Sunday

Posted by Rache on July 22, 2001 at 19:03:54:

(m/f,knife,cons,romantic)
Sunday

by Rachael

Sunday July 22. I wake up in bed. Safe and sound and alive. My throat is sore and as I move I feel the pain between my legs. Paul is sleeping beside me, snoring softly. I get out of bed, it hurts to move and I go to the bathroom. I look at the shower. God, I wish it was a tub.

In the mirror I can see my face has been washed, but my nose is swollen and there is a bruise on my left cheekbone, just below my eye. There is a thin line of dull reddish purple around my neck, clearly defined and going from one side of my jaw line to the other. My wrists too show marks from the ropes, chafed and red.

I get in the shower and turn on the hot water. It hurts to sit down, but I do, bending my legs awkwardly, slowly. I can see deep bruises on the insides of my thighs. Dark and angry with yellow streaks, I examine my vagina carefully; it looks swollen somehow, red and puffy. My breasts and stomach are rough, slightly red as if I'd had a rash recently. Light burns from the carpet.

I wash myself slowly, carefully. Everyplace I touch seems to hurt and I struggle to remember little bits of last night, but it's useless. I was dying, but Paul was there. He must have been waiting for me, watching to see how long I could stand it. The moment was unbelievably wonderful, the terror and pain and pleasure and ecstasy all combining in one glorious moment. I rub my pussy softly, massaging it with gentle soapy hands. I touch the rings in my nipples and trace a finger to the scab on the side of my breast. The cigarette burn, I pick at it absently. The blister hadn't lasted, now it was just a hard tender spot. I picked it until it started bleeding, peeling the softening scab away under the streaming water.

I finish my shower. I hadn't cum, but I felt better. I went to the kitchen to make some coffee. I hate coffee, but there was no tea to be found. I stood there naked on the cold tile floor. Waiting. I opened a drawer and found the knives. I pulled out a long curved blade, stainless and beautiful. I touched the point to my breast and pushed until a spot of red appeared.

Paul's hand moved over mine and I could feel his naked body behind me. His hard penis pressing against the welts on my lower back, just above the curve of my ass. He pushed the knife harder, driving it a fraction deeper into my soft flesh. I moaned and my knees went weak. Paul wrapped his left arm around my waist and bent his knees, leaning forward, pushing me so that I was bent over the counter.

His hardness found my sore vagina and he entered me slowly, turning the knife slightly and sweet pain filled me. Blood was running freely now, it wasn't a deep cut, but deep enough. I stared at it as his cock moved in and out of my body. Paul removed the knife and I braced my hands against the cupboards above me, thrusting myself back against him. He moved the knife down, to my tummy and pressed the blade against my skin. As we moved I could feel the razor edge cutting a thin line across my body. He just held it there. I was close to cumming, how fast! It was as if every part of me were suddenly alive, where I had been dead before. I bent my head so I could see the shiny silver blade against my taut skin. I was moaning loudly, feeling my cunt gripping his shaft. I wanted him inside me, filling me with his semen. I was cumming and my hands slipped off the cupboards and I fell forward, only Paul's two arms, his hand grabbing me and the knife suddenly pressing deeply into my flesh kept me from falling completely.

I gasped as the raw sexual energy was released in a torrent of wetness. It surrounded his penis and then flowed out, down my thighs. I had never cum so hard or so much. I couldn't breath, I could only watch as my red blood spilled across the blade and down my flat tummy, across my pubis and down my thighs. The pain was incredible. It had cut me deeply and still Paul did not move it, I wondered if it was bad but I didn't care. I started pushing again, my mind clearing and the sensations in my body passing briefly into a soft pulse. I was doubled over; gasping suddenly as another searing slash of pain took me. The knife was moving, up along my body. Paul pulled me upright, so that I was standing, impaled on his hard cock while he brought the knife in a long vertical line from my belly button to my breasts.

I brought my hands to my stomach, feeling the wetness, sticky blood, running over my fingers. It was covering my thighs and pooling on the floor. I was like a rag doll, riding him as he rammed himself over and over inside me. He pressed the crimson stained blade to the bottom of my left breast and drew it across, biting into me deeply, I screamed and my whole being gave itself to another orgasm. My breast felt the sharp incision and I could feel it moving, differently, the soft fatty tissue suddenly cut partially free. Paul moved the knife to my right breast, and held it there, underneath. I moved my hand to the top of it and pushed down, twisting it, pulling my tit so that it cut itself on the sharp steel.

My body was red with blood; I rubbed my hands across my wet stomach and then to my face, covering myself in it. Tasting it. Paul pushed me down again, bending me low as he pulled his cock out of me, shoving it suddenly in my ass. I moaned and pushed, feeling the still sensitive tissue that had been ripped the previous day. He fucked me relentlessly, shoving his hardness inside and pulling me backwards, lifting me so that the knife in his hand was in front of my mouth. I licked at it, cutting my tongue on the razor edge as he moved us to the bloodstained floor, keeping himself deep inside me. He leaned against the cabinet, pulling me back against him so that he could push the blade against my exposed sex. His cock moved slowly with short strokes in my ass while he pushed the point of the knife between my nether lips.

Paul worked the knife slowly inside my wetness, severing my labia, another flash of pain bringing me to the edge of orgasm; it was continuous now, the sight, the smell, the pain and ecstasy all mixed. Intoxicating me. I wanted it inside me, filling my womb with steel. He began pushing, slowly in and I moved my hips, working his cock deeper in my ass and the knife suddenly deeper inside me. I gasp, screaming, moaning, shaking. I can't keep my eyes open anymore, Paul pushes the knife inside me, stabbing into my ovary, into my womb. Killing me with it. He's fucking me hard now, but I can't feel it. Nothing but the electric pain of being impaled on the knife. My belly is on fire, everything like a thousand spikes shredding my insides. He works his hand in time with his hips. The knife plunging over and over again, inside, fucking me with it. His cock strains and he's cumming, twisting the knife. Killing me with it.

There is a low buzz and I open my eyes. The coffee is done. My hands are still between my thighs, I'm on the floor. But there is no blood, the knife is in my hand, but I have only the small cut in my breast. It was a dream, all a dream. I drop the knife and wrap my arms around my knees. I want to cry and I do. I don't know what I'm doing here, it's a dream, a nightmare. I'm sitting like that when Paul comes out of the bedroom, tying his bathrobe around his waist. I can't look at him, I only want to go home.

Paul helps me dress and he puts my bag in his car. We talk a lot, about so many things. I love him and it kills me to leave. But if I stay it will be worse. He's taking me to the bus station, he wanted to drive me home, to Seattle, but no. Not like this, it would hurt to have that long goodbye. It would kill me.

Now the exits go by, in reverse. I watch Bellingham go away and I have my hand inside my blouse. Fingering the tears, like mother's milk leaking from my pierced breast. Mount Vernon and Burlington, going away. I try to sleep, but it's no use. I can't sit comfortably, my butt still hurts and my legs still ache. I shift and move and turn and lean and nothing helps. Everett, finally. It's raining and traffic is slow. I watch the people in their cars, wondering why I don't drive. Seattle, home again. A long taxi and a fistful of money, worth every penny. Home again! I open the door, it's locked. Daddy's not home and I'm sad. I missed him.

end
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