Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction challenge this week was just to write a 100 word story (http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2015/03/20/flash-fiction-challenge-100-words-only/).
So I did.
Why does my mind bend this way?
Gleaming body, perfect face silver-limned by shining moon, she floated towards the bed. Naked, I shivered. Chittering locusts nested in my guts.
Must be the drugs …
The game began.
“I await your pleasure,” I recited. House protocol.
She deviated. “Love.”
Dark syrup voice. The cicadas shrilled.
“Does your Craft not demand pleasure?” Improvising…
She slithered onto the bed. Moon-bleached smile. Pointed teeth—sharp as her nipple piercings.
“Fuck the Craft!” She seized the obvious target.
The safety word: Bug.
I screamed it, glimpsing sparkling razors embedded along her spine. My hands bloody ribbons, we wrestled.
She bit. Insects thundered.