Sex stories

Erotic fiction and short sex stories




At Knifepoint 01

Synopsis

A female psychopath breaks into the narrator's home and demands sex at knifepoint. The narrator is terrified at first, but finds the possibility of impending death arousing, and in the end has sex with her willingly.

A great start to a love story, right?

The story contains only threats of murder and violence. The sex itself is mostly vanilla.

This is written from the male's perspective and so is almost entirely male gaze.

Story

I wake up to the feeling of a warm body against mine. And then, a whisper, in an unmistakably feminine voice: "Hey, pretty-boy. Wake up."

I open my eyes to see a masked face hovering above mine. The mask covers the upper part of her face, leaving her mouth exposed. She has dark eyes, and her lips are turned up in a smile. Her face is outlined by short dark hair that hangs down to her chin. Her skin is noticeably dark, but it's impossible to tell its color in the faded moonlight. She has a slight, musical accent of indeterminate origin.

Naturally, I freak out. I try to bring my arms up and push her off me... but I soon realize my arms are handcuffed to the bed, above my head.

"What the fuck –"I start, but she quickly covers my mouth with a rough hand, so all I can do is moan. My legs are free though, so I keep thrashing, trying to push her off me. Suddenly, a sliver of cold steel appears against my neck. Cold sweat blooms across my body, and I stop struggling. Terrified, I lie completely still, eyes wide. Her smile widens, showing a hint of teeth.

"Good boy. Now, I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth. And you're not going to scream or cry out. Because if you do, someone might come, but you won't be alive to thank them. Nod once if you understand," she whispers.

I nod gently, so as not to cut myself by accident.

"Good. I knew we could work together." She says, and her hand comes off my mouth. The sliver of metal lifts from my neck, though I can sense that it's hovering just above the skin.

"Is – is that a knife?" I ask, voice small and terrified.

"Why, yes. Yes it is." She says, and brings the weapon into my field of vision. It is a small thing, but it looks wickedly sharp. "Don't worry. It's just the flat," She says and winks at me. I cringe.

She gives me a pause to collect myself, and my instinctive terror solidifies into a horrible dread. I feel hopelessly over my head, I feel as though this can't possibly be happening to me.

As though reading the realization in my eyes, her smile widens, as though she delights on my fear.

"What do you want from me?" I ask her, my voice shaking, eyes brimming with tears.

"Guess, pretty-boy," she says. She is still smiling. I imagine that she would still be smiling while she's cutting my throat.

"Do you want money? You can take it. Everything. Please. I don't... I don't want to die. Please don't –"

Metal presses against my neck and the words die in my throat.

"Shush. Now you're just rambling. I don't want your money, silly. If I did, I wouldn't bother waking you up, would I?"

I'm crying openly now, tears sliding down my face. I'm sobbing. I try to stop, I'm so afraid of the knife, but I just can't.

"Please, just tell me. I don't understand. What do you want from me?" I just want it to be over.

She purses her lips, as though thinking about it. "Here, let me give you a hint," she says.

To my horror, she bends down closer to me, her mouth just above mine. An image of her biting my face off fills my mind, and I flinch back, trying to bury myself in the mattress. I almost start struggling again. Then I feel her tongue lapping up one of my tears.

I exhale violently, sobbing and shaking. She just laughs at me. "You are so cute," she says between bursts of quiet laughter.

"What the hell do you want?" I ask, between sobs.

"You're no fun. You won't even try to guess?"

I realize I am going to die. I think of the long road that has brought me to this point. I think about high school and college. I think about my ex-girlfriend Dani for a moment, almost out of habit. I think about my Topology coursework, and that one problem I just can't get. I think about my parents. And a lot of other things.

She bends down again, her lips almost touching my ear, and whispers. "I want to fuck you." She punctuates her words by lapping at my earlobe.

I shudder at the touch of her tongue, at the feeling of her breath against my ear. But her words seem to kindle something strange within me. Behind the extreme terror, behind the mind-numbing fear, there is... lust.

Stupidly, inanely, I ask, "Is – is this going to hurt?"

"Of course not. Not unless you try to resist. In fact, you might even end up enjoying it." She kisses my cheek. "Now, are you going to be a good boy?"

I stare into her eyes. My sobbing is subsiding. I begin to become aware of the heat of her, of the proximity of her body. My cheek seems to tingle where her lips touched it.

"Yes," I say, voice much calmer.

I close my eyes, readying myself for whatever she has in store for me.

I feel unexpectedly soft lips against my own. They are gentle and inviting. Nothing like I expected. I am stunned at first, paralyzed and uncertain. I can feel her tongue sliding between my lips, inside my mouth. She tastes of mint and salt, and something pleasantly sweet. Something that seems to dissolve the terror. Something unmistakably arousing.

Worlds turn over in my mind, like the shuffling of a deck of cards. The small spark of lust within me grows and flares, resolving into wild desire.

I kiss her back. Instinctively, I try to bring my arms up, to wrap them around her, the danger of her knife completely forgotten – or maybe driving me on. I am hand-cuffed of course, and for a second I feel absurdly frustrated.

I am afraid my newfound willingness will anger her, but I am lost now, drowning in her scent, and it is hard to care.

I can feel her body, powerful muscles well-defined underneath soft, yielding skin. She is a creature of desire, expressed through insurmountable force. I suddenly want to see her. I want to feel her. I push my body against hers. I am suffused by her warmth.

She is laughing, her voice dark and deep. Its cadence resonates within me. Is she going to kill me now? Am I already dead?

She whispers, "I can't believe you are enjoying this."

I just nuzzle at her neck. I can't help myself.

"Can you uncuff me?

She smiles. "Not yet. Maybe later."

"What about my clothes?"

"Oh, don't worry about those. I know how to deal with clothes."

The knife appears in her hand again, poised over my body.

"Tilt your head back for me," she says.

I do as she says without second thought, exposing my throat, making slicing it easier than ever. I close eyes and part my lips in expectation.

"Okay, don't move," she says after a pause. I wonder if she thought I wouldn't do it.

I open my eyes, and see that she's caught the collar of my T-shirt with the tip of the blade. She carefully draws it back, slicing my shirt in two, exposing naked skin to the cool night air. Then she slices the sleeves as well, opening it up completely. She pulls it from under my body, tossing it to the floor beside the bed.

And then I can feel her warm hands all over me, climbing up my stomach, caressing my chest. I shift and moan at her touch. Her hands are calloused, the skin rough, but her touch is gentle.

Then she bends down, and kisses my neck. She sinks her teeth into my neck, and I cry out in surprise, but her bite doesn't pierce the skin.

She showers kisses down my body, gentle as a lover. Again, I rattle the cuffs, yearning to touch her, to lose my fingers in her short hair, to feel her body.

She straightens, still straddling me, and takes off her top with a smooth motion. She is wearing nothing underneath. She has the body of a goddess of war, with sculpted abs that glisten in the moonlight, and small breasts with stiff nipples that make my mouth water. Her clearly defined biceps ripple as she completes the motion. She carelessly flings the thing aside.

Her torso and stomach are marked with scars. Some are slashes, others puncture marks that could be bullet wounds. If I had doubted she possessed the resolve to kill me, that she was no stranger to death, then her body would've chased those doubts away.

"Like what you see?" She asks with a smile.

"Yes," I reply simply, because I do.

She bends down, leaning over me, pressing her chest against my face. I clumsily kiss her breasts, lick at them. But I want to do so much more.

I have to ask her again. "Can you uncuff me?"

She smiles. "You win, pretty-boy. The handcuffs are for your protection after all, not mine. Just don't do anything stupid."

She bends over me again. I hear the rattle of chains and the click of a lock. My hands are suddenly free. I sigh and loosen them. I stretch a little bit, my joints popping satisfyingly. She watches me, curious as to what I'll do next.

A moment ago, I was prepared to submit. To let her do whatever she wanted with me. To enjoy it. But now that I have a scrap of control, my mind suddenly turns to escape. I could push her off me, and then I might –

But she's a step ahead of me, as I should've known. "I think you need a little demonstration. Something to show you –"

Her hands appear at my throat, her movements faster than I would have thought possible. She pushes my head back with one hand, the other clamping down on my windpipe, choking me. Then she shifts her grip somehow, and the world starts going fuzzy, the edges of my vision darkening. My hands thrash around wildly, ineffectually, but I am only half aware of them.

Then the pressure gone, as quickly it had come, and I can breathe again. My vision clears, resolving into the face of my nameless attacker. She isn't smiling anymore; her expression seems a little worried, if anything.

"Sorry," she says, "I just needed to show you how helpless you really are. So you won't get any stupid ideas, like trying to push me off or run away." After a moment, she asks, "Do you forgive me?"

I don't know what to say. I cannot comprehend her strange morality, where rape and murder are par for the course, but trying to choke me demands an apology. Not that I care. I realize how stupid and futile my thoughts of resistance were. She is the sole arbiter of my fate, and I have to accept that.

"Yes," I finally breathe out, because I don't know what else to say. My voice still isn't back to normal.

"I'm sorry," she says again, concern in her voice. "Was I too rough?"

"It's okay," I say.

She smiles, and kisses me again. The taste of her mouth jolts me into consciousness. My arms wrap around her. And now I can feel her smooth skin, the curve of her back, the strength of her body. I caress it, explore it, marvel at it. I need her.

She seems to stiffen at first at my aggression, but then appears to relax, apparently enjoying the sensation of my hands on her bare skin. I reach up to cup her breasts, to feel them. I prop myself up on the bed, so she's straddling my hips.

She grabs my face and presses it against her chest, and I devour her. I kiss the skin between her breasts, my tongue catching on one of her scars, exploring it. I slide my tongue around her nipple, and she moans over me. I can feel short fingernails digging gently into my back.

I am already hard, and she knows it. She moves against me, grinding her crotch against mine.

My lips clamp over her nipple, and I suck. She groans and holds me even closer, cradling my head. Then she laughs, something evil in the timbre of her voice. She shifts, and suddenly I feel her knife against the back of my neck.

"Keep sucking," she whispers, amused. And I do, with her knife at my neck. 'It's just the flat,' I try to remind myself, and recall her mischievous wink at the admission. She is a true psychopath. Completely insane and unpredictable. But I'm just as hard as I was a moment ago. Maybe even harder.

She starts grinding against me again, moving her hips with deep, rhythmic motions. She grabs my hair with her other hand, playing with it as I suck at her nipple. Unbidden, I move to the other one, and she lets me. After a while, the knife slackens in her grip.

My hands slide down and grab her ass. She is wearing a pair of skin-tight pants, the fabric stretchy and clinging like spandex. I squeeze her ass, feeling the firmness of it, and I help her movements along. I imagine I can feel her cunt through our clothes. I imagine the glistening wetness of her folds. I want to be in her so bad.

She slides down my body, smiling up at me. She kisses my hard cock through the fabric of my boxers, and it visibly twitches under her lips. She laughs. She takes the head into her mouth, sucking at it. I moan, my tone high and a little boyish. I run my fingers through her short, dark hair. Caress the smoothness of it. She is still smiling, with my twitching cock in her mouth.

"You are fucking beautiful." I say, the admission bursting from my lips.

She laughs, and starts stroking my hard cock with the tips of her fingers, teasing me. I begin to thrust my hips uncontrollably against her touch, which seems to amuse her even more.

Finally, she begins sliding my boxers off, her movements slow and careful. My hard cock, finally free, snaps out from under them.

She helps me remove the boxers completely, and throws them aside. Her eyes on mine, she kisses the very tip of my cock, and tickles it with her tongue. She takes the head into her mouth and sucks. Her mouth feels so amazingly good. Her hand strokes my cock, and then dives lower, cupping and playing with my balls.

And then she lets go of me, leaving my cock feeling cold and lonely, glistening with his spit. She moves back, and slides her pants off, then a pair of dark, skin-tight panties. My lips part in anticipation.

She spreads her legs for me, her eyes still in mine. God she looks delicious. Her pussy is red and wet, thighs glistening. My mouth opens unconsciously, as I imagine what she might taste like. But I don't have to imagine for long.

Smiling, she grabs me by the hair, pushing me down between her legs. I take her scent in at first, and she moans, pleased by my eagerness. I kiss her pussy and give it an experimental lick. I savor her taste.

"Come on. Get on with it," she says. "Or do you want me to get the knife?" I can tell she is joking by her tone. Or at least I think I can. But I answer her anyway.

"I... wouldn't mind," I say quietly. "If it's the flat."

She laughs. "You are such a pervert. I love it. Fuck but you turn me on." She pulls me up roughly and for a deep kiss. When we break apart, she grabs my neck with her hand, squeezing lightly, enough to constrict my breathing. I just close my eyes, and let her do whatever she wants.

She lets go, and kisses me again. I can feel her shifting against me, and the knife suddenly appears against my neck.

"Now," she whispers, "you better get on with it."

I go down her body, the knife still pressed against the back of my neck. She lies back, reclining against the wall. Her legs are spread, her pussy red and juicy in front of me. I press my face against it, lips parted, ready to take it in. She cries out above me, the knife pressing and loosening, as though she can barely remember to hold it correctly.

I suck at her delicious folds. She arches herself, moaning, one hand grasping at the sheets. I slide my tongue inside her, feel the heat of her cunt contract around me. I slide it in and out, and then start sucking at her again, filling my mouth with her taste, my nostrils with her scent. Abruptly, with a mumbled oath, the knife drops from her hand and clatters onto the floor. But now I am drunk on her, and I scarcely notice.

I feel her crotch moving against my face. Her hands in my hair, pulling on it, and then pressing me tighter. Short fingernails raking my upper back.

We shift again, so that she's on the bed and I'm lying on top of her. I reach up her body to fondle her breasts, to trace her scars a little more.

I lick her clit, first giving it a gentle lap and then more insistently, flicking my tongue against it. She squeals a little, her motions becoming more frantic, and her voice less restrained. Her cries might even carry outside, through the window. Just two people having sex. Nothing to see here. No rape at all.

She is moving forcefully against me, hands now pushing my face down and now scrabbling for purchase on the bed. I can feel she's close, and I am attuned to her, as though her climax is going to be my own. I wrap my lips around her clit and suck, covering it with my mouth, wrapping my tongue around it.

She tenses all over and cries out, and I can't help but cry out with her. I can feel her orgasm as a rhythmic contraction and a blooming of moisture in her folds. I keep sucking at her clit as she cums, my mouth following it as she pushes herself up and falls down again.

And then it's over and she's trembling underneath me. I start lapping up her juices, licking her clean, as she shivers, her body limp, and her hand idly playing with my hair. She bucks again every now and then, the movements of my tongue releasing waves of residual pleasure through her body.

She pulls me up, gently, and kisses me. I wonder if she can taste herself of my tongue. I wonder if she likes it.

"Maybe I should leave right now," she whispers into my ear. "I got what I wanted, right?"

A pause. Finally, I say, "Will begging you to stay do any good?"

"Are you sure you want that? I did threaten to kill you, you know."

I don't reply. I have nothing to say. If I were sane, I would want her gone. If I were sane, I'd still be crying and sobbing while she did... whatever she wanted with me. I wouldn't be lusting after a psychopath.

She kisses me again. "Don't worry. I'm still not done with you." She winks.

And now, I feel her hand on my cock. Her touch is tentative at first, but becomes firmer. I close my eyes and revel in the feeling of her hand around me.

She laughs and tells me, "Lie down."

I do, and she straddles me. She takes my cock in her hand, stroking it idly, rubbing her crotch against it. I trail my hands up and down her toned thighs, and move them up to grab her inviting breasts again. She puts her own hands over mine, and makes me close them hard around her breasts. She moans at the pain.

She moves so her cunt is over my cock, but instead of allowing me inside, she just rubs herself against the shaft. I tremble at how slick and good she feels against my cock.

"Oh god," I moan. "Please..." I need to be in her so much. I put my hands on her thighs, stroking them. I dig my fingernails into the skin. And then she gives in. Finally, she slides my cock inside her.

I cry out as I enter her, and she cries out with me. My cock slides in deep inside her, all the way to the base. I am enveloped by her heat, the excruciatingly sweet feeling of her tightness. She feels so good, I can't help but moan, without her even having to move.

She starts flexing her lower body, making my cock move inside her. I grab her ass and help her along. I squeeze it, sinking my fingernails into her skin. She grabs my neck again, choking me a little, but I don't let go.

We start fucking then, slow and deep, every thrust sending deep waves of pleasure through my lower body.

As she kicks up the pace, moving up and down on my cock, I pull her down to me and we kiss again. My hands are all over her, the sense of touch giving me new awareness of her body. She is searing hot against my palms, body hard and soft all at once.

She's moving even faster now, crying out, pumping the muscles of her lower body. I thrust into her as well, my movements mirroring her own. And then I'm so close. I arch my back, my arms wrapping around her and pulling her down. She moves against me. Her teeth sink into my neck, and I cum inside her.
It feels like... a dam bursting under overwhelming force. Like a flood of energy streaming from my body and into hers. And in that flood, I am forced to cling to her, to press her down, to have her body against mine, skin against skin. Because I am almost afraid I might be swept away, obliterated.

I keep thrusting into her, and I am distantly aware of her own orgasm, my climax pushing her over the edge. The world contracts to two naked bodies, hers and mine, in the throes of something that exceeds them both.

**

"I feel like a smoke," she says. We've just finished cleaning up. We're sitting on my bed, both of us still naked, except for her mask of course.

I get up, and dig around in my drawers until I find a pack.

"There's just one left," I say. "We're going to have to share."

She looks up at me, amused. "You sure about that?"

I shrug. "I just want a fucking smoke. But I'll tell you what. Knife-wielding ladies first."

"Fair enough."

I give her the cigarette and light it for her, then plop back down on the bed. We sit in silence for a while.

"So... what now?" I ask.

"I leave, and you never see me again. If you're lucky." She hands me the cigarette, and I take a few draws.

I study her scarred, athletic body. I am a little disappointed I'm still alive. In some dark corner of my mind, I actually wanted her to kill me.

"Can I ask some questions, before you go?"

"You can ask. I might even answer a few."

"How did you get in here?"

"Climbed in through the window."

I glance at the window. "This is the 7th fucking floor."

"I noticed. It was a real pain in the ass, if I'm honest."

"...Who are you?"

She snorts. "You really think I'm going to answer that?"

"How can you climb up to a 7th floor window?"

"I used a rope. Next question."

"Alright. Where did you get the scars?"

She shifts in the bed, suddenly a little self-conscious. Her fingers fall to her stomach, and she traces a long gash. "All sorts of places. I'm kind of an odd-jobs girl. For really odd jobs."

"I... see," even though I don't.

"Why me?" I ask.

"Why you what?" She asks back.

"Why did you choose to climb up to my window?"

"Oh, I've been stalking you for a few days now."

"Why?"

"Just saw you on the street and thought you were hot."

I snort. "Am I?"

She looks me over, a lecherous smile settling on her face. "Oh yes. Definitely."

I laugh, oddly warmed by her compliment.

"And now I know you're crazy too. Great boyfriend material." She adds.

My first instinct is to deny that I'm crazy, but... that statement is getting more absurd by the minute.

We sit in silence for a while, passing the cigarette between us until it's all gone.

"Well," she finally says. "I guess I'll be leaving now." She gets up, and starts getting dressed.

"What if I don't want to be lucky?" I blurt out, right before she turns to the window.

"What?"

"Earlier, you said I will never see you again if I'm lucky. What if I don't want to be lucky?"

She smiles down at me. Teeth glint in the moonlight. "I heard sleeping with your window open is very unlucky indeed."

knifepoint  

Jun 4, 2018 in femdom

Tags

Search