Challenge #12 – Short Story – Held Down

This is my version of a short story – a flash piece that is a kink bingo square fill for “held down.” It’s also a f/f piece, since I’ve been promising one for quite some time.


“Stay,” Tyler ordered. The other woman nodded, eager to please, laying on the bed with her arms above her head. The room was silent except for the lazy, rhythmic humming of the ceiling fan. Tyler rose from the bed and stepped to the side, choosing her implements carefully from an array of tools. She ran her fingertips along a flogger that she’d had for years, her favorite canes, and a small wooden paddle, before settling on a medium sized dildo that would fit neatly into her harness. This would do nicely for tonight, she decided, though she felt it was a shame she wouldn’t have the opportunity to use all of the implements before her.

Sarah quivered with excitement, and Tyler could see the wetness slipping from between Sarah’s spread legs, making its way down to the sheets. Tyler moved the tool between her own legs and nested it into the ring that would hold it in place. As it settled in, she groaned with anticipation. She dipped down to place a kiss on Sarah’s mound, which had the woman writhing and arching her back. Tyler pressed Sarah’s legs back onto the mattress gently.

“Be still,” Tyler said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

Carefully, slowly at first, Tyler eased the cock between Sarah’s legs, pressed into her pussy. She moved incrementally, watching Sarah’s face as she did so. Sarah’s eyes were screwed shut and she breathed hard as Tyler watched her work to control herself. Sarah’s thighs trembled with effort as Tyler penetrated her. Without warning, Tyler thrust the last three inches of the cock deep into Sarah, eliciting a gasp of surprise.

Tyler took that as her cue, and she began fucking in earnest, thrusting into Sarah over and over again. Once she had a rhythm going, she moved her hands to Sarah’s breasts, pinching and teasing at her nipples while Sarah moaned below. After one particularly hard twist, Sarah’s hands shot up to Tyler’s back, pulling the woman down for a kiss. Tyler acquiesced, slowing her thrusting to kiss Sarah deeply. She moved her mouth to Sarah’s breast and hovered over it, breathing hot air on the nipple.

“I know what you want,” Tyler said after a long moment. “But do you really think you deserve my mouth after that stunt you just pulled?”

“I—” Sarah gasped. “No, ma’am.”

Tyler slapped Sarah neatly across the face, only hard enough to sting. “Next time, you’ll behave, won’t you?” Sarah nodded, looking away. Tyler took Sarah’s wrists, one in each hand, and pinned them to the bed. She picked up her thrusting again, continued to fuck into Sarah, and the other woman could do nothing but lay and enjoy it.

When the time came, Tyler, shifted so that one of her hands held both of Sarah’s, and she moved her free hand down to Sarah’s pussy, rubbing her clit furiously, pushing Sarah over the precipice. As Sarah’s orgasm crashed over her, she thrashed and arched her back, but never pulled her hands away. When she was finished, Tyler pulled out, again slowly, and lay back on the bed.

“Good girl. Now,” she said, pointing to her own aching pussy, “get to work.”

Challenge #11 – Endings and Beginnings

Today’s challenge is to write about whatever’s on my mind. That happens to be endings and beginnings. I know that it makes logical sense to put beginnings first in that series, but in some ways, I think endings are easier, and so they come first.

Endings can be brutal. They can absolutely gut a person. They can be beautiful. They can leave the door open for the future. Endings are wonderful, terrible things. Surprise endings can be nice, or they can be nasty. Endings can leave a person feeling fulfilled or empty inside. I’m talking about two kinds of endings here – book endings, and real-life endings. (Incidentally, the word “endings” is starting to sound funny in my head, I’ve used it so much.) Endings bring about an opportunity for new beginnings, of course, but on their own, endings can be a relief or can be impossibly difficult. Sometimes we don’t want to let go, and we fight to keep things from ending. Sometimes things don’t want to let go of us, and we have to fight to move on.

My favorite book is like this. The ending wasn’t a surprise – it was an inevitable conclusion, and the book was a slow march toward it. But that didn’t make the ending any less gutting. It still brings me to tears, even after multiple readings. In fact, it’s been too long since I’ve read that book, and just thinking about how it ends makes me want to read it again.

Writing endings is difficult for me. It’s not that I can’t think of a good ending (usually, I can), it’s that I don’t want to let go. I never like to leave a character behind, particularly if there’s more story to tell (and unless the character dies, it feels like there’s always more story to tell). Maybe one day I’ll meet a character who lets me go, but until then, I’ll always wonder what else I can do with the ones I already know.

Beginnings are tough in their own way. They’re scary. Terrifying, in fact. I hate beginnings. Beginnings are like stepping off of a precipice into the unknown, and praying that something, someone, will catch you while you fall. Beginnings can be tied to endings, of course, but typically, they come on their own. I like to skip to the middle. There’s a book I adore that I’ve read so many times that I no longer read the beginning. I just skip to a random chapter in the late beginning/early middle of the book, so I can avoid the heartache of the back story.

In relationships, I find beginnings equally hard. Beginnings can be hot – passionate and thrilling – but they similarly can be awkward, uncertain, and fumbling. Some people enjoy that awkwardness. I do not.

I hate writing beginnings, too. That fumbling awkwardness always comes around in my first draft beginnings. It’s one of the reasons I enjoy flash fiction so much. I don’t have time to screw up a beginning, just march right on to the middle and the end, because I only have 500 words to do it right. I’m currently toying with an office romance story and the beginning just isn’t coming to me. One technique I use to get past this is to write a middle first – a sex scene between the two characters, typically – just to get a feel for who they are, and how they fit together. This can help drive my beginning.

Endings can be hard; beginnings can be hard. Nothing in life is easy. We just keep trucking the best we can.

Challenge #10 – A letter to my future self

A letter to my future self. This was hard. How do you write to someone who has lived through everything you’ve lived through and then some? I almost chickened out and wrote a letter to my past self. But here goes.

Dear future self,

How’s it going? At this point, I’ve sold three stories, and I’m on the verge of making some big changes in your life. Do they work out? Are you happy with Pet and your new arrangement? How did she take the surprise? Well, I hope.

I’m about to change jobs and I’m very happy about the change. I’m curious to see how it turns out. Do you get the contract job you’re hoping for? How was your summer?

Right now, I’m flying high, and I know that’s partially my crazy brain playing tricks on me. I hope you weather the storm that will inevitably follow. I also want to remind you of the cyclic nature of things, so if things are bad, know that they won’t be bad forever.

Good luck on book number four, and good luck with the changes.

Past Riley

Challenge #9 – A Love Story

Callie wasn’t sure she’d made the right choice for tonight. She was surrounded by bodies moving to a beat she found tolerable at best. Instead, she could have been at home, binge watching stupid Lifetime movies and working on her latest craft project, a dress she was sewing. But tonight, she had the distinct privilege of watching Sarah dance uninhibitedly as her third favorite band played. Callie hadn’t heard of the band before. Let’s face it, she thought, I’d do anything for her. Particularly if it meant seeing the other girl like this, sweaty and enraptured. Frankly, she’d sit quietly and watch Sarah read for hours, if it meant Callie could be near her.

Sarah knew none of this, of course. Callie would die if Sarah knew how deep her interest ran, because she was fairly certain Sarah was not into girls at all. It didn’t really matter. Callie was just happy to be allowed into Sarah’s circle, such as it was. Sarah didn’t have many friends, not since Laura moved away last year. This was what led to Callie being invited to come along to the concert tonight.

It wasn’t that bad, honestly. Not really Callie’s thing, but she could see the appeal. The beat drove the entire room to dance, jumping in time, the crowd screaming the lyrics along with the music. She started to relax into it, seduced by how comfortable and joyous Sarah was. A song began that Callie was surprised to discover she knew the lyrics to, and she began to sing along. Just as she began to really get into it, belting the lyrics with the rest of the crowd and bopping to the beat, Sarah turned to face her.

Callie’s heart stopped, or it felt like that anyway. Sarah’s face was glowing, covered in a sheen of sweat, a smile plastered across it. Callie was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to touch her, and she reached out and grasped Sarah’s hand. Sarah’s grip tightened around Callie’s hand as their fingers intertwined, but she made no move to draw away. It suddenly felt as if they were in their own bubble, a private space among the mass of people. Callie’s heart beat in her throat. What did this mean, after all? They stayed like that for the next three songs, locked together, Callie afraid to loosen her grip even a bit, lest Sarah let go.

Finally the band announced their last song, a high energy number that had Callie and Sarah both dancing so hard they almost lost their grip on one another. As the song wound down, Callie knew she had one shot. She tugged at Sarah’s hand, pulling her close. They stayed that way for a long second, as the band shouted their goodbye, face to face, barely a breath between them. Callie reluctantly released Sarah’s hand and placed both of hers on Sarah’s cheeks. She drew Sarah in and placed a kiss on her lips so tenderly that it felt like a whisper. Sarah responded by leaning forward, opening her mouth, and sliding her tongue against Callie’s.

The kiss felt like food to a starving man, like something Callie had always needed and could never go without again. Callie finally understood what it meant to fell fireworks. Her stomach felt as if an entire flock of butterflies had taken up residence there.

When they parted, Callie was breathing heavily. Sarah just nodded. They were gently jostled by the departing crowd, but neither girl especially cared. Callie had a hundred questions, a thousand, for Sarah. Instead of asking anything, though, she just grinned like a fool in love. She saw her own euphoria reflected in Sarah’s eyes and smile.

It was Sarah to break first. She exhaled with a huff and asked one of the questions Callie had been thinking.

“Want to get out of here?”

Callie did.

Challenge #8 – Anything at all

Today’s challenge is to write about anything at all. How free! Except I really struggled to come up with a topic to write about. After a few weeks of being dictated to, I found myself a little lost without a topic. Therefore, I bring to you another piece of flash fiction, just under 600 words. I hope you enjoy.


Andrew settled between Matt’s legs, face close to an already leaking erection, trailed sure fingers along Matt’s thighs, teasing, a promise.

“C’mon,” Matt whined, canting his hips up.

He exhaled heavily against sensitive skin, but when Matt tipped himself towards Andrew’s open mouth, he drew back. “What do you say?”

Matt huffed, disbelieving. “Please?”

“Please… what?” Andrew knew he was testing the waters, Matt still shy most nights when it was just the two of them, but he was hoping the gamble would pay off.

“Touch me?” Matt squirmed.

With firm hands, Andrew gripped Matt’s thighs, let his fingers dig in. “Be specific. Ask for what you want.” He glanced up when he said this, sought Matt’s face, wanted to read the reaction there, and he was really fucking glad he did. Matt’s face turned pink and he bit his lip against a whimper – an honest to God whimper. For its part, Matt’s cock also lurched, precome oozing out thickly.

“I… please, suck my cock.”

Immediately Andrew opened his mouth and took his partner in as far as he could, deep down to the base, pushing the head back along the smooth surface. Matt gripped fingers in his short hair and Andrew felt the lust pool in his belly and groin. He knew he could do this all night, could spend hours sucking Matt off, but tonight he wanted to hear him beg. He pulled the cock out of his mouth slowly, trailed his hands and tongue down, down, to Matt’s ass. He pushed him apart slowly with fingertips and then dipped his tongue down and pressed in.

Matt gasped a little, moaned, pushed towards it.

“Yeah?” Andrew asked darkly. He ran his tongue along the sensitive flesh and then pulled away.

“What the fuck?”

“You know what.”

Matt groaned. “Christ, please. Use your tongue on me. On my ass.”

Andrew pressed his face close, licked along Matt’s rim, each pass pressing his tongue in harder. He began to press Matt open with his fingers, and something in Matt must have unraveled because he finally started talking.

“God, yes. Fuck me open with your fingers. Please. Wanna feel them inside of me. I—” Matt stuttered.

Andrew had slipped a second finger inside of him, licking around his fingers, pressing his hot tongue between them.

“Yeah. Please… don’t… so… ungh fuck close. Please… want you deeper. Harder,” he gasped, hips bucking up.

Andrew pressed a third finger in hard, lapping at Matt’s entrance, hungry for more.

“So close, gonna… gonna come… please, can’t wait much longer, wanna feel you, please… just… fuck me.”

Quickly, he pulled his fingers and tongue out, lined his cock up, and pushed in. He was kneeling between Matt’s legs, hands gripping narrow, sweaty hips.

Now that he’d started, Matt couldn’t seem to stop talking. “Yeah, fuck, so good, harder, fuck me harder.” He lifted his legs to wrap around Andrew’s waist and kept talking. “So good, please, almost there… Gonna…”

Andrew slid one hand over and gripped Matt, stroking him deftly, one, two, three, quick movements. A flick of the wrist, a press of thumb into the sensitive spot at the crown, and Matt was coming in thick, hot, white spurts. Watching Matt come undone so thoroughly tipped Andrew over the edge, and he fucked into Matt hard and stilled, emptying himself.

As his orgasm subsided, he began to pull out, but Matt tightened the grip of his legs, a smile teasing on his face. “No… stay another minute. Please? Kiss me?”

Andrew folded forward and pressed his mouth to Matt’s.

Challenge #7 – A poem

Well good lord, we’ve come to the post that will tax my writing skills. (We’re also halfway through this writing challenge, and I’m having a freakin’ ball.) Since this challenge requests “a short poem” I’m going with the age-old classic, the haiku. It’s my favorite form of poetry, and it’s fun. I’ll give you a few of my bumbling attempts, a two silly, one a little more sincere.

Handsome man, green eyes
Spotted on the train tonight
Take him in my mind

He sees you standing
Across the courtyard, looking
edible in your skinny jeans
(Authorial note: This one made me laugh out loud. If you’ve ever read my published works, you’ll know I have a weird obsession with hipsters.)

Hot, wet, taut skin slides
Against one another’s flesh
Orgasm arrives

Challenge #6 – Feelings


Today’s challenge is to write about my feelings for someone. I’m not good at feelings. Most people who know me can attest to that. I’m rather like Crowley. Since I can’t possibly scare up 500 words talking about my feelings for one person, I’ll be breaking it down into the three people to whom Nurse’s Orders is dedicated. Consider this an expansion of that dedication.

Husband: This one is likely relatively obvious. He’s my rock. He’s my savior. I frequently say that I would be, at best, a functional alcoholic without him around. Truth be told, I’m a hot mess, and he keeps the mess somewhat contained. But beyond the typical mess-maintenance, Husband is a huge supporter and cheerleader of mine. I’m lucky to have a partner who not only approves of my writing habit (as though I’d need approval) but encourages it heartily. The best part is, while he’s never read anything I’ve written (m/m isn’t his thing, but I did promise him that I’ll write some f/f and blog it soon), he is my sounding board. It’s not strange for me to come to him and say, “Is it unrealistic if X happens?” or “What’s another word for Y?” He’s my thesaurus, my plot-hole fixer, my name generator. I’d say I can’t do this without him, but really, I can’t survive without him, and everything else is just the bonus reel.

Pet: Pet, for those of you who haven’t caught on, is my not-girlfriend-because-I-have-commitment-issues. We’ve been dating for over a year now, and really, we have a pretty fabulous time just being together. She’s incredible. At least 50% of the time we’re together, I’m wondering what the hell is wrong with me and why I haven’t married this girl yet. (Aside from the fact that we’re both married already.) She loves me, truly, in ways that I don’t deserve. I’m so lucky to have her in my life. To sweeten the deal, she frequently beta reads for me. It’s incredibly helpful, and in fact she was the only one to see the final drafts of Nurse’s Orders before it was submitted for consideration. I trust her judgement, and I trust that she’ll be honest with me. It’s a valuable thing to have, and she deserves better than me.

Eye: Eye is one of my best friends. We’ve only been friends a couple of years, but we got close quickly and haven’t looked back since. She’s another writer, and we push each other to create and improve. I’m so grateful that she’s in my life. Falling Apart would never have become a thing if she hadn’t been there for me, pushing me to “just send the damn thing in already” and coaching me through all of my hand-wringing over whether it was good enough to even bother. When I wrote the very first draft of Nurse’s Orders, back when it was very different, just a baby seed, she read what now stands as a portion of chapter one and handed it back to me with one comment: “Where’s the rest?” (Incidentally, I felt like it was too long and only deserved about 1,000 words, less than half of what the first draft managed to be.)

All of these people have been a gift to my life. I wouldn’t be the writer I am or the person I am without them. I want to thank them all for their roles in nurturing me.

And that concludes this episode on feelings.

Challenge #5 – A letter

Today’s challenge is to write a letter to anybody. I could take the easy way out and write a letter to someone in my life, something I could make quippy and lighthearted and easygoing, but instead, I’m going to write a letter to a musician who has really changed my life for the better.

Dear Tyler,

I want to thank you. We’ve met on a few occasions, which I’m sure were at best a blur of faces, photos, and autographs for you, and not particularly memorable. That’s why I want to take the time to thank you in writing. I wanted to tell you my story, so that you know that you’re making a difference, not just writing pop music.

Two years ago, I saw you perform live for the first time. I had never heard of your band before I bought my ticket to the show – you were the opening act – but I listened to everything I could get my hands on to prepare myself for the concert. I fell in love with your music. It felt right, deep down in my soul, down to my bones, like what I’d been looking for all my life, if I’d known that something was missing. Your performance was fantastic. Your band is so strong at a live show, and I’m so glad I got to experience it that night.

The following summer, things started to change for me. I listened to your music near exclusively, and I found that every song spoke to me in some way. I started to feel like there were parts of me that I needed to change, to be true to myself. And then, I fell in love. It was a revelation. It, too, felt right, deep down to my core. There had always been this part of me that I’d hidden from (so many parts of me that I’d hidden, really), and when I fell in love, this part of myself refused to hide any longer. The hang up was that I was married – and I had fallen in love with a woman. I got lucky. My husband slowly accepted that I wanted to be with this woman, and her husband did the same. They allowed us to explore our feelings for each other in a safe space, and it was beautiful. During this time, I listened to several of your songs on repeat, and they helped calm my mind and my soul. They helped me sort through what I was experiencing. I started quoting the songs prolifically. I came out as polyamorous and bisexual to my family and friends. I felt alive.

Then things fell apart. The relationship ended, and I was heartbroken. Again, your music was there for me. Songs that helped me move past the breakup, feel my heartache in a way I needed to, and walk forward.

Over the next few months, your songs continued to be the background music in my busy life. I met another woman, and we began dating. Life was good. Then, you released another album. You came out as gay. (I was so happy for you.) I managed to get last minute tickets to see you perform in a far-away city, and I drove many hours  on short notice to see your 45 minute set. It was one of the transformative moments in my life. I felt free, I felt strong, I felt as though I could do anything. I stayed after your set ended, and I met you. God bless you, you gave me a hug, even though you were exhausted and trying desperately to leave the venue.

Your tour to celebrate the new album took me to many new cities to watch you perform, and I met and spoke with you many times after, always carefully choosing my words. The nerves never went away. Your new album was the soundtrack of my independence, my adulthood, my coming-of-age.

You’ve changed everything, and I’ll never forget that. You helped me accept who I am and come out to myself, my family, and my friends. I thank you for all you’ve done, and what I’ve become.


Riley Long

Challenge #4 – A rant

I really racked my brain trying to come up with something to rant about. This is hard! I’m a generally easygoing person, and I didn’t want to rant about the same things everyone hates – drivers who don’t use their turn signals, kids who don’t listen, the weather, etc. I also didn’t want to rant about something that makes me happy – rants should be angry, damn it. It took me a long time to decide on something. Finally, I came up with it. The thing that annoys me most these days. It’s totally a first-world problem, but bear with me: rude people at the gym.

Imagine this: You’re at the gym, and you’re about to run 8 or so miles on the treadmill. You turn on the overhead fan, pick your favorite treadmill, and set the TV on your favorite station (for me, it’s HGTV – I love those house flipping shows). Finally, you get down to running. You run a few miles and you’ve worked up a serious sweat, the only thing cooling you is the occasional breeze from the ceiling fan. Then someone comes and sits on a stationary bike behind you. No big deal, so far. But then they decide they’re chilly and they turn the fan off. I can’t express how much this annoys me. This has happened to me more than once, and I’m too nice to complain to their face, so I suffer in silence. Then when they’re finished their workout, I hop off the treadmill and go turn the fan back on. It’s all I can do without complaining, and I don’t want to come across as an ass and sounding like I’m saying “Prioritize my comfort over yours.” On the other hand, I’m running for two and a half hours, so I need some kind of breeze to help me feel like I’m not dying.

Other things I hate at the gym:

  • People who don’t clean off their equipment. What gives? How hard is it to go grab a wet wipe and wipe down your treadmill or elliptical or whatever machine you’re using? It’ll add 30 seconds to your day. It’s just courteous.
  • People who turn up the TV too loud. I know, too loud is subjective, but really, everyone does not need to hear your episode of Law and Order. Read the captions, or accept that the busy gym is just a place to listen to music.
  • People who change the channel while I’m watching something. This is just plain inconsiderate. We share TVs, two machines per TV (on the elliptical and treadmill side of the gym, anyway), and in my opinion, the programming should be first-come, first-served, unless the first person explicitly says he or she doesn’t need the remote. But it’s just rude to come up and change the channel without asking.

I know a lot of this sounds really selfish, and I’m trying not to. I just think that people should take the time to consider others while they’re working out.

Okay, how’s that for a rant? Good enough?

Writing Challenge #3 – Review something – The Boy Next Door

Pet and I saw The Boy Next Door when it was out in theatres a while back, so that will be the topic of today’s post, which was to review a book, movie, or something else.

The Boy Next Door starring Jennifer Lopez and Ryan Guzman is 1 hour, 31 minutes and is rated R. The official synopsis I found reads as follows: “When a handsome, charming teenager named Noah (Ryan Guzman) moves in next door, newly separated high-school teacher Claire Peterson (Jennifer Lopez) encourages his friendship and engages in a little bit of harmless — or so she thinks — flirtation. Although Noah spends much of the time hanging out with Claire’s son, the teen’s attraction to her is palpable. One night, Claire gives in to temptation and lets Noah seduce her — but when she tries to end the relationship, he turns violent.”

Now, I’ll be honest. This movie isn’t exactly winning any awards. It has 4.4/10 stars on IMDB and 11% on Rotten Tomatoes. I knew going in that this wasn’t going to be Oscar material, and I assume Jennifer Lopez knew as much when she signed her contract. That said, I actually really enjoyed the movie. It was dark, sexy, and fun. I enjoy a good low grade movie (does this count as a B-movie?) when it doesn’t take itself too seriously, which this one didn’t. Ryan Guzman is hot, Jennifer Lopez is hot, and Claire spends a few good long minutes in her bra and panties while Noah pleases her sexually, and I remember being surprised at how graphic the movie gets. There are several scenes that are supposed to be tense and scary, but Pet just thought they were sexy, where Noah gets aggressive with Claire while he’s stalking her. (They stressed me out a bit.) My only complaint about the movie is that they confused allergies with asthma – Claire’s son has allergies that require an epi pen, but the things that set off his allergic reactions are things like physical exertion. The epi pen was essential to the climax of the movie though, so I recognize why they needed it. It just would have been nice to see the writing address actual allergies, rather than what presented as asthma.

Overall, I’d give the movie a good 3/5 stars. I enjoyed it, not despite the campy quality but because of it.