Sinful Sunday Week # 19

Welcome to another Sinful Sunday!  This week’s judge is last week’s winner, ShariSlade!

Shari Slade writes erotic romance about the transformative power of passion and the duality of man. Yes, she knows this is just a fancy way of saying smut. Currently living out her happily ever after on the East Coast, when she isn’t writing, she’s most likely found with her nose in a book (flipping to the dirty bits) or on twitter.

If you’re unfamiliar with the Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction contest rules, please check them out! You must use both the photo prompt and word prompt in some way. The  minimum is 100, maximum 200, and don’t forget to include your word count and twitter handle!

Word prompt:


1. To seduce from chastity ; to lead away from virtue or excellence; to corrupt morally; to corrupt by sensuality. Synonyms: abuse ; bastardize; bestialize; betray; brutalize; debase; defile; deflower ; demoralize; fornicate ; fraternize ; go bad ; go to hell ; intrigue; inveigle; lead astray; live in the gutter ; lure; make unclean; pervert ; pollute ; ravish ; ruin; seduce; smirch; subvert; tempt; violate; vitiate; warp.

2. To seduce a person into sexual promiscuity or prostitution.

3. To deflower a virgin . See deflower for synonyms.

Photo prompt:

Get those steamy thoughts going! You have until midnight EST to get your flash fiction in!


  1. He didn’t even take off his clothes when he touched me, fondled me, fucked me.

    “How bad was I?” His moist breath on my neck, still heaving from our quick romp.

    “Not bad at all.” One small lie for the pride of the man who succumbed to my ceaseless seduction. Ever since he said he was saving himself for the right woman I was determined to win that particular prize. Debauchery at its finest. “Think you could go again?”

    He lifts his head and I can feel his stare. The silence is heavy, thick and dark, but maybe that’s the weight of my guilt. I look at the face of my lover. What started as a game on my part has me questioning the kind of person I am. Who would do this?

    The wicked smile on his face stopped my runaway thoughts.

    “What are you smiling about?”

    “You.” Mirth filled his eyes. “I knew telling you I was saving myself would get you into my bed faster than anything I could do or say.”

    I had no words for his deception.

    “Yes, baby,” he murmured taking off his shirt like he meant business, “I’m ready to go again.”

    Word Count 199

  2. I am small.

    His heat surrounds my naked skin. His arms are tight around my body. His breath is warm as he kisses the side of my face repeatedly. I hide in his chest, wanting to disappear inside his body; wanting to run smoothly down his veins, pumping life to his heart.

    “I’ve got you.” He whispers and his voice sends shivers down my spine. “He won’t hurt you again. I’m here.” He assures me like he’s been doing the past few hours.

    He found me in the street, lying in the cold hard ground after a faceless monster defiled me. He cleaned my wounds. He kissed away my tears. He collected the pieces of the girl I used to be to make me whole again.

    His presence alone is enough to make me strong. The gentleness and the sweetness he uses to take care of me are my undoing. He touches me not with his hands, but with his heart and soul.

    “Let me make it better.” He begs.

    When I nod, he stands up and takes me to his bed, where I should’ve been all along.

    I am his.

    191 words.

  3. Today my instructions were to be ready for master beside his chair when he arrived home from work. This led to a day full of anticipation and arousal for me…all day long, every thought was consumed by him; even more so than usual.

    I vacuumed and fantasized about serving him on my knees while he sat in the chair; I could almost feel his hard length sliding down my throat.

    Folding laundry, I imagined him bending me over his lap and spanking me until my ass was warm and red, then using his fingers to give me release.

    Prepping for dinner led to more debauched thoughts…me crawling, following him to the playroom, where he tied me to the wall, flogged and fucked me so hard that the restraints on my arms were the only thing keeping me upright.

    5:00, came finally. I was waiting, naked, kneeling beside his chair, skin flushed with arousal. He recognized my mood and need as soon as he saw my body. He sat down in the chair pulled me into his arms; made me tell him every thought, every fantasy I had from today, and he would choose which one to fulfill…

    197 words

  4. Sam Overton says:

    His strong hands glide over me, feeling every inch of my bare body, his calloused skin rubbing against my soft flesh. I nuzzle my head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his heavenly scent. A mix of cinnamon and something that reminds me of melted chocolate. We both know that I want this, but fear consumes my body, making me shake slightly. I nervously bite my bottom lip, the pain of my teeth pinching my lip distracting me from my future.
    “Everything is going to be okay,” he breathes into my ear.
    He continues to cradle me in his muscular arms, and I stare at his muscular body. His beautiful pectorals and rippling abs threatening to burst against his black button-up shirt. I can feel his erection against my body and I know that he is ready to take me. Here, on this bed. Slowly he lets one of his hands slide down to the sensitive spot in between my legs, and I close my eyes as pleasure erupts through my body. I’ve never been touched like that before. He slips one of his long fingers deep inside me, making me moan.
    “Everything is going to be okay.”
    Words: 200 exactly
    Twitter: darklybeautiful

  5. It’s where I go when I can’t face the world: your arms around me, my head ducked under your chin, your breath warm in my hair. My eyes close and I’m there, and it gives me one more layer—armor when life gets a little bit too tough.

    You always strip my clothes off when you pull me into your lap. I should feel vulnerable and exposed, and I do, but it’s peaceful, too. Intimate.


    I can’t imagine feeling any safer than I do right here. Safe in my vulnerability, because you’re there.

    “Breathe, little girl.” You tell me to relax, but it only makes me cling more. To this place that’s my alcove, my harbor in the storm. I know I shouldn’t want to be here, shouldn’t close my eyes and make it so, so real, but I can’t let it go.

    I won’t.

    No one knows the things you would sacrifice for me. Or the filthy things you would say, the way you’d debauch me when you fuck me like I want to be fucked.

    And used.

    And owned.

    When the proof of our lust runs down my thighs, and I’m a mess of wet and whining and need.

    And then you tell me the thing I already know:

    “You are mine,” you say. “Even if only in our minds.”

    I look at the photo you are looking at too, on a computer screen hundreds of miles away. And I know nothing could be more true.

    249 ineligible words

  6. There was no fresher eighteen than Jinx.
    She was smooth, infinite contradiction: willfully defiant, with an aching need to please; smart but not wise; an innocent glowing with imminent sin.
    She was at once a new thing and exactly as she had always been.
    Weeks of demure smiles had led to a timid friendship that had led to cups of tea that had led to borrowed books that had led to whisper-light strawberry-lip-balm kisses, and those had led to this: the salacious debauchery crystallizing in my gut since the first time i saw her.
    Too unsure of my control, i had asked her to undress herself while i watched. Pigeon-toed, she obeyed, folding her arms across her body when she was done, like Eve in the garden.
    “Come here. Let me touch you.”
    My voice was a burning ghost.
    She crossed the room on bare, compliant feet, and laid herself sweetly in my arms.
    “Like this?”
    Her warmth, shameless and shy, was irresistible. My hands buzzed as i inhaled her skin, fingers digging to get her closer, bring her deeper into my hold.
    She clung to me, hiding her face in my shirt, humming a wordless plea.
    “Just like this.”

    200 words

  7. antonio angelo says:

    Two months ago he had smiled at her at the mall.

    Awe my precious child of course I love you I want you to be happy to have nice things. You are not like the other girls; yes of course I have fucked them for I must know if they have what it takes to earn.

    His latest words echoed through her head, how could he do this, she had left home for him. He had money, charm paid attention to her when no one else did, sure she knew she was pretty but he had treated her as a woman he was older mature a man. She hadn’t really paid attention or thought much about where his money came from all she knew was that he had it he didn’t have an ebt card like everyone else in her life, he had cash a car, nice clothes and bought nice ones for her even before she had kissed him.

    Now she lay in a bed stewing in debauchery it had started with him she gave herself willingly and though it hurt he seemed so sweet and caring, and then his friend came he offered her up like a piece of meat. He still held her hand and said it was necessary he wiped her tears as the third and fourth stranger shared her body. She hadn’t really consented but she never said no, she was too scared and embarrassed and hurt and he simply smiled.

    yea i suck at rules. 248 or so Not eligible

  8. antonio angelo says:

    She is so precious an hour ago she was hungry and scared at a bus terminal. She fell into my arms. It is not luck, I know what to look for. She accepted my meal, I told her I was in town on business and had a room.

    She is no virgin, this is not debauchery she touches me with skilled hands and her clothes fall away. I pick her up and carry her to the bed, she acts the lamb but I sense more. I set her down admiring the beauty of her nakedness, she arouses me with subtle wanting movements and my erection is set free with one tug of my Levis. We begin to fuck my jeans are caught between us rubbing and soaking up her wetness the buttons catch and pull on hair intertwined. Nails dig as she pulls me in, her body throbbing her moans turn to growls and I feel my flesh tear under her nails I pull back in pain, ecstasy my blood runs I look down into her eyes she is no lamb, she bears fangs that will tear out my throat and I give it willingly as I cum into eternity.
    200 words

  9. “Hello?” Who the hell is calling at this hour?

    “Hi, baby, it’s me.”

    My heart speeds up. I sit up, suddenly very awake.

    “Hi. What’s going on? I haven’t heard from you in a few months.”

    “Nothing much. I don’t feel good. Can you come get me?”

    “Are you alone?”

    “Yeah. I don’t remember his name, but he’s not here anymore.” Her voice sounds low and fuzzy, her words drawn out— God knows what she’s high on.

    “Where are you?”

    “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

    Mad? No. Heartbroken? Yes.

    “No, I’m not mad. But I need you to tell me where you are.”

    I hear muffled sounds as she puts down the phone and moves about the room. A minute later, she picks up again.

    “The sign says Super 8. I see a highway, but I don’t know which one.” She giggles.

    I know where she is. It’s the same motel I’ve picked her up from several times before.

    “Just stay put. I’m on my way.”

    Forty-five minutes later, I knock on the door of Room 12. “Hey, it’s me.”

    She doesn’t answer. I turn the knob; it’s unlocked, so I walk in.

    She’s naked, lying on the bed in a fetal position. I sit down next to her and stroke her hair. She opens her eyes and struggles to focus. When she recognizes me, she reaches out.

    “You came.”

    “I told you I would.”

    “You’re so good to me. I’m done this time, I promise. I’ll change. I’ll stay.”

    “I know, sweetheart, I know.” I scoop her into my lap and cradle her, rock her back and forth.

    I want to believe her. I want her to break away from this life she was seduced into.

    I love her. I miss her.

    Three days later, she’s gone.

    Totally decimated the word count @300. Not even sure how sinful it is either, but there you have it. 🙂

  10. His arms around her were safe, comforting. He held her close, so close that she felt every contour of his body. And if she hadn’t been as confused and lost as she was now, she might have marveled at the way his clothes against her naked skin seemed to make everything hypersensitive.

    He’d been gentle, just like he promised. She’d been so scared, so scared to give in, to let go of her fear and let him touch her. But he took his time, and hers, to show her what it could be like, too.

    She never knew she could actually feel anything when she was being touched. Didn’t know what it was like to come apart under someone else’s caress.

    Knew, deep down, that only he would ever be able to draw such a reaction from her body, opening her up until she bloomed, until her core was ready to receive him in the most intimate of embraces.

    She snuggled closer, feeling oddly lonely in the aftermath even though he was holding her.

    In response, he tightened his embrace, pressing a kiss to her crown.

    “I’m pleased with you kitten, very pleased.”

    If she could, she would have purred.

    200 words

  11. He wants me naked. Standing here, stripped bare in so many ways, I wonder at my compliance. Modesty was both shroud and unfailing sanctity for years. Now vows of eternal chastity lie at my feet, buried under the habit I shed like an ill-fitting skin.

    The air is cool on my flesh, a soft ablution tempering the heat of impending debauchery. Voices rise and fall outside of sight. The sounds of men are foreign to my formerly sequestered ears; the wicked promise of what awaits me.

    I shiver, exhilaration tightening my nipples, throbbing like a heartbeat between my legs. He stands behind me, fingertips trailing my spine.

    “So lovely,” he praises, inciting hubris and lust with merely a look. Lucifer is a handsome devil. My dark angel, my beautiful corrupter. Divinity holds no quarter under his influence.

    He lifts me, moving us to the bed, cradling my sacrificial innocence in his lap.

    “Ready?” he asks. At my nod the curtains part, the stage of my deflowering revealed to dozens of hungry, paying eyes. I bow willingly to this sublime state of sin, held safe in his arms.

    Bride of Christ no more.

    192 words

  12. Emmanuelle Nathan says:

    Her eyes are wide. It’s clear that his question has thrown her.

    “Why?” she whispers, her words almost lost in the falling snow around them.

    It reminds him of the first time he saw her; skittish-looking and very new to the scene. He thought she would bolt but, to his surprise, she had stayed and even accepted his invitation to a private room. Under the agreement he had made with her friend, they had thirty minutes. He hadn’t wasted time, telling her to strip, turn around and bend over.

    She’d hesitated.

    He had simply waited for her to do as he asked before continuing to outline the debauched things he would do to coax out her pleasure. All the while he had enjoyed watching evidence of her arousal drip down her thigh.

    After ten minutes he had gathered her in his lap, and held her tightly as she initially squirmed. Only when she settled had he given her what she wanted.

    After twenty minutes he made her redress, sans underwear.

    “Why?” Those same brown eyes cautious, wary but nonetheless excited.

    “Because this is what you need.”

    The same is still true now. However, this time she must own to it.

    200 words

  13. Gingerandgreen says:

    Debauch, debase, defile – this is the language my conscience has spoken since our tryst. Why haven’t you called me, Sweetheart? Why don’t you take my calls?

    I’ve always loved you, from the days of you toddling in diapers, a halo of ringlets framing your mischief. I listened to your dad bemoan your fire for twenty years; I counselled him with softness, could you tell?

    You came to me – a private audience, a locked hotel room, a place of safety, or so I thought. You didn’t ask, but you wanted. No-one ever seduced me before. I never gave another woman that power.

    You stripped as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Laid yourself in my arms, my little darling, my baby girl. Your flesh was ripe and firm, and your lips so swollen, so open. When I filled you, you smiled like a girl home for the holidays. I made you come. If you give me nothing else in life, you gave me that. Your face was exquisite. You were everything.

    Bless, bequeath, benediction – this is the language my heart longs for. Call me, Angel. I’m begging you.

    194 words by @Gingerandgreen

  14. I flew down the stairs and out the door. I couldn’t get away fast enough. I didn’t want him, I didn’t want his hands or his lips or his eyes on any part of me. It was wrong, he was wrong.

    In my car, I couldn’t drive fast enough. Despite the snow hitting my windshield, I knew where I was going. I didn’t need to see.

    I saw you sitting behind your desk. Your shirt and tie, sleeves rolled up to your elbows. I saw you through the glass panel of the door correcting papers. I didn’t knock.

    When you looked up I was standing next to you. I didn’t say a word. You took off your glasses and rubbed your eyes.
    Your breath escaped with words “Lizzy go home.”

    I barely heard them.

    I stood in front of you shaking.

    You stood and walked to the black board and with a piece of chalk wrote “DEBAUCH”.

    Turning to look at me, your eyes so heavy, so tired, “Say it.”

    I looked at you as a tear ran down my cheek. “Debauch.” I whisper.

    Your voice so soft, commanding my attention. “I can’t hear you. Tell me again.”

    I say it. It hurt. It still does. I hate it. It’s an ugly word.

    “What does it mean, Lizzy? Tell me.”

    I walk to you and take the chalk from your hand. I can feel your eyes follow my body. I can feel so much.

    I write slowly, in big letters: To deflower, seduce, ravish, lure from innocence. All the pretty ways I can think to define it.

    Your warm hands hold my shoulders and spin me around. I can feel your eyes. I can feel your breath.

    “Not yet, Lizzy.”

    I pull into your driveway. It’s been a year and a half since I’ve seen you. I’m not sure what to expect. I’m not sure of anything, only one thing. Nothing has changed.

    You open the door before I can knock. Your shirt’s untucked, your feet are bare. Your eyes are naked.

    You pull me in and close the door behind me.

    I stand next to you, not saying a word. There are no words to be spoken.

    You take off my coat. You kneel down and pull off my boots. You stand, running your hands up my ribs, taking my shirt up and over my head. My leggings are easy after that.

    I stand before you, shaking.

    You pick me up and walk to the sofa. Cradling me in your arms, I feel your fingers in my flesh. Holding me. Holding everything.

    There are no words. There is one word.

    You exhale “Finally.”

    444 words. I blew that, but I like it. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

  15. chicklette says:

    She’s so fragile in my hands, this little bird-girl, this soft bundle of girl in my lap. Clinging to me and with my face in her hair, breathing in that sweet scent, how can I deny her? When she came to me in the small skirt with the white blouse, the word ‘daddy’ on her pink lips, my first instinct was to chuckle and send her away, tell her we could play games later. But then she pulled away the clothes and climbed onto my lap, and the papers on my drafting table tumbled, because this is what she needs – my mouth on her skin, my fingers inside of her, coaxing her to that moment when she forgets everything except the smell of my skin. How good I make her feel. How I’m the one that can shatter her world into a thousand tiny pieces, and that I am the man who will always put them back together again. Only for her. It’s always only for her.

    167 words. 🙂

  16. Deflowered. Used. Damaged.

    I feel so dirty, huddled in the corner of the unfamiliar shower stall. The hot water ran out long ago, and icy fingers sting my rubbed-raw skin until numbness spreads.

    My mind triggers off rapid-fire snapshots of what they did to me. Taunting, pinching, slapping—until Drake stepped in.

    He’s here, turning off the taps and laying out a fluffy white towel. “Join me when you’re ready.”

    I enter the bedroom, standing before him. His dark, appreciating eyes strip me naked, and I let the towel slip to the floor.

    “Beautiful.” Drake slides his fingers along my curves. “Come.” He opens his arms, and I willingly curl into his embrace. The soft caress of his expensive clothing soothes my ravaged skin. He cradles me like a child for hours, asking nothing in return.

    “Look at me, pet.”

    I lift my head, gazing into his hypnotic eyes.

    “If you wish, you can be mine. Nobody touches what belongs to me. I’d expect your full dedication of course.”

    I bow my head and sell my soul to the Devil. “Yes.”

    He smiles craftily.

    I’ll drink Drake’s Kool-aid if it keeps the others away, and he knows it.

    200 #WIP500 words

  17. Broken Vows
    By Lisa McCourt Hollar

    She stood before him, naked. Liam didn’t know what to say… his best friend’s daughter. He had often thought about her, his lust causing him to feel shame. Slowly he put his book down. She shivered, the chill causing her nipples to grow taut.

    “Today is my birthday. I’m eighteen. You don’t have to pretend anymore that you don’t notice me.”

    “Caroline, you are still just a child… I can’t… my vow.”

    Straddling him, she reached for his zipper, releasing his cock.

    “Shhhh, you want this… so do I.” She slipped to the floor. Kneeling before him, she took him into her mouth, bobbing her head back and forth with skilled experience. Twisting his fingers into her hair, he wondered who she’d been practicing with.

    When he was spent he held her like he had when she’d been a child. Only she wasn’t a child anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. She slipped her hand between his legs, arousing him once again. God forgive him, he wanted to ravage her.

    “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her breath hot on his neck.

    Guilt ridden, Liam tore his eyes from the table next to them and his clerical collar. “For…?”

    “Debauching you.”

    Word Count: 200

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