At last, the stranger breaks the kiss and leaves you breathlessly excited, wondering who he is and what he is going to do next. You feel his fingers on your shoulders now, slipping the straps of your skimpy nightie slowly down your arms until they catch in your elbows. You feel hot breath on your throat as he kisses your neck, then slowly runs his tongue inch by inch down your body. A slight tugging sensation across your chest informs you he has taken your nightie in his teeth now, and is gently easing it down, exposing your firm, round breasts. You feel the material catch on your stiffening nipples, then pull free, leaving your upper body naked to his gaze. His lips return to your skin, and you feel goosebumps appear all across your chest as he kisses your breasts tenderly and gently at first, but with gradually increasing vigour. You moan softly, longing for him to take your nipples into his mouth, but he teases you, and allows his lips and tongue to stray tantalisingly close, but never actually touching the most sensitive points on your perfect breasts.
Again, he pulls away, leaving you wanting more, eager to experience whatever is next.
You feel the touch of cold steel against your belly and a gentle tugging at the hem of your nightie. You think you hear a tearing sound and realise the steel was the tip of a knife and that he is cutting your clothes from you. Slowly, carefully and very sensuously he slides the knife upwards and you feel the material parting to either side until at last, with two quick flicks he cuts the shoulder straps and pulls the ruined garment out from under you.
He pauses, and you know he is admiring your lithe young body, taking in every curve and contour, drinking in your beauty and sexuality, mapping your features in his mind. You feel his gaze on your belly, your chest, your breasts and your now surprisingly erect nipples. You are conscious you are becoming very turned on by this experience, and can feel the first drops of juice form inside your panties, dampening the smooth material and forming a warm glow between your thighs. Since you cannot move, you decide to put this part of your body out of your mind, at least until he diverts his attention towards it. However, with every moment that passes you know you are getting more and more turned on, and that your panties are getting more and more sodden, and ignoring it is becoming more and more difficult.
Again, you feel the touch of the steel, but this time he places the tip of his blade between your naked breasts, slowly pulling it back down your body, pressing just enough that you feel the point on your skin, but not enough to cause any pain. You suspect he is scratching a faint line down the centre of your body, but the blindfold prevents you from confirming this. The knifepoint reaches your belly-button, where he started his previous cut, but this time it does not stop there, but continues south, across skin as yet untouched.
He reaches the elastic of your skimpy panties and stops. You want him to venture inside, but you feel the blade lift from your skin. For several seconds there is no contact and you almost wonder if it is over. You quietly pray to yourself that there is more, but you can hear nothing, feel nothing, see nothing.
At last, your prayers are answered, and once again you feel the sharp prick of the blade against your skin, this time on your ankle. Slowly, too slowly, you feel the knife being drawn up the outside of your calf, over your knee and across your thigh. Is it your imagination, or can you hear his breathing quicken as the point approaches your waist and its inevitable destination? You know his intention is to strip you naked. You know he wants to cut off your panties, as he did with your nightie. And you want him to. Oh, how you want to be naked for him to see. You are not normally an exhibitionist, but you can feel the juice running out of you as you imagine his eyes fixed on your naked, smooth, hairless skin. You reflect on how lucky it was that you shaved yourself the previous night, and made sure your most intimate parts were as smooth and silky as they had ever been. You start to feel a little self-conscious about how wet you are becoming with only the minimum of physical contact, but at the same time you are aching for him to see, smell, touch and most of all taste your wetness.
At last, after what seemed like an eternity, you feel the flick of the blade once more, as the elastic is cut at your left hip. A short pause and the right side suffers the same fate. Again, you feel the familiar hot breath on your skin, this time on your belly, and you know what is to happen. Without being prompted, you raise your hips from the bed, as you feel his teeth settle on the sodden fabric of what was once a pair of sexy panties, but had now become little more than a damp rag. Aware you are thrusting your sex towards his face, you lie there, waiting for the inevitable, and slowly it happens: inch by inch his breath moves down and you feel the last remains of your clothing – and the last remains of your long-diminished decency – gently pulled from under you. You almost cry out with pleasure as his breath blows warm and soft across your wet lips; you know with every breath you feel he must inhale, and you know that as he inhales, the hot, sweet, musty smell of your juice must be filling his nostrils. You long to be released from your bonds to see him, touch him, kiss him and discover who this stranger is, and what effect your nakedness and evident state of arousal are having on him. But he seems in no hurry to release you just yet. He seems more than content to leave you fettered, and to tease you for a little longer.