Dangerous Curves

June 2, 2012 Kink and BDSMLeatherslave drewslave thomas  No comments

I like knives.

I have liked knives for a long time.  I don’t do cuttings with them, I use them mostly to threaten and intimidate those who like such things, and sometimes to leave scratches on the skin.  I have never intentionally cut anyone with a knifes and if drew hadn’t moved his leg that one time, well, there was a bit of blood and, I think, a small bandaid was required…

I remember the first time I played with someone who was always one of my favorite playmates.  He had worn a heavy metal cock ring and every time I tapped the knife blade on the ring, his cock would twitch.

One of my early submissives was a West Point grad and I used to enjoy laying a knife blade to his throat while he sat in front of me.  Something about that posture with military training…

Years ago, I was talking to a friend, a knife vendor who had always had a bit of a crush on me.  His knives were laid out on a table in a lobby and we were getting ready go to dinner in a bit.  I wanted to reapply lipstick, but I didn’t have a mirror handy, and there was not a reflective surface of any kind in the lobby.  I am far too much of a klutz to put on lipstick without looking.

I was looking around for SOMEthing to use and suddenly noticed one of his knives, a very wide blade with a mirror finish.  Perfect.  I picked it up and used the reflection to put on my very red lipstick.

You know how you feel a certain stillness in the air, like a storm coming in almost?  I felt this sort of intake of breath and looked up, and he was staring at me, clearly transfixed, watching me.  I have always wanted to recreate that image in a photo but I actually DON’T have a knife with a wide mirrored blade.  Go figure.

I really like knives.

A few weeks ago, I said something to slave drew about my not having THAT many knives.  Then we started to count them up.  There are two very nice, very sharp knives on my desk right now, a wicked little Spyder knife, all stainless with finger slots and a thumb grip, and another Master (how appropriate) knife that is more of a folded hunting knife with a sort of camo look to it.  They are both very sharp, very serious knives.  They were given to me by a gentleman caller who knew my tastes.

There are also three more pocketknives on my desk, nothing fine, things I picked up at a yard sale or something.  One is a simple folding, single-blade knife with a buffalo and Indian design on it, another is a keychain butterfly knife with some other tools on it, too, scissors, etc, and the last is another cheap folding knife that isn’t in great shape.  I think I got it because I felt sorry for it.

I know there’s one in my desk drawer that has DCFB engraved on it.  I got it from a friend, years ago, three of them.  I gave one to the two other people who had helped me organize the Derby City Fetish Ball, as a remembrance.  Just a small, folded knife.

So that’s the six knives within reach at this moment, that I can claim and see.  Were I to actually look through the desk drawer, it’s entirely possible there might be another two or three small pocketknives in there, too.

Upstairs, in my bedside drawer, are more knives.  One is a knife with a plastic handle and plastic scabbard, not a particularly fine knife, but it’s very sharp and I’ve always kept it beside my bed.  Someone gave it to me years ago, shortly before he lost his mind and began to use various electronic forums to attach me.  I also have, oddly, a set of leather wrist and ankle cuffs he made me, back when we were friends.  Funny, isn’t it?

There is a switchblade in that drawer, too, one I bought purely for the sound.  The *snick* when you open it next to someone’s ear was the entire reason.

There’s a punch knife in there, with a wooden handle, one of those with a triangular blade and a short, t-shaped handle that you grasp in your hand and wrap your fingers around.  It’s meant to be used exactly as you’d expect, to “punch” at an attacker with it.  I worked in Indianapolis for a while, in a not great part of town and often worked late.  I would wrap my hand around it and stick it – carefully – in my pocket on the walk to my car.  I never needed it, but it made me feel better.

There’s probably at least one or two more knives in there, too, nothing special, just… knives.

I have two kind of decorative knives with plastic handles and scabbards with designs on them, the kind they sell at knife shows.  I got them along with a bunch of other stuff I bought from a friend once when she needed money.  One has a Japanese figure of a woman on it, the other is more swords and sorcery.  I’ve never really used them, they’re not great knives and they’re rather long, probably about 10″.

The first knife I bought hangs on my closet door, in a tooled leather scabbard.  It is a curved knife, with the outside curve holding the edge and the inside curve dull. It’s about eight inches long, and I always find it just to be a sexy knife.  The curve of the steel, the glint of the blade, the heft of it in my hand.  Did it just get hot in here?

I have a leaf knife that hangs on a chain around your neck and opens up to reveal the knife.  It’s not a fine knife, but it’s a pretty little necklace that a gentleman bought for me a  year or two ago.

There are at least two knives in my car, small Swiss-army sorts of pocket knives, just in case.  There are also probably three more of those in various places in my bedroom, too.  Tucked in a drawer or on a dresser.

So, we are up to six knives (at least) at my desk, between four and five in my nightstand drawer.  Two decorative.  The sexy knife.  The leaf knife.  Two car knives.  Three more small pocket knives.  Um.  I think that’s 19 knives.  Maybe 20.

The knives that means the most to me, though, are two that belonged to my father, simple pocket knives he carried with him for years, which live in my jewelry box.  They are horn handles, the blades noticeably narrowed from repeated sharpenings.  The smaller one originally had two blades, but one is broken now, snapped off, no doubt, when he was using it to pry something out.  The other has one blade with a broken point.  Used knives, in every sense.

I have little that belonged to my father.  It pleases me that I have something that he used, that he held in his hand, that he carried on him, something he wouldn’t have left the house without.  I think it would please him to know that, and that they matter to me.

It pleases me, too, that both drew and thomas carry pocketknives.  drew uses his daily, every day, time and again.  I have always thought it would please my father that I married a man who carries and uses a pocketknife, always, who would feel as naked without one as my father must have.

I’ve given drew knives over the years, too, very nice Case pocketknives.  My knife friend used to give me good deals, and he would notice the ones that drew lingered over when he looked at the display.  My favorite is a slim little toothpick knife that I specifically got for him as a dress pocketknife.

Maybe I am a little obsessed with knives.

Should I mention I also have four swords?

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