Knives And Threats

I come home and put down my keys and bag, and someone puts a knife to my throat.

"Don't move," she says.

"I won't," I whisper.

My hands start shaking. My knees do too.

"Walk forwards," she says. "Walk over to the table."

"Okay," I say, and do, carefully. I'm careful because of the knife.

"Take off your trousers," she says. "And lie down."

I'm in work clothes, a suit and heels. Fitted trousers and high, strappy, fiddly heels. I can't get these trousers off over these heels, and I know I can't.

"I can't," I say.

My hands are still trembling.

"Lie down then," she says. "Lie on your front. Put your hands behind your back."

I do. I bend at the waist so my feet are on the floor, but the rest of me is on the table. She keeps holding the knife against my neck, and while she does, she cuffs my wrists with her other hand. She has metal handcuffs, and she clicks them closed, quickly.

Then she says, "Lift up your feet behind you. One at a time."

I do. I lift up one foot, bending my leg at the knee, so my shoe is up by my ass. She reaches down, and unbuckles that shoe. She takes it off, and drops it on the floor, and then does the same for the other.

"Roll sideways," she says, and I do, and she holds the knife against my neck, and undoes my trousers. She pulls them down a little, off my hips, then says, "On your front," and I roll back, and then she pulls my trousers down.

"Spread your legs," she says, and I do.

I'm still trembling. I can still feel the knife on my neck. I can feel her breath on my shoulder and face as she leans over me. I tremble as I lie there.

She twists her hand into my hair. She wraps my hair tightly around her fingers, twisting right up against my scalp. Then she leans on my hair, so I have to turn my face away from her, and so I'm held down tight against the table, and its squashing against my cheek.

Then she puts the knife down. Once I'm held there and helpless. She puts the knife down, and puts her hand between my legs.

I'm still trembling as she touches me. I'm wet, too. I'm wet so her fingers slide over me, and into me.

I'm excited by this, excited by her, by what she's doing.

I'm so excited my hands and knees are still shaking.

She pushes her fingers into me, so I gasp. Then she pushes her thumb into me too. I'm wet, spread, all kind of ready and tingly, so her touch makes me shiver and sigh. She holds me against the table by my hair, with my hands cuffed behind me, and she pushes her fingers inside me. Two, maybe three, as far as they go, bending her hand so part of me is kind of pressed down on the table, too. Then she takes her thumb out, and puts it on my ass. Its slippery with me, and warm from me. She rubs for a moment, so I know what she's about to do, then she pushes, and it goes inside me.

I sigh and gasp and shiver.

She moves her hand inside me. She holds me there, on the table, and fucks me with her hand, pushing with her fingers, pushing with her thumb, squeezing her thumb and fingertips together inside me, squeezing me, moving her hand fast, roughly, fucking me until I feel nothing but her and pleasure and more her, filling me.

And then I come.

And then I kind of roll on my side and say, "Oh my god, I love you but you're such a pervert."

And then she kisses me and laughs, and decides to leave me tied up like that while she fucks my leg and gets herself off. Rather than untying me so I can do her, or getting me to lick her out I mean.

So there you go. Us.