Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction Week # 50

Welcome to week # 50 of Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction! Today’s judge is Louise Lewin!

Sinful Sunday #flashfiction week 50 judge

 

Louise a twenty-something-year-old woman from a village about an hour away from London, UK. Her love for writing started as a child with poetry, getting a poem published in an anthology in her early teens, but then she focused on school. After some really tough years of mental health issues, she found writing again as an outlet through fanfic and am is honing her skills, dabbling with original fiction and hoping one day to get published.

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:

Ensnare: to capture in, or involve, as in a snare; to catch (an animal or person) in a trap or in a place from which there is no escape. Synonyms: catch up, enmesh (also immesh), entangle, ensnarl, entoil, entrap, mesh, net, snare, tangle, trap.

Photo Prompt:

 Sinful Sunday #flashfiction week 50 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!

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Comments

  1. Missy Melissa Gardener says:

    @smalltownchicka
    200 words

    The plan was to catch him; to ensnare him into my web of deceit and then let the chips fall where they may.

    Plans aren’t always fool proof.

    There is always the possibility of something going wrong, but I never thought this would go downhill so quickly.

    I didn’t think he had changed in the few decades since I last saw him.

    I was taught at an early age that leopards never changed their spots, but in his case, I was wrong.

    So wrong that it almost cost an innocent man his life.

    Time has been on his side.

    As I stand here in his room getting dressed after our last night together, the woman I see in the mirror staring back at me isn’t one I’m proud of.

    I need to fix this before shit hits the fan.

    Otherwise, the man laying in that bed only has a few hours to live.

    And I don’t think I can live with myself if that happens.

    After taking a last peek at his sleeping form, I leave him and pray I’ll be able to see him again.

    I can’t take his life, and by protecting it, I may lose my own.

  2. AnnaLund2011 says:

    ***

    She was getting ready.

    Fabulous underwear to give her power and feel strong. Everything just so.

    The power trip of going out, walking through the masses, all eyes on her.

    Not really a question of ensnaring, more like a fact of putting oneself out there, wanting a good hook-up.

    Everybody was out there doing it.

    Everybody wanted a good hook-up.

    And if nobody ever hooked up, why were they all out there, looking?

    She was on the prowl.

    A good night of sex, and she might even be interested in a date later on.

    We all have our priorities.

    ***
    Word count: 100, on the nose
    Twitter handle: @AnnaLund2011

  3. Caught,
    Ensnared,
    By her every move.

    Dainty hand,
    Sliding silk stocking,
    Up,
    Up,
    Up.

    Skin peeking through lace,
    Eyes drawn to curve of cheek,
    Over dip in back,
    The small valley of spine,
    Fingers and tongue,
    Tingle with want,
    To trace and taste.

    Eyes catch mine in mirror,
    Invitation curves lips up,
    Joined fingers,
    Smooth over thin straps,
    Straightening & tightening.

    Enchanted by beauty,
    Enmeshed by dark,
    Tangled in her web,
    Her hedonistic world,
    Filled with pleasure,
    And lies.

    Our latest victim,
    Lies asleep,
    Unknowing,
    While we clean his pockets,
    And quietly dress.

    A lump of guilt,
    Settles in my throat,
    The wrong weighs heavy on me,
    But still,
    I follow,
    Because I amナ

    Caught,
    Ensnared,
    By her every move.

    120 words
    @melfin80

  4. @MadiMerek
    Words: 197

    She’s tousled and tangled; her nylons are stretched and a little baggy from when I pulled them off of her in my haste to taste her salty skin. I love looking at her disheveled, post-orgasmic mess, knowing that I did this to her.

    This beauty owns me. She’s my everything, and my only. But I know she’s not mine; she never has been. She still belongs to him, and the ring that she takes out of her purse and slips back onto her finger reminds me of the painful truth. He doesn’t care about her like I do.

    She kisses me one last time before she leaves—a kiss for luck—and her blonde hair brushes my naked chest.

    I am bewitched by her body, enchanted by her mind, and lucky to be even the secret piece of her broken life. Her husband, he’s no good for her. He uses and abuses; his words are as painful as the bruises desecrating her skin. He demoralizes, making her feel small and unimportant, though she’s anything but.

    Soon, though, it won’t matter. We’ve set a trap, and he will regret the day he chose to hurt my love.

  5. Lory (Lolo84) says:

    “Are you leaving already?”

    I hadn’t heard the door open or realized the shower stopped running. But now that I paid attention, focused like I should have been, I could smell his soap. Smell him near. So I knew he’d been standing there watching me for a while.

    For a second, my shaky hands stilled, grabbing firmly at my tights.

    “I—” didn’t know what to say.

    He was right. I was leaving.

    I was two seconds away from running, escaping from this hell we’ve created. It was just like every other night, except this time I had no intention of saying goodbye.

    This dance we’d been doing under the guise of catching up—I couldn’t do it anymore. But he knew what this was, who I was, and what I was sent here to do.

    “Ensnare,” that’s the nickname he gave me.

    I was a trap—’the’ trap—sent to use him, then expose him.

    However, I wasn’t sent to fall in love him. But I did anyway.

    “Stay with me,” he begged, eyes pleading with me through the mirror as he righted the fallen strap of my stop.

    “I can’t.” But I wanted to, more than anything.

    And he knew I couldn’t, and he knew why. Still, he asked, “Why? Why not?”

    “Because my body doesn’t belong to me anymore. It hasn’t for a long time.”

    @lolosofocused
    228 words

  6. Gingerandgreen says:

    She knows she’s ensnared even as she pulls the lingerie onto her undernourished body. The silk feels luxurious, a comforting gift to herself, however high the cost.

    The garments were purchased by the son of her most recent employer. A rich, spoiled, manipulative bastard.

    The deal: he’ll buy her for a night, with clothes, food, fine wine; then she’ll let him own her skin for the hours between midnight and dawn.

    He likes her reluctance, it makes him feel powerful and sadistic. She hides her excitement well, but secretly loves the danger. She doesn’t think he’ll hurt her, but he could. Her recklessness makes her wet, for reasons she has no motive to examine.

    She thinks of his fingers. Well-manicured; thick; long – they could do things to a girl. She imagines them running up the inside of her thighs, pushing into the needy ache in her vagina, or looping around her neck. He’ll pull her hair, they always do, boys never grow up. He’ll slap her; she will revel in the sting. He’ll bend her this way or that, fuck her in three places, bite her breasts…

    She smiles, smoothing the silk on her leg. Let the night begin.

    200 words by @Gingerandgreen who went missing but came back for week #50 – what an achievement, Rebecca Grace Allen 🙂

  7. Jami Denise says:

    She could smell my loneliness like a hound on a hunt. The gold band never left my finger, but that didn’t stop her.

    Long legs, curves everywhere, and full, fleshy tits. Irresistible, and a temptation too sweet to ignore.

    I was a middle-aged man with a thirty-year mortgage, three kids and a bitch of a wife. I never understood why she chased me, but she did.

    It was only a matter of time until she ensnared me.

    I should’ve ignored the knock at the door. I should’ve turned up the volume on the ten o’clock news.

    But as she stood across the room, running her fingers over her slender thighs, nothing mattered but her. I wanted her to crawl to me, sink down on my cock, and milk the misery right out of me. I wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t walk, shove my dick in her mouth and watch her choke, punish her for making me want her.

    Her ass called to me, her hips begged to be grabbed, held down.

    “Once you taste me, you’ll starve every moment you don’t.”

    Her heat burned; singed my flesh like fire. I was addicted.

    Word count : 194
    @JamiDeniseO

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