Sinful Sunday Week #3

Welcome back to Sinful Sunday! This week’s judge is Rafe B., our winner from last week!

Rafe is a not-very-mild-mannered IT professional by day, and weightlifting editor by night. He enjoys long drinks on the beach and long walks carrying heavy objects. This is a lie; he detests long walks. Photographs exist of him destroying a garage with his bare hands, and then holding kittens in those same hands. Be very afraid. He lives in Tampa with a destroyed garage and some kittens

And on to the prompt!

We can’t wait to see what you all come up with! If you’re unfamiliar with the Sinful Sunday contest rules, please check them out! Remember: the word minimum is 100, maximum 200, and don’t forget to include your word count and twitter handle! You have until midnight EST to get your flashfiction in! Come on and get a little sinful!

(By the way, I’m thinking of adding a sexy word prompt from now on. Please contact me and let me know if you think that would be a good extra inspiration? Thanks!)


  1. Second Hand Emotion

    Rosaria writhed in carnal sensory overload riding the wave of ever more powerful orgasms washing over her. This was the ticket! She’d needed this all week long and she wasn’t going to stop until she either passed out or the sun came up.

    She couldn’t even remember the name of the guy who was currently slamming the beejezus out of her taut young butt. Oh well. Not like she was planning to add him to her Christmas card list. He was hard, he was thick and he was enthusiastic. That took care of the social amenities to her.

    All conscious thought left her mind as the harsh kiss of the cuffs abraded her wrists and her stud chose that moment to grab a handful of her raven hair for balance. Rocking back and forth with increasing intensity, she felt the liquid gush of his release as he exploded deep inside of her.

    He’d barely slid from her depths when she snapped over her shoulder, “Nice ride, caballero. Send the next one in on your way out.”

    She slid onto her belly, humming a chorus of “What’s Love Got To Do With It?”, as she waited for her next sexual assailant.

  2. Ecstasy.

    I needed it, and he could give it to me. He didn’t ask my name, just guided me down a hall of doors. Some open, some closed, all furnished for anonymous moments like these. He found a room he wanted and pushed me inside. I smiled at the bare mattress illuminated by a lone light bulb overhead.

    No frills. Good. I didn’t need them tonight.

    Closing the door, he pulled his shirt over his head, baring a hard, lean chest.

    Damp heat flooded my panties.

    He gripped either side of my blouse and jerked. Plastic buttons flew as he stripped me. My bra followed. Hard fingers worked my nipples to the edge of pain, sending my mind soaring. Handcuffs snapped around my wrists and he bent me over the mattress, kicking my legs wide and hiking my skirt.
    His hand slipped beneath my panties, finding the soaking proof of my arousal.

    “Very nice.”

    Two fingers worked my cunt, spreading my juices. The handcuffs, the prone position—he grabbed my hair and slammed his cock deep, one fast, sure stroke.

    “Mmm. Such a sweet pussy.”

    I screamed as I came and he chuckled.

    “Oh baby, I’m keeping you all night.”

    200 words

  3. Pain. Pleasure. A blending of the two.

    Katherine could no longer tell the difference as her Master pulled her hair and shoved deep.

    “Tell me you want it, kitten.”

    He wanted words now? She tried to mold her tongue into coherent sounds.

    “Tell me, or I stop.”

    The delicious motions stilled and he left her suspended in lust and frustration.


    “Tell me, kitten, or I shall return to my chess game.”

    She squeezed her inner muscles to entice him to move again, but his hand tightened in her hair and he pulled her head further back. “You must speak for what you want or you will get nothing.”

    His hard, hot flesh flexed within her, but she knew he had better control and stamina than she did. He could hold out indefinitely, no matter what teasing and taunting efforts she made.

    “I want…”

    “Yes?” He remained still, his strength never waning.

    “I want it harder, Master.”

    “What do you want harder, kitten? You must be specific.”

    “I want you to pull my hair and fuck me harder.”

    “Good girl.”

    Those were the last words he offered her as he pounded into her. Pain, pleasure, and an explosion of light.

    200 words

  4. Naughty Good
    By Lisa McCourt Hollar

    She wore her naughty outfit, the one that made her look like a Catholic school girl.

    “I’ve been bad,” she whispered in his ear, as she walked past him into the bedroom.

    It was just a mattress on the floor. Rebekah wanted to experience something wild, for once. Her husband certainly wasn’t doing it for her anymore. His dick had remained limp the last time he’d tried, forcing Rebekah to finish herself off… again.

    “He’s a bear in bed,” her friend Pamela said, giving her his number. “His rates are high, but worth it.

    Now, handcuffed and on all fours, she agreed.

    “Oh, God, that’s it,” she sighed, as he slid into her. Gary had never filled her the way he did.

    He slapped her ass, making her tingle. Bucking under him, Rebekah moaned, feeling her orgasm coming.

    “That’s it baby, I’ve been bad. Spank me.”

    He smacked her again, and then again. She screamed her ecstasy. When he pulled her hair back, Rebekah shouted her delight. Gary had never brought her to this point.

    With her neck exposed, Vincent leaned forward, sinking his teeth into her tender flesh. She was wrong… she wasn’t bad; she was very, very good.

    Word Count: 200

  5. Ginger Green (@Gingerandgreen) says:

    The author stared at the illustration in dismay. When she’d written the words they had flowed effortlessly, their erotic beauty titillating her latent desires, as well as those of her imaginary audience.

    Or so she thought.

    The boy was as she described – taught; controlled; handsome, in a rough and ready way; deeply engaged in his pleasure. His hand gripped the girl’s hair just as the protagonist’s would have. In her mind, she’d felt the tug on her roots, experienced the electric flow from her scalp all the way down her spine… Why didn’t it look as good in the visual as it felt in her mind?

    The girl was all wrong. Except, she wasn’t. Her eye colour, hair colour, little tartan skirt – even her facial expression – were conjured directly from the author’s imagination. The handcuffs held her loosely, a prop in a game of delicious fuckery, attached to naught and easily broken. The girl was in no danger from the intense young man taking her from behind.

    In her story, the pretense at giving up control was sexy, thrilling, liberating.

    The picture was just tawdry, and it made her feel ever so slightly ashamed.

    194 words by @Gingerandgreen

  6. They had both digressed from their paths of virtue in a way that neither of them would have expected.

    Growing up in a catholic boarding school, they had learned to suppress their urges. Stolen glances, sweaty hands, and frantic rubbing on crumpled sheets.

    Now, ten years later, Leon finally had Tara where he wanted her: shoved over a dirty mattress, bound and on his cock. They were both covered in sweat and all he could hear was the slamming of their flesh and their gasps.

    Putting all his force into the thrusts, he held on to her hair, drawing her even closer to his body.

    This was it, this was what he needed. Shoving his hard dick into her wet folds, pounding into her. Getting them as far away from their past as he could.

    As he grabbed her arse, he could feel her contract around him. She was coming. Hard. The little cross around his neck swung when he slammed into her with force.

    ‘Now. Take it now’ he gasped as he could feel the come draw up from his balls. And she did, held by his hand in her hair.

    If only Mother Louisa knew…

    word count: 198

  7. Switch
    By Shari Slade

    He had her now, her body bowed beneath him on a bare mattress, his filthy girl. Balls deep, grinding against her hot little ass, then watching his slick cock pound her greedy cunt.

    Ms. Perfect, with her skirt hiked up and her mouth open, dangling handcuffs from her index finger. “Fuck me, please.” She’d wanted to say it, so he made her.

    She moaned as he snapped her head back, fingers tangled in silky hair. He knew that tingle. His hair hadn’t always been so short. The primal sound, throaty and raw, spurred him on. She wanted this.

    Bucking against him, she fought for the release she needed so desperately.

    Smack. Hard and sharp, blood rushing to the surface. Her ass was made for palm prints. He gripped her hip, to hold her still, to remind her he was in charge this time.

    Her body went soft, liquid, fingers releasing their grip on the bed. Everything reduced to her cunt, clenching his cock, rippling as her orgasm wrenched him to release.

    Fuck. She still owned him. Thank God.

    Smiling over her shoulder, she milked the last drop of cum. “Happy Anniversary, Baby.”

    Word Count 192

  8. Lot of “stiff” competition here. Get it? Stiff? OK, sorry…

    “A Kitten’s Training;” @J_M_Blackman, 200 words.

    Kendrick had always been his sex kitten. No, his hellcat: all claws and teeth with the damned sexiest snarl. But she needed training.

    Spankings made her roll her eyes, pout her lips. Paddling made her squirm, but there was still little inclination to obey when he was done. And she needed to obey; he needed her to.

    So, he asked for advice. And got it.

    There was a sweet spot downtown that he could take her to, in the industrial section, of course, tucked behind the bland warehouses where people could bring their wayward lovers for just the kind of training that Kendrick needed.

    He took her blindfolded and in handcuffs, let her totter down the stone steps in her heels, the dungeon’s halls echoing with the thud of flesh, the screams of ecstasy.

    There was a special room just for them.

    So, he worked her from her trembling breasts to her tender thighs: flogging, caning, paddling. And she counted every touch of love until her voice her hoarse and her body was limp.

    And it was only then, when he thought her simply exhausted, that his hellcat asked to be taken, to be filled, to be rewarded: training complete.

  9. Sarah Aisling says:

    “Enjoy the Show”

    Katie’s fragile hands are cuffed, head thrown back in apparent ecstasy as another bare-chested guy pounds into her. She licks her glossy red lips and simpers as he hikes her schoolgirlish plaid skirt higher, watching himself disappear inside her over and over.

    Same old.

    I pull the cord and the heavy velvet drapes swish closed, blotting out the scene. The rough grunts and fake moans continue, but another sound captures my attention.

    “I’m new at this,” a trembling voice breathes.

    Parting the curtain over another observation window, I watch Regina lower her lids demurely as yet another faceless man slides a satin strap off her shoulder, replacing it with his lips.

    “I’ll be gentle,” he promises.

    Stripping my shirt off, I settle back on the couch and slip two finger inside my dampening panties as I watch Regina work her “innocent” magic. Panting breaths push between my lips and I slide a hand over my taut stomach, tweaking a nipple just hard enough to . . . oh.

    I let out an involuntary cry, and Regina winks, licking her lips over the thrusting man’s shoulder. She may be playing him now, but she’ll be playing with me later.

    200 WIP words

  10. Leigh Matthews says:

    199 Words

    “Miss this, slut?”

    His fingers dug into her scalp, the vicious tug on her hair sent shockwaves of pain-laced pleasure down her spine. She arched her back, ready to take what he would require.

    A sharp slap landed on her thigh. “I asked you a question.”

    “Yes, Sir,” she panted, pushing back toward him. “Please.”

    He flexed his hips, teasing her with his erection. “Tell me why a worthless slut like you deserves my cock.”

    She bit back the groan of not having him inside her, but he had every right to ask. Especially after she’d left him.

    Especially after she’d begged to come back.

    “No reason but one, Sir.”

    The jerk on her hair pulled her head back, forced her to meet his eyes. “Tell me.”

    It wasn’t often he allowed her such a privilege and she drank in the sight of his cool stare.

    “I need to be your slut, Sir. There is no me without you.”

    She had tried for months, but found her life empty without him. She needed his control. Craved his dominance.

    He released her hair and her head dropped. “Good answer, slut.”

    When he thrust into her, she knew she was home.

  11. And that’s time! Thanks for all these yummy entries today! I loved them all. Now it’s up to Rafe to pick a winner!

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