FFF Prompt - The Innocent

Word Length - 444 - I managed to hit the target exactly!
Required Word/Phrase - Ingénue (pronounced an-zhuh-noo) - Twice, even!
Forbidden Words - Mirror, Pasta, Doggie, Tutu - Avoided :)
25 bonus words - Share an experience that happened at a performance - passed on this
Extra Credit - Explain where her mother is (25 extra words) - passed on this one, too.

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Yup, it's Friday and time for another of Advizor's naughty Flash Fiction photo prompts! Check out the picture and requirements above, click on the link to his website, read and enjoy the stories, and then return! I'll wait.

All done? Okay!

I struggled with this picture. For some reason, the photo did little for me. Perhaps it's because it looks so static, so staged? I don't know, but I was coming up with some wild stuff. Everything from wax museums to automatons to androids... some of these were headless, even! Still, I persevered and returned to my fangirl roots. For those who've poked around this blog, you might guess the theme of this one before you hit the reveal at the bottom. What can I say? I'm a fangirl!

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La Fleur sat at the vanity, and put the finishing touches onto her makeup before the night’s festivities. The local theater was decked out for the annual masquerade ball, with lights and streamers and the crème of society dressed in their finest. The management established the event to help raise funds and seek potential patrons. The dancers used it as a way to find a few patrons of their own. She had her eye on one in particular – a handsome lord with a horse-faced, shrew of a wife and plenty of funds to provide her with a trinket or two for her services.

As she swiped some powder across her chin, the lights in the room flickered, then went out. Cool hands snaked around her waist and raised her onto her knees on the bench. As the unknown man flipped her starched crinoline up and over her waist, she fumbled for the lamp and flipped the switch.

“Am I all that you expected, my precious little ingénue?” His voice was supernal and she shivered at its beauty. She gazed at his reflection, and liked all that she saw. Her mysterious patron was dressed for the masquerade in a flawless tuxedo, with starched white shirt, perfectly tied bowtie, and elegant tails. A gleaming white mask covered all of his face except his intense amber eyes and full, kissable lips.

“Am I?” La Fleur countered as he stroked her bare ass. The dancer never wore undergarments. She found them stifling to her creativity as well as her purse. More men flocked to her dressing room for the glances she offered them during the show.

“Indubitably.” She gasped as he plunged his rigid cock to the hilt without further discourse. His cold hand rested on the small of her back as he fucked her with savage intensity. “Finish your makeup, little ingénue. You take the stage soon. I want you to dance to my music with my seed running down your thighs. I want you to sing my words after you have moaned my name.”

“Your music? Your words?” La Fleur moaned as her body tensed around his thrusting cock. Like the hand pressed to her lower back, it felt unusually cool, like a leather dildo after it’s been stored in the icebox. “But that’s ridiculous!”

“Why is that, my angel?” Her masked lover reached around and pinched her clit. She hit several impressive notes as she came.

“Because that would make you…” Her eyes widened as he pulled off his mask to reveal the mangled flesh beneath it.

“The Phantom of the Opera? Why, yes, Christine, it would.” Her screams masked his shout as he came.

FFF Prompt - Phone Lines

Advizor's Flash Fiction Friday!

Required Phrase = "Answer it"

Forbidden Words = Orgasm

Word Length = 661 (I ended at 660!)

Extra Credit = Tell us who's calling

Bonus Words = 50 if you tell us a phone sex confession (um.. I'm voting no on this one lol)

As always, read, enjoy, comment if you're so inclined, then follow the link above and read the rest!

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They met at the golf course, arguing over who got the last cart. He grudgingly offered to share, and she reluctantly agreed. The first five holes were played in silence. Neither caring enough about what was considered polite to want to be the first to give in. Then he missed a putt, said a few choice words, and she remarked upon his vulgarity. His response was biting, cruel, but she merely laughed. With a few choice phrases of her own, she let him know that he was a mere amateur in the world of cutting insults.

As they played the remainder of the eighteen holes, they compared curses, pejoratives, and golf swings. He conceded that she played pretty well… for a woman. She confessed that he was kinda handsome… for a useless CEO. They traded insults and telephone numbers.

On Hole Thirteen, she sliced her initial drive into the wooded rough with an appropriate amount of colorful phrases. While looking for the small white ball, she snapped a quick picture of her masturbating with the handle of her club. She sent it to him just as he stepped onto the tee box and giggled when his drive hooked hard.

The insults faded but the photographs grew. On Hole Fourteen, she received a video of him stroking his cock. On the way to Hole Sixteen, he almost drove them into a tree when she swallowed that same cock into her throat. She played Hole Seventeen topless; Eighteen completely nude.

She attacked him in the elevator, pressing him against the wall with savage kisses. A flick of her wrist dropped his straining dick into her hand. He braced his back against the wall when she climbed his body and impaled herself upon his waiting cock. Overcoming his shock quickly, he spun her around to pound into her tight pussy. She came just as the doors opened with a ding. A waiting young man gaped in amazement at the unexpected and erotic show. She slid from her lover’s arms, patted the young man’s blushing cheek and blew him a kiss as she sauntered down the hall.

Once they entered his hotel room, her handsome CEO became the aggressor. Buttons flew as he ripped off his clothing and tossed them in every direction. He scooped her into his arms and threw her onto his bed with a growl. She scraped her nails down his back until he pinned her hands to the bed. His thick cock invaded her eager pussy once more and pounded into her with lustful abandon.

The telephone’s shrill ringing threw off his rhythm and he groaned in frustration. She wrestled her hand free and teased his sweat-slick back with a light scraping of her nails.

“Answer it,” she whispered huskily. “I want to see if you can talk and fuck at the same time. Answer it. I dare you.”

In their eighteen holes of golf, he had never been able to resist a dare. With an erotic grind of his hips, he plucked the receiver from the cradle. “Hello? Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Volonin. I wasn't expecting your call.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, thrusting up so he couldn't pause while on the telephone. He nearly dropped the receiver on her head.

“Yes, sir. No, no, it’s fine, I’m just kind of busy right now.” She bit his nipple and grinned as he fought the moan that threatened to burst free. The head of the California mafia might be amused at his puppet CEO’s erotic distraction… or he might not. “Yeah, I just met her today, in fact. We've hit it off pretty well. How did you know?”

“Because he sent me,” she murmured as she slid the long dagger into his side. Her legs maintained their tight grip around his waist as the life slowly drained from his eyes. As he breathed his last, she shook with the power of her release.

Damn, she loved her job!

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I hope you enjoyed this bit of naughtiness. Drop me a line if you did (or didn't), then head over to Advizor's blog and check out the rest of this Friday's flashers!

FFF - July 5 - Independence Day

Key Word - Independence or Independence Day

Word Limit - 237

Forbidden Word - Fireworks

Extra Credit - Put the action on July 5th 

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Advizor has done it again, stirred a bit of evil in me with a provocative picture. No, no one dies this time, but it may not go the direction you think! I actually managed to hit all the notes - exact word count, both keywords, and the extra credit. *high fives* Subscribe to his site and feel free to join in next week! The more the merrier!

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She hung the dress on a tree limb, discarding it with as much care as he had discarded her. Few realized just how happy his desertion had made her. He had been her parents’ choice: the correct boyfriend, the proper spouse, the boring lover. In other words, he made her miserable. His stammering apologies took them by surprise; her joyful laughter and sincere wishes for his happiness only compounded their confusion. Free of him, free of their expectations, she decided to be free of her outer trappings as well. This was her Independence Day – July 5^th, the day she embraced her true self, instead of the woman her family wanted her to be.

She left a trail of silky lingerie to the tree that served as her wardrobe. The dress fluttered in the summer breeze while the wedding guests gaped at her nudity. She crooked a finger at an old lover, but didn’t wait to see if he would follow. She simply grabbed the bottle of champagne and a pair of glasses and started across the empty field.

Plopping onto the ground, the cool blades of grass tickled her bare skin. When she leaned against the fallen tree, the rough bark bit into her back. She savored the sensations as proof of her independence from her former, restrictive life. As the sun warmed her naked flesh, she heard the soft footsteps behind her.

Happy Independence Day, indeed!

FFF Prompt - Stratagem

It's that time again, boys and girls! Time for some naughty flash fiction fun! This week, Advizor54 brings us an interesting photo of a young, naked woman facing off against a well-dressed, perhaps slightly older man. Open the site in a new tab so you can trot over there once you're done here and read the other entries!

I decided not to go the normal routine (imagine that!), so the forbidden words were easily avoided. It did, however, make trouble for me using the keyword. I had to go back and make some changes to make it fit! Anyway, here's my small intro into the lives of Kira and her roommate, Paul.

Keyword = Stratagem Word Length = 700 (on the dot not including footnotes!)
Forbidden Words = Spy, Tuxedo
Bonus Points - Quote your favorite line (and link to the source in case we don't know it)

Quotes are in bold, keyword is in bold italics. 

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“Aren’t you going to at least get dressed?”

“What’s the point?” Kira shrugged as she climbed into the chair opposite her roommate, Paul. Her small breasts swayed with the slight movement, and the cool breeze from the air conditioner turned her nipples into firm points. She tucked her legs beneath her, sitting on her heels as she fished the olive from her martini. Popping it into her mouth, Kira propped her elbow onto the polished surface and rested her chin in her palm.

“Well, you’d look less like a… um, an escort or something, and more like my roommate!”

“An escort? You’re so old fashioned sometimes, Paul. I was going for the bad porno look!” She picked up one of the ivory chess pieces and twirled it in her fingers. “Besides, you’re the one who said I’ve been as bitchy as a cat in heat, lately.”

“You have, sweetie. Snappish and petulant don’t even begin to cover it.” He retrieved the white queen before she could slip it beneath the table, and replaced it on the board with an exasperated sigh.

“I can’t help it! Men get all squicky when they hear I have a male roommate, thinking I’m running around on my boyfriend or something. It’s been over a year since I’ve had something between my legs that didn’t run on batteries! (1)”

“Or electricity.” Paul smirked, checking his watch for the tenth time that evening.

“You have no room to talk, buster! I distinctly remember finding you enjoying an enthusiastic fucking from my hardy little machine.”

“Yes, you did, and your oral aid was most appreciated.”

When he winked, she hid her blush in her martini. She couldn't tell him the real reason for her lack of a boyfriend. She wasn't stupid enough to reveal her feelings for her very handsome, very attached, and very gay roommate. The day she’d found him, the machine pumping the lubed up dildo into his finely toned ass, Kira had been unable to resist swallowing down his impressive erection, remaining between his quivering thighs until he filled her mouth full of warm come. They rarely spoke of that day, but his taste, scent, and moans had fueled her fantasies ever since.

“Cool, my stratagem worked then! Anyway, back to my fuckbuddy. I see no point in pretending this is something it’s not. If we all know he’s here for a hookup, why make him shell out money for a nice dinner? Let’s just get to the fucking part and get it over with.”

“Kira.” Paul sighed, giving her one of his it’s time for a lecture looks. “Don’t you want to at least try to have a relationship? They’re a lot more fulfilling than these random throwaway fucks when you get too horny to live with.”

“That’s what I have you for, Paul.” She sipped her martini, smiling over the rim at her roommate. He was dressed for a night at the theater – black dinner jacket, white shirt, black bowtie – and looked impeccable. She had the sudden urge to muss his prefect hair or place a lipstick print on his crisp collar, just to make him a bit more human. “My last few so-called relationships turned out to be little more than just random hookups, just with a shit-ton more hassle. I’m just dispensing with the hassle.”

“What about love? Don’t you want more than just one random hookup after another?”

“I believe in love.” She drained her glass, uncoiling from the chair to walk gracefully to the sink. “Not just getting it, but giving it. I think that if you're able to love someone, even if they don't know it, even if they can't love you back, then it's worth it. (2)”

"Excellent."

Warm arms surrounded her waist from behind and pulled her against a familiar, firm chest. She fought tears as she brushed her fingers over the Pride Flag cufflinks. Another stepped between her and the sink, wrapping her into arms equally as familiar. Anthony, Paul’s boyfriend, kissed away her threatening tears, and then kissed her. Deeply. Paul’s hands moved from her waist to her breasts, cupping them as he whispered in her ear.

“You did know we were bi, right?”

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(1)    A paraphrase from the movie, Serenity, spoken by the character Kaylee Frye. Original wording is: Goin' on a year now I ain't had nothin' twixt my nethers weren't run on batteries! Since I paraphrased it, I used a second.

(2)     A quote from my most favorite movie of all time, Gosford Park. This quote is near the end, and is spoken by a tertiary character, Dorothy, a housemaid, to Mr. Meredith, a guest.

FFF Prompt - Peek-Peak

Keywords:  Peek/Peak (must use both)

Word Length:  200 (exactly 200 or spankings will be issued)

Forbidden words:   Chipotle, Asparagus, & Chilly

Bonus Words:  if you write two versions, you can make them 250 words each.

This weeks' prompt from Advizor is a bit nipply! Please head over to his blog and read the other crazy folks' submissions!

Title – Extra Credit

Word Count – Exactly 250 Words (extra 50 due to second version, below)

This was not what she expected. When the professor asked her to model for his art appreciation classes, she agreed because she needed the extra credit. Sure, she had modeled nude before. She had no problems with others seeing and admiring her body, but this went further than a classic repose on a fainting couch. She was gagged, blind-folded, and tied to a cushioned bench in front of a sweeping desert landscape. A large divider separated most of her body from the eager eyes of the students, but strategic cut-outs gave them a peek of her delectable valleys and curves.

The students were instructed to choose a view and write a comparison of textures: her trimmed mound versus a rolling tumbleweed; her pert breast, peppered with goosebumps from the AC and silhouetted against a jagged mountain peak; or the tumble of her ebony hair highlighting a crashing waterfall.

She shivered as she felt the appraising eyes of the students. Male or female, she knew they looked at her, stared even, and she could do nothing. She sighed in relief when they finally filed out of the room. As the door closed behind the last student, she felt warm hand trail up her bound legs and stroke her pussy. An involuntary moan escaped as he teased her clit; she arched her hips when his fingers slid in deep.

“The next class isn't for another hour and a half.” The professor’s warm breath teased her nipple. “Whatever shall we do until then?”

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Title – Gift Wrapped

Word Count – Exactly 250 Words (extra 50 due to second version, above)

This was one of the days that made him hate his job. On his desk was a shoebox, lined with a plastic bag, and wrapped in Christmas paper. Fucking Christmas paper! The sick bastard even included a cheery gift tag bearing his name and precinct, and a delicate red bow. It wasn't the box that made his stomach churn and his jaw clench; it was the “gift” inside: a skillfully carved woman’s breast and a postcard of some desert mountain peak enclosed in a zippered bag.

The back of the card contained a message for the detective and the family in a neat, precise hand. “Peek into her past; rummage through her life. She was not as she appeared; I am not what you think.” A woman’s handwriting, if he dared to hazard a guess. He would have to send it to forensics to be certain. It mocked the precinct in more ways than one, for they had focused on male suspects in the girl’s abduction, but had found little of her life beyond five years ago. He slammed his fist onto the desk with a growl. He fucking hated putting the victim on trial in order to find the perp.

Eight days later, the cadaver dogs hit on the scent and led them to the victim’s mutilated corpse. More than just the one breast had been removed. Beside her remains lay an older woman. Her mother, dead by her own hand and clutching the photographs of her daughter’s victims.

FFF Prompt - Apartment #6

Flash Fiction Challenge from Advizor54 Word Limit - 369 - I came in at 368!
Required Phrase - Bewildered
Forbidden Words - Knock, Lock(ed), Super
Extra Credit - Set the story during mid-day.
Bonus Words -
Tell us how she got the slipper (25 words)
Tell us about the neighborhood (25 words)

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She materialized inside the apartment complex, hiding her nature behind an illusion of humanity. As she made her way down the hall, her claws caught and tore the frayed carpet. With a glance at her feet, she growled in frustration and grabbed a pair of slippers from a shoe rack outside a nearby apartment. New to forays into the human world, she had yet to perfect the transformation into this form . Inevitably something forgot to change. This time, it was her feet. Slipping the paw-like appendages into her stolen shoes, she moved down the hall and towards apartment number six.

A few tentative raps summoned the one within, and a hungry smile curved her lips as he approached. Her wings threatened to burst free when the pure, healthy scent of the male resident assaulted her nose. An eye appeared in the viewer and she offered her best smile.

“I’ve gotten lost, sir. Could you show me where I am on this map?” Polite and helpful to a fault, the doomed man agreed. When the door swung into the apartment, she slipped inside before he could protest. “Such a delicious specimen,” she purred as the deadbolt clicked shut on its own.

“Y-y-y-you’re naked!” The man stammered, backing away as she stalked forward. His knees hit the sofa, and he fell onto the cushions with a whoof. She leapt onto his lap and licked his neck.

“So are you.” And he was. Magic was such a beautiful thing. It changed her form, removed clothing, and ensured her prey could not escape.

Kneeling between his legs, she captured his virgin cock in her mouth. He protested through grunts and moans of pleasure, but hardened almost instantly. He recited prayers as she straddled his lap, but met her every thrust. He begged forgiveness from his God, but took His name in vain as he filled her clutching pussy with his come. She took him many times that night, draining his life-force as she fucked him raw. His prayers lessened with each orgasm until he ceased reciting them entirely.

The succubus left at midnight, leaving her prey’s shriveled, naked husk on the sofa with a sated but bewildered smile on his face.

Solo Flight

Nulli's latest picture called to two different characters. The first is an existing character from There's a Fine Line, Alicia Johnston Simons. The other is a new character that's still forming in my head. While he simmers and stews, I'll post up the tiny short concerning Alicia. This takes place after both stories and all shorts, several months after the end of Fine Line.

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Characters:   Alicia Johnston Simons
World:            After the Reveal
Word Count:  370
Prompt:          Picture - Aerial view of Denver at night
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The city was beautiful up here. Quiet. Serene. The lights twinkled and danced in the city below. The wind blew through her hair and over her wings. Ever since the change, the temperature was ignored while the thin air was irrelevant. She was a perfect blend of demon and vampire. She was Alicia Simons. She was bennu.

An owl approached her on her right, curious about the large bird that intruded upon his territory. They soared the thermals together as he tried to classify her into known predators and prey. With a loud cry, he ceded the air to her. It had taken only a few moments for the great night hunter to recognize a superior predator. Alicia rendered the retreating bird a crisp salute, giggling when the gesture threw her slightly off balance and into a wobbly descent.

With powerful strokes, she regained her equilibrium and soared even higher above the sprawling metropolis. As she circled, she listened to the muted roar of automobiles, factories, and human bodies as they rushed along on their nightly routines. The occasional blast of a horn or rhythmic scream of a siren shattered the still night air, but otherwise, all was quiet. As much as she adored her vampire mate, Alicia savored these moments of introspection and solitude. It was at the height of a warm rise of air or the beneath the press of a powerful gust of wind that she found new wells of strength. Up here, above the noise that still hurt her sensitive ears, away from the bright lights that stung her eyes, up here, she questioned and wondered and reaffirmed all that was important to her.

Tucking her smoky wings tight against her body, she fell into a dive. The wind whistled between each crimson-tipped feather and she laughed as she pulled up and climbed the warm air of a man-made thermal. Alicia performed more acrobatics, practicing control over her recently acquired wings, until her shoulders ached but her soul flew free. She felt the loving caress of Blake’s tender mind-touch and knew he shared in her joy. Eager to return to him, she gave the city one final look, offered it her gratitude, and headed for home.

A New Path

Nulli's latest picture over on her website tempted me in two ways: I could either write about my favorite yummy elf, Lysavar, or my favorite precocious pixie, Sapphire. I bounced ideas in my head around working on my current project and settled on Lysavar. He's healed from the battle with General Malphas of the Seventh Circle, but is missing one major thing:

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Characters:    Lysavar Tinueth
World:            After the Reveal
Word Count:  395
Prompt:          Picture - A sword on a crimson cloth
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Lysavar folded the last item and placed it in the small bag with a sigh. He hadn’t packed for a trip since he had mastered dimensional pockets. After conquering all the intricacies of the most difficult incantation, he found himself back to utilizing the tools of the child, the commoner, the human. His magic, the singing power that bent to his will and fueled his greatest dreams, was gone. The greatest healers in the Fey Lands could not explain why, but he saw the look in their eyes: a mixture of pity and satisfaction. They promised research but he knew it would reveal nothing. His magic was gone; it was time to forge a new path.

With a final look around the elegant chamber, the handsome elf tied the flap closed and hefted the bundle onto his shoulder. The weight felt strange on his back, but was inconsequential compared to the weight upon his soul. He was Lysavar Tinueth, Royal Advisor to King Urúvion of Kedaunnor, the Arbiter of worlds and the King of all Elves. He was the High Shaman of the Kedaunnor Court. He was… nothing. Stiffening his spine against the useless self-pity, he tightened the straps that bit into his slender shoulders. He would find a new path.

Turning towards the door, Lysavar passed the case displaying his father’s sword. He ran his fingers along the flowing enchantment etched into the dwarven silver blade. As he lifted it from its velvet cushion, the twin fangs of the cross-guard snapped open in preparation for battle. Lysavar swung the blade in a wide arc, twirling it in an elegant circle and then returning it to a defensive stance. Sweat beaded his upper lip as the activity pulled on his freshly-healed wounds but he pushed the pain aside. Snatching up the scabbard, he slid it onto his belt and then sheathed the sword with a snap. Since he had left his own with the vampire, Blake Simons, during the battle with the Seventh Circle demon of the Infernal Plane, he needed some means of self-defense.

With his innate spark of mystical power absent since his recovery, the sword would become his new passion. He would not return until he had mastered its every nuance. Otherwise, he had nothing to offer the one he loved but himself.

And thus far, that had yet to be enough.

Going Home

Nulli's latest picture over on her website was one that, at first, didn't really inspire much of anything for me. Granted, I think I've lived down that road or at least traveled down it. American Beech trees are fairly prevalent in this area and lots of folks line their drives with them because their white trunks are pretty. So, while it was familiar, it really didn't strike any particular chord with me.

And then, last night as I'm fighting to stay asleep due to a horrible sinus headache, I realized that I'm not the only one who would have grown up with similar memories. I created Alicia and made her a southern girl from the same general area that I am. She would also have that same sense of home. Her mother, still living in the south, might even live at the end of one of those beech lined paths. And so the glimpse into Alicia's life began...

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Characters:    Blake and Alicia
World:            After the Reveal
Word Count:  256
Prompt:          Picture - A narrow path lined by beech trees
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Alicia fiddled with the strap of her purse as Blake drove along the narrow, deserted lane. The white trunks of the beech trees lined the road like silent, watchful sentries; their branches spread overhead to create a loose canopy, giving the bumpy road a tunnel-like atmosphere. As memories of the last time she’d seen her mother crowded into her mind, she felt the shiver race down her spine. She could almost feel the encroaching trunks and taunting shadows pressing against her, reminding her of a past that very nearly cost her everything.

“Are you going to be all right, beautiful?”

The soothing voice of her mate washed over her, banishing the hurtful memories and choking feeling. Glancing over, she caught the worry in his dark brown eyes and gave him a weak, but reassuring smile.

“I’ll be okay. I promised Daddy I’d check on her. I didn’t realize it’d dredge up the past quite so vividly.”

He brushed his fingers across her cheek and down her neck, lingering on the healed bite he’d given her just that morning. She shivered again, her smile growing more genuine at his gentle touch. He knew how sensitive she was after he bit her and that the slightest touch produced memories that were definitely inappropriate for a visit to her mother. She shook her head at his smug, unrepentant grin and returned her gaze to the path before them. The trees and shadows no longer intimidated her. Nothing could hurt her as long as her vampire was by her side.

The Temple

The latest of Nulli's Musings is a wonderful picture of a vivid green eye covered in either paint or clay. The peeling, cracked appearance called forth many a serpentine image from the writers. She was joined by a guest author whose story was absolutely amazing. Check it, and the rest of them, out and see what you think!

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Characters:    Lianna
World:            Unnamed (Fantasy)
Word Count:  309
Prompt:          Picture - A vibrant green eye with peeling skin/clay/paint
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Memories danced through her mind like dust in a sun beam – disjointed, meandering, skipping from one horrifying image to the next. In the excitement of exploration and the potential of making a new discovery, Lianna had dismissed the locals’ whispered tales of curses and an evil presence that guarded the treasure. This was her chance to prove she was as skilled as the men; as determined; as physically capable.

And she’d succeeded.

She’d found the temple nestled into the sheer cliff, hidden by vines and decades, if not centuries, of jungle growth. She’d chopped a path towards the cave mouth, heedless of remembered warnings and scattered, etched totems to beware. She’d stepped fearlessly into the darkness, led by her small lantern and a dream of finally succeeding at her chosen career.

And then it all went wrong.

A hidden slope, slick with moss and condensation, knocked her feet from beneath her. Lianna slid down the smooth rock with a shriek, losing her lamp to the infinite black that surrounded her. After seconds that felt like hours, she came to a gradual stop. Crawling on her hands and knees in an effort to retrieve her missing lamp, she heard the gentle sound of what might have been silk drifting over the stone. She felt a pinprick sting.

And awoke like this.

Trapped motionless, her body encased in hardened clay, only her eyes were able to move. The chamber, unlike the front part of the cavern, was carved into the rock and decorated with vibrant murals. Sconces every few feet held torches that cast dancing shadows upon her frozen body and illuminated the only other item in the room: an intricately carved stone altar. Even squinting, Lianna could not make out the images, only that they involved a restrained female and a large, serpentine creature.

And the gentle shushing sound returned.

The Chess Match

The second picture over on Nulli's website (yeah, I posted them out of order - sue me) was a pair of chess pieces. In my brilliant flash of inspiration and impatience to begin writing, I failed to look closely enough at the pieces to notice that they were, in fact, a pair of kings. Silly me. But that is why the story is written from the perspective of a lady in the role of White Bishop Two in a kinky match of living chess.

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Characters:    Melody
World:            Unnamed (Real)
Word Count:  893
Prompt:          Picture - Pair of chess pieces (that I really wanted to be bishops)
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Melody stood in her assigned square and fought the urge to just go home. The party had turned into so many others she’d attended with her friends hooking up with pretty hot guys while she babysat the purses and the drunks. True, she wasn’t the prettiest or the slimmest or wore the least amount of clothing. These factors combined with intense shyness usually sealed her fate as “Wallflower of the Month.” They also contributed to her rather reckless decision to broaden her horizons which led to her attending this extremely shocking party which, in turn, resulted in her standing in a sunny patch of grass marked off with chalk to resemble a chess board.

A really big chess board.

And she was naked.

Okay, so she wasn’t totally naked. She wore an intricate harness of white rope that kept her arms bound behind her back as well as a white hat to declare her position as White Bishop Two. Other than that, all of her assets were on full display. Several of Black Leader’s male chess pieces were taking stock of her assets in a manner that both disturbed and excited her.

Black Pawn Four captured White Pawn One and Melody gawked at how he celebrated winning the square. A quiet exchange, too soft for her to hear on the back row of the board, and White Pawn One knelt before the victorious Black Pawn Four and slurped his cock deep into her mouth. The male pawn grunted and thrust, clearly pleased to have won the square and her oral services, and shouted his victory to the sky. White Pawn One rose to her feet and walked off the board to clean up, shooting an evil glare at White Leader. He simply slapped her ass as she passed him.

More pieces were moved. More squares were won. When White Rook One captured Black Pawn Seven, his annoyed curse echoed around the board. Black Leader merely shrugged; pawns were expendable after all. An attendant brought a contraption over to White Rook One and strapped it over her hips. Melody’s eyes grew huge as the rather large dildo was slipped between Rook’s thighs. They grew even larger when the attendant secured an equally large one to the front. The rope harness was removed so White Rook could properly lube up the giant phallus. Surely she wasn’t going to… ? Holy fuck, she was!

A stand was rolled into the contested square and Black Pawn reluctantly knelt over it. White Rook dribbled lube over the Pawn’s muscular ass, letting it drip to his balls and off his soft cock. Unlike Black Pawn Four, this Pawn wasn’t as excited about his ‘reward.’ Melody stared as the rubber cock slowly disappeared into the Pawn’s well-lubed assed. She’d never seen anything like it and was shocked at how turned on she was getting. Black Pawn Seven’s curses and grunts soon became moans and pleas for more as White Rook fucked him for all she was worth. Melody was breathing heavy by the time both pieces cried out their pleasure and wondered which she’d prefer – to win a square or lose it?

More pieces were moved. More squares were won. Why did she come to this party again? Oh, yeah, for adventure. To break out of her shell. Well she was breaking out of something, all right. Watching the antics of the other pieces, she was both terrified and hornier than she’d ever been in her life. She’d never been one for casual sex, and could count her partners on one hand with fingers left over. The whole business had left her jaded and a lot happier with her vibrator and her imagination. But this? This stirred her in ways she’d never dreamt.

White Leader moved her several times and she managed to avoid the other squares. This proved to be as much of a disappointment as it was a relief. She still didn’t know what she’d do if she won or how far she was willing to go if she lost. Black Leader called for Black Bishop One to move and it wasn’t until the very naked and very aroused man stood before her that Melody realized she’d been well and truly caught. The opposing Bishop was unlike her previous partners – tall and fit and rather… large. Glancing up, she was caught in his pale blue eyes before they dropped to check out his prize. She could feel her blush burn her cheeks and heat her neck as she imagined his disappointment in winning such a piece. He was the kind of man who looked right through her at the clubs and the parties.

“The game is excessively rigged, you know,” he murmured softly so the others couldn’t hear. His large hands ghosted over her hair, her cheeks, her sensitive breasts. He toyed with the puckered tips as he confessed, “I asked White Leader to ensure I captured you.”

“Why? Did you lose a bet?” She cursed her traitorous body as her nipples tightened even more and every muscle strained to get closer to the handsome Bishop.

“Of course not. Who do you think arranged your invitation, my dear?” His lips curled into a smile and he pulled her into his arms. “The only question that remains is this: do you yield gracefully or must I claim my victory?”

Language of Flowers

The latest picture prompt over on Nulli's site was a single red tulip. Once upon a time, flowers had both meaning and their own language of love and romance which is where I obtained the title to the piece. A tulip's 'message' is the whispered phrase used by Elizabeth when she takes the flower from the vase.

This falls into the After the Reveal World anytime between Chapter 15 and Chapter 18.

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Characters:     Elizabeth Pierce, Johannes Hunsinger Pierce
World:            After the Reveal
Word Count:  402
Prompt:          Picture - Red Tulip
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Elizabeth slipped from the bed with the barest brush of her lips across her lover’s cheek. Their night had been long and satisfying and she didn’t wish to awaken her sleeping mate with her sunrise errand. Easing from the room, the petite vampire padded quietly towards the guest room down the hall. There, she took a long shower, shaving and grooming her lithe body to smooth, glistening perfection. Afterwards, her hair was dried, brushed until it shone, and styled in the manner of her youth – pinned to show off her elegant neck but with ringlets framing her lovely face. A light dusting of powder across her cheeks to highlight her flawless skin, a bit of mascara, and a crimson gloss over her lips completed her sparse makeup.

She dressed in her finest silk underwear, chocolate brown to match his eyes, and silky thigh high stockings. The corset was a challenge, but she’d planned this morning for days, and it took very little maneuvering to get the smooth satin garment cinched into place. The brushed silk dress slithered over her body like a lover; waves of midnight black draping across her curves and clinging to her hips and breasts. The vampire carried the patent black stilettos in her hand, careful of waking her sleeping mate, and stole down the stairs. She slipped them on once she’d closed the patio door behind her.

Upon a small table by the door, a single crystal vase held the elegant stem of a blood-red tulip. “As the redness of this flower,” Elizabeth whispered as she reverently plucked the flower from the vase, “I am on fire with love for thee.” She brushed the satiny petals against her lips as she turned towards the garden. In the center, a magnificent fountain splashed and gurgled happily in the growing light.

Kneeling before a gleaming brass plaque set into the stone foundation, the vampire bowed her head over the flower now clutched desperately to her breast. Her tears ran in crimson rivers down her cheeks to splash upon the damp stone and metal. As the sun’s rays lit the sky in an explosion of magnificent color, warm arms wrapped around her from behind and held her as she wept. With shaking hands and a broken sob, Elizabeth placed the bruised flower in front of the plaque.

“My Francisco, forever and always, I shall be on fire with love for thee.”

Royal Sentinel

Nulli Para Ora, a published author with Liquid Silver Books, started a new feature on her website and I have been enticed to participate. There, she posts a picture and asks for a short... something. It could be a poem, a few paragraphs, a haiku, whatever the pictures inspires one to write. After speaking with her, I've decided to post the shorts that connect into the After the Reveal World here as well. 

The picture prompt can be found HERE and is a single stick of burning incense. This short would fall any time after Chapter 15 of There's a Fine Line.

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Characters:     King Urúvion Lithsumé of Kedaunnor, unnamed elf
World:            After the Reveal
Word Count:  386
Prompt:          Picture - Stick of burning incense
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Urúvion watched the smoke rise from the thin stick of incense, mesmerized by its swirling, random pattern. As a small piece of ash fell to the table to join so many of its brethren, the King of Kings wondered whether it had really been placed here for the patient’s benefit or his own. The calming scent of Amber Thorn blossoms filled the luxurious chamber and some of the tension eased from his shoulders. He gazed at the wounded elf who lay, pale and still, upon the deep indigo blankets and added another round of prayers to those he had already whispered that day. The Matron of House Ealoren had done well with the healing; the rest was up to the Seldarine.

As the twin suns danced across the cerulean sky, the Arbiter warred with the decision he’d made all those centuries before. Had he been right in suppressing that which was granted by the gods as a blessing? Was he truly such a slave to duty and his people that he would relegate two souls to a lifetime of heartache? Gazing upon the patient’s beautiful face framed by a wealth of soft brown hair, he added those questions to the rest that he put towards the elven gods. If he had been wrong, if he had subjected them both to such loneliness without cause…

More ash fell to the table as one of the suns slipped beneath the blanket of the horizon. The shadows shifted, lengthened; food was brought, ignored, and removed as the elven king sat watch over the most important member of his kingdom.

“My mate,” he whispered with tears rolling down his cheeks. Saying it aloud made his heart ache all the more for the centuries they had been so close and yet so distant.

The questions he’d pondered when he first felt the stirrings of the mating pull still remained. Questions concerning his kingdom and its people. Questions for which he still had no answers. Now, there were even more, besides. Should he reveal the truth, would his mate punish him for his secrets? Would the one creature who held his heart crush that fragile organ beneath his heel and walk away? King Urúvion Lithsumé of Kedaunnor, the Arbiter, the King of Kings had no answers.

And the ash continued to fall…