Rules to Live By

This week’s Flash Fiction piece was inspired by one of my sister’s random questions.


Rosalyn dreaded waking up. Her fiancé had ruined mornings for her.

There were certain rules she had to live by. Some she didn’t mind, they were rules she would have put in place.  There were others that she didn’t like. The worst rule was having to give him a blowjob every morning before she could get out of bed. It didn’t matter if she had to go to the bathroom, she had to take care of him first. She’d made that mistake before.

This morning was going to end differently. Rosalyn waited for the alarm to go off. She couldn’t wake him up early or he would know something was wrong.

There was a time that she liked going down on guys. She liked the control she had over their orgasms. Now it was a chore.

The alarm started blaring from the other side of the bed. He turned it off and threw the covers back. Rosalyn sighed and went over to his side of the bed. When she got into position, one hand holding his pathetic prick, she looked up at him and smiled. Turning back to what had become the bane of her existence, she took him into her mouth.

Rosalyn enjoyed herself this morning. She knew it would be the last time she would have to do this. She got him nice and hard. Glancing up at him she smiled and then bit down.

Rosalyn thought she would feel bad, but all she felt was elation when her teeth she’d spent a week filing razor-sharp severed his cock clean off. She sat up, blood dripping down her chin, and spit the lump of meat onto his stomach. Then he started to scream.

She got off the bed and looked at him. She didn’t feel anything. Leaving him scrambling for his phone and blankets to staunch the blood, she walked out.


Flash Fiction Friday

Happy Friday Campers! I have been in the throes of cleaning in preparation for a visit from the in-laws and the little one’s birthday. I was able to steal a couple of hours yesterday to get this week’s story done. Enjoy!


I woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of the night before. I lay on something cold and hard. There was a bright light shining through my eyelids. Where the hell was I?

I cracked open one eye to find the bright light was the sun. I braced myself and opened the other eye. It was hard to focus at first, the pounding in my head making my vision pulse to the rhythm. Once I was able to focus I found myself in a forest.

I eased into a sitting position. I looked around hoping to find some land mark to tell me where I was. There was nothing around me but trees. I looked down at myself to search for my sunglasses and saw a note taped to my shirt. I pulled it off, squinting at the white sheet.

“Mr. Glass,” it began. “We met a few years ago. You loved to drink then too.” I felt my pockets for sunglasses because the white of the paper made my headache worse. My search turning up nothing but a gum wrapper, I went back to the letter.

“It was during one of your drunken stupors that you forced yourself on me. I have not been able to recover from that night, a night you don’t even remember. I have decided this is my only recourse if I am to rid myself of the demons you have plagued me with. Take a deep breath and enjoy it, because it will be your last.”

As I dropped the letter, looking for a way to escape, I heard the unmistakable boom of a rifle.