A little nick

To describe Estella's skin as Mediterranean would be unfair for her mother was the fairest and whitest Belgian to ever grace the new world in wanderlust. Even though Estella had a deep wash of southern European burn all over her oliverian skin, the Anglo-Saxon with Gallic flavored white genes mixed with her father's lineage of Spanish with Moroccan sun drenched brown like the finest vanilla bean infused coffee blend. The combination let her dance on the earth with a aura that bled an angelic glow from nowhere in particular that you could define.

Her unblemished feet stood apart, a perfectly balanced stance with the left slightly behind the right. I noticed that she'd painted her nails recently as my eyes drifted up her shins to her knees and over her toned thighs, my gaze went over the speed bump of her panty elastic as my eye caressed her pubic area still covered in white satin - the same satin that I knew was soaked with her wetness. My scan got as far as her navel, which was sometimes covered by her little t-shirt, but what got my attention was the long blade of the carving knife she held close enough to her body to control where it went, but angled just enough at me to ensure I knew she knew what she was doing with it.

"Rape me would you?"

I knew she was play acting, but I suspended the disbelief and backed up a step still pants less, my erection swinging in the breeze not quite sure of the fight or flight conundrum my imagination was toying with.

I raised my hands in symphony with my confused penis.

"you better know what you're doing with that." I looked her directly in the eye and she did not break eye contact.

"shut your mouth you beast and turn around". She was using her accented application of English in just the way that I liked it, stretching out vowels and rounding words in unnatural ways that having grown up in the United States would never consider to be the way to express oneself, yet it just added to her indescribable differences.

I turned around slowly and stood facing the doorway to the hall where I had entered.

Estella closed the gap and I could feel her breath on my back.

"I have this knife pointed at your kidney, you know what that would feel like if I pushed into your side? First the blade would part your skin like melted butter then the shaft would push itself into your body and you would feel through the pain like it was the blade itself sucking the lifeforce from your useless soul"

I nodded and let out a hurried "yes" and I could still feel my heart racing. Certain parts of my consciousness were starting to believe the game was real, and I could feel the danger endorphins releasing slowly.

Her free hand was tracing the lines of muscle in my back, smoothly stroking each valley with the tips of her fingers in exactly the way a police body searcher wouldn't.

"I think it's time we worked out what you have that I can take"

She traced her fingers down the small of my back and under my butt, bending over slightly she reached between my legs and made circular motions with her index finger on my balls that were, I was happy to admit, freshly shaved. I could still feel the dull metal of the carving knife on my side, she was resting the blunt side on my skin. She extended her reach to hold my balls like marbles, firmly squeezing them just enough so that the cloudy pain of compressing them together was not quite agonizing enough to overcome the sensation of touch.

"What do we have here?" she commanded, increasing her motion pulling my sack down as well as up against the lower shaft.

Pulling her hand out from under my legs she stroked my side with the blade and reached around me. I could feel her soft hair on my back and her cheek against my lower spine as she gripped my shaft. In perfect synchronization with her scraping my side with the knife, she pumped my cock which was now over it's confusion about whether to run and hide. The mock terror of a woman ready to insert a thirteen inch blade into my organs was winning in my manufactured war of the realities and my dick was responding to the heightened sense of danger sucking up the adrenalin. Internally I could feel my arousal becoming sickly close to overcoming my ability to control it, this was quite possibly the hottest experience of my life.

"mmmmm" She moaned like she was being fucked. "Yes, this pole will do just good."

For what seemed like an hour she stood there ready to stab me to death, licking me up and down my spine, and reaching around her hand was doing it's best to milk my rock hard cock of anything my testicles had created that week. In reality it was something like thirty seconds and about twenty strokes of her tongue, the knife, and her masturbatory excellence.

She tightened her grip on my dick and increased her up and down speed and warned me, "if you cum, I will kill you instantly". She could feel that my balls were ready to explode all over her tiled floor, and she knew the finer art of sexual torture better than anyone.

I groaned and closed my eyes, some part of me believed that if I did ejaculate at that moment it would be the most surreal and perfect death by stabbing one could have. What kept me from trying it out was that I was unsure if one could actually enjoy that experience and see the night through to desert.

"Good, you seem to know now that I am in control, move!" She purred as she released my dick and stood upright. Right then as she changed her posture behind me, I felt the tip of the knife nick my flank, a small cut.

She had stabbed me!!!

I did not come back to full reality. Just as it happened, I really didn't care about the cut. Despite the lack of tactile stimulation on my dick, I was still ready to blow my load on the floor just as if I was fully inserted into her tight wet hole ready to cram her full of my semen. The surgical cut she had just made only served to increase my enjoyment of the terror.

Her hand was now in the small of my back and I felt my own wet lubrication in her palm as she harshly pushed me forward into the hallway and on into that sublime chamber that was her bedroom. She guided me all the way to the left side of her bed and violently pushed me up against the wall next to it. This made a lamp and an alarm clock fall off the nightstand and crash onto the hardwood floor as my knees bumped the furniture. She reached over and took a pillow and somehow still holding the knife at my bleeding side, she took the pillow out and handed me the pillow case.

"Put this over your head and lay down on your back on my bed slave boy."

The last thing I saw as I obediently put the pillow case over my head was that on each of the four posts of her bed were a set of open handcuffs.