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Copyright © 2009 Frenulum. All rights reserved.
So-called “flash fiction” consists of ultra-short stories, just little vignettes to plant a scene in your head. Where you take them after that is up to you.
All of these are independent, and appear in no particular order. In my opinion, reading them one after the other is a less than optimal experience.
If you like this sort of thing, see also Flash Fiction II, Flash Fiction III, Flash Fiction IV, Flash Fiction V, and Flash Fiction VI.
Enjoy!
(With thanks to T.L. for the inspiration.)
She walked with short, nervous steps to the table, hampered by the panties pulled down to her thighs, conscious of his eyes on her bare bottom. The implements were laid out there, neatly aligned, terrible to contemplate, each with a small white card. Choose? How could she choose her own fate?
Perhaps... the hairbrush. That might not be so bad, a dozen or so with the hairbrush. She turned its card over with shaking fingers. “200,” it said. Heartsick, stomach churning, she turned the other cards over, one by one, the awful stroke counts blurring before her welling eyes.
“If you keep me waiting, Miss, I shall use them all.”
She wouldn’t even consider fellatio at first. Knew she wouldn’t like it, she claimed, never having tried. I was patient. Let her know how much it would mean to me to feel her sweet mouth on my cock. But didn’t push the issue.
In time she admitted that it wasn’t the sucking that bothered her, it was the thought of cum in her mouth. Great, I thought, progress. I encouraged her, let her think about it some more, never complained.
One day she just went down in front of me and said “Ok, I’m gonna try it. But you absolutely have to promise promise promise you won’t cum in my mouth. I mean seriously give me your word.” That’s something she knows she can trust.
“I promise,” I said, and seconds later I was in heaven.
I am a man of my word. I keep it very carefully. I promise I know the difference between a woman’s mouth, and her eyes.
It had been a dream come true for Robin when the Gammas invited her to pledge. She had done everything they asked of the pledge class, with energy and pride, all to reach this special night. She had known of the ritual: that she would be “paddled in” to the sorority. Stripped naked, bent double over a horse, wide-spread legs roped tautly to it, ball-gagged to muffle her cries, she had felt the stinging smack of the paddle again and again on her tender ass — not realizing that most of her new sisters had taken second and third turns. She could have stopped the assault at any time... but only at the cost of her heart’s desire.
The blows finally came to an end, and Robin relaxed. Her tears turned to ones of happiness. She heard a cell phone being dialed. Then the sorority President’s voice, deferential for a change: “Oh, Dean,” she cooed, “We’re ready for you now. We have your virgin all warmed up for you.”
“Virgin?” thought Robin, helpless in her bindings. “I’m not a —”
Then she felt a finger, cool and slippery, begin to lube her ass.
Usually she was something of a chatterbox, always full of news and observations, telling stories or just thinking aloud. Usually he welcomed it, as a well-suited counterpoint to his reserved, quiet nature. But tonight her silence made a pleasant change as they dressed for the party. Even when she stood before him, showing off her slim black cocktail dress, sheer stockings, stiletto sandals, and pearls, only a raised eyebrow asked, “How do I look?”
They drove in silence across town to the party: twenty minutes to get there, two to park, three more to walk to the front door. The gala was in full swing.
He pressed the doorbell, turned to her, and smiled. “Swallow,” he commanded.
At the sound of her roommate’s key in the door, Courtney pushed back from her desk and turned around. Kim’s pink face and puffy eyes held the answer, but Courtney asked anyway. “You went to see Mr. Burke about your missing assignments?”
“Yes.”
“What’d you get?”
“Stretched across his desk, that’s what I got.” Kim tossed her skirt onto her bed, pulled her panties down, and turned her back. “See for yourself.”
Courtney slipped to her knees behind her friend, inspecting closely. “Oh, you poor, poor baby,” she said softly. “Let me kiss it and make it better.”
I lay on my back, in perfect bliss, watching. “Honey?” she said, slipping my cock out of her mouth, stroking it gently with her hand. “You like my mouth on you, right?”
“Like it? I love it! You know that.” It’s true: she’s a wonderful cocksucker.
“You like the way I suck you, and lick you, and make love to you with my tongue?” she continued, voice soft and sensual, full of promise, husky with arousal.
I looked her right in the eye. “You better believe it.”
She gave me another few sucks and then stopped. Her breathing was tight. Her face began to blush. “There’s... something I... I want to do with my mouth. If you... honey, I just really want to try something. Please?”
“Of course,” I answered, wondering.
She looked between my legs. It was an intense look. A look of fierce hunger, of need.
“Roll over.”
I hope that one of these little sparks was just enough to
set some of your mental kindling alight.
Please write and tell me what stories filled your mind!
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