Metal

     He stands behind me holding the knife to my throat with his right hand. With his left on my hip, he kisses the back of my neck.

     “You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?” he whispers in my ear.

I stay quiet in defiance, and his left hand jerks up to my hair, pulling my head back.

     “I said 'Aren't you'?”

     “Yes,” I whisper, my blood pumping so strongly, he could probably see my veins jumping through my skin.

      He pulls the knife down, across my chest, breathing heavily. I exhale deeply as my eyes flutter closed. The tip of the knife pokes into my hip and I can feel him spin it. Cold metal wraps around my wrists and is pulled up. I hear a click, and a smile grows across my face.

     I open my eyes and the knife pops off the bottom button of my shirt. It falls to the floor and is forgotten. The next button drops and is forgotten. Dropped; forgotten. Dropped; forgotten. Dropped; forgotten.

His knife touches my clavicle and slides under my bra strap. A red line appears across my pale flesh. The strap snaps and is closely followed by the other side.

     “One hand,” I say coyly looking him in the eyes. His mud/golden eyes staring back with a dark fury, he reaches around to my back and unclasps with two fingers. As my bra falls to the floor, his knife finds it's way under my skirt to my underwear. I chose boy shorts with bows in the front. Blue bows, the color of persuasion. He slowly cuts through each bow until my underwear falls as well.

     He takes a step back to look at what is before him; A girl with eager eyes wearing a short black skirt, an opened red cardigan and 3 inch heals, handcuffed to a chain attached to the ceiling.

     He walks around and kneels behind me, spreading my ass so he can see my holes. The anticipation of any sensation is driving me insane.

     “Just do something!” I plead.

     I can feel him smirk as he holds me open, yet doing nothing. Then faintly, I feel the movement of air across my sensitive skin. My knees fall weak, pulling on the metal restraining my wrists. I wince at the pain and stand up again. I know he's got that smirk on his face, the one that says he's winning. I feel something lightly poke my asshole and then swirl around as if in a whirlpool and it was being sucked in.

     “So sit back and enjoy the crash” plays softly in the distance. Matt Skiba's voice amplifying my senseless lust. It seems miles away, my entire focus on receiving any sensation message from my genitals. My brain avidly searching for any variance in speed or pressure. Just as I felt like he would continue with the same pattern forever, I feel half his finger inside me. I gasp, closely followed is cold goo. His finger moves outside my body and when returned, is encased in the moderately cooler goo. It stops, completely. Just a singular finger inside me, not moving. It drives me insane; my brain exploding with sensation and excitement. What will his next move be? How does anyone have this much patience? I just fucking want his dick inside me. I want to feel full of him. I want to squeeze around him. And yet, the denial makes me more ravenous, more aggressive and willing to prod him.

    “That only does so much,” I say, my voice betraying my lust. I can feel his fucking smirk again. His smirk that betrays his intentions. The smirk the says he knows he is driving me fucking insane. God, I want to suffocate that smirk right off his fucking face.

     As if he can read my thoughts, his entire face is pressed firmly against me, his tongue forcing it's way into my vagina.

     “Holy fucking goddamn yes,” I mutter as my knees once again weaken and this time I relish the metal against my wrists. I let myself hang as my brain thoroughly focuses on his body's interaction with mine. I wish I had some sort of control because I would never let him remove his face.

     And just as I'm really adoring him on his knees behind me, he completely removes himself. I growl maliciously, and before my guttural threat could be completed, I feel something shoved in my vagina. I look between my legs and I see a nineteen inch blade hanging between my legs.

     “I'd advise you not to close your legs,” he states as if he were simply telling someone the temperature outside. “I sharpened this blade myself and I know it's pretty sharp so, if you close your legs... you'll cut yourself. Now, you can't cum until I see your lust dripping from the tip.”

     18 inches to go, and he kisses me deeply. He kisses me as if to tell me everything he has ever felt in his life was for me. Every girl he had ever seen naked only prepared him for me; every girl he made cum was only practice for this moment. He nibbled my neck and whispered all the things that were to follow.

“Oh you're already half way there. Let's see if the actual acts themselves will bring you where you want to go.”

     THAT FUCKING SMIRK. That smirk had me, and I wished my hands weren't bound to the ceiling so I could choke that fucking smirk off his face. As much as I wished that, I could see his forearms and knew if I tried, his grip would kill me first.

     He crouched down a little and started biting my nipples. I wanted to cry out in pain but there was a particular way his tongue touched my nipples just before and after he bit them that made me want him to continue. After a couple minutes I could feel that fucking smirk of his lips grazing against my skin.

     I reached to touch his jaw and I was stopped by my restraints. I pulled hard against them a few times in a row but saw that it was getting me nowhere. I needed to touch him and I couldn't, so I resorted to prodding him.

     “Can't handle my hands... have to immobilize me so you can do what you want?”

     I received no acknowledgment and it drove me more insane. How can you kneel before me and not heed a word I say!!! I felt his tongue playing with my clit. I couldn't help myself but to whimper in desperation at this point. His tongue was playing with the most sensitive part of my body. Once, I growled, he growled and HOLY FUCK did the vibration jumble my fucking brain. He turned my growl into a cry for help. It felt so good, I couldn't believe it was real and once I began to feel more comfortable with it, he changed his path.

     “I don't like how easily you get wet and enjoy things,” he said quietly in my ear. “I barely did a thing to you and you have dripped down 18 inches of steel. Next time, you won't drip so easily for me. I assure you.”

     He pulled the machete from my cunt and inserted himself, playing with my clitoris while he held me up to pump all of his rage into. I came just before he did, loving every second I squeezed his dick with myself, yet not taming him.

“Next time, you'll cum twice as hard after dripping at least more 5 more inches.”

-Kiz