Microfiction Monday (oh yeah, baby, it's back!): Stiletto

Fear.

Logically, I know that this has nothing to do with her hurting me, and everything to do with fear. Logically, I'm perfectly safe here.

When you're kneeling bound and blindfolded in the middle of the floor, though, logic can just go fuck itself. My body, not my logical mind, rules my emotions right now, and my body is afraid.

I'm sweating and shivering at the same time—big, convulsive tremors that seem to shake the whole room. A noise behind me, the soft metallic click that I know so well, tells me that she's just drawn the stiletto that she keeps in the sheath on her wrist. A wave of terror—and an equally powerful rush of arousal—courses through me, so unopposable that I'm shocked into absolute stillness. Heart in my throat, I strain for any sound that will tell me where she is.

I bask in the agony of not knowing when I'll feel her next touch, or the cool menace of the blade in her hand. Will she press the flat of that magnificent blade to my lips to kiss? Cut my bonds with it? My clothes? Or will this be the one time, the first time, that its razor-sharp edge parts flesh instead of fabric?

Entirely at her mercy, I wonder how long she can keep me from knowing where she is, or what she intends to do.

Forever, I hope. This is my favourite part.

What a Summer!

Wow, I have been a very, very bad blogger this past season.

Let me try and catch you up.

My brain liquification took far longer than planned because of some dosage issues with the medications causing the mind-goo in the first place. Eventually, though, the fog started to lift and I even started to write (a bit!) again, mostly for the very very special cause of Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon.

...and then shit happened, as the old saying goes.  This summer was one of much family turmoil in many shapes and sizes finished off by a much-needed vacation in the internets-less wilderness.

But for now at least I am back, and actually occasionally writing in complete and gramatically correct sentences (can you tell that my brain was still partly gooey in the first round of the marathon? Bah, sentence structure is just for old fogies, right?)

My long list of family emergencies began just before round three of the marathon, when I had to very regretfully bow out. Coming up next, though, just for you dear readers, is the story that would have been entry three if things had been less chaotic.  I hope you enjoy!

-Mildly-less-mind-muddled Mad