Knife Play

Close to ten that evening Anne comes home, entering through the kitchen door. She is surprised to see Isabelle sitting next to me, sipping tea. "That's an unexpected pleasure. What brings you here this hour of the day?" She puts her loaded briefcase on the floor and sets herself on a chair next to us.

"We have a surprise for you, Anne," Isabelle answers, "Have some tea first, and we'll tell you." While I poor her tea, Anne looks at me with a questioning face. "A surprise for me? And from the two of you?"

"Yes dear," I say. "I've been telling Isabelle about your little fondness for knives."

"No! You're not serious, Alex!" Her face drains of color.

"Oh yes, he is serious, Anne," Isabelle says, faking a sweet smile, "and I'll be his cute little assistant."

"You're what?! Alex, what's going on?"

"I'm afraid she's right dear," I say trying to remain calm at least in appearance. "You are going to undress for us, and then Isabelle and I, we'll tie you up naked, and...." But Anne jumps like bitten by a dog, kicking over both her tea and her chair, yelling at me: "I don't believe this! Isabelle is my best friend, Alex, you're crazy! Raving mad! This is absurd! How can you think..."

But I quickly grab her wrists, pin them behind her back, and hold her steady while Isabelle, still smiling, gets off her chair. Anne now fights me, cursing me, almost frothing at the mouth, while Isabelle approaches her up front. "Stop screaming!" she says calmly. But Anne ignores her and screeches in a shrill voice, "Let me go! Let me loose! This is not happening! Help! Let me go!"

"Stop it!", Isabelle shouts and slaps Anne straight in her face. That helps. She begins to shake all over her body and in a faint voice she stammers: "I don't understand, Alex, Isabelle, please don't make me do this, please!"

"Let's get her upstairs," I say to Isabelle. Anne gasps and at once attempts to wrench herself free again. "Nooo! Please! Stop it!" But we drag her to the stairs. She begins to scream and yell, struggling fiercely. We need all our efforts to tow her up, slowly one step after another. In the upstairs couloir she tries to kick our legs with her pointed boots. But it's all in vain. Although Anne is much bigger and more fleshy than her small friend, Isabelle is younger, leaner and stronger. Together we finally succeed in pushing our victim into the bedroom, where she sags through her knees and falls on the floor in a sorry heap, whimpering and sobbing.

Right away I kneel down on the floor next to her and use the opportunity to quickly tie her wrists behind her. When I'm done, Isabelle pushes Anne with a foot and cruelly rolls her over onto her back. Smiling down sadistically on Anne's now terror-stricken face, she slowly lifts one of her graceful legs, and carefully plants a high heeled shoe on her best friend's throat. "Listen carefully, Anne, dear" she says, "Alex and I have decided it's time for that knife show you've been craving for so long. So don't complain. You should be enjoying this."

"Nooo! Please noooo!" Anne whines from under Isabelle's heel. "Alex, do something! That woman is mad! Let me go!" But Isabelle slowly presses down her shoe and Anne's words become gargling sounds. "Be careful!" I shout, "She's my wife, she's not supposed to die! Alarmed Isabelle takes her foot off Anne's throat, scared she went too far. Still kneeling down I wait until Anne's voice comes rasping back. "Sorry about that love," I say, "my lady assistant seems to be a bit overexcited. But you better stop fighting, resisting us only excites us more. You just found out how dangerous that can be."

My words frighten Anne into a plaintive wailing. "Please Alex, don't do this," she pleads between sobs, "please, please!"

"Calm down love, nothing is going to happen. I'm just going to throw some knives at you. That's what you should like, shouldn't you?"

But Anne, trying to swallow, whimpers: "No, Alex please, I don't. I don't want it. I'm scared. You'll hurt me. You're not good enough. It's all just a fantasy." And to Isabelle she suddenly cries out: "Isabelle, I don't know what he told you, but he can't do it, can't aim properly! Not yet! Believe me, I've seen it. You must believe me Isabelle! Please stop him. He'll hurt me terribly! I'll be cut, maybe killed! Please Isabelle, help!"

"Shss, darling," I try to calm her, taking her face in my hands and looking into her eyes. "Don't be so afraid. I love you. Nothing bad will happen. I won't kill you and I won't hurt you." I try to kiss her. But she abruptly turns her head away. "Look at me!" I say. She hesitates but then reluctantly does. And now I kiss her gently. It seems to sooth her a little. "Please Anne, try to relax and just do as we say. I'll release your hands and you will stand up and undress for us, won't you?"

"No, I won't, I can't. Alex, please I'm so afraid," she sniffles. "I'll do anything for you, but not that... and certainly not with Isabelle here..." her words almost choke her. "And don't do the knives... if you miss... you'll hurt me horribly... I'm sure you secretly want to! You're a sadist, you would enjoy it." Suddenly her eyes grow big in fear. "If I'm killed, what will you do, run off with her?" She begins to cry in huge wails.

Now Isabelle also kneels down, next to me. "Anne," she says softly, "Don't be silly. I won't run away with your husband. I'm your best friend. And Alex won't run away with me either. He loves you. I know. Don't be ridiculous. We'll just play with you. He'll throw and I'll help him, be his assistant, just like that woman in the circus, hand him his knives. It'll be fun. For you too." And carefully she wipes Anne's tears.

It looks like Isabelle's words do have some consoling influence. For the first time Anne seems to regain a little control over herself, although her words are still drowned in some remaining tears. Looking her friend in the eyes, she says "Why Isabelle, why you?" The question seems a capitulation of sorts. "I'll tell you, dear," Anne replies with a smile that betrays more than a trace of licentious cruelty, "I just like to watch. Want to see you naked and helpless and tied to the wall, and Alex throwing his knives at you. It'll give me the highest sexual kick of my life. And Alex too. I would love to see him getting hot. It'll add to my kick. I like him, you see, just as I like you." She waits a moment and then, in a warm, almost whispering voice, she adds: "And shouldn't you get high on this also, if only from the terrible fright and humiliation you'll have to endure?"

Oddly enough those words seem to have effect. Maybe Anne realizes she has no choice. Her breath grows less ragged. "But he's no good at his knives. I'm so afraid. He'll hit me," she whimpers. But Isabelle shakes her head, assuring her repeatedly I've practiced long enough and that I'm really skilled. In the end Anne seems to surrender. She closes her eyes and rests her head on the floor, breathing fitfully.

"Well then Anne, my love" I say, trying to speak to her as kind and reassuringly as Isabelle did, "I'll release your hands, and you'll get up and strip for us, OK?" And to prove my trust in her I don't wait for a reply and untie the rope at her wrists.

With a small motion of my head I gesture Isabelle to retreat, sit and wait on the bed. Then I help Anne stand up shakily on her legs. "Now, dear," I say, kissing her still wet face, "show us that lovely body of yours. And try to enjoy it yourself." With a soft pat on her shoulder I let go of her, and step back to join Isabelle on the bed.

But Anne does nothing. Just stands there and stares at us. "Alex," she says to me, "I can't... not with Isabelle and you together watching me like that. I just can't. It's too much."

"Come on, you'll do it," I say, "Isabelle and I, we are a couple tonight. You have no choice. We both want to see you naked and to humiliate you. Want me to ask Isabelle to hit your face again? She'd love it."

So Anne, seeing no way out, finally does as she's told. Slowly she opens the zippers of her boots, steps out of them, and then stands on bare feet. I look at her encouragingly. But, seeing us watch her with such eager anticipation, the blood drains from her face. Yet, after some hesitation and with obvious reluctance, she begins to fumble with the buttons of her blouse, her fingers trembling. Soon it drops to the floor exposing two very well filled cups of her bra. Embarrassment and shame make Anne downcast her eyes and, I'm glad to see, cause her pale face to blush again. She's got a big firm body, not thick or fat in an way, but just as I like it: lustful curves, good meat to bite into. I get up quietly and step behind her. She trembles as I open the little clip at her back, baring her luscious breasts. "Like them, Isabelle?" I ask over Anne's shoulder, and from behind I grasp those big nippled full breasts in my hands and knead them.

A moan escapes Anne.

Isabelle's face now flushes too. I can see how much the sight arouses her. "Wow.. they're big," is all she says.

Slowly I unclasp Anne's jeans at her hip and pull the piece of clothing down to around her feet. Anne gives another moan and shivers as her beautiful thighs are unveiled. They are as juicy as her breasts. Together with her rounded belly and the small white slip, which still covers her most intimate part, Anne's lush body is desirable as ever.

"Look at that," Isabelle gasps, "she's bloody wet between her legs!" I turn around to see, and indeed the slip shows a large damp stain. "Nice eh?" I laugh at Isabelle, "she really gets horny being humiliated." And, returning to join Isabelle on the bed, I now order my trembling wife to pull that slip off.

She bends over and slowly obeys. "Jesus," Isabelle says with a big sigh. What a fabulous fuck hole you have, Anne." And, as we both watch a tear trickling down Anne's face, she adds, "We should shave her, Alex. Without all that hair between her legs you could aim your knives even closer." "Good idea," I say, "that would make a beautiful bulls eye." Those words are too much for Anne, and sagging through her knees, she falls down on the floor, crying again. I give Isabelle a sign. We both grab into the flesh of Anne body and drag her towards the target wall. She begins again to struggle and it takes a very strenuous effort to secure her flinging arms and her thrashing ankles to the wall. Once we're finished, we step back, panting but satisfied. Anne shakes in her bonds and now cries like a lost girl. I just love to see her like this, helplessly spread eagled on the wall in voluptuous nudity and sobbing. It's a very arousing sight and I'm getting hard under my belt. Isabelle seems to be no less excited. She gets up and for a long time stands close before Anne's defenselessly exposed nakedness, drinking in how her friend jerks at her bonds, her breasts wobbling, her hips undulating and her head rolling from left to right against the wood behind it.

I leave the two of them to get my shaving stuff. When I return, Isabelle is stroking Anne's loins with a cruel expression on her face. And Anne is so frightened that she has stopped crying and just trembles under Isabelle's hands. "Alex, look," Isabelle calls out at me, a big happy smile on her face, "See how wet she is?" and she runs her hand through Anne's crotch, showing me her glistening fingers. "The bitch is in heat. When we shave her we could use her own juices in stead of water."

I laugh, but nonetheless hand her a bowl of warm water, together with my razor, my brush and a tube of shaving cream. "Go ahead," I say, "amuse yourself, but be careful, I want her clean and soft between those legs. No scratches, no blood." Isabelle looks closely into Anne's very frightened face and with a callous smile says, "No, I won't damage her there, I'll leave that to your knives," causing Anne to panic and scream again.

I take a wet towel to tap Anne's perspiring face in an attempt to alleviate her terror. "She's joking love, don't worry, I won't hurt you." I smile at her, trying to show I really do love her. "Please calm down and let Isabelle shave you." I kiss her tears. "You must try to be still, I add, "stop shaking and you'll see it's over before you know."

It works. Gradually Anne's uncontrolled shivering stops, and she closes her eyes in surrender. Her cheeks are blushed a deep red. I think she's finally letting go and submits to her own feelings of growing heat.

Soon Anne's crotch is covered in thick foam. Isabelle expertly handles the razor. Thick wads of wet hair fall into the bowl. When she's finished she dabs Anne's now hairless mound with water. It actually heats Anne up, causing her breathing to accelerate and making the fleshy nipples of her breasts grow big and hard. Fresh moisture even begins to glistens between the swollen lips of her bald slit. "That's enough, stop touching her!" I call out at Isabelle, "We don't want her spent already, don't we?"

Anne shivers like in a hot fever, gives off a strong moan of frustration and opens her eyes. "Please..." she says, in a barely audible whisper.

Isabelle steps back. "She certainly looks to me ready now to play target for your knives," she says, stepping backwards across the distance of the room. Having reached the little night stand at my side of the bed, she opens its drawer and takes out my seven gleaming long bladed knives, then places them in a row next to each other on the bed.

I watch Anne closely for her reaction to what is going to happen. And I'm not disappointed. She begins again to shake uncontrollably in her bonds and shouts: "Noooo!! Don't! Don't do it! Nooooo!! Alex! Alex don't!!" It is highly arousing to watch her in such panic. My member stirs inside my pants.

"Isabelle," I say, "Please make her shut her mouth. I need to concentrate." She smiles at my aping the words of that circus guy and gets out the silk shawl, which I had given her before. And while Anne shakes her head in vain attempts to evade her friend's hands, the cloth is tightly wrapped and securely tied across her mouth. But Anne's cries are still coming through quite strongly. "Maybe we should put something into her mouth as well," Isabelle proposes, "How about her slip?" I look at the small piece of Anne's underwear, still lying crumpled where it had been dropped on the floor. "Too small," I say, "it won't fill her mouth enough." But Isabelle smiles wickedly. "Don't worry, we have another one," she says. She steps out of her shoes and lifts her dress, then pulls down a bright red slip, allowing me a stealthy peek at two dazzling thighs and a furry shadow high between them.

Anne wildly shakes her head and produces shrieks that pierce through the cloth over her mouth. But when Isabelle unwraps it from her face, Anne immediately presses her jaws firmly closed. I have to pinch her nose and Isabelle must clasp Anne's jowl with great force, to pry her mouth open. Together we push both panties inside. I notice that Isabelle's red one is quite moist too. Quickly we rewind the silk around her filled mouth, and now Anne's screams come through only like muffled noise.

"Alex, we forgot something," Isabelle suddenly says.

"What?"

"Dressing up!"

I completely forgot. Immediately I face my beloved wife and elevate my arms like an airport traveler about to be searched for weapons. Anne watches me with puzzled eyes. Isabelle places herself behind my back and then wraps her arms around my rib cage. Slowly she starts to unbutton my shirt in full view of Anne's astonished eyes. Pulling it off my shoulders she bares my upper body, just like that guy in the circus. She caresses my nipples, getting them hard. "See Anne, how I arouse your husband?" she asks and continues to stroke my chest and then the muscles of my stomach. Her hands are really heaven. My heart is pumping and below my belt my member has grown to full bloom. Then a hand descends and slips inside the waistband of my pants. She finds my flag pole and wraps her fingers around it. I begin to pant. Anne, breathing erratically, now stares with disbelieving eyes at the scene before her.

"That's enough, love," I say to Isabelle, seeing Anne suddenly close her eyes and moan. I take her hand away. "Let me find you a fitting dress." I leave and when I return with Anne's blue velvet bathrobe, I find Isabelle playing with Anne's breasts, caressing their fleshy sides and nipples. Anne's eyes are frightened wide and her head shakes in anguished refusal. "But Anne," I hear Isabelle say, "They're beautiful. I would love to see Alex's knifes cut into..." "Stop it!" I shout, "don't say stupid things. I won't hurt her," and I hand her Anne's robe. "Go get your ass out of here and put this on.

Anne closes her eyes and gives a sigh of relief.

When Isabelle comes back she has loosened her hair, which falls down in flowing waves to just below her shoulders. She wears Anne's much too wide bathrobe like a small girl dressed in a grown up's gown. It's obvious she's nude below it. Very provocative. I have to restrain myself not to throw her on the bed and fuck her.

In stead I walk over to the far end of the room. Standing next to the bed I now address my poor wife, hanging and trembling breathtakingly sexy before our eyes. "My dear Anne," I say, "This is the hour of our truth. I'm your Tarzan and this girl is my Jane. Keep that fine body of yours still and try to enjoy!"

But Anne's eyes grow large in panic and I see beads of perspiration on her face. However, she wisely keeps her body, although still slightly trembling, as motionless as she can.

Isabelle now silently hands me my first knife, her eyes bright and sparkling. I take he blade by its tip, balance it between finger and thumb and then, teasingly slow, point its handle towards my lovely wife's defencess body, taking aim carefully. My heart beats in overdrive. This is no photograph of Anne. This is her real flesh and blood body. I must be more careful than ever. It takes me a long time before I dare to throw. As I fold back my arm, Anne produces a muffled cry, then squeezes her eyes closed tight and holds her breath. The transpiration on her face has become profuse.

THACK!

The blade sticks in the wall, but far below Anne's tautly stretched arm. Bad throw.

"Jesus!" I hear Isabelle behind me.

"Be quiet Isabelle," I say. When I look at her, she stands trembling, red faced, at my side.

I hold out my hand. "Next one, please."

Slowly she hands it to me.

"Anne begins to shake her head again "Nnnngggg!"

"Silence!" I bark at her. "Hold still!" This time I try to be less nervous and to exert more control over the muscles in my arm. Again Anne's eyes close tightly.

THACK!

That's much better.

The knife has hit the wood, the flat side of its blade almost touching the inside flesh of Anne's thigh, just above her knee.

When Anne opens her eyes during the short reprieve before my next throw, a long extended wail muffles through her gagged mouth. Her face shines with sweat. But I also notice a drop of gleaming moisture that slowly descends down a thigh. She's in high arousal.

"Where would you like me to throw the next one, Isabelle," I ask. She answers in a hoarse voice. "Her throat, Alex, her throat." Immediately Anne shakes her head in refusal and disbelief. "NNNNGGG!" Tears sprout from her wide open eyes and she begins to tremble violently.

"Right," I say, "the throat."

And again I aim a knife at my wife. But her trembling bothers me. I have to be careful. "Control yourself Anne," I say, "you don't want to have that lovely throat of yours cut." But it takes minutes before she is able to regain control of her shaking body. In the end, however, she succeeds to hold herself reasonably still. She closes her eyes again and waits, holding her breath.

The knife flies.

THACK!