The Borrowing, Part One.

"You didn't answer me" he said, his breath warm on my navel. "What were you thinking? You were smiling you know…"

"Um, I'm not sure, I can't remember" I lied, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering frantically, wondering if he would force me to admit to my faint memories of that first "borrowing", how they had led to my acceptance of what it was that I truly wanted.

"I thought you might be thinking that this felt a little familiar or maybe that you'd dreamt of something like this happening" he said.

"How- "I started, then quickly "No, of course not!" but I had already given myself away. It seemed he was a mind reader, and already knew what I was thinking.

He stood up, and ran the knife along my arm to my wrist. I tensed, then relaxed a little, as the blade severed my watch strap, and I heard the tiny glass face smash as it hit the floor.

"Talking of memories, you remember how you got drunk and passed out when you were 18 don't you? How you thought a day bunking off school drinking and messing around would be soooo cool?

How you must have drunk more than you thought, and you woke up in some bushes, by your parents' house? You remember that now, don't you?"

I was frozen. I couldn't move, and I couldn't breathe. I felt his finger slide under my little 'wish pearl' necklace, and then, with one swift stroke, the knife tore it into oblivion, and the pearls scattered and danced across the floor, sounding like a handful of tiny firecrackers going off in the darkness. I pictured the delicate pastel coloured pearls scattering across the floor, never to be found, and I was saddened. Then the knife was digging beneath the little lace strap of my panties, and I had no time to dwell on the loss of a piece of jewellery.

The shock of the knife slicing through the last of my coverings made me gasp for breath, and my lungs filled in relief. My panties slipped, and with a final snip the straps were gone, and they hung for a moment, trapped in the moist darkness between my thighs and my vulva. Then they were pulled free, the rough lace parting my lips as it went, the friction briefly applied to my tender insides making me squeal in delighted shock.

I was completely naked. And it seemed not only was my body to be laid bare, but my memories and thoughts too. And I didn't care. He had already won, but all I wanted was for him to touch me… So much for my resolve!

"Do you remember anything else about that day?" he queried.

"Yes," I said, frowning in thought, "I do now. My school tie was missing, and I had lost some buttons from my blouse. I had drunk way too much, and must have fallen over on my way home. I never did find my tie…"

My voice trailed off, as he laughed, sounding pleased.

"No, you wouldn't, because I kept your tie. A little souvenir, of a very sweet girl. I look at it from time to time, and remember when I first 'borrowed' you."

"Borrowed? What do you mean by borrowed?" I whispered, playing along, loving his voice, and the intimacy it created when he spoke of the things he did with me.

He was stood in front of me now, I felt his breath on my face and I sighed and tilted my head as he brushed his knuckles across my cheek.

"It's exactly as it sounds. I see people I want, and set about taking them for a short while. 'Borrowing' them, as I said. Oh, but I've certainly refined my technique over the years, don't worry. For instance, your memory won't suffer this time. You'll remember every detail…"

With this, something warm and solid touched my lips. I jerked my head back a little in surprise, but he followed my movement, pressing insistently, and I parted my lips slightly in compliance.

It was a strange object, rounded in some areas and angled in others.

My lack of vision demanded that my other senses compensate, and I moved my lips over the offering as he stroked it across my mouth, as if kissing it, assessing its length, feeling its contours and ridges, trying to picture it in my mind. I nervously touched it with the tip of my tongue, and tasted wood, and the tang of sweat, and something else, a richness, oil of some sort? Then my taste buds recoiled, as the tool slid further along, and I tasted the acid electric sting of metal on my tongue. It was the knife! My old friend, the knife. His very unusual, unique knife.

I laughed a little, ridiculously pleased to have identified my kissing partner.

The handle had to be 8 or 9 inches long, and although the texture of the wood itself felt silky smooth, and well worn, the shape of the carving was bizarre, almost crude, alternately bulging obscenely, then narrowing sharply, only to flare outward again.

I shivered in a strange delight as I ran my tongue up and down its length; revelling in the stimulation the change of shape gave my tongue. I was getting a little carried away when the knife was pulled abruptly away from my oral caresses, and I groaned and strained to follow it as far as I could with my tongue.

There was a hiss of indrawn breath, and I realised how wanton I must look, but I no longer cared. All my body was yearning to be touched, and I knew that I would beg him if I had to. Nothing else mattered, except that he should touch me.

I gasped as an icy touch on my nipple caused an opposing rush of warmth to flare between my legs. I spread them a little, as if to cool the heat. The slight movement of the air had the opposite effect though, and I felt my pussy lips swell, and gape, and my clitty began to throb, making me whimper, and I rotated my pelvis in a vain attempt to find something to rub against, to relieve the tension building up in me.

He continued to tease my nipples with the blade of the knife, alternately tracing around the rubbery teat with the very tip of it, scraping lightly, raising the swelling to near painful proportions, drawing moans from me as my breasts ached unbearably, and then pressing the cold flat of it onto the straining nub, making me cry out and shudder, as the over sensitised skin shot the sensations straight to the core of my being, and I felt as if I were dying from the exquisite torture.

My chest was heaving and I was gasping for breath before I was spared, and the knife travelled elsewhere.

Down it went, twisting and turning, changing edge and direction as if carving my body, making me writhe and wriggle, dancing to the tune it was playing on me.

When he ran the blade lightly down my spine I arched like a bow, breasts and hips thrusting forward and howled in anguish, unable to bear the tickling, and tears streamed down my face, and my sobbing sounded very loud in my ears, as I begged him "Please don't, please don't, please don't" over and over, until finally he seemed to think I had paid for my pleasure, and I sagged in my ropes, as the knife moved on.

It moved away, and then I registered a new sensation, as I felt something hard and thick nudge its way beneath the curve of my bottom, and between my thighs, forcing its way into the gap, burrowing incessantly and I groaned in relief, as finally my burning pussy had something to rub against. It was the knife handle that worked its way along my open lips, pushing them even wider, and coating itself in my juices, then moving on to smear them across my clitoris, sawing back and forth, stroking, and jarring, as the strange shape slid and bumped along my slit, and I tried to press myself down onto it, wanting to rub hard against that cock substitute, trying to ride it, to bring myself the orgasm I was so desperate for, so close to, that all the attentions of my borrower had been cultivating in me.

Then it was withdrawing, and I was begging him not to stop. I begged like a slut, I cried and pleaded, offered to do whatever he wanted, if he would only touch me again, and let me come.

He was suddenly squeezing my lower lip, and as I opened my mouth to plead with him, something was shoved into my mouth, and tied in place at the back of my head. I shook my head, but there was no way to dislodge the ball of fabric. Now gagged as well as blindfolded, I wondered how much more I could take. I was trembling; my arms felt as if they were being wrenched from their sockets, and my whole body was on fire with the need to be released from the unbearable tension it was being forced to endure.

Then, at last, there was a hardness at the front of my pussy, and a muffled whimper escaped me, as I tried to part my legs as far as I could, to give total access to my dripping cunt. He rubbed the handle top back and forth against me, engorging my clitty, making me thrust myself at him, leaving him in no doubt about what I wanted, what I needed.

Oh so slowly he teased me, as little by little he inched towards my needy hole. I prayed that he wouldn't stop, as I could barely breathe now and my emotions were in turmoil. He slid the bulge at the top of the handle back and forth across my entrance, stemming the stream of wetness that flowed from me, as I pulled on my ropes and pleaded with him through the gag, a muffled groaning all that emerged. And with a sudden lunge the head was up inside me, stretching me wide and I screamed and threw my head back in abrupt reaction to the pleasure that ripped through me.

More and more of the knife was forced within me, and I felt every ridge and every notch, and I moaned and quivered in ecstasy, as my muscles were rubbed and pummelled. They clung lovingly to the harsh intruder, relishing its hardness, and parting willingly before its insistence. In spite of being wetter than ever before, it seemed a very tight fit for the tool, and yet still it pressed on, till finally it was buried fully inside me, and everything was very still.

I stood there, panting like a bitch on heat, thighs apart and slick with my wetness, and my pussy stretched wide around a lump of wood, and I braced myself for what was to come. I knew that I was teetering on the very brink of coming, and every breath was a whimper of anticipation and suspense.

And then with a twist that sent fireworks shooting across the blackness of my vision, the intruder was wrenched from me, only to be thrust ruthlessly back in full-length a few seconds later, in an exquisite blend of pleasure and pain. My cunt muscles spasmed wildly, and I screamed against the gag as my orgasm finally exploded, and I thrashed about in wild ecstasy, as again and again he fucked me, rubbing and thrusting, harder and faster, going deeper and deeper, yet still pulling back and dragging the weapon across my clitty and sending fresh waves of intense sensations flooding through me whenever it seemed that my orgasm was slowing, forcing me to come even more wildly.

Wetness was trickling down my legs, and my whole pussy was twitching madly. I could smell my sweat and the hot heady smell of sex, and I bucked my hips in time to meet his thrusts, moaning aloud in delirium as the bevelling continued to rub and inflame the tender walls of my tunnel. I was weeping freely and I had no words to describe my feelings, as I came over and over again, something I had never believed possible before our adventures…

My legs were barely supporting me, and I was exhausted beyond belief, when finally he slowed his thrusts, and allowed me to gradually relax, and to regain some control of my body.

When he eventually stopped, and pulled the knife from me, I was no longer the same woman who had started the day so cool and composed. I felt shattered and sore, totally used, but strangely contented and complete, in a way I couldn't begin to define. As he loosened the gag, and I spat it from me, all I had breath for were two quiet words.

"Thank you…"

Then I hung in my bindings, legs trembling and chest heaving, and waited, hoping for the touch of his hand once more. It came, brushing my hair from my face, stroking my flushed skin, and I heard his voice soothing me, murmuring to me. Then came a hiss, and the strange, musty smell, and as darkness claimed me I felt my arms drop, and heard his voice whisper "Until the next time…"and then I was falling…

I awoke to sunlight hitting me in the face, making me screw up my eyes and raise a hand to shade my eyes. The movement made me gasp in pain, as my shoulder and arm muscles screeched their protest.

I looked at my surroundings, puzzled as to why I was sat in my car, outside our house in the early morning, with my bags on the passenger seat next to me. I frowned at my outfit, an oversized T-shirt, which, it became clear as I moved, was all I had on…

Except, in my lap, was a school tie, still knotted, although cut clean through alongside that knot, by what was clearly a razor sharp blade. A tie that brought memories flooding back, memories of school days, and the years beyond…

I lifted it, and held it up to the light. Oh yes, I remembered alright. And I was glad of the memory. I hoped – knew - that he would catch up with me sooner, rather than later. I started to smile, and as I did so, I seemed to hear a voice, whispering "Until the next time…"