Archive-name: Bondage/erot2.txt Archive-author: Amethyst Archive-title: Blind Heartbeat A woman lies peacefully slumbering on her bed, clad in naught but a twisted satin sheet of midnight blue. The sheer white curtain ripples back and forth into the room, as so commanded by the imperious summer breezes. The woman's silken locks spill over her shoulders and fan out on the pillow, threaded through with strands of silver which glint in the early morning light filtering through the translucent fabric. Her pale skin seems to glow slightly in the faint sunlight. She utters an almost soundless sigh and turns restlessly in her sleep, shifting the sheet so that it slips smoothly from her torso down to her waist. Her full breasts, revealed by this movement, are covered with tiny goosebumps in the chill morning air, and her nipples are red and hard in the breeze from the window. A man begins to stir now from the chair near her resting place. He has been sitting there just watching her sleep for the last twenty minutes and is smiling now at the sight which greets his eyes. He is tall and strong, and the sunlight glints off his reddish hair as it does off her silver. He strides purposefully over to the bed and stops a moment to gaze at her peaceful rest for one last time before he endeavors to awaken her. He bends over the bed, slowly drawing the sheet down past her hips, sliding its slippery smoothness over her legs and feet and tossing it carelessly in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed. The woman stirs, shivering slightly and reaching out a fumbling hand for her lost covering. The man sits on the edge of the bed and catches her seeking hand in his. Holding it and turning it gently palm upwards, he softly kisses the hollow of her hand and then goes on to kiss each individual finger. His lips continue their kissing trail along her wrist and up her arm, pausing for a lingering salute to the inside of her elbow and then resuming their advance upwards. She is still not awake, but her eyelashes flutter ever so slightly and her lips curve up into an almost imperceptible smile. But he know it is there, for he knows every inch of her flesh and every gesture, expression, and movement that she makes as well as he knows his own. As he trails moisture-laden caresses over her shoulder and up the side of her neck, she shivers again, but he does not think it is from the cold now. He swings up on the bed and lies beside her, balanced on one arm and his head next to hers. His roving lips now pay homage to her ear. She moans quietly as a warm moist breeze makes its way into her ear, a breeze that has nothing to do with the one entering through her window. The man's tongue traces its way from the top curve of her ear down around her ear to the earlobe, leaving a wet glistening trail behind it. As his mouth reaches her earlobe, he gently catches her lobe between his teeth. She turns her head toward him and her eyes open a crack. As her long dark lashes rise up further, he can see her golden green/brown eyes questing fuzzily for consciousness. Her hand reaches up and cups the back of his head, drawing it forward to her parted lips. As their lips meet the kiss is first very gentle and cautious, very sweet and very precious. As she becomes fully awake, however, she begins to press herself and her lips more firmly against him, seeking his tongue with hers and wrapping her arms and legs around him. An eternity passes while they furiously embrace, clasping one another with strength and a fierce joy. Eventually, their lips draw apart, and they smile at each other. The sparkle in her hazel eyes finds a matching glint in his. She opens her mouth to speak, but he stops her with but one finger on her mouth. She smiles widely and begins to speak anyway, but her stubborn intent is frustrated by his lips once again upon hers. As he draws away from her once more, he places his finger against his own lips to indicate his desire for her silence. She begins to shiver once again, this time obviously from the chill in the air on her nude flesh. He draws his hand lightly over her goosebumps and carefully over and around her nipples. This, of course, only intensifies her shaking. Out of consideration for her, the man arises to step over to the window and shut it. Out of the corner of his eye, he senses movement behind him. He turns his head to view her attempting to sneak past him to the nearby chair where her robe is draped. "Oh, no you don't, love," he murmurs as he reaches out and grabs her around her waist. "I like you just the way you are right now," he states, as he draws her back to him. "But I have to get up; I have things to do," she protests. "Believe me, this is infinitely more important than your trivial errands." "No, I have to go!" As she tries futilely to slip away from his grasp, he reaches down and hoists her into his arms. Striding back over to the bed, he dumps her unceremoniously upon it. Determined, she sits up and tries to swing her feet over the edge of the bed to get off, but he grabs them and then holds them down. "Come on, you can't hold all of me down...I'm going to get away. You might as well accept it and let me go and get my stuph done." "You only think you can get away, my dear. I know different." And from underneath the mattress he produces four strips of fabric, smooth but strong. You wouldn't dare!" "I wouldn't? Anything you say dear," as he grabs first one ankle and then the other with a firm grip, tying one of the strips to each ankle and then tying the other end of each to an opposite bedpost. "You can't do this to me!" "yes, dear." He straddles her now, kneeling with one leg on each side of her. "Oh, no, I'm not going to let you do this to me," and she put her hands behind her back, thinking they'd be out of his reach. "You keep forgetting my reach is longer than yours, love," as he easily reaches behind her and imprisons both her wrists in one of his hands. Drawing her arms forward over her head, he proceeds to lash her wrists to the appropriate bedposts at the head of the bed. "Come on, this has gone far enough. You're not going to get any response out of me if I'm mad at you." "Yes, dear. That's why your nipples are hard... because you don't like this." "Fuck you!" "I intend to, love...I intend to." She frantically tries to pull her hands through, but his knots are stronger than her struggles. As she fights against her fate, he just sits there and watches, grinning at her. "O.K., you win. What now?" "For now, my dear, you must be quiet, or I will confine your pretty mouth as I did your luscious flesh." And he reaches down under the edge of the mattress once more and produces a blindfold. It is evident that he has prepared for this in advance, and she shivers in anticipation, hoping he won't see. Vain hope indeed, for he does see and smiles again. Gently drawing her head up, he fastens the blindfold over her eyes and ties it behind her head. It is soft and not uncomfortable, but the whole idea and the situation is making her excited and nervous at the same time. She is not in control of the situation, and this throws her off balance. Which is, of course, precisely his intent. She lies in her enforced darkness, feeling even more keenly the weight of his body on hers. With her sight obstructed, every touch and every sound impresses itself on her senses with shattering effect. As she feels his weight leave her, she shivers again. The worst thing about being blindfolded is that she has no idea where he is going to strike next. It seems she has waited hours, but it is only seconds, when she senses movement near her crotch. And then this exquisitely cruel master of her fate begins to slowly and carefully run his tongue up one side and down the other on the insides of her thighs. As he finishes each run he blows across her moistened skin with a sadistic deliberation. She cannot see him but she can hear him chuckle amusedly at each involuntary shudder. A quiet moan escapes her lips before she can stop it; she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction but she can no longer help herself. Her body belongs to him, just as it has since she mat him, although she didn't know it then. She has no control over her reactions to him, but she still tries vainly to ignore his touch. The most frustrating thing is that each trip up her leg stops short before it reaches her genitals...she keeps expecting him to kiss and lick her there and he doesn't. He just keeps on licking, blowing and chuckling his way up and down her thighs. Now he starts doing it the entire length of her leg, all the while running his hands over her hips and down the outside of her legs. So while his mouth is caressing the insides of her legs, his hands are caressing the outside, and he chuckles now more than ever, as she strains away from him and the tension builds inside her. He knows that if he were to remove the blindfold she would be glaring at a face that she can no longer see, because at this point he knows that she would not be able to see her own hand in front of her face. Her body, though confined at wrists and ankles, still has enough freedom of movement to move up, down, and side to side, trying to escape him, but she cannot do it. Her head turns back and forth and her breathing is starting to become quick and harsh. Judging correctly that she is in the most pleasurable agony, he decides that he should make it worse. Oh, cruel, cruel man...he now moves to her wet and waiting aperture and traces his tongue ever so gently around and over, kissing once and then drawing away. A murmur of disappointment escapes her as his lips leave her lower ones. But softly and surely, he brings his hand and fingers and oh so lightly touches her, barely even letting his fingers brush one spot then he is at another. He draws his fingers inside her and then out again, in and then out again, over and over again feeling her wetness and readiness for him. She is squeezing around him, welcoming his hand, and her breath is labored. Carefully observing her, he can see that she is incoherent and near the breaking point. At this time, he takes his hand out and straddles her once again, this time letting his weight on her even more as he prepares himself to enter her. He is hard and ready, and he knows she is ready to receive him. Carefully, he lets himself be surrounded by her moist warmth and begins to rock back and forth upon her. Forward, back, forward, back...he can feel her tighten around him. He thrusts harder and harder, faster and faster, pushing her body into the mattress. As he comes closer to his own release, he retains enough reason to start touching her again in his rocking, readying her for the end so they can experience it as one. His panting is as hard as hers, as the strenuous movements and the feeling of her flesh welcoming him have their effects on his breathing and his heartrate. Closer and closer they come, faster and faster they move. She has no thoughts in her head except the tension and the feeling that she's going to explode and melt at the same time. Suddenly, she does, gripping him even more tightly as the world goes black around her; as she loses all control and spasms and shudders in his arms; as he releases himself and holds her closely to him; as her mind spins in a circle and multicolored starbursts flash behind her eyelids; as he grips her shoulders fiercely and pushes against her one last time. As she lies back on the bed motionless, her breathing still rough but slowing; as he collapses on top of her, his heaviness welcome to her wet body; as they hold each other in a body hug that is not two bodies but one--not two souls but one; as their wet flesh rubs together and they lie there on the bed. And their lips meet again, not passionately but sweetly, drinking of each other's sweetness, sharing their joy and their happiness to be alive and in love, to be with the other forever in mind, body and soul. --