Sinful Sunday Week # 34

Welcome back to Sinful Sunday! This week, I’m excited to welcome guest judge Loss4words!

Sinful Sunday #flashfiction week 34 judge

Loss4words has written everything from fanfic to poetry, as well as a short novella titled Living Free. She doesn’t pin herself as a writer of one style; she loves to dabble in it all. She’s an angst lover, and the longer the ust, the better.

If you’re unfamiliar with the usual Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction contest rules, please check them out.

The photo prompt is meant for inspiration, but you must use both prompts in some way. Have fun with it, and synonyms are accepted! (If you use a word other than the synonyms listed, please include that information after your entry.) The word minimum is 100, maximum 200, and don’t forget to include your word count and twitter handle!

Word Prompt:

Secret Sin

Secret: Something that is kept or meant to be kept unknown or unseen by others

Sin: 1) An immoral act considered to be a transgression against divine law. 2) Something regarded as shameful, wrongful or wicked.

You can also use the sex-lexis definition, which was “Moralistic, condemnatory term for masturbation, based on the antiquated concept that masturbation is unhealthy and sinful.” We’ll leave this one up to your interpretation!

Photo prompt:

Sinful Sunday #flashfiction week 34 prompt

Disclaimer: The author does not claim to have taken any of the photographs used as prompts. All imagery was found in the public domain via Tumblr.

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

Comments

  1. melfin80 says:

    He had caught her yet again.

    Committing the secret sin. Touching his pussy without permission.

    Tonight he would show her who the owner of her body is.

    Using a rope he bound her hands and lifted them over her head tying to bedpost. Her legs were spread and secured to the frame, leaving her pussy open to him.

    He teased her.

    Relentlessly.

    Fingers, tongue, lips, toys, words – he used them all to drag to right to the edge of orgasm over and over again.

    As soon as he heard that change in the pitch of her moans, indicating she was on the verge, he stopped all motions, saying calmly, “No, Do not cum yet.”

    He showed no mercy, and continued on withholding the one thing she wanted most.

    She lost track of the time, her arms ached, sweat dripped down her body, muscles spasmed under her skin. Her eyes were glazed over, mindless.

    She begged, pleaded, and cried for release. Her words and tears were useless.

    After tonight, she would know who was in control of her pleasure.

    @melfin80
    178 words

  2. Elle T. says:

    I’m light as air.

    In his arms, I come alive.

    With his fingers on my skin, I know what it means to burn. I’m bound to his will and to what he wants of me. I’d do anything.

    He ties my wrists and I’m free under his stare. I’m ready to fall into the abyss of the intense and pure pleasure he gives.

    His touch is an ocean and I don’t want to just swim. I want to fucking sink.

    I breathe his name and he smirks, because he’s a cocky motherfucker. He has every right to be.

    He crawls on top of me and he smiles like he has a secret. I want to lick it out of his lips.

    My tied hands go over my head before he pushes inside me. I arch up, wanting closer.

    His dick inside me feels like sin and I’d go to Hell for him. Anything, I said.

    He grunts in my ear and thrusts harder. I’m so close, but I don’t say. I bite his neck instead.

    Then I come and I’m light as air.

    ***
    183 words.
    @ElleTwrites

    [Had to use both words as separate because the other way didn’t work. I hope that’s okay]

  3. BellaScotia says:

    I burn for him. Every day it gets hotter. Every day it hurts a little bit more that he is way out of my league. I watch him from across the office, admiring the play of his toned thigh muscles as he walks to the water cooler. He bends slightly and my palms itch with the need to touch him. Everywhere.

    I wonder what he would think if he knew of my secret sin. Would he feel flattered that I think about him when I touch myself? Would he like that I fantasize about him tying me up and running his tongue all over my body? That I dream about him slamming his hard cock into me while I’m bound and helpless and completely at his mercy?

    He sips his water, and my heart begins to pound in my chest when he runs his tongue across his lips. Desire coils in my belly and seeps into my panties. My clit swells as I imagine his tongue swirling over it and sucking on it until I scream his name.

    Back at his desk, he looks up and our eyes meet. I wonder if he would like my secret sin.

    He smirks.

    200 Words
    @Bellascotia1

  4. AnnaLund2011 says:

    ~~~~~

    Once around my wrists. Twice around my wrists. And when the braided leather rope goes around for the third time, I’m in that mental state where no knots are needed.

    That secret, sinful place, where all that is being done to me is, at the same time, done both by and against my will. That nerve-wracking place where I am not in charge of anything.

    That loose end of leather is taunting me, telling me to run, saying that I must stay put, not move, to just submit. It talks volumes to me. It takes care of my hesitating mind, calming me, soothing me. And I let go.

    I let go of all the things that have been bugging me during this last week. All that has made my life harder and more difficult. I even leave behind me the few moments of victory that I’ve experienced; everything is leveled out into a deep feeling of ease.

    I am in that freeing space, the one where nothing can surprise me, and where everything is all right.

    Where there is no knot, because I do not need one.
    All I need is a coil of rope, three times around my wrists.

    ~~~~~

    Word count: 200, on the nose
    Twitter handle: @AnnaLund2011
    Note: “secret sinful” is close enough, right?

  5. Coming back here was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. It wasn’t because I hated this place. I grew up here. I met my wife for the first time here when we were both children. No, this was a piece of home and although I’d avoided it for the last ten years, it had been a place of solace for the decade before that.

    Ten years. I’d been running for ten years until Marie found me a put me out of my misery. Until she reminded me that just because my first experience was painful and homosexual, it didn’t mean I was or had to be.

    The old priest was absent from the church, absent from existence. His death was the last push I needed to come home, to beg forgiveness for a sin that wasn’t mine, a sinful secret that was rotting my soul. I opened the door of the confessional, ready to leave this burden with the new priest.

    “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been ten years and six months since my last confession.”

    183 words @angelicadawson

  6. Coming back here was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. It wasn’t because I hated this place. I grew up here. I met my wife for the first time here when we were both children. No, this was a piece of home and although I’d avoided it for the last ten years, it had been a place of solace for the decade before that. Ten years. I’d been running for ten years until Marie found me a put me out of my misery. Until she reminded me that just because my first experience was painful and homosexual, it didn’t mean I was or had to be.
    The old priest was absent from the church, absent from existence. His death was the last push I needed to come home, to beg forgiveness for a sin that wasn’t mine, a sinful secret that had tied my hands and soul. I opened the door of the confessional, ready to leave this burden with the new priest.
    “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been ten years and six months since my last confession.”

    185 words @angelicadawson (forgot to mention the picture in the last one!)

  7. Antonio Angelo says:

    She comes to me begging for release, I have told her time and again that she must stop, but she is not loved in her life, nor am I in mine. This is the last time I tell myself binding her hands and pulling the rope taught over the pulley hoisting her so just her toes touch the ground. She is beautiful and sexy in her dangling nakedness stretched and vulnerable and crying, “punish me” she begs and my belt wraps around her ass with an electrifying snap.

    “Punish me for wanting this so bad!”

    Again the belt draws some of her guilt away. I walk in front of her, nude myself erect and sweating from her and the 100 degree garage, she watches me and begs for more pain, I oblige with a rap on her thigh. She recoils her body dripping in sweat, I want her more than I should, more than I have a right too. I want to drink her sweat, taste her desire, fuck her like we have fucked a hundred times before, but first come the welts, the pain, the assuaging of her guilt. I feel nothing but want of our secret sin.

    @antonioangelo21
    199 words

  8. @Aleeab4u
    198 words
    . . . . . .

    He makes her wait, and she hates it.

    The restraints bite softly into her bound wrists, their tight, fibrous hold a silent command to be still. Intricate pulleys rattle and squeak, lifting her hands until she can smell the hemp in the rope scant inches from her nose. On her knees, cold concrete beneath her flesh, she realizes her pose is supplicant and worshipful, desire curling like a beast with teeth.

    Slowly her mind slips into the realm of her submission, giving in, giving over.

    This is what she craves, the secret sin she harbors and shares only with him. She waits like a vessel, the caverns of her body and soul empty. Her skin aches for contact with his, her heart longing for his approval. She exists only to please him and be pleased in return, in whatever manner he deems fit.

    She hears him breathing, her sir, her master, the demon who breaks her, the lover who carefully puts her back together. Anticipation is both torture and pleasure, making her tremble.

    He doesn’t move or speak, the weight of silence broken only by the rasp of her binds.

    He makes her wait, and she loves it.

  9. I go to church on Sundays to ask God to forgive my sins. To forgive me for the things I do with her on Saturday nights. The affair I have with her, a married woman.

    Like last night. I entered my apartment to discover the only light came from candles, one of which was on my coffee table. She stood next to it, holding a coil of rope in front of her, her eyes begging me to tie her up and do anything I wanted.

    I tied her wrists together. I tied her, face down, to the coffee table, her knees on the floor next to the sofa. She couldn’t stand. I knew what I wanted. I stripped. My fingers stroked her clit, then stroked into her, until she shuddered. I slipped my cock into her, feeling her heat and hunger.

    I slid my moist fingers into her ass. She moaned softly as I fucked her pussy and her ass. Then I did what I wanted. I pulled my fingers from her ass and inserted my cock. I enjoyed every stroke into her ass.

    This morning, I went to church, and asked God once again to forgive my secret sin.

    200 Words
    @LurchMunster

  10. “Is it good?”

    “Does it hurt?”

    They flap their questions like hungry little bats, blind to the truth. They want to know why I do it. Why I prefer the sting of a paddle to a tender touch. Why leather on my wrists makes me squirm in a way no satin sheet could.

    It’s not something you explain to girls who thrill themselves with a trip to Victoria’s Secret or a mid-afternoon romp.

    I wonder if they ever feel that days-long anticipation burning under their skin, thinking of the next time, the next touch? Do they find themselves whiskey-drunk and breathless from a single whispered word? Do they know what it’s like to be denied for so long that every cell screams for release—time strung out like an ocean, desire rolling over you on an endless tide—and when it’s granted at last, do they know how that ocean can swallow you whole and leave you floating for hours?

    Do they feel that?

    Do they know?

    They think my secrets are sinful—the things I do with him, the things I let him do to me. So be it.

    They are my sins to savor.


    199 words
    @_SDRyan_

  11. A Lesson in Desire

    No one knew the full extent of their relationship.
    Dancing around words.
    Ignoring each other, but then like a slingshot, back into a night of constant play.

    Blushing inside, and feeling sinful, he finally decided he could share a special secret with her… and she might oblige his unique urges.

    They found a dark room in the giant house away from the others.
    Closing the door behind them, he produced rope, and while clutching her arms, pulled her into his body.
    Without words, he quickly bound her wrists, and held them up against the wall, his right hand moving up between her legs- but stopping short.

    “Look at me. You’re not allowed to look away- it’s time you learned how to tame your desire until I say you may let go.”

    Held in place by his eyes, she felt any control which may have been left melt away.
    “I’m your good little girl…I promise I’ll try hard.”

    As a reward, he lightly brushed the swollen, wet lips between her legs with his finger, their eyes still locked.

    “Time to up the ante my bad little girl,” he said reaching into his pocket…

    @FiveByFive5
    Words: 197

  12. “Where is he?” I thought to myself as I sweat in anticipation. The blindfold caused my other senses to work harder.

    Never one to do anything remotely like this before, I wondered what in the hell I had gotten myself into. I had trusted my four friends with my secret, one of them my best friend since second grade.

    I had remained unmarried, the stereotypical bridesmaid but never the bride, and also without children. Not by choice, mind you, but I had yet to meet a man that I would want to share that life adventure with. Adventurous, my life was not. My life was pretty mundane and pathetic, so I was in need of a desperate change; which brought me to this club on my thirtieth birthday.

    “Marie?” A velvety male voice asked.

    “Y–yes?” I stuttered.

    “Is your blindfold comfortable?” he asked and cleared his throat.

    His voice was so sexy! I was completely turned on. Suddenly, his hands consumed mine in heavenly fire.

    “May I wrap this rope around your wrists, Marie? Then we’ll get on with exposing your secret sin.” His sexy voice promised.

    “Yes, please,” I purred.

    @LouiseClark75
    Word count: 192

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