Over the weekend Sir played with me over the ottoman in the living room. i was antsy.. i wiggled .. i squirmed... i couldn't ground myself. i kept tearing up. i was getting angry. And i didn't know why any of these things were happening.. i just knew they were.
At one point Sir left me hanging over the ottoman... and walked out of the room. i listened to His footsteps.. i realized i was getting really angry at Him... and yet i didn't honestly know why.
When He came back He knelt behind me. i felt His hand on my back .. calming in a way... grounding in another way. And then i felt IT. The sharp prick of a knife.
And then there was nothing else.. just the cool bite of the steel blade against my skin. The soothing bite of the steel blade as it moved up and down my back.. finding those small places that make me wiggle (in a good way) that make my ass arch up and back.. that make me wet and needy.
The blade slid down my back and across my ass.. leaving rising welts in its wake. It slid down my thighs and back up my thighs. It slid between the crack of my ass and poked and prodded and made me gasp and yet it made me hold my breath at the same time.
The point of the blade slid between my legs and opened my pussy.. pressing sharp against the lips.. making me yelp.. and hold my breath...
The point of the blade slid into the jewelry and tugged on it.. and clanged against it making a tinkling sound .. like fairies ringing small bells.
The blade danced and played against my skin.. yet it didn't break the skin.. only warned of how easily skin could slice open and blood flow freely.. and trust was needed..
And then the blade was tossed to the ground and the leather spanker was working once again on my ass.. then the cane.. and then the crop and then again the leather spanker..
But my mind was centered.. it was grounded.. it had found it's peace in the point of knife.. and it was soaring.