Partners

You walk into the dungeon together, stomach full of butterflies. You estimate at least fifty people are in the room, some playing on bondage equipment, others just mingling and talking. The scents of sweat, candle wax, leather, and lust fills the air. The two of you walk over to a set of wrestling mats on the floor, and he drops the small tote bag he brought to the floor next to it.

This is your first actual vacation together, after a year of ups and downs. You chose to take the relationship from playmates to something serious. You decided on the best of both worlds, a trip away from everyday life to a kink convention. Its been amazing, having dinner as a couple, meeting people as a couple, and this will be your first public playtime.

He smiles impishly, and starts laying absorbent pads across the wrestling mats. You feel yourself flush, and can't help but notice the attention his actions are getting from the people around you. He guides you to the center of the mat, and then opens the bag. First he removes your favorite leather cuffs, connected by a short chain. He buckles them onto your wrists, then pulls out the parts to a spreader bar, and quickly snaps them together. He kneels and buckles your ankles into the cuffs, making you hobbled, with your legs spread fairly wide. More people have drifted over to observe, and you know you are blushing furiously, and grinning at the same time. You have no idea what is to come, but you know you trust your partner.

He takes one final thing out of the bag: the curved knife he had specifically made for knife play. Your butterflies turn to wet heat inside, and the watchers around you seem suitably impressed. When he stands to face you, his eyes are cold, and while you know he is in character, you can't help but feel a tingle of fear, mixed into your excitement. He runs the blade over your face, your neck, your throat. The steel tip is sharp and cold, and you breakout in goosebumps. Behind you now, he runs it over the back of your neck, and down your spine. You tremble, and gasp as you feel the edge catch on the back of your pants for a moment. You feel a slight tug on the bottom of your shirt, and the sound of ripping fabric fill the air. The blade now runs up the bare skin of your back, through the slit he cut.

He walks around you in slow circles, making long slits in your shirt on each side, in the from, and many small slices in the collar. Each slice makes you shiver, and your wetness increases. You lose track of time, focused only on his movements, and the feel of the steel, now warmed from your skin.

He stands in front of you, and slips the blade into its sheath. With one hand he cups your chin, and lifts your face to meet his eyes. The other hand gathers the front of your shirt in his fist. He holds your eyes with his, and then pulls roughly, ripping the remains of your shirt from your body. You cry out and rock back and forth, trying to keep your balance in the spreader bar. He tosses your shirt aside like trash, and looking at it, you realize that it is now. You also note with some shock that there is over a dozen people gathered around your scene, watching with mixed looks of excitement, shock, lust.

He returns your attention to him by reaching down and squeezing the crotch of your pants. He holds his hand up, and you see, even in the dim light, that its damp. You bite your lip equally loving and mortified at how wet you are. He draws the knife again, and traces it between your legs, making you moan. He kneels down, and makes a series of small cuts in the cuffs of each pant leg, then a series of long cuts up each leg, leaving them in tatters. He cuts around the hips and crotch, tossing them aside next to your shirt, and leaving you in makeshift shorts that expose the edges of your panties. He slips the tip of the blade under the edge, and teases it across the edges of your pussy, and you fight to keep still. He works the blade through the waistband of the ruins of your pants, and they fall away, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties. He squeezes between your legs again, and his fingers part your lips, making you moan again.

Kneeling he runs the blade back and forth over your hips, up your inner thighs, across your ass. He traces your pussy with the steel, allowing the tip to catch in the thin material, until the blade glistens with your juices, and you are panting with need. He makes little cuts in the waistband, in the edges, along the side. He makes a few in the front, exposing little peeks of your sex to the growing crowd.

He stands again, and starts teasing your nipples through your bra, tracing them with both the sharp edge of the blade, and the dull. You whimper, trying to show him your need with your eyes, but he ignores you. Carefully he cuts the cups out of your bra, baring your breasts for all to see. He spends time teasing the tender flesh with the knife, never drawing blood, but making you stand on tip toe. After a few minutes of this play, he faces you, and put the curved edge under the strap of your left chest. Meeting your eyes, he gives the blade a pull, and you groan as the strap is sliced through. He repeats this on the other side, then at your back, and your bra falls away in pieces. He traces the outline of each breast with the blade, and runs it up between them.

He steps back to admire you, and slips the blade back into its sheath, putting it back into the bag. He does this slowly, leaving you exposed to the eyes around you. You feel your pulse in your ears, and throbbing between your legs. After far too long, he stands and walks over to you, studying you with what seems to be a critical eye.

"What are you?" he asks.

You mind blanks for a long moment, and his eyes narrow.

"Your good girl?"

He grabs the front of your panties roughly, and pulls, ripping them from your body, making you cry out.

"No. You are my little slut" he nearly shouts.

Your entire body quivers at the words, and your would allow him to do anything to you here, now, in front of these strangers. He grips you by the back of the neck, and bends you slightly over.

"Don't you fucking cum" he hisses in your ear, just loud enough to be heard by the people nearby. Your eyes widen in near panic as he starts to spank your pussy over and over, each slap of skin on skin sounding more wetter than the last. You strain against your restraints, moaning and trying to wiggle away in vain. The ache in your pussy grows each time his hand cones down on your flesh.

"What are you?" he snarls as his hand comes down again.

You strain to clear your thoughts, to be coherent.

"Your little slut." you whisper.

"Louder!" His hand comes down harder.

Fighting your bodies attempt to cum, you say it again, louder, "Your little slut."

"I said louder!"

"Your little slut!" you shout it back, every muscle in your body tensing.

"And what do good sluts do?" he asks.

"They cum!" you nearly scream.

"You fucking cum for me." He has not even finished saying it, and you feel your body release. You cry out again and again as your hips rock. You gush, juices flowing down your legs, soaking the pads around you. You fall forward and he catches you, guiding you to your knees.

You press your head against his leather pants, as tears run down your cheeks, and aftershock orgasms rock your body. He strokes your hair lovingly, and he tells you what a good girl you are, and how much he loves you. When you feel you can stand again, he helps you up, and takes off your restraints. The people around you congratulate you, tell you how amazing that was, and several offer to meet the two of you later. He guides you off the saturated pads, and pulls out a new shirt and short set out of the bag, helping you dress. As you watch him clean up, you are amazed at how your muscles ache, and how much you want to just sleep. You know you will go back to your room for a nap, cuddling into his arms. You know when you wake up later, the two of you will talk about your scene, fucking as you feed on the memories.

And after dinner..who knows what adventures you will get into together, as partners.