Let me hold your heart, please?

Every day I wake up and all I can think of is you, on top of me, stimulants racing through my system, as my heart pumps harder and faster. The feeling of it squeezing painfully in my chest, pumping so fast that it can barely shunt enough blood through my squirming body, turns me on like nothing else. I know my heart can't handle the stress, and somehow that makes me want you to punish it even more. I place a hand between my breasts, clutching my chest as I feel the ventricles pushed to the breaking point. I can barely breath as the IV feeds my heart, each drip pushing it closer to cardiac arrest.

It pumps, as another drop floods my system. It pumps impossibly fast, racing past 200 BPM as alarms fill our room. I'm gasping now, my lungs on fire as I try to keep my pump fed. You are working quickly, fingers deep inside me as my heart edges closer to failure. I can barely speak now, but you know what I need.

Got my phone taped to my chest for non cardiophile reasons. But with a big enough imagination you can picture a device of your choice. Positioned just above my heart.

But what it does is entirely up to you… will it shock my pump? Disrupt its rhythm to your liking, will it inject me with drugs? Maybe open a window for you to directly admire my bloody organ?

Fiaba della buonanotte.

Bedtime story.