Musings over a knife

Yesterday at the IKEA I was completely taken aback by the variety of cook’s knives available… I felt aroused. I couldn’t top thinking about what it must be like to let them touch a human body.

Teasingly at first, tracing lines with the tip, and then making the first cut… the first of many… Almost like a work of art, and the skin would be my canvas. I imagined touching a woman’s cunt while cutting her, drawing in blood and flesh… I imagined how her fear and pain would mix with arousal… because you know… they do that. Fear and pain tend to do that… They’re caused by the same chemicals, as is arousal.

I wanted to see her confusion… see how she doesn’t understand how she can feel like that while in pain, while dying… Dying, because I would kill her. I would cut deeper and deeper each time, and she would lose blood until she would pass out. And then I would hold her, and let her bleed to death. Slowly. I imagine it to be a pleasant way to die. Painful for sure, but pleasant…

All that passed in front of my mental eye, standing in front of the knife rack at IKEA. I let my fingers caress the steel blades and I smiled at my own fantasy… Then I went back to my family, who wondered where I was staying so long.