Terry had drifted off sometime after Crystal left him alone in his bed. The house was dark and quiet. When he woke to the sound of light footsteps, he felt as if he had been sleeping for hours. A quick look at his bedside clock told him that it had only been about two. Crystal stood naked, except for a silky night shirt and a pair of white cotton panties, by his bed holding several cloth strips.
“Do you trust me?” she whispered.
Blinking the sleep from his mind, taking in the beauty that stood by him. His cock was hard when he woke. His brain raced, wondering what she would do. “Yes. I trust you,” he answered, afraid to say no.
Crystal dropped several of the strips on the bed, tying the one that remained in her hand around his wrist. The knot was tight but comfortable. Tying the other end to his bedpost, she repeated the process with his other hand, securing it to the opposite post. Her movements were slow and frightfully sexy, her smile and her eyes comforted his nervousness.
With his arms secured to the posts, Crystal pulled his covers back, revealing his excitement. His hard cock pointed up at his face at a rigid forty-five-degree angle. Looking at him, she continued to pull his covers down to the foot of the bed, “Do you still trust me?”
Terry swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Yes,” he hissed.
Taking another of the cloth strips that Terry guessed were sashes from her bathrobes or dresses, she tied his left ankle to a post. Crystal slid her hand up his leg, softly caressing his warm skin almost to his throbbing cock.
She reversed directions just as her fingertips brushed his tightly contracted sack, sending a wave of anticipation through his body. A sharp breath and a twinge of pleasure shot from his scrotum in every direction of his being. Her hand firmly rubbed down the length of his left leg, grasping his ankle that remained untethered.
“Last chance,” Crystal whispered, staring deep into his eyes, “You’re all mine after this.” She held the last sash in her hand with a sinfully wicked smile.
Terry nodded a hint of trepidation in his eyes. “I’m sure,” he said.
Crystal looped the sash around his ankle, pulling it to the final post. Secured in a spread eagle position, his cock throbbing with nervous excitement. She now had total control. Testing the knots, Terry found that he was securely tied and at her mercy. She watched his face, looking for expressions of doubt. She wanted this to be enjoyable for him.
“What now?” Terry asked, just above a whisper.
No answer, Crystal lit a candle on both nightstands, then closed the drapes over the blinds. Now it was dark but the flickering glow of the candles. Terry watched every move of her luscious body. The curve of her hips. The creases of her tight ass when she walked ever so slowly and sexily, the points of her nipples begging attention behind the thin shirt.
He watched her walk to his nightstand, sliding the drawer open and pulling his grandfather’s Bowie knife from its place. It was his most sentimental possession, carried by his poppy through three tours of hell. He kept it in the sheath and only used it when he hunted. He looked from the knife back up to her wicked smile, his heart now pounded.
Crystal said nothing as she stepped up onto the bed, straddling his body, one foot on either side of his chest. She watched his eyes flickering with the candles, filled with questions. The heavy knife, at least a foot of steel hidden in the sheath with its stag horn handle wrapped in her fingers, loomed ominously in his sight. She watched him flex against his restraints, his muscles tightening.
Razor sharp, the edge glinted, slowly sliding from the oiled leather. His eyes wide open. “Careful,” he breathed, “It's very sharp.”
With a smirk and inaudible laugh, Crystal brought the blade up, dropping the sheath to the bed. Cutting her eyes at him, she turned her head slightly, licking the length of the cold spine of the steel. She watched his eyes follow the knife when she brought it lazily down to her side, sliding it under the waistband of those panties, easily cutting through the soft material.
She stood, her tongue sliding over her top lip, eyes glued to his, her panties barely covering her pussy while they hung from one hip. She slid the sharp blade, spine first, across her tight belly, under the other side, quickly turning it over and slicing through the snow-white material letting the garment fall to her lover’s chest.
Terry could feel the dampness of the material on his bare skin and smell the aroma of her sex wafting from the cotton. His eyes traveled up her long, pretty legs to the glistening wetness of her sex. Her labia was wet and puffy, swollen from their previous fantasy just two hours earlier. The blade, gleaming in the candlelit darkness, still jutting from her clenched fist, long and cold. Several strands of white thread hung from the edge like blood, gore from the corpse of the now slain undergarment.
A deep breath and Crystal slid the point of the weapon slowly up her body under the silky shirt and between her breasts. Again she tongued the spine of the blade that was exposed above the neck of her flimsy shirt then slowly pulled the edge tightly against the material, slicing effortlessly through it like warm butter. She pushed the material aside with the blade, exposing both her erect nipples.
Raising her left hand, she rolled a nipple between her finger and thumb as she slowly lowered herself until she sat on his belly, the knife held safely to her right side. She could feel the wetness of the tip of his cock head bouncing with his heartbeat against the small of her back while she reached for the sheath. She heard him breathe a sigh of relief when, after sheathing the blade, she snapped the leather hold-down strap.
His pre cum dotted her back with every tap of his cock head but she didn’t rush her movements. There were two and a half hours before Kristy would be home and she intended to take advantage of every second. She wanted his orgasm to be explosive. If that meant bringing him to the edge for the next two hours, that’s what she would do.
Terry pushed his hips upward, letting her know he was ready to fuck. He would need patience, though he didn’t yet know it. His lover sat on his chest, her pussy close but not close enough. Her scent was overpowering his senses, driving his need to take control. He pulled at the tethers, unable to escape. His instincts were base, his needs, animal. Fear turned to desire after the blade was sheathed, frustrating desire.
Crystal sensed his frustration and smiled. “You want me?” She whispered
“Yes,”
Her eyes fixed on his, she leaned back, putting her weight, as slight as it was, on his lower abdomen, her fingernails gliding over the skin of his hips until she felt the tight sack of his scrotum. Lightly, she drug her fingernails so gently over his sensitive balls making him push his hips up again. Darkly, her eyes denied his want. “Not yet, Terry.” Her fingers cupped his sack, warmly and gently squeezing. “Not yet.”
“Please,” he fairly begged, “Fuck me.”
Pushing herself up onto her knees, her pussy just out of reach of the tip of his tongue, she coldly shook her head in denial. Her knees wildly parted, pussy drooling and exposed, she let her palm slide from his balls up, grasping his long, thick shaft, squeezing as she felt the entire length slide through her fingers, letting it go to throb without her touch.