Category: Flash

Flash: Bound

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Bound.

Bound, hand and foot and wing tip. Eyes covered.

Angels soared.

Untouchable. Holy. Above all others.

Bound.

His own fault.

Temptation wasn’t restricted to the fallen.

The only senses left to him were hearing and scent. And he could smell her. Her soft breath in the room. Her woman place moistening with heavenly debauchery.

His core clenched. He had given up so much to be right here right now. The blindfold imposed a darkness on him, frightening and arousing. The silk bindings tied him to earth like heavy chains and velvet kisses. Terrified, everything was sharpened to perfection.

A hand drifted across his chest. Playing with one nipple, dancing across his stomach. He had no belly button for the fingers to sink into, so they touched each indent of muscles and sinew.

Two hands came to his shoulders and pressed downward.

“Kneel, kneel to me my angelic love.”  The woman’s voice, forgiving sin, harshly pleading.

Willingly he went to his knees. He leaned forward to kiss a belly, delving for the human indent. Finding the center of her creation, the angel’s tongue licked around the edge before darting it in and out. Carefully, so the bones within the tongue did not press.

The woman’s hands curled into his blond tresses, one hand holding his head in place, the other encouraging his head further down. Begging and ordering.

He bowed his head further until hairs tickled his face. Moving forward, he sought out her secrets, holy and hellish, using only his mouth. He sucked her clit and laved her, separating her inner lips until he could taste her manna, her juices.

Leaning as he did, the top of his wings touched her breasts. The nipples hardened as the feathers danced back and forth. He directed the torsion axes to push the mounds together. Warm feathers caressed the womanly structures, directed individually with nerves created to control flight, each tingling as it registered contact and her reactions.

The woman’s knees buckled and she slid to join him in the exotic dirt. He crawled like a worm between her legs, small bits of dust rising like clouds about them. Rolling his tongue, he interlocked the bird-like bones together similar to a human locking an elbow. Sturdy and thick, the tongue, muscle and bone, dived into her road to hell, her channel to heaven.  Again and again, bringing her flavor into his blind darkness.

His wings, bound only in the tips, pushed her legs apart as she shook and bucked. He set the feathers dancing along the knees and inner thighs.

“Oh, God. Oh God.” She screamed prayerfully, ending in a climax chorus. Musical song shouted.

A song he had to hear again. He gathered her cream like a hummingbird sucks nectar, cleansing her nether realm. Her legs twisted against his wings as her lust rebuilt.

He locked his tongue again, but at a slight curve. Inside her being, he sought her bliss. Giving her everything she asked. Touching her soul, so he could follow her into heaven’s punishment.

God made humans in his image, how could he not worship her?

(words 518 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 10/6/2013 for the 4/22/12 Sunday Fun –  – The original photo was of unknown copyright so did not put on my site – published on old blog 10/6/2013; republished in new blog format on 10/8/2017)

Flash: Predator-Prey

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Where were the other two? Aminah thought as she surveyed the area. The perp she had been following for the last hour stopped to smoke under a streetlamp. Maybe he was signaling the others to stay back? Had he made her?

 

She needed all three to stop the conspiracy.

 

The guy tapped twice with his left hand. A signal, definitely. The man was right-handed. The officer slipped deeper into the shadows to discover they were already occupied. 

(Words 77 – first published 9/18/2013; published in new blog format on 10/1/2017)

Writing Exercise: Expanding on Dialogue

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of jk1991 at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The most common mistake I run across while editing is something I call “Screenplay”, where the writer goes into dialogue-only mode – forgetting to add location cues, speaker indications, action, exposition, and other narrative. Other people call it “Talking Heads”, and it is about as exciting as watching stick puppet talk without the puppeteer moving the sticks.

Now, when you are writing the first draft, you may find only dialogue occurs. This is fine, spew the information in your head on the page. You can’t fix it until it is written.

For the flash Grass, which came in just over 2,000 words, the initial exchange was 100% dialogue. The alien visiting my head asked “Why do you dedicate so much land to non-food?” while I was mowing the lawn, and the conversation devolved from there. After getting stung by a yellow jacket, I retreated indoors and decided to type out the exchange. Initially I tried to add some narrative while typing up, but nothing wanted to happen. I knew the exchange was between a human and an alien ambassador and nothing else. Two hundred words vomited from my fingers onto the page in 28 lines of dialogue. That was it.

Then the hard part. Adding in the narrative. Yes, I could have left it in screenplay or movie script format – that is the point of flashes after all, getting things out quickly -, but I wanted to know more. The end result was ten times as long as the initial product, and I did not add a single line of dialogue. If anything the dialogue shrunk a little when I modified the alien’s vocabulary – just a word here and there. The dialogue is substantially unchanged from the initial voices-in-my-head moment while mowing.

Since you are going to write dialogue sans any narrative (and, believe me, you are going to write dialogue sans any narrative) you should practice adding narrative to dialogue. Preferably before you send your manuscript off to a content editor.

WRITING EXERCISE: Either take dialogue already written in play format or create five to ten simple lines of your own without thinking of the scenario at all. You can find dialogue online by searching “screenplay examples” and clicking on images. An example of five simple lines of dialogue is “Hello” “Hello, how are you doing today?” “You know.” “Yep.” “Any suggestions on how to get the red out?”.

If you are using previously created dialogue ignore who the speakers are. Now that you have some generic dialogue, pick a genre and two characters: Fantasy with an elf and orc; science fiction with a spaceship captain and crew member; a mystery with the murderer and investigator talking, anything you want. Add the narrative to your dialogue. It should at least double the length of the dialogue. 

Here is a secret, just between you and me, dear writers. You want to increase your word count for a document, go find those “talking head” areas in your Work-In-Progress and flesh them out. You can even try that right now as a second writing exercise for today if you want.

***

Title: Red Cop

“Hello,” echoed through the empty store.

Jazz bit back a curse from popping her head against the counter top when she tried to stand. Stuffing bags underneath the cash register in preparations for next week’s sales had hid her from view. Standing, rubbing her head, she put on her best customer service smile and said, “Hello, how are you doing today?” before focusing on the customer. Correction, police officer. Who did not look happy at all; his uniform was a wreck. Another one stood in the open doorway of her little mall shop, her uniform pristine.

“You know.” He growled before glancing over at his female partner, who nodded and stepped outside.

Remaining overtly perky while reviewing her recent activities for any slipup which might have brought the officer to this particular store, Jazz replied, “Yep.

“Any suggestions on how to get the red out?” the officer asked, moving his right hand over his clothing from shoulder to waist in hovering indication.

Walking around the counter to lead him to the appropriate cleaning supplies, Jazz, sometimes known as the supervillian Prankster, smiled wide while no one was looking. (initial dialogue 19 words – final result 188 words.)

Flash: Catskil Mating

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature

Well, that certainly shows her interest in being here. Apollo thought to himself as he entered the mating room. Amusement snuck across his face at the thought.

The woman turned from her pacing and glared at him. “What are you smiling at?”

“The hat.” He responded. “Aren’t you a little overdressed?”

She yanked the hat off her head and crumpled in with her gloved hands. “So was I supposed to wait naked?”

Excellent, the brunette had fire. When the elder had instructed him to be gentle since it was Lewella’s first mating experience, he had been worried. Like all cats, he liked to play with smaller, weaker creatures. He wasn’t certain how gentle he would be once he scented the heat, but at least he wouldn’t be cruel. “Hardly, but removing a few articles of clothing, such as the coat, might have been advisable.”

Her brown eyes stared at him for a second, anger warring with terror. Anger won as she threw the hat into the corner and started yanking off her gloves. “Don’t know who among the wolves decided to torture a bunch of desert and jungle creatures by forcing us to settle in New York, but I would love to get even with the shit.” 

Apollo sauntered over to the agitated female and moved her hands away from where she continued to jerk at her parka’s zipper after it got stuck on her scarf. He started working the knitted material free. “Wolves do not torture. Not their style at all. A cat would have been gleeful about sentencing their enemy to Winter, but not a wolf.” He got one scarf end free and started working on the other. “I think they meant well by giving us the Catskil Forest Preserve and surrounding area to recover from the Were-war. Always look for straight forward thinking in those creatures.”

He leaned closer, taking a quick sniff. Lewella jerked away from the intrusion. 

Beginning of her heat cycle. Not more than a couple of hours. Not the same species … “Bobcat or cougar?” he asked.

“Cougar.” She responded automatically. “What are you?”

“Leopard.” 

Her scent glands filled the air with the removal of the parka. Apollo felt his dick immediately ask for release from its confines. Looking into the woman’s eyes, he saw them darkening with arousal. But she was also far from ready emotionally for the next few days. He moved his hands from lifting her shirt’s hem to the scarf’s ends.

The female tilted her head after the eye contact. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” Apollo started moving the scarf up and down by pulling the two ends, causing the wool to rub the back of her neck. 

A gasp parted from her lips. She needed several moments to reform her train of thought. Her much raspier voice queried, ”Why don’t they let us meet before the matings? We cats don’t form permanent bonds, so why all the mystery?”

Continuing the stimulation with the see-sawing scarf – which provided him the amusement of a toy and toying with someone, Apollo responded, “Are they still selling that crap in the pride nursery?” 

Confusion crossed her flushed face. 

“Ahh. I can see they are.” He slowly pulled the scarf completely off her neck. “Yes, we are cats, sunshine, but we are also human. Which means while we don’t do that one mate for life idiocy wolves do, we do have enough monkey to prefer long-term monogamous relationships.”

He took off his jacket suit and tossed it into the growing clothing pile. Her eyes burned into his chest as he removed his work shirt. “For example, Lavi should have been here before me, but he needed to say goodnight to his human mate and kids.”

Startled out of the deepening heat, the girl said, “He has cubs with a human?”

“No, they are from her first marriage.” He sat on the bed to take off his shoes. “No hope there to restore our species. But he hates it when his turn comes up for the matings and that is what Alta is trying to keep from happening with the rest of us. Unnecessary emotional cruelty,“ Surprise tinged his voice as he concluded, “Quite unlike her to be kind.”

Lewella started following his example and soon they were both naked. She laid on the bed and spread her legs. The scent nearly overwhelmed him. The cougar’s heat was nearly peaked.

“Had sex with humans I see.” Apollo commented.

“Why … what?”

“Flip over.” The female was well into lower brain function, so he needed to keep his wits just a little longer. He helped her get on her hands and knees. 

Once she was in position, Apollo bit into her nape. Lewella immediately screamed in orgasm and her nails extended into the sheets tearing them apart. No male feline ever mounted a female from the front while she was in heat. Those nails would destroy thin human skin.

While her nails held her in position, Apollo released her neck and slid his penis into her weeping slit. Her vagina was still pulsating from her first climax. His brought his right hand around to play with her clitoris while his barbs started digging into the sides of the channel. As he withdrew, his dick was squeezed tighter and the barbs increased the sensitivity at hundreds of points. Pain and pleasure drove them both over the edge.

Together the feline couple sunk into scent and sensation.

(911 words – originally appearing in Sunday Fun for Breathless Press on 11/18/12; reposted new blog format 9/24/2017)

 

Flash: To Do List

Erin Penn

Image from the internet Hivemind, adjusted with the symbol of the future military.

He took to the List an anger, a rage, he never felt before. Never before did he have people to protect. His people. Jonathan blazed through the crowded hallways of the Admiralty of the Green Fleet headquarters toward the courtroom where the List of Inquiry would be held, people unconsciously stepped back into the crowd giving him clear passage through the hallways.

“Captain. Captain Fairhurst.”

The voice behind him cut through the red haze driving Jonathan forward. No one would calling him that unless they were from his ship. His steward had given up desperately needed sleeptime to sew the bands on his surviving purples; the dress whites he was presently wearing were picked up from the commissary only an hour ago and were pinned with his last in-station approved rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade. So the combat-minted captain paused to look behind while a man taller than he, used the wake Jon had cut through the crowd to close quickly.

Jonathan did not recognize the man, and after the long trip in with the fatally damaged ship he knew his crew. Dropping his eyes to the man’s wrists where the green cuffs decorated the whites and held four thin bands of a full captain and a gold star indicating attachment to an admiral’s council, his more natural state of curiosity reigned in his anger. A captain of the List of the Green. Why would one of the genteel crowd want to talk to him?

Stepping to the side, closer to a wall, monitoring the closing captain and the door to the Inquiry, Jonathan waited. He twitched up his purple cuffs with the single gold band. The ill-fitting monstrosity the commissary had gifted him needed tailoring. The sleeves were too long, the shoulders too tight, and the legs not capable of an airtight seal with his boots if decompression occurred on the port station. The only fit he was sure was the high-neck collar into the purple cap’s emergency mask. The commissary petty officer had searched a precious quarter hour before finding a combination which sealed around his thick neck. A quarter hour he had set aside to arrive at the Inquiry in good order. Now he had five minutes before the Masters at Arms guarding the door to the Inquiry opened up the courtroom.

Glancing at the name tag once the man cleared the crowed, Jonathan acknowledged the thin six-foot, caramel-skinned superior officer with a barely regulation salute. “Captain Torres-Diaz.” His eyes ran over the pins on the whites, nothing from combat and only the single required year in space. Ah, one of those Torres-Diazs.

The other man returned the salute with perfect precision before removing the white captain hat and tucking it under his arm. “I’m to be your advocate for the inquiry.”

Raising his shaved eyebrows in surprised, Jonathan replied. “When an advocate did not show up with the summons, I assumed the Inquiry would be informal.” He hadn’t assumed anything of the type, and felt his rage return, reddening his neck and ears, fortunately mostly covered by the high collar. While the trip had given his twenty-year old temper time to be tempered, he had expected to be safe once in port and not thrown to the wolves. After four years and getting his crew back to human space, he had relaxed until the summons arrived last night two hours after they managed to dock.

Torres-Diaz nodded. “Normally it would be, but with the Green going out for a month of maneuvers tomorrow, they wanted get this done quickly to let your sailors go home without a cloud.”

“I can see that.” Fairhurst smiled. The other captain took a step back, changing his stance. Pushing away thoughts about the less than twenty-four hours summons and what that entailed in breaking the regs, Jonathan rearranged the smile and decided to test how bad the lynch squad waiting on the other side of the doors would be. “Well, I am glad to have you. You have had access to the ship’s log and records we squirted when we got into human space sixteen days ago. What do you want me to do?”

The green captain from a family of lawyers on the well-established colony of Sainte Teresa Avila tried to hide his wince by changing his stance to be more casual. “I received the records when I got the assignment this morning. I also have the List of initial Inquiry.”

Breathing in through the smiling teeth, the combat seasoned captain stared at the older, taller, and senior officer through eyes black with four years of hell. “What did you do to get this?” The lawyer had to have screwed up big time.

Brown eyes broke from his instantly and looked over the Jonathan’s broad shoulders. “The inquiry will start in two minutes.” He tapped the tablet he carried and Jonathan’s buzzed. “Those are the questions. Try to run your answers by me before responding.” Torres-Diaz dropped his eyes back to the black pits before him. “I will try to save you.”

“Sir, may I give you an order?”

The thin lips of the civilized desk-jockey navy man pursed.

“Save my crew.”

The masters-of-arms opened the courtroom doors and the crowd, which had kept conspicuously back from their conversation, moved.

The admiral advisor took his cap from under his arm, dusting the insignia on it thoughtfully. “I can’t save everyone.”

“To the deep with me, give me the words to save them. I got them this far, and I promised them home.”

The Captain of the Green returned his cap to his head and waved Jonathan toward the List of Inquiry.

(Words 942 – first published 9/17/2017; From a prompt – the story had to start with “He took to the list…”)