Dry mouth and hot bottom

The Sweltering Celt runs Microfantasy Monday and this week for #51 her prompt is fear.

Breath rasped, muffled scrapes, her questing hands tugging at the blindfold. Rapid blinks, dim candlelight, she was surrounded by hard bodies and cruel eyes. He nodded, she obeyed, raised trembling wrists for the shackles. Dry mouth, pounding pulse, the sharp snap of leather woke her senses. Fear always the fear, which is why she begged her Master for this afternoon’s whipping.

2 Comments

  1. With a stream of consciousness like that it makes it real, doesn’t it. Welcome to our group and please come back.

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