AislingWeaver, Erotica, Fuck Me Friday

Inscribe ~ Fuck Me Friday

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.

4 thoughts on “Inscribe ~ Fuck Me Friday

  1. Sign Your Name (#inscribe)

    “Do you want me inside you?” Your words are barely a whisper, and yet they’re as loud as if you’d shouted them in a crowded room. My pulse races and I nod slowly. Your hands trail over my flesh, causing me to flinch as you hit the sweet spot, along the back of my neck. Your lips follow, my breath coming in gasps as my cunt moistens and clenches.

    I want you. Inside me. Now.

    You tug me to you, kissing me carefully, teasing, biting my lips, tracing them with your tongue. “Ride me.” It’s not a command, or a request. It’s a simply stated fact. And I’m helpless to question it, or refuse.

    I swing my leg over your narrow hips, positioning myself over your cock. As your head nudges me open, I sigh quietly. You fit so perfectly inside me, brushing over my g-spot, making me come almost instantly. “I’m sorry.” You grin. “I’m so sorry I’m able to make you come with one stroke. I’ll try to do better.”

    Before I can even form a thought, maybe a decent comeback to your egotistical statement, your hips thrust upward, violently jerking me in the air. As I land back down, I establish the rhythm that works so well for us. I’m in control, at least that’s what you let me think. But you, with your words, you’re the puppet master, pulling my strings.

    As I lean over you, sliding up and down your hard shaft, moaning, my eyes closed, I feel your hands on my cheeks. I hear your voice. “You are so beautiful when you come. I love feeling you gush all over my cock. I love making you come hard.” I clench around you, raking my nails down your chest to your groin. You gasp and then sharply inhale. My triumphant feeling is short lived however, as you thrust up hard again, making me whimper.

    My hair has fallen over my face, and you brush it back, hands moving to massage my breasts. You tweak my nipples, already hard and aching for your mouth. I can’t speak, just bite my lip and throw my head back in want and need. You take one in your mouth, brushing over it with your tongue, sucking it gently.

    My pussy is drenching your balls, and the sheets beneath us. Your fingers move to my clit, pressing on it rapidly, like it’s an elevator button that’s won’t light up. But I’m all lit up, and exploding all over you.

    Your hands grasp my hips, adjusting my rhythm, and increasing the pace. “Come once more for me baby.” Again, not a command or request, but a fact. And I oblige, not once, not twice, but three times more. The last time, I come so violently that I collapse on top of you.

    Gasping, I slide off you. “I’m sorry.” I bury my face in your shoulder. “I just need a break. And then I’ll take care of you.” My drenched pussy is still twitching in the throes of my last orgasm, and my hand moves to your still-hard cock, stroking it.

    Your arms slide around me. “Don’t worry.” You nuzzle my hair, planting a kiss on top of my head. “It’s my job to please you.” Your hands start tracing a pattern on my naked skin. I realize that it’s a heart. “Right here, with your head on my chest, and in my arms, is where you belong. We have forever for everything else.”

    And as surely as if you’d carved your name there, you are inscribed forever on my heart.

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