ZeyHeart7

Some of you really like to hear my heart after some workout… here I got you a small treat! Two recording, the first time after running and the second one while resting later, it surely skipped a lot~

Your little play thing it’s racing huh? Hope you love it…

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?

My pounding heart 🤭🫀

Resting beats

A week has passed since the last torture session. You came to my chamber just to check if your little toy have recovered already.

And you find me there, laying on the bed, my face filling with dread after the memories of the last of you playtimes floods back my mind… and my heart pumps stronger in anticipation…

You know I can’t do anything against your will, and so, you grab the steth and press it against my chest. The sound of my valves filling your ear as if they are singing for you, its owner.

Lub-dud Lub-dub

You listen to it for a while, checking all my points reassuring yourself that my heart has healed and it’s ready for another extreme torture… you wonder what might be tonight? Pressure? Needles? Defibs? CPR?

Your mind fills with both the sound of my resting heart and your deepest fantasies fighting themselves to see who wins the space on the table tonight…

Lub-Dub Lub-Dub

My heart beats hard against your steth, and you love it. You want it harder, louder. You want it to become a useless murmuring mess in your hands…

I look at you, fear in my eyes, but also something deeper than that. Desire, maybe. Cuz fear is not the only thing my heart is screaming about…

Lub Dub Lub Dub

Don’t you love marking your place of work with your lips? Feeling it beating against your teeth as it races and stumbles in pain?

Even after leaving the mark, you watch it move slightly with every beat as your mind wonders what’s coming next. It’s that red bruise calling for your hands? Your needles? You knife?