The Knife Play Dream

I had a dream that my ex and I were getting along. He was working for some underground illegal organization that was torturing people for information. They weren’t “bad guys” but they were working illegally and eventually got caught by some special task force. The operation took place in a house, deep down in a winding basement with interior like an old movie theater. I was there the day the FBI came. My ex looked at me and nodded toward my stuff, telling me to grab it and go, so I did. They hadn’t seen the dead body in the basement yet but they would soon. I escaped out of a window and started walking. I went to a DnD party with a bunch of friends, I thought we were going out but everyone wanted to drink and paint in the apartment instead of play. I opted to create my DND character as I hadn’t yet. She was a magical seamstress that could weave clothes together and make them attack for her. I was close with everyone and ended up cuddling with one girl as we talked about life. It felt nice. Eventually I went back to the house, expecting it to be empty. I snuck in and started down stairs, following the blood stains as I went. I peaked around the corner, just a room away from where the torture occurred, and saw bullet holes littered the wall. Voices made me jump, and I turned to move away but a bigger guy, with solid muscle, a hard jaw line, and piercing blue eyes found me. His eyes lit up in surprise amusement as he moved to grab me and tackle me to the ground. The FBI were still operating out of the house. I asked what happened to everyone that was there before and he responded that they shot them all dead. He pulled a switch blade from his pocket and flicked it open with one movement, keeping me pinned in his other arm. I wrenched and begged as he brought the blade to my skin, whispering softly in my ear, creating a juxtaposition in my body I couldn’t understand. Fear and attraction battled each other as the blade pressed softly against my hand. I was certain it would hurt, certain that searing pain might cleave me in half. I was all but screaming as the blade made a tiny, clean cut down the skin between my thumb and finger. Then I calmed, no blood, just wet plasma starting to weld were my skin parted. My breathing calmed, he let go of my hand to let me look at it. Relief washed over me so strong it felt like elation, I felt the brink of insanity and lust. I wanted him to do it again, I wanted his lips against my neck while he did it. I laughed hysterically as he smirked at me, a knowing look dancing across his face, inviting me and telling me to stay away all the same. He moved to get up and told me he had a party to get ready for. I followed him into a changing room of sorts where a big dress was hanging off the wall. I asked if it was for him and he smirked. A woman came in similar garb and I asked if that was his date. Looking torn, he said no he didn’t have one. I asked if I could come along. There was a debriefing before the event. Everyone was in black relaxed uniforms. The man that had cut me was covering his flaccid “bulge” with a pillow but his director told him to stop. I peeked the instant he pulled the pillow away. He was near offended by this, surprised, and eager all at the same time. I reminded him that he cut me and I could do whatever I want. He pulled his blade out and fidgeted with it for the rest of the meeting as if he were teasing me. He found me later in a lunch room where I was talking to a girl I knew when I was much younger named Kenzie. I accidentally brought up that she was just a dream but had to back up so I wouldn’t get kicked out and wake up. She bought it and left me alone as knife guy came up and sat right next to me on the couch. He grabbed the back of my neck a little hard and brought his lips to my ear, my neck, the curve of my chin. He whispered and kissed and nipped as desire pooled in my center. I told him I wanted him to cut me again but he shook his head and told me I was a little girl involved in something I didn’t understand. Still his knife traced the crease of my jeans along the inside of my thighs as he spoke. I told him I’d always been so scared of blades but something about the way he used it made me feel invincible, strong, and incredibly hot. Then I woke up.