The First Time Ivy Tried Knifeplay, Part 1

It was with a girlfriend. Initially, I was terrified of the concept and I dwelled on the idea that she would slip and I would wind up maimed and in the emergency room and my medical report would say I was in some kind of freaky sex accident and I really just couldn’t handle something like that. But, I had agreed earlier that day that I was opening to at least giving it a try. If I got too nervous, I had a safeword to fall back on.

That evening, as she finished getting ready for bed, I wandered around her bedroom in this old t-shirt from an event I went to and a pair of plain white cotton panties. She turned and looked me over for a moment before saying, “lie down.”

I laid down on top of the sheets, looking up at her expectantly. She smiled in this smug little cat-that-caught-the-canary way that she usually did when we were about to get into something sexy. She opened her drawer, pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and bent over me to slide them through a bar on the headboard before cuffing me to it. “Close your eyes." 

The chuckle I let out was mostly nervous. There’s something absolutely torturous of having to close your eyes instead of being blindfolded. The option is right there and totally available for you to see what’s going on, but you want to keep your eyes closed, but the suspense is killing you, but…oh God.

I felt something cold drag across the exposed skin of my forearm. Somehow, in my panicking over keeping my eyes closed, she’d managed to sneak downstairs to the kitchen and get what I presumed to be a knife. It felt far too wide to be a butterknife, but I couldn’t really judge its size or much else about it. 

I sucked in a breath as she went over my arms, my legs, teasing my body with the terribly cold blade. The harder I tried at holding myself still, the more I trembled. She moved her free hand over my t-shirt, gathering up some of it before I heard her sawing away at the fabric in various spots. 

When she released the shirt, I judged by the rushes of cold air that she’d sliced over my breasts and my stomach. As she reached down and tore the cut over one of my breasts to be larger, I struggled with the enormous task of simply keeping my eyes closed. I had to see it. I couldn’t just keep them shut. I knew it was right there and I just had to know what she was working with.

And, so, I opened my eyes…