BDSM Play 9: Grab bag night with knife play

Last night, I decided to do a "grab bag night".  I had my slave pleasure me orally, licking my cock, my balls, my taint, and finally sucking my cock.  While she did that, I grabbed random items out of the bag where we keep our toys.  When I considered myself done, I had black bondage tape, leg harnesses and the chest harness to which they attach, a pretty black collar with white lace, a chain leash, the survival knife, a few lengths of black rope, the riding crop, and one of the belts--the one with metal snaps all along it, and the bondage mittens.

After she took my load in her mouth and swallowed, I pulled her by the wrists forcefully toward me, grabbed one bondage mitten, and, while she resisted, put it onto one of her hands.  I closed the strap, put the lock in place, and one hand was secure.  I made quick work of the other hand as well, even though she did a better job of resisting that one.  After the bondage mittens were on, she submitted completely.  I wrapped the black bondage tape around her lower legs, from ankle to knee.  Then I grabbed the chest harness and put it on, followed by the leg harnesses...but I didn't hook the legs to the chest; I hooked the bondage mittens to the legs instead.  It would make it more difficult for her to resist me cutting off her breath later.

I grabbed the crop, and, holding her legs up in the air, began to hit her ass and pussy with it mercilessly.  With stroke after stroke, her ass and pussy reddened, and her moans and cries came more frequently and loudly.  She finally said, "Master, I'm weak."  I put the crop down.

I grabbed the belt, and I said to her, "You're weak for the crop, but are you weak for this?"

"No, Master."

So I swung the belt, again and again, hitting her already-red ass and getting more moans and cries from her as I did.  I finally got the safe phrase: "Master, I'm weak."

I laid down the belt, took a length of rope, tied her ankles to the chest harness to keep her legs up, then put the collar and leash on her, just for aesthetics.  I then took the survival knife from its sheath and began to caress the flesh below the collar, then her face, then her breasts....

"You know, I've had fantasies involving knives.  Bloody fantasies.  Fantasies where I make cuts, " as I gestured with the knife vertically, horizontally, and diagonally, over her left nipple, "here, here, here, and here, then I peel back the sections, sew them to the breast, and put a metal tack in the middle to make a flower out of the nipple.  Does it scare you that I have had fantasies like that?"

"No, Master."

"Do you trust me with this knife on your flesh?"

"Yes, Master, I do."

"Does it turn you on that I have the power to disfigure you, dismember you, or end your life in my hands?"

"Yes, Master."

"I have used a knife in this way before, caressing the flesh of a woman, but never used it to cut.  To cut, I used razor blades and a scalpel.  I would make an incision horizontally across the breast, then I would suck the blood from the cut, lick it, swab it with alcohol, then close it with liquid skin, which I like to call 'liquid fire', because it burns so much.  The reactions were intoxicating," I said, as I caressed her left cheek with the knife.

"That's hot.  I mean...I am not into blood, but that's hot."  Blood is a hard limit...but playing with the knife really turns her on.  The metal against her flesh, the power, the danger...it all makes her so wet.

I moved down to her pussy with the knife, placed the dull side of the blade next to her clit while keeping her labia spread, then pushed her clit against the steel and began to rub the clit against it.  It wasn't long before I heard, "Master, may I cum?"

"You may, little whore."

She didn't just cum; she squirted.  She didn't just squirt; she gushed.  Her fluid ran around her thighs, down to her asshole, underneath her.  There was a growing wet spot on the bed.  I wanted to enter her.  But first...breath play.

I grabbed the heavy pillow from the bed and shoved it down over her face, resting my head on it, relishing her cries, pleas, and screaming.  She loves and fears the pillow; it makes her panic like nothing else--with the possible exception of the shrink wrap over her face.  She made her three short noises to indicate she couldn't take anymore, and I removed the pillow, enjoying the look in her eyes as she caught her breath.  I let her breathe normally for awhile, then I put my hand over her mouth and nose, enjoying watching her struggle in vain against the restraints.

Then I entered her.  I fucked her sore pussy and continued to cut off her breath while I thrust, fucking her harder each time.  Then I grabbed the knife again, and held it against her throat while I thrust.  I flipped to the dull side and held that against her neck, but did not let her see the flip.  As the steel pressed into her neck, she became more and more wet, soaking herself, me, and the bed.  She came again.  I fucked her until I was satisfied, then rolled off of her and untied her.

"Master, I think that's the wettest I've ever been," she said softly.

"Maybe.  You get pretty wet when I wrestle you, and when I use the shrink wrap.  And there was the night I fisted you..."

"You could have gotten your whole fist in tonight, as wet as I was."

We made fisting a hard limit after last time; my hand is too big, and it tore her a little.  There was blood, and she was really sore for a few days.  Four fingers to get her sore inside will do, but the whole hand?  Too much.  Anyway, we don't need fisting for a good time.

A knife, on the other hand...