~Subject: knife scenes
~Date: Thu, 18 Feb 93 06:25:21 GMT
~Lines: 172


I love knives so much... and I was lucky and happy, in these months,
that Alex accepted to use knives in several scenes.  Often He heats
the blade on the flame, so I can feel the hot metal searing my flesh,
and the sharp edge on it, at the same time - and the marks that
result are so special. Anyway, I decided to extract the knife part
from each of those scenes, merging all into one, as they merge in
the warm love-filled memories in my heart, as I and Him merge in
the pain He gifts me with; all save one, the latest and most intense,
when Sandro and Rita were with us too, holding me still for His
blade; and post it all as one scene, in tribute to Him, my most
wonderful, powerful, loving, holy Lord.  


Blessed be the Light than in Him ever shines,
    Laylah
			===

The kids were asleep, sweet smiles on their beautiful faces. I finished
cleaning the kitchen, then I undressed myself, remaining clad only in a
pink cotton singlet, soft and warm, which showed off the form of my
breasts and flanks. I carefully brushed my long hair, then I took his
knife into my teeth, and went to the living-room.  Alex was busy at work
on his books on computer and science. The room was warm, the athmosphere
full of love and light.

I knelt in front of my Lord, my neck bent, my hair covering my face, my
wrists crossed in submission. He didn't speak immediately, but took the
knife from my teeth and caressed my cheeks with his hand. Then he
ravished my mouth with a master's kiss, leaving me almost without
breath, and with my tongue sore.  "Laylah - he finally told me - do you
want to feel the blade?" I kissed his feet: "Yes, yes, yes, my Lord." He
led me into our bedroom, and tied me spread-eagled, with my belly up.

His eyes were so powerful and domineering that I found difficult to
substain their glance. As he looked me with passion, desire and total
mastership I felt something deep melting inside myself, and my only
thought in the world was now to please him, to make him happy. He put the
point of the knife on the right side of my neck, pressing it slightly.
I remained completely still, enjoying the feeling of the metal on such
a vulnerable part of my body.

Then my Master began to develop beautiful drawings on the skin of my
breast, tracing thin white and red lines on the tender surface, forming
a wonderful, intricated web. The caress of the blade was so exciting to
me, that I couldn't stay still anymore, and I began to move my flanks in
a rhythmic way, offering my body to the knife. Alex continued his work
on my belly, thighs and arms, always making me sore, but without
actually cutting me.

If my Lord doesn't say otherwise, I generally have three safewords,
green, yellow and red. The pleasure I felt was like a throbbing vein of
spring water, pulsating faster and faster, so in the end I whispered
"Green, green, green, Master..." Alex immediately answered: "Can you
speak more clearly, you slut of a delicious slave?"  "Yes - I replied -
yes! Cut me, please, Master! Make me bleed, please, please, Master!"  My
Lord's eyes were liquid fire. "I grant you this request, Laylah, but
I'll cut you _where_ I want and _how_ I want!"

He took his lighter and put his knife on the flame for quite a long
time.  The blade was blackened and hot. "You may move, but not too much"
said my Master, and then he cut me on my flank, near my spiral. It was a
short cut, only three inches long, but very deep, and beautiful to see.
As he worked me, I felt my flesh tender as butter under his hot knife, I
felt myself as a ripe fruit sliced in sacrifice, or as a living piece of
art carved and adorned. His mastership soared over me, it towered above
my soul - the pain so sublime, the pleasure so great, that only by
similes to flashing suns and exploding stars could I render it
justice...

"May I kiss your hands, Master?" I asked with trembling voice.  "Do you
think I'm an easy Master? No, you can't kiss them now, you must first
deserve to." And Alex went to our chest of drawers, took out a new
razor-blade, and sat on the bed near me. A sudden fear engulfed me, and
I started to weep silently. "Darling - my Master said - I remind you
that you have your usual safewords. Do you want to use them now?" "No,
my Lord", I answered.  "In this  case, I will cut you again." He put the
razor blade on the flame, then cut me on my shaved mons.

This time the pain was less, because a new razor-blade is perfectly
sharp.  I moved as much as my bonds permitted, feeling my mons as a lake
of honey...  Alex told me: "It's short, but quite deep. Now I'll lick
your blood..." I wept and cried when he sucked my cutting, happy and
shaken at the same time.  My Lord then cut me on my right arm, but this
time without first making the razor blade hot. Finally he whipped me on
this last cutting, using a short-thonged sylicone whip. I cried out with
all my breath, at the first stroke, tears streaming down my face, my
arms tensed and stretched ...  "Laylah, the kids!" And now he put a
clean handerchief in my mouth, for me to bite on it, before continuing.

I am madly in love with knifeplay, and burns, more than with whipping,
more than with caning.  When my Master cut me again in my flank, near
the spiral, I came - a beautiful orgasm, intense, overwhelming. Perhaps
all this is connected with my visions of the Goddess, with the presence
of my Wolf Fenris, with the remembrances of previous lives, full of
sharp swords and spears - I don't know. But the fondamental fact is that
I'm deeply fascinated by blades, and they are for me impregnated of
powerful spiritual meanings... so to be cut by my Master is a blessing.

"Please, Master, cut me one last time, please!" I begged, my eyes liquid
and humid, full of submission and imploration. My Lord pressed the knife
in the area between my breasts - the area which received, some months
ago, the most holy and ritual cutting. With extreme skillfulness, with a
quick movement of his right hand, he did a brief cutting, on the same
spot as the previous magic one. Some drops of my blood were spilt, and I
felt an incredibly strong source of energy taking possession of the
center of my heart.  After some minutes I became pure, raw, primeval
energy, thirsty of more blood, and at the same time, completely detached
from the things of this world.

Then, with broken voice, I begged my Lord: "Master, Master, please,
please, my beloved Master!" He played with his knife near my nipple
ring, without wounding me, giving me a hot rash of pleasure. Then he
answered: "Please, what, my beautiful toy?" "Please, play with your
knife on my sex!" He smiled, a sweet, severe, understanding smile: "But,
darling, It's dangerous! Particularly dangerous for this typical habit
of yours of moving in such a way to... to welcome the blade inside
yourself... I don't want you to be wounded there, not at all! Sore and
bruised, yes, but not wounded!"

I looked at my most wonderful Lord with tears in my eyes: "Please,
please, Master! I promise you, I will be still, completely still!" I was
still spread-eagled, but I could move my flanks. My Master finally took
mercy on me, and said: "All right, you piggy slave! But I will stop the
scene immediately when you begin to move. Agreed?" Without words I
kissed the hands he at last put near my lips. Then his knife, cold,
exciting, menacing, caressed my inner labia, without cutting, just
pressing gently. The pleasure was unbearable, and I cried; "It's too
beautiful, Master, tooooo beautiful!"

I did manage to remain still, at least for the moment. The cool blade
played now with my outer labia, sending waves of fire to my flesh,
breasts, even, I perceived, to my shaken bones themselves. I was just
too happy.  Tears of pure joy streamed down my cheeks. I continued to
remain still, but when Alex played with my clit in a perfect way,
pressing the point of metal on that tender spot, I slighty moved,
enjoying one of the most powerful orgasms I can now remember.

Alex immediately stopped, and pressed the flat of his knife on my lips.
I kissed it, at once, reverently.

All this happened some weeks  ago. Last Saturday we played all evening
with Sandro and Rita, and, after various episodes of spanking, whipping,
bites and burns, my Master said to Sandro: "Will you please keep Laylah
still, with the help of Rita?  I want to carve a medium sized "A" on her
flank, and I don't want to bind her..." He used a simple but very
menacing tool, a kind of cutter meant for balsa-wood, for hobbies - not
showy and sexy per se, like a beautiful knife is, but sharp, light, very
wieldable.  He put the blade on the flame, then made the first vertical
line. I bit ferociously on Sandro's left hand, which he had chosen to
use to gag me, instead of a gag proper, just like he and Rita were
holding me still, not proper bonds.  "She is really a tigress, our
Laylah!" Sandro said - and kept his hand there. Now my Lord carved the
second vertical line, but in two stages, because he put again for some
time the blade on the flame, to be sure it was sufficiently hot.

By the time the last, horizontal line was finally carved, Sandro's hand
was in a sorry state...  All three embraced me, and kissed me. Then Alex
rubbed ashes inside the carved lines. The "A" now is quite red and
swollen. It aches a lot, with my utmost satisfaction... In my happy mind
images of swords and rituals and ordeals are fluidly dancing: I feel a
living sword of light inside my heart, a pulsating lance of love, and I
would like to enflame the world with it...


Blessed be, dear friends of the net,
    Laylah
	--
    You bite my slender wrists, my frail and fiery flesh,
    You drink the cutting taste of lips and breached sunsets
 
Laylah Martelli: 
lela@am.sublink.org,lmartell@nyx.cs.du.edu,an1826@anon.penet.fi