Flash Fiction Friday, The Bath…119 words

He’d no idea where her inner Domme came from, but He’d play it out her way. For now. Give her a little leeway, see where it ran to. She’d sent him into the bathroom, to lay in the water she’d drawn, scented lightly with some exotic, intoxicating scent.

She came into the tub, the coy smile on her face fair warning as she slipped down onto him. Piercing deeply into her body his cock was  enveloped.

In warmth, he lay back into the water, feeling the dual wetness, against his back, and surrounding his shaft. This put a new spin on good clean fun, was his last coherent thought before she began riding him, making waves, and him, come.

thanks Panser for an inspiring picture! exactly at the word limit, tho i did consider going over, just to earn the spanking! If YOU want to join the FFF fun, go visit Panser’s site….there are many different writers who have presented their own take on this picture and you’ll enjoy reading them…Panser has the full list!

go. read. enjoy. (short smut is still *good* smut!)

Glow: Flash Fiction Friday

Thanks to sephani for hostessing this week. FFF is the creation of Spanky, where a photo captures a sexy moment…and we writers get to imagineer the story. Go to sephi’s blog “Turn the Paige” (it’s in the blogroll on the right!) for the complete list of this weeks authors and see all the different views a photo can create…nilla

He had a thing for latex and leather. This day, latex ruled. He zipped her into the seductive body suit, pulling the tight sleeves just so, fitting it to her tight body, drawing it in, admiring how it sluiced down her body, except for her gorgeous tits. Free, full, luscious fruits, he adored how they were highlighted by the  slickness of the black garment. For her legs, clear latex stockings. And the heels, oh Gods the heels. Tall, impossibly tall, she had complained to him.

“It’s okay. You won’t be walking in them” he responded, with a sly wink. She blushed.

Posed in the window, guilded by the rosy glow of sunset, she was his latex kitten, waking for play.

FFF the Corset 75 words.

She’d just bought this new corset last week, found at one of those second-hand stores that had become so popular recently. Soft old cotton, juxtaposed with the hard stays that boosted her tits up to penthouse standards.

He used a new whip which shredded her corset rather quickly. 

“What a delicious package to unwrap!”, He had exclaimed. 

 As He revealed each luscious inch of flesh his smile grew wider. What a Merry Christmas it was!

FFF The Gift

The first note was on the front door.

Please come in Master, and you’ll find a package awaiting you on the table.

He entered the foyer, and found the merrily wrapped package. Inside, a single silver key. He turned it in his hand, but wasn’t sure what this key went to. A tag ran down the long edge of the key, and on it was hand-printed the word “kitchen”.  He smiled. One of her games, then. Very well, he would indulge her. It had been awhile since she’d shown this initiative, and it was always intriguing how her devious mind worked.

In the kitchen was a power drink beside a cup. She knew he abhorred drinking directly from bottles. As he poured the last of the drink into the glass, he saw another note on the bottom of the bottle.  It read simply “microwave”.

Taking the drink and sipping as he crossed the kitchen, he opened the microwave. Inside lay a smaller key..the one to the handcuffs he favored. A prettily stamped tag was attached to the key by a silver thread.  The tag read “garage, Master!”

He admired her crafting abilities. And her crafty way in keeping his attention. His cock began to twitch. She was up to something. And if the cuffs were involved…well…he knew how that would end up.

Exiting the kitchen door, he took the 3 steps to the walkway in a single leap, then strode to the garage door. The curtain was drawn across inside, and a posty note was centered in the glass. It had holly leaves stenciled around it, and in the center it read “Merry Christmas, Master”.

He opened the door slowly, and there they were. The convertible that he’d inherited from his dad this spring…fully restored! ….and her.

Blindfolded, naked, and cuffed to the steering wheel,  dark hair curling fetchingly around her.  As he approached,  moved beyond words at her magnificent gifts, he saw one last note. It was on a ribbon around her neck and read “Drive Me”.

He planned to do exactly that.

FFF week 16 The Touch

Her eyes closed tight at his command. Arms reaching, holding the brass headboard. He held her with words, not rope.  Her submission left him breathless,  hard as stone. 

Match to wick, candle to liquid, liquid to skin, skin to fire, fire to liquid. Slick fluid sliding from silken lips, sweat gleaming.  Flesh slick against flesh. Hard. Soft.   Slaps,  bites.   Lips fused, delving deeply into dark moist caverns.  Moans circled them like smoke rings, invisible in the darkness.

Gasping, yearning, stretching, seeking. Cock and cunt, breast and teeth, ass and hand. Joining, separating, joining again. Lust dance, life dance, music of the world, swelling, swelling to crescendo then ….. silence.

Silence, broken by a touch.

FFF 12/4 The Trip

He’d called her from work. Told her about the emergency trip to Houston. She was quiet on the phone. They had planned a long play weekend, and he knew how she had looked forward to it. Truth to tell, so had he. It’ d been a long while since they’d had extended time to play.

He asked her to pack his large bag, and he’d swing by the  house to grab it on his way to the airport. As he pulled into the drive, the house was dark, silent. One light alone  shone from the upstairs back corner window. She was in their bedroom. Quietly he came through the front door, looking for the her and the  bag.

That was odd. She was usually so good about following his directions. He went to the kitchen, grabbed a soda, chugging half of it as he came back through the foyer. He put his hand on the newel post, listening.


From down the street, the faint sounds of the neighborhood, but inside, silence. He frowned. Something must be amiss. She was always ready for him, waiting at the door. He  went up the stairs, slowly, quietly. And nearly fell over the opened suitcase as he entered their room.

She lay, curled, sleeping, waiting. A note on the bed was folded, his name on the front. Inside were two words:  Take Me.

He smiled, tucking the note in his pocket. Thumbed open his flipfone and called the office. Explained a family emergency, and delegated the travel to another. As he turned to look at his sleeping beauty, her eyes opened.

He would indeed take her.