Quenby Creatives

Trigger Warnings: Knifeplay, fearplay, degradation, violence

 

 

I watch it in his hand. A threat. A promise. A gleaming blade. His hand rests gently in my hair
“Are you a little knife slut?”
I bite my lip and shake my head. I want it, but I want to be forced too. I see him raise an eyebrow.

 

His hand fists, pulling my head back to expose my neck and chest, I am vulnerable, totally at his mercy.
My breath stutters as the knife gently teases my neck, through half closed eyes I see him smirk.
It slowly slides down, tracing my collar bone, then follows the curve of my breast.
I moan as the knife digs in harder, leaving a hot stripe of pain on my chest. I look down to see a tiny ruby of blood swell up in the middle of the cut.
The blade is at my nipple now, the point teasing the sensitive skin, I try to move away. His hand is on my other nipple pinching, twisting, a rush of pain. I stop moving, and bite my lip as the blade returns to my breast. I shudder as the cold flat of the blade presses against the aroused nipple.

 

 

I look up and in a rush of brattiness stick out my tongue
His empty hand catches me with a jaw-rattling slap. My face flushes, I’m helpless and humiliated, unable to respond.
His hand is back in my hair, pulling my head back into position.
“Did you just stick your tongue out at me?”
“Maaaaybe”
“Open your mouth”
Not daring to refuse, I obey, then whimper as I taste metal on my tongue. The cold steel threat in the soft warm intimacy of my mouth is electrifying. My eyes flutter with the arousal and fear my mouth is unable to express. A string of drool clings to the blade as it’s removed. I watch, humiliated, as he tuts and wipes the spit off on my face. My flushed cheeks are sensitive as the blade strokes across. Hard enough to feel the teasing threat but gentle enough not to mark.

 

 

“You going to do that again?”
Words are hard when I’m like this, I manage to drag out “No, I’ll be good”
He looks at me with amusement, the knife is back at my neck, this time I can feel it pressed against my carotid artery. I am paralysed, knowing that a jerk of the knife in this position could kill me. This is power exchange. Power over my life is in his hand. This is trust. I trust him to protect me and care for me even in this position. Nothing else can match this intense, beautiful, terrifying experience.

 

 

He removes the knife, I let out at a breath and lean back against him, dizzy as the adrenaline rushes through my system. He sets the knife aside and wraps his arms round me then.
“You ok?”
I nod in response
“You want some more?”
“Yes sir”

 

 

I just have time to see his sadistic grin before he shoves my face down onto the bed. I feel his weight settle on my butt, pinning me down.
The knife is on me again, a thin scratch across my back, I groan into the pillow.
Again, again, again, each time faster. The cold metal leaving burning lines across my back. I’m moaning now, my body singing with pain.
Again, slower, deeper, more careful. Agonisingly slowly, the knife traces out careful patterns.
I sink further into the headspace, lost in a flood of endorphins. In this moment my mind can do nothing but try to process the overwhelming cocktail of pleasure and pain. Drool flows freely from my mouth. A minute passes, or 5, or 20. Finally he leans forward.

 

 

“Can you tell what the pattern is?”
I shake my head, still unable to speak. He shows me a picture on his phone
“I thought everyone should know what you are” Cut into my flesh is the word SLUT.
I look up at him, hair damp with sweat, spit still clinging to my chin, utterly degraded. Denial seems a little redundant at this point. We both know I’m his dirty little knife slut, to use however he wants.

 

 

I roll over and nuzzle his chest. He folds his arms around me, holding me close. Slowly we return to reality in each others arms. Eventually, when I feel able to sit up without swooning like a Victorian damsel, I look into my partners eyes.
Words can’t express the love, gratitude, and trust exchanged between us in that moment.

 

 

The next day I gasp in the shower as the cuts sting beneath the hot water, a happy reminder of the previous day.
For the next week or two I proudly bear the marks, until they heal it feels like I carry a little piece of him with me.

 

 

Disclaimer: This is based on my experiences and is intended as erotica. Please do not attempt knifeplay without the necessary skills/training, medical knowledge, and extensive negotiation. Make sure you practice Risk Aware Consensual Kink everyone 🙂

 

Dedicated to a dear friend, partner,  and sadist in my life <3