Nipple Blades Meaning Novels & Stories

I trusted him. He took my left nipple in the forceps, the sharp pressure a strange, pre-pain sensation. “Look at me,” he commanded. I looked into his eyes as he brought the needle to my skin. There was a sharp, intense pain, a quick, hot flash, and then it was over. He quickly slid the silver barbell through the new hole. He did the same with my right nipple.

He smiled while they screamed and thrashed in agony, a glint in his eyes. Blake didn’t give up and continued the torture for hours while the few warriors that joined us kept running out to bring coffee and food. If torture were an art, Blake was an exceptionally creative artist. I had never even thought to imagine all the different ways a body could be disfigured. And as if he was a professor, Blake patiently lectured us on the benefits of each knife he was using. He showed off his clip point—good for quick, deep puncture and withdrawal. Then his drop point—good for skinning. Finally, his needlepoint—perfect for thrusting. All things I'd have been perfectly content never knowing.

I murmured, sitting on her hips again. I brought the flat, cool blade to her skin, tracing a line up her sternum to the left bra strap. I tilted the left bra strap. I tilted the blade, hooked it under the strap against her skin, and pulled up, stretching the elastic. With a sharp snick, the strap severed, snapping against her skin. She flinched, a sharp intake of breath. I repeated it on the right side. "Don't move," I ordered. I slid the knife's tip under the center clasp of her bra, between her breasts. I looked into her eyes then flicked the blade upward. The clasp gave. Her breasts spilled free, bouncing slightly as they settled against her chest. She let out the breath she'd been holdin

He lifts my chin and forces me to look at him for a long time, convincing me that he would never want to do anything to ruin my trust or love. I stretch my arms slightly, which causes intense pain to go down my back as they have been hold in the same position behind my back for so long. But when the knife gently touches my skin, my entire focus is on the cold steel. I look at it while it lifts up a nipple, with the nipple clamp on the blade. Holding my breath I can see the nipple growing even harder as a response. He reaches forward to lick the nipple, and then blows on it. Then the knife moves down over my belly and reaches my cunt. I stare at the knife with open mouth as he, sitting betwee

She took action while they were distracted. Nicole broke free from the handcuffs, gently threw her hair away, and picked up the sharp blade that had fallen out with one hand. The blade, made of an unknown material, was glinting with silverish flashes. With just a flick of her hand, the blade cut the rope that was made of a special material in half, and they dropped to the floor at once.

They both stood looking down at the various blades she had picked out from his vast collection. Flossina spoke, “Any one of these blades would have come in handy when I was last at MeadowBrooke. Mother detested weapons. She thought they were barbaric.” She touched one. “Tell me more about these blades, please.” Flossina’s comment surprised and amused him. He was amused and slightly curious as to why she was showing an interest in his weapons. Her eyes seemed to light up and her demeanor relaxed. He knew she felt safe with him and that made him proud. He picked up the biggest weapon she had placed on the trunk. It was thin long and wide and shaped like the letter ‘C’.

he snarls, then turns the knife and drags the sharp edge back up the valley between my breasts, lightly enough not to cut but hard enough to leave a stinging pink line that has my head dropping back as I thrust my neglected chest at him. My sore nipples are hard and begging for his mouth, fingers, knife, anything. He touches exactly where I need him to, the cool side of the blade pressing against my overheated nipple. He presses it harder until I shiver and raise my hips, my pussy aching to be filled, to feel his massive cock inside of me. “Dirty little girl. I bet if I cut you up, you would enjoy it,” he murmurs.

Anya’s POV Nikolai walks back to me. The red light catches metal in his hand and the silver glints. My heart stops. He holds two small clamps connected by a thin chain. Nipple clamps, I know what the thing is. I move my head sideways. “No. Please.”