• Fiction,  Flash Fiction Friday

    Snowy Woods

    I look out upon the expanse of white amidst the dusted trees. Newly fallen, the snow has dampened all sound. It’s an odd sensation, the complete silence in such a vast landscape. My cheeks burn with cold, but I can’t help stopping to take in the peace, tiny crystal flakes stinging my skin, melting into droplets that slide down my face. Atop my horse, I take note of how alone we are out here, and I am gripped by the urge to touch myself, to open myself to this quiet snowglobe of solitude. I imagine someone shaking us up and putting us down to watch the whirl of white fall…

  • Fiction,  Flash Fiction Friday

    A Stolen Moment

    I grip the front of his flannel shirt, the softness of the fabric juxtaposed against the solidity of his chest beneath, and push…hard. He falls back, bouncing a bit as he lands, his back thudding against bales stacked behind. Hastily, I pull my skirt up and brace myself against the cold winter air. Even in the barn, it’s so frigid I can see my breath, so I waste no time. He’s down, and I am on him, straddling him, grimacing as I give all my weight to the painful points of hay sticking out from the bale. Leaning into it, I gasp, and then settle, grabbing his plaid-covered shoulders to…

  • Fiction,  Flash Fiction Friday

    The Island Inside

    Light flares behind his eyelids, and the ground shakes, debris raining down like meteors. The explosions deafen him, muffling the sounds of battle. Senses overloaded, he folds in on himself, finding an island inside his mind. She is there, lying naked on the hot, white sand, her tan skin glistening in the sun. She is always there, when he closes his eyes like this, her round breasts heavy, perfect teardrops that fill his hands…nipples pressed, like beads, against his palms. She moans as he squeezes and presses hard against her, straddled above her, his weight suspended on contracted thighs. If he dies, he wants this to be his last thought.…

  • Flash Fiction Friday,  microfiction

    The Early Bird

    The sound of ripping fabric pulls me from sleep. Panic in pitch black, my eyes suddenly wide, yet unable to see. Breath held, pulse pounding. “Hold still.” Your strong, deep voice lends order to my confused senses, and my body instinctively falls in line. Another high-pitched tear, and then I feel the room’s cool whisper on my exposed skin. It was a lovely nightgown before now: lavender and transparent…soft cotton. You pull it from beneath me, the edge lace scratching the flesh beneath my thighs. So easily made naked, I lie beneath you, warm and ready. My legs spreading without request, I feel myself respond before you even enter, my…

  • Flash Fiction Friday,  microfiction


    The impossibly pale skin of her dimpled backside glowed blue-gray beneath the soft night light entering the bedroom window. It looked, for all the world, like the moon itself: irregularly-shaped pools of shadow swirling across its wide canvas. He lost himself in the colorless view, his fingers dancing across her cool skin. Imagining his fingers to be legs, their little feet leaving prints across the vast expanse of her cold dessert landscape, he visualized this tiny pioneer placing a flag at the rounded crest of her hip, claiming her fleshy territory for the country of his soul. She stirred minutely beneath his touch, her movements creating a subtle breeze. A…

  • Fiction,  Flash Fiction Friday


    The explosions cracked above and vibrated the ground. Light filled the darkly bruised sky and showered down like leaves. It was our job to keep them coming, to wow the crowd with layered patterns and color. Adam prepped the explosives; my team lit them and sent them heavenward, standing back to admire his vision just as much as the crowd. Like a symphony, we dazed them with intricate melodies of light and soul-pounding percussion. And while Adam mesmerized them, their necks craned, eyes dazzled, mouths agape in appreciative “oohs” and “aahs,” we shocked them back to the awareness of their bodies, pulsing the ground with pounding booms. I wondered how…

  • Fiction,  Flash Fiction Friday,  microfiction

    The Bridge

    It was the sound that caught my attention: the flutter of the shutter…that soft click that told me I’d been captured, my image forever caught and available for detailed inspection. Bent over the railing of the bridge, I’d been gazing at the water below, when the wind caught my skirt, whipping it upward. Tepid air, like ghostly fingers, grazing my bare skin, causing my muscles to tighten. At that moment, all I’d wanted was the sun between my legs and the breeze kissing me…there. Eyes closed to focus on the sensations, I’d licked my lips, and sighed. And then a succession of clicks startled me. Turning to track the sound,…

  • 100 word stories,  Fiction,  Flash Fiction Friday,  microfiction

    The Mute

    Gooseflesh blossomed, rising to meet the soft tickle of the feather he snaked down her back. Dipping the quill into ink, he wrote words he could not speak, dark lines of script tattooed across her flesh. She squirmed beneath the sharp point, making it difficult for him to get the words out. “I wish you’d put it where I could see it,” she said softly. But he kept scratching his pen down her spine, spilling secrets he could not say…silent confessions she could feel deep in her bones. Somewhere inside, she thought she could hear him whisper, I love you.

Are you 18 or older? This website contains material that is not suitable for readers under the age of 18. Please verify your age to view the content, or click "Exit" to leave. Content Warning: If you are sensitive to content referring to dominance and submission, please proceed with caution.