kink, and I’m not really a big fan of blood, especially my own. I have a BDSM checklist that I fill out every six months or so, and I just realized that it is time to fill it out again, because under cutting and blood play, I have NO written in firm confident letters. That is no longer the case.
Sir and I are okay with a fair amount of Consensual Non-Consent in our relationship. We have been together a long time, and we trust each other completely, so he knows that if he wants to try something new, he can do it without asking me first. He will introduce something slowly and gently, so that I have space to mull it over and time to use my safe word if I am not comfortable. That’s exactly how he introduced knives into our play, and I am so grateful he did.
He had me tied to the St. Andrew’s Cross, blindfolded and naked with a happily spanked bottom. He told me not to move a muscle or I could get hurt, his voice was stern and sexy, and I knew that he was serious. I felt shivers run down my spine, and I wondered what he was going to do to me. The truth is, it could have been anything, electricity, clothespins, paddle, cane, or crop. I did not expect to feel what I did, the sharp point of knife pressed into my back and I instantly shrieked and recoiled away from it. What is that! What is that? My instinct was to tap out, to say that I couldn’t handle this, but he spoke softly in my ear. You’re okay, trust me. I won’t hurt you. I knew he was right, so I steeled myself and relaxed into the sensation.
He scratched the knife in large sweeps over the skin of my back, just testing the waters and letting me feel it. I arched into it, beginning to enjoy the feelings he was creating. He warned me to hold still, the excitement in his voice was contagious and I started to float a little. He scraped the pointed end of the blade slowly down my spine, and it felt like he was splitting me in half, my splayed skin gaping wide open for him. His knife continued down between my cheeks, down the crack of my ass and between the lips of my cunt. My scream rose in volume the further down he got, my body shuddered involuntarily, it seemed that he was splitting me down the middle. My eyes were wet with tears, but my mouth smiled and I laughed.
When he untied me from the cross, he showed me the blunt side of the knife and grinned evilly at me as he swiped his thumb over the dull metal. I would never use the sharp side down there! He’d tricked me and it worked. It just goes to show how interesting the brain is and how sensations can be deceiving. He took me to the bathroom to show what he’d done. There were only few light scratches across my back, barely worthy of any cleaning or ointment. I was astonished! It felt like I would have blood dripping down my skin and would need weeks to heal. The slight sting as he applied antiseptic to the scratches was just another part of the whole pleasurable experience. I was surprised to find the pink scratches were invisible by the next day.
I now have my own knife, designated just for me when he wants to torture my senses with sexy cuts and scratches. We don’t play this way very often, but when we do, it takes my breath away and pushes my mind to very interesting places. I’m sure he will find many creative ways to torture my mind and body with my pretty little knife!