Blades and edges...

A certain someone has a fear...

We're dealing with it. :) As I mummified her body and head in black plastic (with nose free and heat escape routes on top of head- H&S geeks!) it became increasingly difficult for her to move at all. Some things build and some things just sit there in the mind - a single uncomfortable realisation of paralysis and helplessness. I picked her body up from the standing position and put it on the bed...

There was muffled screaming through the plastic as I caned her thighs, breast and stomach. I ran the double electric pinwheel over her breasts (disconnected, obviously...but no one told her that!! :) ). The spikes 'popped' through the plastic in the same way as they would through skin - an association I was keen to make. All this is foreplay to the main event, which came with a question...

"How am I going to get you out of this stuff then?"
There was just enough tone in the voice to penetrate the floating and grab her attention...why that tone?
"How am I going to remove this plastic?"
Her heart rate rises now as she struggles for words - realisation is dawning as the tone becomes more purposeful...it is the carrier signal for a message of fear and stomach turning betrayal...
"I have one, here..." The villain of the peace is introduced in the arena of the mind...
My voice has taken on a pleading tone now...
"There is no other way for me to get (cut) you out..." I joyfully, with an air of mock concern, appeal to the logic that only the knife can free her...all I need is her consent to use it...I leverage her consent.

I draw the edge of a leather paddle over her body as the fear is reaching fever pitch - I rip the tape from her eyes split seconds before she safewords...I show her the paddle and smile a loving smile.

The smile eventually fades - I want to feel her fear me; I want to bask in it's radiant glory...
And lo a more serious tone is taken...I pick up the EMT shears...her panic rises again...

"May I?" I ask in a rhetorical tone...
The shears slide between her breasts and ever downwards...visibly cutting...she shakes and whimpers all the way down. :)

For the rest of the evening I pushed the envelope with her, I humiliated; she bratted; I rubbed her face in the mess she had made. I bratted back - bigger, harder and nastier. I've never ordered someone to suck my cock with such a dismissive domineering tone - she was there for my amusement, she had a job she is expected to do and she wasn't doing it...I bullied her, controlled her with my voice: Mostly in life I am nice; but sometimes I am scary and dangerous in a very real way - that was the blade, this is the edge...