Twitterotica themes have been hanging around for some time, with various writers tackling weekly challenges such as #wankwednesday and so on, and writing challenges far and wide are abundant. So when Ruby Kiddell and I started talking about trying to get the weekly smut-a-thons going again I was all for it. Well, she tackled it with her customary flair and the first linky love Wank Wednesday went off with great success!! The goal is two-fold; for writers, a weekly challenge to keep the, err, juices flowing. For readers, you’ll find all the stories linked off at the bottom of each week’s prompt. Are you game? So, welcome to the linky love edition of Fuck Me Friday. All you have to do is this;
- Write a story with the prompt as your title. Today’s will be :
- Tweet it with both the prompt hashtag and the hashtag #FuckMeFriday
- And lastly add it to the links at the bottom of this post.(note, if you don’t want to tweet it or don’t have a blog, I invite you to post your story in the comments section.
~ Inscribe ~
I lay on my stomach, back bared, head pillowed on my arms. I will be here for hours as with painstaking care ink is driven through my skin to stain my flesh. It’s a ritual. It’s pain. It’s something I need.
And I’ve invited you to watch.
You fidgeted through the prep work as the artist and I worked through the design. When I stripped my shirt off and handed it to your your nostrils flared and gaze grew lidded.
I will test your patience and mine tonight. And your endurance.
The cold wash of alcohol down my spine makes me gasp, the sharp scent tickling my nose. I listen as you sit, stand, sit, then move still again, until you end up in a seat that lets you watch the process and my face. I meet your eyes, watch the pupils constrict and dilate when my lids flutter at the first buzz of the tattoo gun. My gut tightens and I force my body to relax.
Do you remember, I wonder, as the first slice of the needles curls my flesh into minuscule ribbons. Do you remember when I told you I dated a tattoo artist? You flick a look towards her hands and watch as she moves with exquisite precision. I know what she looks like when she works, but it’s nothing like she did when she worked my flesh. When she used her tools to inscribe my flesh with her marks, her face alight with arousal and narrowed to the focus of her needle-tipped sadistic pen. How many days did I wake with letters etched into my skin, words that would disappear as I healed, marked in the red lines of my punctured flesh, my blood her ink.
You look at me and I see the knowledge written there. My gaze goes crimson when you lean forward and whisper, your lips close to my ear, “I will leave my marks on you later, my slut, and you will beg for them.”
Her fingers dig into my back. She heard. My cunt slicks with want, my lips part, and you sit back, a look of pleased expectation on your face. I close my eyes, surrendering to the pain, floating on the wave of it and the knowledge that you will lay claim to my pain, my pleasure, and my body soon.