I don't enter writing contests. I'd rather not wait to hear from someone and trust they have not used my story or ideas for themselves. Also, those contests that require an entry fee really bother me. I can understand your time to review the entries is worth something but, my time is worth something too.

Anyway, I found this contest on Jaded Writings. Nice time for Halloween stories. this is an idea I had awhile ago and had begun writing about. For the contest it has to be under 500 words. So that was a bit of a writing exercise.

Is it too evil? Or is it just cause it's a woman, does the role reversal make it seem worse, more wicked, evil and nasty?

ASL? Laura Brown

The car wash was quiet, peaceful. Too early for the birds to be chasing worms and yet there would be coffee shops open along her way home. Amazing how someone, some where, was always working.

His blood was surprisingly easy to wash off the car. Everything she'd packed inside was clean. All his shiny new kitchen appliances, hers now, were gleaming on the backseat. Why had an old bachelor bought so many appliances anyway? Just to entice her to visit him? It had worked. She thought it would be something to do on a weekend when she had no money to do anything else. It hadn't been planned, but, all in all, murder wasn't so hard. Not pleasant certainly, but not difficult.

Gail added another round of quarters, just to be sure she hadn't missed a spot. All those crime shows seemed too good at shining fancy light around and finding all kinds of blood spatters, drops and other nuisances. They'd have no luck finding her. She had no connection to good old Ed. Just a few emails exchanged, a casual meeting in a public place. Besides, his computer was stuffed in the back of his car along with all the other goodies she'd packed while he finished dying.

Gail drove home, letting the car air dry, listening to the news reports. How long would it take for someone to find lonely old and dead Ed?

It was so much nicer to be driving a new car. Her old heap would never have made it through another winter. She'd never be able to sell the old guy's car of course. Not having the paperwork was a small problem she could ignore. What was a grrl to do if she needed to get around and keep her crummy job?

A few weeks later, Gail's email box had six notes from men who were willing, able and begging for the attention of a good woman. Her regular mail was just full of bills she couldn't pay. At the end of the week she had picked her man.

Just like Ed, he lived on his own, he was lonely and looking for some female company. Dwayne had a nice modern house had just bought himself a fancy new computer and all the associated gadgets. It was the computer that swayed Gail in his direction. Hers was already four years old, bought just after the divorce when she still had a little money.

It was a beautiful drive on an Autumn day. Leaves swept across the road, the air felt fresh and charged with energy. A great day for a drive in another new car.

Originally posted to Adult BackWash: Thursday June 24, 2004  

A BDSM flasher is a story in a hundred words or less, with a BDSM theme or topic. Of course there are standard flashers too, I don't mean streakers. Just stories about general topics. Flasher, in this case, means it has a very tight word limit. Not all that different from writing haiku which has a limit of syllables, rather than words.

Can you do it? Think of it as a writing exercise. If you think this is too easy try cutting the word limit in half, you sadist. It does have to tell a story with a beginning, a middle and an ending. Just writing a short scene won't cut it.

Here's mine. As done for the BDSM Scribes http://groups.yahoo.com/group/BDSMScribes/ email list.

"Take off your clothes, little man." She circled him, grinning wickedly.

His skin tingled, anticipating her first touch. Squirming, breathing in short gasps, heart pounding, craving her domination, he hovered at the edge of jerking himself off.

"Do you really know what it means to be mine, slut?"

"Yes!" He said, feeling almost mad with heat and need.

"It means I can play any games I want. Or, I can send you home, right now."

"No!"

"Yes, little man. Go home. Obey."

So he left, without his clothes.

She sent an email. Tomorrow his real training would begin.

Now it's your turn. I know some of you are writers. See if you can top me. evil grin

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 - 2004)

The fine print in the instructions had said "Never push the red button." It had been there from day one, she noticed it while she was unwrapping her new toy. The instructions had fallen out as she unwrapped it from the bubble wrap. She had left them on the floor until she had her fill of playing and then tidied up all the packaging. She'd kept the instructions, somewhere. She hadn't actually read them but they were around if she needed them, somewhere.

But, always, there was the red button and finally, in spite of whatever the consequences were, she just knew she had to push it.

What could happen, really? Her love toy was in off mode, lying on his/ it's back on the rug by her bed. The red button was tiny, located under his left ear lobe. To push it she would need a needle from her sewing box. She had come prepared. At first nothing happened. Well, he/ it was in off mode. Maybe it only activated if the toy was on at the time. She watched awhile longer but got bored and felt sleepy and mildly disappointed in the lack of drama.

She had a great dream. Better than the dream of having sex with a dragon in mid-flight. This time her toy woke up, really woke up not just powered up as he/ it usually did. He stripped off his veneer of animation and became real. She felt his breath on her skin, as if he were really breathing rather than functioning to please her. She could smell his sweat and his passion, as if he were really aroused. She half opened her eyes as his fingers played with her pussy, stroking the lips and folds. She really, fully opened her eyes as his cock slid inside of her. It was such a great cock, the exact thickness of her specifications. The exact shape, length and fullness she had always needed from a man but never found.

The odd thing was, she was sure she was awake now and yet the dream continued. He was on top of her, riding her, caressing her inner thighs, sucking her breasts, nibbling her skin. Of course, it wasn't possible. He was only a love toy, bought at her local department store for the off season sale price of just $199.

She ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing a hunk and pulling it hard. He only grinned shamelessly and bit down on her nipple. It hurt but felt good too. He opened his thighs, forcing her own legs to open wider and rise up along his warm thighs to wrap around his waist. His cock felt so good, pumping inside of her. His lips, tongue and hands took their fill of her body, teasing her, making her need more and more. Her pussy ached to orgasm. It was a great dream, but it could only be a dream.

When he grunted and orgasmed inside of her she really woke up. This could not be a dream. He wasn't supposed to orgasm without her permission and he certainly wasn't supposed to orgasm before she had her own pleasure.

His hard body fell over her, trapping her underneath his firm, warm flesh. His hot breath warmed the side of her neck while his cock softened, still inside her. "You pushed the red button didn't you?" He laughed.

She said nothing. What do you say to a toy come to life?

"I'm so glad you did." He levered himself up, reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out her favourite handcuffs. "You might regret it but I never will."

Originally posted to Adult BackWash: Thursday February 12, 2004  

The package was delivered on time, wrapped in bright yellow paper and tied around with a neon pink ribbon. Just as it was shown in the fancy catalogue. Three men delivered it to her apartment, high in the sky of downtown Toronto. It was a heavy package. The men lingered, expecting a tip for services rendered. They didn't know her of course. She wasn't a big tipper, not for those kind of services anyway. They soon left and she was alone with her package.

All was quiet for awhile. She took her time, made fresh coffee, kicked off her high heeled work shoes and flipped through the latest issue of her favourite magazine. She knew it wouldn't stay quiet for ever. She was right, as usual.

The package began making moaning sounds. Before long it began moving, being bumped from within. She wasn't alarmed. She knew she could expect just what she had ordered. The company was very reliable. None of her orders had been anything less than perfect in the past. The only difference was this time it was personal. This time she had ordered for herself. Not another friend, a co-worker or a needy relative. This one was all hers. …more

Originally posted to Sex Kitten (2003 - 2004)

The house had history, atmosphere and music. It also had a ghost.

"Every house has it's own music, you just have to listen."

"You're full of it. Spouting that philosophical nonsense when we need to focus on getting out of here. What does any of that namby pamby crap matter now?"

"It matters." Kate settled down cross-legged on the cellar floor. She ignored the cold cement, the mustiness and her husband's temper. It wasn't her fault the door had swung shut and stayed that way. Sure she had brought him here to explore with her but she wasn't the one naive enough to expect every door that opened once would open again on the other side. …more