The Stranger You Seek - By Amanda Kyle Williams Page 0,94

I could have hated Dobbs any more than I had while he was alive. But I was wrong.

“I had to know.” It was a broken whisper. I think she was crying. The line went dead.

KNIFEPLAY.COM

Your Online Adult Edge Fetish & Knife Play Community blogs > beyond the EDGE, a fantasy by BladeDriver blog title > Crash Test Dummy

Hello friends and fans and thank you for your comments. I am so glad you are enjoying my dark fantasies. I love reading yours too. Perhaps we can play together one day, compare techniques.

Have you been reading the newspapers? They are listing the names of all my old partners. This has made me a bit nostalgic, I admit, remembering the early days when I was still sharpening my skills, the days before I could point my phone and take their sweet memory home with me. I want so to have these memories recorded and to share them with you.

Her name was Anne and we were both young, she younger and greener than I. She had a sour expression when she opened the door that day, said something about me being late. It was eleven-thirty in the morning. Everyone was at class. She was so needy and so desperate, always wanting time when she could be the focus of my world. She wanted sex too. Neither one of us was in love with sex with the other. It was just what she did, how she filled up that black hole of need she carried around. It never stopped. She always wanted it, wanted something, want, want, want, me, me, me. And when she wasn’t painting her pictures or fucking, she was smoking pot or drinking or eating. Anne always wanted something going into her. Her requirements seemed endless, just vacuous, bottomless need. My mother behaved just like this with my father. I watched her suck the life out of him and everything else around her.

We won’t have as much time now, Anne told me that day, maybe just an hour. That’s plenty, I said, and she pressed her body against me. This was going to be easy. Let her feel my full attention. Let her be my sole focus. I was in the mood that day. I’d come prepared. She had said she wanted to explore with me. I deeply wanted to explore every inch of her with the point of my blade.

Oh no, she said. That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. It was too much. It hurt. Poor baby. Shut the fuck up, I told her. Just shut the fuck up. She started to cry. Her face was red and she was bleeding lightly. I had barely run the sharp edge over her right breast just to see what kind of touch it would take to make a shallow wound. But she had to get all whiny and red-faced. I was just getting started. I had planned this. I wasn’t going to stop. It had been eight long years since that first time when I was only sixteen. It was so hurried back then, and I was so scared and so angry. I had not been able to savor it. That day in Anne’s room, I needed it.

I kissed her and reassured her and when she turned her beautiful back to me, I slammed the base of her own table lamp into the back of her head and the bitch crumpled like a piece of aluminum foil. I checked the clock. Forty-five minutes to explore Anne. It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. It was the first time I had worked any kind of restraint on a human, the first time I had used wire. But it was fantastic—ankles and wrists and neck wired to the chair. Her eyes got wide and the veins were popping out everywhere. The wire was twisted too tight. I had tied a scarf tight around her head to hold a washcloth in her mouth. She was gagging and crying. The wire cut into her each time she moved and each time she moaned. I closed my eyes and listened. Pleasure or pain—I couldn’t tell from her sounds. It was fascinating. Really it was. I was so in love with her at that moment. For all her need, she was giving back at last.

She nearly tipped herself over in the chair when I took off her nipples. Big mess, urine on the floor, lots of drama. I should have waited. I have learned