Playing with knives

I could hear the tv in the other room, oh joy, a life time network movie! I couldn't make out what was going on, but the gagged whimpering was a prominent part of the sound scape. It made me wiggle pleasantly.

Unbidden the notion of a knife came to me. The blade in my hand, sharp and shiny, sliding over someone else's smooth flesh. Little lines raising from the paths where I'd dragged the tip. They were kneeling, hands bound in front of them and gagged. I could drag them, position them by grabbing onto their hair, and they'd have no choice but to would shuffle upon bent knee to go where I wanted them. I could make them whimper, make them beg, by simply dragging the blade along their flesh.

I've not yet played with knives, not really, not how in this moment I want to. I tried to top with a knife once before and it didn't go well ... I probably should have grabbed something other than a butter knife. The fact that a butter knife is sufficient for me if I'm bottoming doesn't mean the same is true of someone else. Actually for me, just the notion and well described idea of a knife is sufficient, as is a pencil. In fact the most knife happy I've gotten has been with a closed knife (especially with that sick little clicking noise which means it has been opened, and then closed up quick again).

The people I've seen playing with knives tends to leave image impressions in my scull.

A knife ripping and cutting away a shirt at a demo, exposing a black bra.

A man holding a decorative sin-wave style dagger dragging it along his much taller and more naked partner. Her hands were splayed on the wall behind her, white knuckled and clutching nothing.

A girl and a guy I saw at a party, she was running the knife lazily and lightly over him and he sat transfixed staring back at her with such an intensity that it seemed an intrusion of me to glance upon their scene.

At a knife demo, a girl laying down, two knives trailing, one and then another, leaving lines and tracing her nipples. She gasped and as he poised the blades above her nipples, I couldn't watch, it was too much.

These are vivid memories which from time to time present themselves to the fore front of my mind. They presented themselves to me while I was writing this, and that's why you got them. At time I feel very blessed by my visual memory, at other times, I'm mostly left feeling horny.