While it’s the only thing going to be sliced away and pulled apart this evening on a physical level, that dress is not the layer being stripped away tonight.
knifeplay
By George, Heart, it worked!
I’m home safe and sound, tumblr. I basically slept through both of my flights, so I don’t really have anything vaguely entertaining to tell you except that now I can’t fall asleep since I spent most of my day that way. Oh boy.
But, thank you for all the support and love I got over these two months I’ve been gone. I got a little over 150 new followers during the time, which might just be an indication that absence makes the heart grow fonder (or that I should go away more often).
<3,
Ivy
Dear Ivy,
If I post pictures of pirate style knife play will you come back?
With love,
-Heart
From trilbygrey:
Have you seen this image? I think it may give you pleasure.
—
Um…um. It uh…it did that. Thank you.
I need to go, um, handle some…stuff now…
I remember watching Angelina Jolie on Inside the Actor’s Studio when I was younger. I hadn’t really heard of her and she had just made Gia, which would later become one of my favorite performances of hers.
She talked a lot about the movie, herself, her life all with this very coy smile and casual air. I was just so taken with her. And I remember James Lipton asked her a somewhat uncomfortable question about her sexuality and she, with a little cavalier smirk on, responded very candidly about her interest in taking knives into the bedroom. I remember hearing the blood pumping in my ears, especially when she said that she had scars from when things got too “passionate”.
Am I a fan of scarification? Not at all. But am I a fan of a woman that into knifeplay that she unabashedly discussed it with James Lipton? Hell yeah.
Dear Dacry,
When you play these games with me, you remind me why I tumblr-love you.
<3, Ivy
PS: I clicked the tag with my name and had a giggle.
PPS: Regarding this brat, I would never wear black lipstick. Hmph.
Hold very still. Don’t let the knife drop. If that knife moves even an inch… Well, I think I’ll just cut an inch for every inch the knife falls. How does that sound?
I found this in my inbox from Heart today. I was having a pretty blah day and she really, really knows how to cheer me up.
She claims that I dreamed this man into existence. I clearly did. He’s gorgeous. He’s got knives. And he’s damn proud of both facts. Oh, not to mention the five o’clock shadow, the droopy eyelids, and those lips. Yum.
(And if anyone can tell me who this gent is I’ll be so grateful.)
We all love this photo, but does anyone know who this is, or when?
Continued from here.
She closed up her pocketknife and held it out to me, “so, you like knives?”
I smiled and took it from her, “yeah, I just think they’re beautiful.” I flipped it back open and looked over it. I traced my finger up the blade. It was an absolutely gorgeous pocketknife.
“Do you collect?” she asked.
I shook my head, “no, no, I don’t collect. I just admire.” I tested the tip against the pad of my thumb before adding, “this is pretty nice.” She had to know what she was doing. She had to. No one who isn’t into knives would pick one like this.
No, I told myself. I was reading too much into this. This was probably just some girl who kept a knife around for fun. Who now thought I was a freak of nature for how giddy I was getting over hers. But she had smiled. I tried to think it over, but decided it was pointless to try to analyze it any further.
I closed it and reluctantly handed it back to her. The rest of the night played out fairly normally. I dismissed the entire situation as just a case of a girl who had, by some stroke of luck, but herself a knife without realizing how nice it was. Or someone had gotten it for her. I wasn’t going to ask any more about the knife. I didn’t want to attract more attention to how much I was feeling it.
I had gravitated to a different group of girls before I determined I should head back. I made my rounds, saying goodbye before heading toward the door. I passed her in my friend’s foyer, my hand on the door to the hallway.
“Ivy,” she said as I passed. “I hope I can see you again sometime.” There was a catch in her voice. I turned. She was holding the knife.
I booked it out of there, blushing like crazy.
I think phrase “sick, wet dread” deserves its own Pulitzer. And I’d be more than willing to give dacrylagnia whatever prize she wanted.
knife (by postbear)
He runs his hand along the blade, thoughtfully, considering the many delicious things he might do with it.
From her position on the floor she has to twist her head to see his pensive expression. She wishes she hadn’t. The look on his face fills her with sick wet dread.
Well, for starters, you’re going to need a bigger knife.
Yes, I’m back. I couldn’t stay away for too long. I have to thank you all for the huge influx of comments and askbox messages. I had no idea so many people actually read and pay attention to my tumblr (and, hell, I even got a bunch of followers while I was MIA). Your sensitivity, wishes, and prayers were really wonderful.
In response to the questions about whether or not I continue to do knifeplay:
I have referenced before that my most recent dom was not into the lifestyle at all before we got together. It’s pretty funny to think of that if you knew him now and how much of this stuff seemed to be waiting underneath the surface. Evidence of that?
Well, he collected knives. There was this huge, menacing one he used to bring out all the time to scare the crap out of me play. There was a smaller one he’d hold against my throat sometimes while I sucked him off (he put the dull side against my throat, obviously, but it still had the same effect). He let me watch him sharpen one once and eye-fucked me into next week whilst doing so. I swear it was like porn for me. It was probably one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen him do.
So, yes, I’d say the knifeplay wasn’t exclusive to one partner. I’m sure I’ll encounter people not into it at all and I’ll proceed accordingly. But, hell, if they’re game, I am more than willing.