Flash Fiction Friday 2024 – Week 5

Flash Fiction Friday continues in 2024. New pieces appear every Friday on my Patreon throughout the year. The minimum pledge to read them before anyone else is $3 per month. and the number of pieces available is tied to the monthly pledge total so the more you support my efforts, the more you’ll get to read. Find out what they’re all about and check out some excerpts from this week’s update in this post.

Beyond Pain

Eric’s body was a tapestry in red, brown, and violet, created by the delightfully cruel of Mistress Antonia and her collection of BDSM toys. He had seen many professional dommes in the past, even serving a few for extended periods but when he recalled those moments of submission and vulnerability, they lacked the same impact – pun intended! – of his current predicament. She was a highly imaginative sadist that, despite adhering to all the best practices of Safe, Sane, and Consensual, refused to have her imagination be restrained. She was also a skilled hypnotist and used the craft to bring to life the most outlandish scenarios of pain and depravity.

A giant S was branded on Eric tender’s skin as he lay, suspended, five feet above the ground. S for slave, S for slut, S for shut-up-and-take-everything-I-want-to-give-you-because-I-own-you-and-that-is-my-will. The paddle rained hard on his back and ass cheeks and her words, instead of serving as a soothing balm to ensure maximum compliance, only heightened the humiliation and torment. In trance, he was completely powerless, like a fly trapped in a spider web.

Mistress Antonia hit him again and again and again, each blow adding to the painful canvas, a mass of blood and bruises whose limits had yet to be completely broken.

(…)

Clarice

Clarice had round boobs the size of cantaloupes and a cunt that smelled of freshly-cut grass in the morning. Her golden locks were silky to the touch and her dark blue eyes were mysterious and inviting. She was a statuesque beauty the likes of which Hollywood loves to ruin. The only problem was that, up until that morning, she had been a man.

Clarice was born Rudy Walters forty-one Springs ago. Both his parents were physicians and so he carried on the family tradition. He was a well-respected doctor in Los Angeles who, despite his grueling shifts and having to deal with death almost every day, hadn’t forgotten how to live and have fun. He loved women has much as they loved him but wasn’t looking for anything serious. Life was too short to stay committed to a single person and anyone who didn’t understand that wasn’t right for him.

Enter Eleni, a raven-haired cypriot woman that had brought her Mediterranean charm to the City of Angels. She was charming, well-spoken, and had more curves than any one of his past conquests. A fashion icon, she lived for the thrills of photography and raucous sex. She was also a witch.

(…)

Drunk and Bored

It was boredom and not curiosity or a genuine desire to submit that led Duncan to a typing website on a winter Saturday evening. He didn’t understand its purpose nor why random people got off hurting their fingers for the pleasure of others, but he was drunk and had nothing better to do. One little peek into this strange and kinky world wouldn’t hurt.

After creating an account, he looked at dozens of profiles and the tasks they had created. About eighty percent of the task-setters were women (or at least claimed to be so), and most of them were dominant. There were Princesses, Goddesses, Queens, and even an Empress or two. There were also teachers, mommies, and the occasional shy girl next door that acted like a real bitch when no one was looking. None of them was particularly appealing but his intoxicated brain didn’t care. He selected a profile at random – one Miss Imperium – and typed one of her first tasks, the sentence WOMEN ARE SUPERIOR five times.

WOMEN ARE SUPERIOR.
WOMEN ARE SUPERIOR.
WOMEN ARE SUPERIOR.
WOMEN ARE SUPERIOR.
WOMEN ARE SUPERIOR.

When he finished typing, he hit send on a red button to share the report online and emptied another beer can. He expected nothing out of it, not even a response, but it came almost immediately. The email he received was short and most likely an automated response that read,

“Well done. Anyone who types that, should have no problem typing this as well. Good luck.”

 

(…)

Make-Believe

The metal probe pushed deep into Joey’s rectum, making him moan. At first, he thought he would hate it, but now he realized it was a dream come true. Sodomization never felt so good.

“More!” he exclaimed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Give me more!”

“This is weird,” the alien called Yak’Tur said and her companion, Sha’Rik, nodded.

“Yes, it is, but it seems to be working. We should keep going.”

“Fine by me.”

The two jellyfish-like extraterrestrials hailed from the planet Amarthia, hundreds of millions of light-years away from Earth. They had taken on the form of leather-clad dominatrices, a blonde and a brunette, and their scouting ship hovered silently over the tallest skyscrapers of Manhattan. They had never interacted with a human male before but, according a handful of “historical documents” they had watched on a curved screen, this was the best way to get what they were looking for.

(…)

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