Her victim lay spread-eagle on the bed. Hands and feet tied with knots worthy of a boy scout badge on the bedpost, eyes blindfolded with a black Hermes scarf. She would gag them before but she discovered that she liked hearing them so she had the room sound-proofed instead.

She didn't have a hard time putting him in this position. One whisper and she had him discarding his own clothes, eagerly ripping hers, too, in the process. When she got back from retrieving her rope and scarf, he was already waiting in bed. He was too easy. But then again, most of them were.

From experience, she learned that there was an optimal waiting time to touch them after they were blindfolded. Making them wait for too long turned arousal into anxiety, but engaging too soon did not allow them to reach maximum arousal. It was a varied time frame but there was always enough time for her to prepare.

She opened the bedside drawer and took the leather pouch, his chin instinctively jutting to the direction of the sound. She placed the pouch on the bedside table and laid it open. Picking up one item, she checked her reflection on the cold, shiny surface of a scalpel. Her ruby red lipstick was smudged all over her lips, giving her an almost clown like appearance. The coif of her blond wig was in disarray, more than several strands sticking out of the once immaculate bun. She squinted and pursed her lips, thinking about the painstaking task of combing it back to perfection. But that was the price she had to pay for getting lost in the moment. She almost lost control. Almost. That was one mistake she couldn't afford but she would have to put off berating herself for later. There were more pressing tasks at hand.

Moving to the full length mirror, she tugged on the blonde wig to remove it, revealing her hairless head, much like the rest of her body. Several years ago, when she was younger and sloppier, she almost got caught. The culprit? A strand of hair left on a counter somewhere. It was then that she decided to shave her head and have everything else lasered off, keeping only her eyebrows. She had found that it was one of the most practical decisions she had ever made. The wigs provided her more disguise and men seemed to be entranced by her smooth and silky nether lips.

"Cold?"

"A bit." His voice was rough and low and his breathing was short and shallow.

With a measured and calculated pace, she walked towards the fireplace in front of the bed and flipped the switch. One by one, she gathered the clothes strewn across the room- his dress shirt, his pants, her dress, his boxers, her underwear- and tossed them into the fire. The bulkier and not so flammable things would have to go to shredder later.

Even from a distance, she could tell that his heart was beating furiously; the thrill of the situation making him more aroused. His cock was already leaking and harder than she thought was possible but he still wasn't ready. Just a few minutes more.

She opened the mini fridge and took out several cubes of ice, popping one in her mouth. Digging deeper, she reached for a syringe and a small vial of Curare. It was quite a wondrous thing - lethal but in the right dosage, it was only paralytic but not anesthetic. Exactly the state she wanted her victims to be in. Meticulously, she measured just the right amount and set aside the syringe beside her tools on the bedside table. It would have to wait until later.

Finally, she approached the foot of the bed and crawled upwards his body, her breasts barely grazing his hardness. She held the ice between her lips and began tracing a path from his collarbone, to his nipples, down to his stomach, muscles tightening where the cold and wet trail left off. She felt his abs clench and heard him gasp as her lips touched his cock. Her tongue swirled languidly across the tip, below the head, along the shaft and just above the base. Without warning, she took his full length into her mouth.

"Fuck!" The coldness of the ice and the softness of the inside of her mouth was enough contrast to his overheated skin and hard cock to make him jerk violently upwards, his cock pushing more into her mouth, the head almost grazing her throat. She withdrew slowly with her cheeks hollowed to create a tight suction, her thumb and forefinger wrapped around his girth, pumping up and down where her mouth left off. With a loud pop, she released him and blew lightly along his length.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come."

"Already? But we've barely begun." She squeezed his balls firmly to alleviate some pressure, which earned her another loud groan, probably one of both pain and pleasure.

She continued her licking and sucking and pumping, slowly at first, but he was humping her mouth faster and faster, especially whenever she hummed against his cock. His balls were tightening and his cock was throbbing, telltale signs that he was going to come soon. She reached for the ice and pressed it on the base just above the perineum. He hissed from the sudden drop in temperature.

"Oh god, you're killing me here, babe." He panted, almost not able to talk coherently from the abrupt delay of his release.

"You have no idea." Her eyes twinkled with mirth.

Her lips closed over his and she slid her wetness along his cock. She continued to rock against him but never fully letting him inside her, every stroke massaged her clit with the head of his cock. As she released his mouth from the kiss, she took his cock and guided it into her entrance. She leaned back and pushed forward. A sharp hiss escaped her lips as he entered her completely.

He started pumping in and out as she moved up and down, their rhythm fast and frantic. Even bound and blindfolded, he was the one fucking her. To gain control, she leaned forward; her breasts pressed against his chest, and braced her hands on his shoulders, her sharp fingernails digging on his back. She began moving against him, drawing as much pleasure a she can with her clit grinding against his pubic bone. Her eyes rolled back from pleasure, her walls started to quiver and clamp down on his cock just as his balls tightened and his cock swelled.

His wrists were sore and his arms were screaming in agony from being bound, his back stinging from small fingernail shaped cuts but his the rest of his body was in carnal heaven. He felt his orgasm start from his pelvis, moving towards his balls then to the base of his cock. Just as he was about to explode, he felt a sharp sting on his neck. His impending orgasm collided with a crippling feeling washing down his body. Desperately, he tried to move his hips to create more friction and seek relief to no avail. He tried to tug on the bedpost with his arms and feet but his limbs were not cooperating.

He felt cold metal slicing against his collar bone – once, twice, thrice. He could feel the warmth of his blood exiting his body. Soft, warm lips trailed butterfly kisses from the wound up to his lips. Her tongue probed his lips open, and as soon as her tongue touched his, the distinctive coppery taste of blood coated his tongue.

His blindfold was tugged loose, his eyelids fluttering slowly to adjust to the brightness of the room. There she was straddling him, her lips coated with his blood, her right hand holding a scalpel also covered with his blood.

Her scalpel pierced the flesh below his sternum. His scream was stuck in his throat, his eyes dilated with fear as blood squirted from the cut. Little by little she increased the length of the incision until it was just above his navel. Afterwards, she started cutting along either side of his ribs, dissecting him like a frog. Objectively, he was fascinated by the fact that he hadn't passed out from the loss of blood but he could feel his heartbeat and breathing slowing down.

With a quick motion, she inserted her left hand into the cavity of his chest and located his heart, squeezing hard as his eyes widened in fear. His body jerked under her until little by little, she felt her heart stop in her hands.

She leaned into his ears and whispered, "Your heart is mine."