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violent-femme:

Has @thinkivykink seen this? Someone please tell me Ivy has seen this bc knives. And cuteness.

Idk but I’m glad to be seeing it now.

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Before I tell you the whole thing about last night, I should give a little background on Ace, the girl I’ve been seeing a little bit.

I genuinely didn’t think our first date was a date until I was putting my makeup on right before meeting up with her for drinks and paused for a moment to think, “wait a second, is this a date?” The thing is that I’ve known Ace since I started going to play parties and munches in this city, but mostly peripherally. She hung out with people I knew, she dated people I knew. Every so often we’d have a really good conversation or I’d see her while I was out. Back in the summer, she invited me out clubbing with her and I didn’t take a hint at all and said I was busy. Right before the December holidays, we agreed to get coffee and then I had to cancel. 

So in the first week of January we’d rescheduled coffee and it somehow turned into drinks. And sitting there across from her, I was stuck puzzling over how to even distinguish where the line was. What’s the difference between two women talking and laughing and having a good time and two women going on a first date together? How can you tell?

I tested the waters that night after making a terrible joke. “Sorry,” I said, “that was awful. I guess you’ll never take me out again.”

Ace grinned. She has this smile that is borderline wicked, always a little scheming. “No, I’ll take you out again.”

Our next few dates were pretty chaste, as I mentioned. And then, Friday night, I went to her place to watch a movie. She made popcorn. That was about as far as we got into watching a movie.

We made out on her bed for a while until she got up abruptly and walked towards her kitchen. She lives in this sweet little studio, and so the kitchen was just through a little doorway beside the bed. “I’m getting my knife,” she explained.

Not a knife. My knife.

By this point, we’d mostly undressed each other. I removed the remainder of my clothing – my panties, my socks – and laid back. She returned and climbed back onto the bed, swinging a leg over me so that she was straddling me. “I want you to hold still,” she said. She took my hands one after the other in her free hand, moving them up to the headboard. I held onto it at her prompting. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll try,” I replied, a little nervous laugh lingering in my voice as she leaned down and kissed my neck. I felt the chill of the knife press against the side of my breast.

When I went home that night, I peeled off my shirt and discovered a faint red line up the side of my stomach. I’d only been sliced once before while playing with knives – another accident. But I’ve always relished these marks. A reminder of what had happened.

And an indication, I suppose, of the fact that I can’t keep still.

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Pup keeps a butter knife in our freezer for knifeplay. 

(Tip for those who don’t know: if you freeze a butter knife and blindfold your partner, it feels 100% sharper and more dangerous. Which can be incredible.)

Our roommate – an incredibly open and supportive and fantastic vanilla friend – was cleaning out the freezer the other day when she came about the knife. “How’d this get in here?” She wondered aloud. 

 "Oh, no, leave it there,“ I said. "Don’t worry about it." 

She stared down at the knife for a minute before replacing it and saying, "this is some kind of sex thing, isn’t it?”

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mirrorscape:

(hng) the glint of the knife is what got to me first, and then the gloves, and then the way she’s just lolling back in her chair, helpless.

I’ll, uh, be over here. (hng.)

Oh my god what is this FROM.

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Months ago, I sent Sir this gif, saying that it made me really wet. “What do you think she had to do?” he asked, which only made me blush. 

That night, I had plans to get together with Pup, and about an hour beforehand Sir texted me saying that I should wear something I didn’t mind losing. “Something cute,” he added. I found a bra that was starting to wear a bit at the straps, an old pair of tights that were ripped at the toe, a blouse that was a bit too big on me that I’d used for a costume. I couldn’t find anything beyond the tights to wear on bottom, so I just found a skirt that matched and sent a picture to Sir. “All right,” he replied, “I’ll tell him not to mess up the skirt. Put your hair in pigtails.”

“What’s going on?” I texted him, getting a little nervous. I still braided my hair, and made sure to wear a long coat over my outfit. Without it, I kind of looked like a schoolgirl or some porny parody of a teacher and I felt a little silly wearing it. 

Sir didn’t respond, and a few minutes later, Pup had arrived. “Nice hair,” he mussed the top of my head. I shot him a glare. “I figured we would go get some coffee.”

I shifted nervously. “Are you sure you don’t just want to stay here?” I didn’t want to take off my coat in public.

“No, come on,” he led me down the stairs and over to a cafe near my place. When the waitress asked if we wanted the drinks for here, I quickly replied that they were to go. When someone I knew came over to say hi and comment on my hair, I nearly died on the spot.

We got our drinks and ended up walking around outdoors. Eventually, we found our way to a few empty streets and I started getting a little bratty. It’s my usual reaction to a situation where I feel vulnerable, and I was feeling pretty vulnerable at that moment. 

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to stick you behind that car and fuck your face,” Pup said and grabbed my arm. 

I huffed and tried to tug it away. “Aren’t you still chaste or whatever?”

“No,” he replied and pulled me along. “I don’t think so.”

When we got back to my place, I’d barely locked the door when Pup pushed me down onto the carpet. He pulled my coat open and pushed it off my shoulders, tossing it aside. I struggled underneath him, trying my hardest to hide a smirk, but stopped short when I saw him take a knife out of his pocket and flick it open.

“He told me not to mess up the skirt, but it’s not my fault if you keep moving,” Pup said and flipped my skirt up around my waist with his free hand. He grabbed a fistful of the material of my tights and sliced it away with the knife. Slipping the knife under the hole he’d made, he cut a slit down my leg. “I like this,” he murmured to himself and I saw his eyes light up.

I hadn’t done anything with genuine fear involved in quite a while, and maybe because this was new territory with him, my eyes welled up with tears. It was weirdly satisfying cry – honestly even erotic – but Pup still stopped and checked in. “I’m good, really,” I answered, “I’m enjoying myself.”

Pup reached up and pulled open my blouse, chuckling when he encountered my bra. He took the bow at the front between his two fingers and gave it a little tug. “Cute,” he teased and sliced it away before slipping the knife under one strap, then the other.

“Aww, is someone scared?” Pup taunted as he returned to shredding the tights from my body with his knife and free hand. Curls of stray, torn nylon were spread around me on the carpet. “Scared I’m going to slip and hurt you?” He set the dull end of the knife against my cheek and I sucked in an anxious breath. His hand slipped down between my legs and he laughed, “you don’t seem like you mind it too much.” He closed his knife and returned it to his pocket. “Get in your bedroom,” he tapped my side with his foot. “Now.”

I don’t remember all the particulars of what we did, beyond the fact that mostly it was a lot of beating and me sucking his cock. I ended up on my knees by the side of my bed by the end, exhausted. Pup got up to his feet and walked over to his discarded pants. He took out his wallet, thumbed through it, and took out a twenty. Moving back in front of me, he crouched down and pushed the bill into my mouth. I watched in shock as he pulled his clothes on.

“I can’t take this,” I said as I tried to give it back. “This isn’t…”

“It’s not my money,” he replied. “So tell your boyfriend I said thanks for the blowjob.”

I still held out the twenty. “He gave you money?”

Pup patted my head, “he said he’d reimburse whatever I decided to give you. I meant to break this at the coffee shop.” Out of wanting to get out of there fast, I’d paid for both of our drinks. “Probably more than you deserve.”

“I can’t…” I objected and watched him walk towards the door.

He grinned, “bye, whore. Thank Craftsmate for me, would you?”

He had intended to just step out for a minute and then come back and give me aftercare, but I was so subspaced and confused and frustrated that I kind of freaked out when he went to pretend to leave. While he took care of me, I texted Sir and thanked him for letting me realize this fantasy I’d had with Pup. It required a lot of trust and generosity on his part. I count it as one of his and my biggest poly successes. 

“Please take the money back,” I said when Pup went to tuck me in and head out. When he shook his head, I huffed and added, “I’ll just use it when we go apple picking, then.”

“It’s your whore money,” he replied and kissed my forehead.

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brightswitch:

Late birthday present for thinkivykink

Fun note: I told Wolf that I was doing a knifeplay themed drawing “For a tumblr friend” and he immediately knew who it was.

Happy birthday Ivy~

Oh my gosh, this is amazing!!

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That Time Pup Was Celibate For a Little Bit, Part Five

Pup was leaving my place one night when somehow I figured out he was carrying his knife on him.

“You’re not supposed to be,” I badgered. I had been leaning up against my door while he was putting on his boots.

He got up to his feet. “Says who?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, “why are you even carrying it?”

“Because I want to.”

Feeling a little coy, I asked to see it. I jumped a little in my skin when he flicked it open. When he took hold of my hand and unfolded my fingers, I froze. Carefully, he pressed the knife into my palm, making sure not to break the skin.

“Pretty sharp, huh?” He was grinning.

I blushed. “Uh huh.”

My face was still burning when he left.

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So I’m having an awful day, but Sir is coming tonight (except he’s delayed, boo) and I’m so excited to see him so we can have some cathartic sex to say fuck you to this ridiculous day.

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Fear turns me on to an absurd degree.

That being said, nobody better try to amputate me. Just…no. I’m not even into blood.

Just wave the crap around a little and let me feel it on my skin and we’re good. 

boston-jason:

You were expecting… what exactly?

Dildos and floggers? Feathers and fur? Hitachi and princess plug?

You said you were tired of the tropes and in desperate need of adrenaline-amplified authenticity.

You said you wanted to hear my voice again, to see the darkness lift my hands again, to feel the ice in my eyes again.

It didn’t take much persuasion to interest me in a bit of existential fear and groveling tears.

Deep breaths, pumpkin, this is not a mindfuck.

It’s playtime.

—boston-jason / in_extremis

cartoon-motion-life:

1900 surgical amputation tool set

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nankingdecade:

Sweetheart, remember that time you broke my cocktail glass?

It’s not my faultttt. You made me squirm.