Scissors

My hands are tied. Pulled up above my head, with my wrists crossed and fastened together. The rope that joins them is attached to a ring sunk in the wall above my head. I am fully dressed but nevertheless I feel vulnerable. My breath is loud in my own ears, and it gets louder as Master moves to stand in front of me, with a large pair of scissors in his hand and a smile on his face.

He moves close to me, his hands on my waist, pulling me slightly towards him, slightly off balance. He kisses me lightly on the lips and I kiss him back as his hands slide around behind me. I feel him release the button at the back of my skirt and tug down the zip. He steps back from me, releasing his hold on my body to tug the skirt over my hips. He is still holding the scissors, I can feel the metal of them, cool against the skin of my thigh as he leans towards me. Freed of the skirt I feel strangely naked, although I am still mostly dressed -- it's something to do with the way Master is looking at me, looking through my clothes.

The point of the scissors rests now just above the v of my blouse, dimpling my skin. It still feels cold to me, although I know it must have warmed to my flesh by now. Masters eyes hold me; the metal blade holds me; my own desires hold me; absolutely still. A sudden 'snip' sound, the first button has been clipped from my blouse and the blunt side of the scissor blade slides downwards, parting the two sides of the fabric, seeking the next button...and the next...there are 6 altogether. Each one is cut off, each time the scissors part the fabric over my breasts as he works his way downwards. Even with all the buttons gone though Master cannot open the blouse far, my upraised arms trap too much of the fabric. The problem is easily solved though, he slices through the material at the shoulders and the remains fall to the floor. I am left in my underwear.

Masters hands running over my body, teasing and stroking. His fingers dipping under the edges of my bra, stopping short of my nipples although I push towards him as best I can. Then one hand presses the small of my back, pushing me towards him, the other slides between my legs, rubs briefly backwards and forwards. I feel the material getting damper as he strokes me, pushing my knickers up into me as he reaches higher.

I'm released, suddenly, his hands gone. But there is metal again, against my stomach. The scissors are open, the blunt side of the lower blade touching me just above the band of my knickers, the blades gape a little, holding my eyes. Master slides the upwards, still open, until the blade burrows under the narrow band of fabric between my bra cups. He closes the blades on this, and the material crunches under the metal. It sounds very loud to me as he cuts upwards, relishing the yielding of the cloth and the shrinking of my flesh from the metal as he cuts. He stops at the last shred of fabric, leaving it just holding together while he cuts quickly through the straps. He slides his fingers back under the edge of the cups again, as he did before, reaching downwards for my nipples, brushing them briefly before he withdraws his hands again. He takes hold of the two cups and pulls once, suddenly. The last threads part, releasing my breasts. He throws the remains of the bra somewhere behind me.

Now I have only my knickers. I am aching to be naked, to be touched. Master teases me again, his finger running across my belly. Pulling the elastic out a little, letting it snap back. He uses his scissors again, slowly cutting through them at my hips. One and then the other. But the material doesn't fall away from me. It is trapped in the damp cleft between my legs. Smiling Master takes hold of it and begins to pull, a steady pressure. Tugging it forwards through the creases of my flesh. I can feel it rubbing through me, the touch creating more fluid down there, which soaks into the fabric making it cling more to each fold in my pussy. Slowly, savouring my whimpers as it touches me, Master pulls my knickers free of my body. He considers it for a moment, his free hand toying with my nipples as he thinks, then he pushes the damp fabric into my mouth, folding it in with his fingers as a gag. He steps back from me, turning slightly to choose a flogger. He runs each one through his hand consideringly, listening and watching me as I wait, nervously and longingly, for the first blow to fall.