Knife

After caning me last night he told me to lie on the bed.  He was holding the knife again.  I should get a picture of it, but I'm not at home today.   It is a lovely functional buck knife that he's had forever.   He tells me again that he wants to sharpen it, have me tied down and actually cut me.   It makes me all tingly.   For now he traces it across my stomach.  I'm feeling the scratch marks.  When I open my eyes I look down and see his initials on my belly.  He takes my nipple in his fingers and pokes the knife edge against it.   I can't stand to look any more.  He's reminding me of that scene in Game of Thrones where a slave gets his nipple cut off to prove a point.  The point being that a slave would stand there and let you cut his nipple off.   I know he likes my nipples attached though, so I'm not afraid.  Ok, I'm a little afraid.  There is always a little fear with the knife.