Un-feel

Friday Flash #10 and Masturbation Monday #25

Friday Flash Prompt #11 Happy New Year

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Masturbation Monday Prompt Week 123

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A new year, a new start.

At least that what I told myself.

But I could travel the world,

New York, London, Paris,

and never escape.

I let you inside my head and now I can’t get rid of you.

I wish I could un-feel,

the touch of your fingers on my skin.

I wish I could un-remember,

the feel of your hands on my body.

I wish I didn’t think about you holding me every night I go to sleep.

I wish I didn’t think about you fucking me every morning.

I don’t want the snapshots and flashbacks in my head.

A flurry of images.

Bodies, sweat, saliva and semen,

Mouths and hands,

cock and cunt,

tits and arse

I don’t want my body remembering,

how it felt,

to kneel for you,

to submit to you,

to surrender to you.

To willingly give you,

whatever you wanted.

To willingly take,

whatever you chose to give.

But I let you inside my head…

More Friday Flash here.

And more Masturbation Monday here.

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My Obsession

Friday Flash #9 and Masturbation Monday #24

It’s been a while since I flashed the lovely Leonora 🙂

This the prompt for October.

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Love is love, is lust, is obsession,

intertwined.

Strength and weakness

combine,

to take

what is given freely.

Skin on skin,

rough hands,

soft lips,

hard cock.

The rope,

that twists and binds,

the belt,

that bites and stings.

I fall in love,

a little bit more,

every time.

 

More Friday Flash here.

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and more Masturbation Monday here.

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Please Ring For Service

Friday Flash #5

I am as ever thrilled to present you with a brand-new Friday Flash prompt! There is always a story behind a photograph, but I want you to tell me yours…

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This is something a little different to my usual writing, my first piece of fan-fiction, which owes more than a little nod to The Handmaid’s Tale by the brilliant Margaret Atwood, published in 1985. If you haven’t read it I would highly recommend it.

Another novel I was thinking about was East of Ealing by Robert Rankin, which was published in 1992, and in typical Rankin style he explores the idea of what happens when everyone has been tattooed with a barcode, these are scanned instead of using real money. And of course trouble-makers can be flagged in the system.

In today’s society, with our ever- increasing reliance on technology, surveillance and security fears, I sometimes wonder how easily you could suddenly find yourself with no money, a non-person, cut off from those who you thought were friends, too scared to be seen helping you in case they find themselves under suspicion?  Big Brother is watching you.

This story is set in the future of the dystopian society from the Handmaid’s Tale. I would have preferred to have a few more words, sometimes 500 isn’t enough 😀

Born to Serve.

She was one of the first. One of that first generation in the after times when the number of baby girls born far exceeded expectations, far exceeded the number needed for reproduction.

Fifty were chosen, some, for one reason or another, hadn’t made it through the training process, she didn’t know what had happened to them.

By the end of the eighteen years there were just twenty of them left. Highly trained, their only purpose in life was to serve, to do whatever was required, without complaint. She knew that hers was the biggest house. Ten girls, the other two houses had only five each, but then her house was in the capital city.

She was grateful for her position, grateful also that she had been assigned one of the attic rooms, at least she had natural light, not the dim half-light of the basement rooms.

She sat on the edge of her narrow single bed, waiting. Today was day one of a new week, they served for six days, the seventh was for spiritual rest and contemplation. They had been taught that it hadn’t always been that way. In the before, people had spent all their days working, losing touch with themselves. This lack had led to the bad times, no wonder then, as the Aunts taught, it had been called Sin-day.

Trained to wait and trained to serve, she had also been trained to be proud of what she did, and to know that one day she too would be an Aunt and to train new servers. She and the others would have the advantage of first-hand knowledge, to not have to rely on just the old fashioned training films and handbooks.

One of the activities on the seventh day was to go to the library and pick a new manual. Unlike many others they were allowed, encouraged even, to read, to continue their training. This week she had chosen one with lots of colour pictures in it, she had found them very useful and instructive, although sometimes she preferred the thicker books that only contained words. Then she could allow her imagination free-rein. As she waited she flicked through the manual on her bed, the heat rising in her stomach, entranced by the images, as her fingers unconsciously traced the small scar on her stomach, the scar from the operation which meant she would never be a Handmaid, the scar that meant she had only one purpose in life, to serve. As the buzzer sounded and she looked up at the numbered board to see which room she had to go to she closed the ancient manual on the photos of the naked bodies contorted around each other.

More Friday Flash here.

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Possibilities

Friday Flash #4

This month’s prompt – Typewriter.

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She uses the old typewriter for the same reason she still prefers to write in a notebook, for the same reason she would rather read a book than watch a movie (although there are exceptions to this rule).

The extra care and effort involved is an antidote to the instant gratification that seems to have permeated every facet of life.

The need to concentrate and to think about every move, the texture and sensations, the feel of the thick, cream paper beneath her fingertips, so much more satisfying than a cold, hard smartphone screen.

The world of possibilities as she inserts the paper into the platen and adjusts it. She doesn’t type quickly, she prefers to take her time, enjoying the extra pressure needed to use the keys, the sound of the words being formed on the paper, the small ding as she reaches the end of a line and she enjoys the fact that she has to move the paper herself.

She thinks about those who will never have the pure pleasure of creating in this way, taking the time to think about and savour each beautiful word as it is created. Those who rely on spellcheck and being able to instantly erase anything, the ability to delete instantly and not remember.

How sad to have no memories.

More Friday Flash here.

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Mouse

Masturbation Monday #19 and Friday Flash #3

She’d always been Mouse, ever since school, scurrying around in the background. Even now, she still thought of herself as Mouse. She still couldn’t actually believe she’d done what she’d done. As soon as the poster had gone up in the cocktail bar below her apartment she’d known she had to go. She rarely went out, and when she did she stayed in the background, one drink and then back home to her little mousehole.

‘You know he’s done this for you?’ one of the barmaids had said a few days ago, asking her if she was going to go. The one thing people did know about her was her love for Art Deco, silent movies and all things 20’s, her tiny apartment was filled with the treasures she’d managed to find.

The thought scared her and excited her at the same time. Her experience of men and sex was almost non-existent. After she’d showered, as she lay on her bed in her underwear she thought about him. He’d always been kind, polite, never pushing after the first time he’d asked out and she’d refused. Her hands slid over her body, not for the first time imaging his hands touching her instead. She closed her eyes and imagined it was his hand holding her breast, his fingers squeezing her nipple, making her gasp. His hand between her legs, exploring her wetness, his thumb gliding over her clit. It was his name she called out as she came. She looked over at the dress she’d bought and smiled. She was tired of being Mouse, tired of being alone, she wanted some excitement in her life. She decided against showering again and slid the dress over her head, loving the feel of it at she smoothed it over her body. Loving the feel of the sticky wetness between her legs as she brushed out her new sleek bob. A quick slick of deep red lipstick and she was ready, slipping the lipstick into her bag she took one last look at herself in the mirror. ‘Bye bye Mouse.’ She whispered and headed out the door.

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Boat Trip

Masturbation Monday, Horny Hour and Friday Flash!

I’m quite pleased with this one. My first story involving two guys, and I managed to hit all three prompts!

‘How did I let you talk me into this?’ Nessa said when they were alone in their cabin. ‘I know you want to get in his pants but you have to drag me along too?’ Nessa didn’t mind him fucking other people, but the closest she’d been to watching him had been a couple of months ago when he’d persuaded her to go to a seedy porn theatre and she’d stood beside him in the toilet cubicle as some random guy sucked his cock through a glory hole.

‘He asked to meet you, he keeps asking. I can’t make any more excuses. It’s only two days, be nice, please? I’ll make it up to you. And it’s not like that, sure I’d like to fuck him but I don’t think he’s interested.’

‘Yeah right, he had a damn hard on by the time he’d finished hugging you.’ She’d felt it as he’d pulled her in for a hug too. Mark kissed her long and hard, leaving her wet and breathless. ‘Can’t we just stay down here for a while?’

‘No, we can’t. I don’t think Paul would be very happy if we spent the whole weekend in here.’ He led her back on deck.

She tried to make conversation, but a lot of it was about their work, the size of the yacht, which was huge and where they were going. In the end she just sat sipping at a glass of wine, the sun was starting to give her a headache and the motion of the yacht wasn’t helping either. ‘I’m sorry, she said, standing up. ‘I’m not feeling too good. I think I’ll go and lie down for a while.’

She woke up a couple of hours later, her headache had gone. She got up and went to find Mark, she couldn’t believe he hadn’t come down to check on her. As she wandered along the hallway she could hear the splash of water and the low murmur of voices. She came to the bathroom, the door was open. The two men were in the shower, soaping each other and she watched as Paul slid his hand up and down his own cock at the same time as Mark’s. They rubbed up against each other and as Paul pushed Mark down onto his knees he saw Nessa standing there. He gave her a wolfish grin as he grabbed Mark’s head and forced his cock into his mouth. As she felt herself grow wet Nessa thought that maybe this weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all.

More Masturbation Monday here.

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Friday Flash

 

The Perfect Outfit

Friday Flash #1

Hosted by the divine F. Leonora, photo courtesy of the lovely Big Miss Naughty. I was really hoping to be able to contribute to this. I made it, just!   😀

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She likes browsing online, so much easier to find what you’re looking for, especially here. Living somewhere fifty miles from the nearest major town, a hundred and fifty from the nearest Ann Summers shop can make life somewhat difficult when you’re looking for that special something. Not that she knows exactly what she wants, just that she’ll know when she sees it.

Thinking back to how things used to be, before the internet came along. At least she’d been living in London. Not that things were much better then. Any shopping for certain items would have involved a visit to some seedy back street adult store, she’d walked past enough of them. Not that there had been a vast amount of choice either, especially when it came to the toys. Ridiculously large, hard plastic dicks were what she remembered. Maybe things hadn’t been that bad but she’d never really had a reason to buy things like that. Maybe it would have been different if they’d met back then, before her life turned to shit, back then when she’d had a life, when she still had her dreams.

Sometimes they talk about it, if they’d met then, what would their lives have been like. But she doesn’t think things would have worked, the fire and heat between them would have destroyed them both, it’s as much as she can deal with now sometimes. She can’t resist him, his touch, his voice, she would willingly do almost anything for him. Almost. It scares her to think of what he could have made her do.

She goes back to her browsing, page after page, toys, accessories, rope, underwear, corsets. Nothing catches her eye, until, oh yes, she thinks Sir would like that. She knows she will. It’s something she’d often thought about, there used to be adverts in the back pages of newspapers for them. When she was younger they’d made her giggle, but also triggered the heat in her belly, between her legs. The thought of wearing something that left nothing to the imagination.

A black fishnet bodystocking.

 

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