A Suspension Of Desire

I watched him coming toward me, mesmerized by his beauty, dark and mysterious - his eyes deep and unreadable, except for the passion. They burned with passion. So enthralled was I with his approach that he was almost upon me before I noticed the knife, his thumb moving over the handle, the gesture obscenely arousing. As he caressed it, the candle light reflected off the sleek blade as if the knife itself was aflame!

My breathing quickened when he stopped before my bound form. His eyes mirrored his hand, caressing my naked body. My arms were bound over my head to ceiling chains, my ankles cuffed to a spreader bar, open and vulnerable to him. I blushed at his appraisal, his eyes drinking in every inch of me. He chuckled as he saw my moistness; around him, this was an uncontrollable response. The mere thought of him caused me to be immediately aroused and wet. He liked that. He expected that.

Raising his left hand, he placed it around the front of my neck, his thumb putting pressure on my throat, again the same movement as on the knife handle. He leaned into me, claiming my lips with his own. I could feel his own arousal through his jeans as he pressed harder against my thighs. Reluctantly he drew his lips from mine and softly told me that he loved me; he always restated his love for me before play. It had become a ritual of sorts. My mind was always open completely to whatever he wanted to explore with me, his submissive, his girl - his love. He stepped back but his hand stayed tight against my throat while the other came up to press the tip of the blade just above his thumb. Staring into my eyes, he added more and more pressure. The point caused my neck to sting as if it would puncture my jugular, and he smiled at the fear and excitement that he read in my eyes. Kissing me once more, he took his hand and the knife from my throat, stepped back and removed his belt from his jeans, folding it in half.

I struggled against my restraints, trying to squirm as my arousal heightened with that one simple action. There he stood, beauty punctuated by a brown, well worn leather belt - and a very sharp and foreboding knife. He was glorious to me in his domination and my heart swelled - almost painful was the love I felt for him!

He placed the knife tip against the tender underside of my chin and applied pressure as he slowly drew a line down to the base of my throat, stopping for just a moment of applied pressure, letting me feel how easy it would be to slice through the delicate skin. The cool steel resumed tracing downward, a streak of red following to my breasts. He removed the tip and let the full blade touch my left breast, his eyes on mine as I felt the razor-sharp edge flush against my nipple. My body began to shake and my knees weakened as my desire grew. I could feel a wet rivulet meandering down my thighs, and knew that he was inhaling the scent of my arousal. He gently slid the blade across to my right nipple and the burn of the edge had me sure that I was bleeding, sure that he had decided to leave his permanent mark on me. I kept my eyes locked on his as he moved the blade down over my stomach, my pussy contracting as he laid the edge against my extended clitoris and caressed it for a brief moment. I tried to twist my body towards the knife as it edged farther down; the tip tickled my thighs and I held my breath. My need was so strong that I moaned my disappointment when he took the blade from my body. The reaction pleased him; he so enjoyed when I was on the edge and took great pleasure in keeping me there.

Sheathing the knife, he snapped his belt against his palm, the sharp report causing me to jump as well as feel another trickle wend its way down my thigh. He kissed me again, our tongues entwining as if engaged in a frenzied dance, and broke away to walk behind me. The next snap that I heard was the belt against my ass, the burn evident immediately. Each strike had me gasping - each strike was harder than the last - each strike seared more deeply into my muscles. I heard a muted sobbing from far off and realized that it was my own voice, the spanking having the effect that he desired, to watch me float, to watch me focus the pain to that wonderful place where pleasure supersedes all. He has never understood my need for pain yet marvels at my reaction to it, and plays me very well.

Alternating between beating my ass and thighs to working over my back and shoulders, he never had an even rhythm, keeping me from zoning to complacency. He dropped the belt and removed his clothes, pressing his beautiful body against the fire of mine. His need now matched mine; he wanted to love his girl - he wanted to fuck his girl. I could feel his cock hard against my sore cheeks and he cupped my wet sex, pumping himself against the heat of my ass. He moved to the front of me and I could see the raw desire - the naked need - on his face. Bending, he untied my ankles, lifting my legs around his waist, his hands under my ass to keep the burden of my weight off of my arms. Slowly, he entered me. My muscles hugged his cock, milking him. He moaned aloud, his passion growing inside of me... his thrusts deep and hard. His eyes were as glossy – and as glassy - as my own, both reflecting our love for each other, that we knew would never wane. As his orgasm loomed over him, his hands squeezed my bottom: my own threatened to send me soaring before him. I managed to hold on until he looked at me and I knew that it was time to let go.

His voice rose above my own as we exploded, simultaneously proclaiming our love for one another; the emotion and sheer pleasure brought tears to us both. Our parallel worlds melded, forever one.

We stayed entwined for awhile, and then he untied me and gently took me into his arms. His hands cupped my cheeks and we stared in each other's eyes... both finding what we each felt... love so beautiful, love so strong, love that was immediate and timeless. We were meant to be; we would always be...