Wednesday 9 January 2019

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 89

This week's prompt photo I found online, probably through Twitter, but I can't find any results on its origins online on any searches.

And this picture can only bring one thing for a primarily Horror writer, like myself. A dark tale, and one that might CONTAIN TRIGGERS. So be aware that you might be disturbed by this one .

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.


She ran her fingers over them feeling the bumps and dips. Her legs were scarred for life, and so was she.

People didn’t get that; people thought that as it was over and no longer happening, she was fine. Because she could function, go about her day to day chores, nothing was wrong – all’s well that ends well.

But they weren’t inside her head; they didn’t see the things she did: the knife tip against her skin, how it quivered while he did things, trying to hold it and her where he wanted them. They didn’t recall the smells: the unwashed body odour that made her stomach churn, the stink of beer-breath heating up her ear as he moved up and down, and the blood – that had its own indescribable smell. They didn’t hear the sounds that were triggered by other sounds: a door hinge creaking like the door to her cell opening, people whispering bringing back the filthy words he’d utter while doing those awful things to her, and the sound of anyone urinating like he’d do in the corner after.

She had no words to explain the sickness and dread they brought, that she’d lived with the entire 16 weeks of her imprisonment. She was no longer able to form any. He’d made sure of that when he’d finished with her, grown bored of her supplication, her lack of fight and thrown her out onto the street where someone had found her, still bound in the ropes she’d been kept in, which had become embedded in her skin and scabbed over. Even now she could still feel the sensation of the knife slicing her tongue, even though she couldn’t feel anything else inside her mouth.

But it wasn’t visible like the scars on her legs. And they weren’t visible when she wore trousers, which she did most days. So all was fine and all was normal. 

She wished she’d died in that cell. She wished he’d killed her.    


  1. Replies
    1. A nice little snippet. More upbeat than mine!

      I could get your link to work, so here's another one for any readers: From Beneath

  2. Jameson lay completely spent against the wood floor of Mistress Felicia’s playroom, his arms still tied to the rings set into the wood. She’d bound his legs together, the ropes cutting in to create a delicious tightness that ensured he was completely subdued. Then She’d ridden him, forbidding him to come until She gave him permission. She’d made him watch Her ride and rub Her breasts with Her hands, moaning as She squeezed his cock with Her silken inner muscles. He’d almost broken before She was ready, but he’d held out. And when She did allow him to come, the release had taken his worries, his stress, and his sanity with it.

    Mistress Felicia dismounted and wrapped Her body around his, pulling his back to Her chest as She held him through the euphoria of his release.

    “Shhhh. I’ve got you, tin star. You’re safe with me.”

    He heard Her voice and let it carry him deep into what She’d called ‘subspace’, the calmest place he’d ever visited in his life. And only She could bring him to that place.

    He floated there, limp and relaxed, and it took him a long time to realize She’d removed the ropes from his legs and arms, slowing massaging each limb to increase the blood flow to them. He opened his eyes when She wrapped a blanket around him and carried him to a plush divan against the wall.

    *She can’t carry me. I’m too heavy.* He tried to voice his protest, but it only came out as a low groan and Felicia squeezed him gently as She settled into the divan. She arranged his body between Her legs and allowed him to rest against Her chest, his head pillowed on Her breasts. The ropes that had bound his legs lay on the floor like discarded white snakes, the remnants of his fears and concerns desiccating in the air.

    Jameson closed his eyes and let his Mistress take care of him, keeping him safe and still for just a short time before he had to face the real world once more.

    “That’s it, tin star. Let go and let your Mistress take the weight for a while. It’ll be here when you’re ready.” Her voice lulled him deeper into the stillness and he let himself fall.

    383 #WIP365 words

    1. Wonderful, love that. Thanks for joining! Great to have you here.

  3. I cheated a little - I wrote a second part to an earlier challenge story.

    Mine's Ave Maria Part II

    It's on my Patreon site, but it's free for anyone to read.

    1. It was an interesting piece, and left a smile on my face. Thanks for joining.

  4. This one was not easy for me to write, and not easy to post. Adult content in this one.

    Jackie's Work

    1. Great tale. Real and relevant. Thanks for joining.