Sinful Sunday Week # 30

Welcome back to Sinful Sunday! I can’t believe it’s been 30 weeks of sin already. Just so you all know, I am at a conference this weekend, so I might not be able to tweet out your entries in a timely matter. I still love you all, though!

This week’s judge is last week’s winner, Violet Lyte!


Sinful Sunday #flashfiction week 30 judge
Violet Lyte prefers tentacles and kink over snuggles and romance. When she’s not fantasizing about time travel and macabre she spends her time being Super Mom. With the hope that every bad girl gets her dues, she works hard at being naughty.


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


Word Prompt:


1. The vagina. Defined by Captain Francis Grose in his Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1811): ‘ The private-parts of a woman : perhaps from the Spanish quemar, to burn. (Cambridge) A piece’s furbelow.’  ETYMOLOGY: Possibly from cwm, a Celtic word for a valley or cleft.

2. A woman regarded solely as a sex-object or partner.

3. A woman regarded as sexually promiscuous. See playgirl for synonyms.

 *If you use one of the synonyms, note which one at the bottom of your entry, please!


Photo prompt:

Sinful Sunday #flashfiction week 30 prompt


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


  1. Antonio Angelo says:

    “You are quite the Quim.”
    “Vagina, pussy, whore.”
    “Are you always so eloquent?”
    “Do you always stand around parties in nothing but a garter.”
    ‘When they pay me enough.”
    “How much is enough?”
    “It doesn’t matter I have been paid for the entire evening.”
    “So they just pay you to stand around do you actually fuck the guests?”
    “I am certain I will fuck a guest or two before the evenings over.”
    “So you are a whore?”
    “If I wasn’t I probably wouldn’t be talking to you.”
    “You don’t find me attractive.”
    “not particularly no.”
    “Well fuck off then, cunt.”
    “Thank you sir, I hope you have a great evening.”
    An older man laughs approaching young Jim “Did you just strike out with a whore?”
    “I wouldn’t fuck a whore.”
    “Perhaps you would like to fuck my wife.”
    “Christina? I would think about it.”
    “She wouldn’t fuck you though.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because you are rude to whores and Christina loves whores.”
    “I see that,she is talking to the one that just blew me off.”
    “I was hoping she would, oh there she is motioning me over, sorry slugger looks like Christina and the whore are mine tonight.”

    198 words

  2. Kristine says:

    My professional name is Quim. I’m a working girl, servicing men in the upper echelon of society. Those men who value discretion and polish in their whore. It’s funny how even those supposedly knowledgeable men generally miss the irony of my name.

    Right now, one of those men sits across from me, watching as I pose shamelessly against the wall for him, wearing only lingerie and stilettos.

    Soon, I’ll move across the cavernous white room and he’ll guide me to my knees. He’ll push his cock between my lips and I’ll trace every ridge and vein with my tongue as he fucks my mouth, working himself down my throat. He’ll demand that I rub my clit as he takes me, that I spread my wetness around, readying myself for when he decides to fuck me.

    When he’s ready, he’ll pull me to my feet and bend me over the back of the beautiful white leather lounge his wife bought, his hand flat between my shoulder blades. He’ll hold me down as he plunges deep inside, his mind focused solely on the place where his cock enters my cleft.

    He’s nothing if not predictable. They’re all predictable.

    I am just quim.

    200 words

  3. AnnaLund2011 says:


    I direct the whole scene from over here, leaning against the wall. The music is soothing, one of my favorite oldies, the one where I can change the wording slightly, to fit me like a glove.

    I am in control, in charge, and I am all-powerful. I know my worth.

    He watches, while pawing at himself, and he won’t be able to keep it in his pants for very much longer.

    I love that I do that to him.

    In mere moments, his hands will be on me, over me, in me, finding all the right places. He knows that when he hits the right spot, he must keep going until.

    He has learned so proficiently, listened to my every cue, listened to every order I’ve ever barked at him; he obeys every sigh and moan.

    He shall be rewarded.

    I nod.

    And I am slammed up against the wall, his breath hot on my neck, as he lifts me up and pounds into me.

    I taste the victory on my lips. I have all the power, and the words keep singing to me,

    “Come all without, come all within,
    You’ll not see nothing like the Mighty Quim.”


    Word count: 198
    Twitter handle: @AnnaLund2011

  4. Thimbles says:

    She’s nervous. Waiting for the moment he sees her.

    The scrape of key in lock. The front door’s creaky swing. The jangle of pockets emptying.

    He walks right by her. Flops onto the couch. “What the fuck is this?”

    She frowns, looks down. She wonders where she went wrong, why she’s not enough.

    Anger and resentment prickle her spine, straightening it. She thinks about shoving her heel through the plasterboard, piercing the wall behind her as easily as he does her heart, leaving dust and destruction.

    Instead, she ignores him. Fingers moving between her legs, she closes her eyes. Lets him wonder who she sees as her breath stutters and her skin grows slick.

    He mutters the usual curses, calling her a whore, a slut, a quim. She’s heard them all before. She’s grown so tired of them, thrown at her like darts. She decided, tonight, to play the part.

    Head tipped back, she circles her fingers, pinches a nipple. She’s close.

    She peeks.

    Eyes squeezed shut, mouth twisted as though in pain, he thrusts into his own hand.

    Now, she understands.

    He doesn’t hate her. He hates himself for wanting her.

    She comes with a gasp and a smile.

    @shellisthimbles 200 words

  5. She takes a breath, and is surprised when it shudders in anticipation. After all this time, she thought she would be used to it. But she is not, and for that it is all the more delightful.

    Her skin is sensitive from the care she took while dressing; her silk stockings hugging her legs, the high heeled shoes forcing her feet into a delicate arch. Apart from this, she is naked.

    This morning, he’d told her what he wanted his quim to wear. How he expected her to behave once his friends came over.

    She can hear their voices now, anticipation like static electricity in the air. Only a slight gasp escapes her when a hand touches her skin, and then another. Not her Master’s, she knows. She senses his presence mere feet away. Behind her blindfolded eyes, she imagines he is touching himself.

    Her head falls back as she gives in. She feels unfamiliar hands explore her skin, feels the gazes of foreign eyes burn on her body, feels foreign tongues invading her. She is taken by strange cocks, and she comes again and again.

    Afterwards, exhausted, she lies in his arms.

    “Good girl,” her Master murmurs.

    She smiles.

    200 words

  6. melfin80 says:

    I stood against the wall as he instructed. He walked into the room, and to my surprise sat in a chair across from me.

    “I want to see your quim.”

    My head lowered as confusion filled my eyes. What was he talking about? I smoothed my hands down my sides to stall while I tried to think of what he meant. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see his fingers begin to strum impatiently against his thigh. My heart began to pound with unease as I recalled the last time I spoke without permission. I knew I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. The belt around his waist left stripes across my skin from that.

    I raised my head and looked over at him, revealing my inner turmoil. His gaze softened.

    “Your pussy, Pet. I want to see it. I want you to play with it for me.”

    He pointed to the chair opposite him. “Crawl.”

    I lowered myself to the ground and moved slowly towards him; watching him. Feeling my arousal build again as I exaggerated the movement in my hips creating friction with each shift. My heart was no longer the only thing pounding.

    200 words

  7. MarchHare5 says:

    I hadn’t requested company, but I waved the woman over with two fingers.

    She approached slowly, exaggerating the sway of her hips. She wore nothing but stockings, garters, and heels, leaving everything of importance on display.

    Long legs, trim waist, natural tits, plump lips I could picture sliding along my cock. So far, I was pleased.

    “Turn around and bend over.”

    She pirouetted, her legs twisting at the ankles, then leaned forward until I was staring at her bare pussy.

    I considered myself an expert on female genitalia, a connoisseur of cunt.

    This was not one of the finer specimens.

    No doubt she knew her craft, but I wanted something tighter, something that hadn’t yet had all the innocence leached out of it.

    I preferred to do that myself.

    “Tell your master to send me something with a lot less mileage on it.”

    She stiffened, but disdain chased away any concern for her welfare. I smacked her ass in dismissal.

    “Get out of here, you quim.”

    She threw me a look of confusion before retreating with more speed and less grace than a few moments ago.

    If my host had any sense, the next one would be a virgin.

    Word count: 199
    Twitter: @3Hare5

  8. “I would grab him by the horns and break his fucking neck if he called me that, god or no god.” I slid my foot up the wall and glared at him across the room, running my hands over the top of my garters to ease some of the tension that I could feel building in my thighs. It’s one thing to channel frustration into lust; it’s something else entirely to be too infuriated to fuck, and this guy was rapidly working himself into the latter corner.

    He didn’t back down, but he did fast forward with an insouciant smirk.

    “Hulk smash, beautiful.”

    Afterward, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like I’d been pounded into the floor, and could only lie there, gasping weakly. But I was definitely not mewling.


    (for keyword context: , and for the ending: )

  9. She’s too demure to admit it, but she’s uncomfortable.

    Nothing she owns is black or spiked or indelicate.

    Love’s a baby, not a hustler.

    But, it’s her birthday.

    She’s still underage, but she wants to show him.

    She can be like them.

    Anything for him.

    In nothing but brand new suggestion and his watch, the oversized weight around her wrist she’s promised to return when he forgets she has it, she waits.

    Forbidden butterflies ruffle shy desire at eight after nine.

    The elevator down the hall chimes.

    The heavy second hand ticks against her tender pulse.

    His key turns, and she lifts never-so-shadowed lids as a man she’s always known opens the door.

    His eyes send the supple wings her longing is made of, fluttering faster.

    He loosens his tie as he settles.

    She pours three fingers from his decanter into a glass, offering it with her eyes and all else.

    But this isn’t her.

    And he knows.

    She’s just as much a girl playing dress-up as she was a few short years ago.

    “Come here, little baby quim,” her father’s best friend beckons with adoring love. “Take off all that black and show me my favorite colour.”

    199 words

  10. Fr333bird says:

    “Get that gorgeous arse over here.”

    He sprawls on the chair, all languid grace. He looks utterly in control, but I know the hands in his lap are hiding his arousal. The curl of his bare toes betray him.

    “Impatient, darling?” I watch his eyes as I cross the room, my heels clicking on the tile. His gaze drops down to my breasts, my belly, the pale skin of my thighs above my stocking-tops.

    “Yes.” He licks his lips and sits up as I stand before him, feet apart.

    He grips my hips and leans in. His eyes meet mine as his tongue flickers, hot and wet between my legs. “So good.” His voice is muffled, almost lost against my skin. “You taste so fucking good. I could get lost in you.”

    “Feel free.”

    He reaches a hand between my thighs, his thumb pushing inside me while his tongue flicks at my clit. “Such a pretty pussy.” I wrinkle my nose. He knows I hate that word. He chuckles. “Cunt then, or how about quim?”

    I slide my hands into his hair, pulling him against me and shutting him up. “Just make me come.”

    194 words

  11. Antonio Angelo says:

    The booze or the coke has got the best of me, I need out of this party. I know they said no one was allowed in the living room but I need a chair with no one talking in my ear or spilling drinks on my lap. Fuck, these parties are wild. I cherish the moment alone I cherish the peace and quiet. Then suddenly a snap, I look up is that Michael’s wife? She is not standing there in Garter with her quim open to the world is she? Oh she has a fucking whip and there is Michael naked and blindfolded on the floor groveling. She lays the whip across his ass and then grabs him by the hair. Oh fuck me that is hot. She pushes his face into her pussy and looks right at me. “cum for me” she mouths as Michael tastes her succulence she looks right at me grinding out an orgasm on Michaels tongue, I love these fucking parties my pants come open and I pound my arousal like a 14 year old who just discovered his father’s playboy collection only this one moans back.

    192 words just had to try this subject again. lol

  12. “Oh Fuck,” she pants against my skin.

    I thrust harder inside her, so close to losing my grip on any kind of sanity. Her heels are digging painfully– deliciously on my thighs. Her nails are scratching my back. If she pierces any deeper she will find my heart and twist it out.

    “Is this what you wanted?” I ask, rubbing her clit with a finger.

    She comes. I fuck her harder.

    She comes again. I follow right after.

    Her legs give out on her when I lower her to the ground. I catch her.

    I always catch her.

    She trembles in my arms, and then I let her go.

    I sit back down on the white couch and she props her stocking-clad leg on the wall. She watches me and licks her lips. Her nipples are still hard. I’m getting there again myself.

    We’re right where we started.

    “Come here,” someone says on the other side of the room. She goes.

    She’s a quim. It’s what she does.

    He fucks her on her knees. I watch.

    She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t come. I smirk.

    She’s mine.

    A few minutes later, she’s back to the wall.

    195 words.

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