Archives: flash fiction

‘Tis the Season for…Kinky Flash Fiction

I didn’t plan it this way, but I have three flash fiction publications this month and they’re all pretty wonderfully perverse. So it’s a great time to work out the end-of-year tension and get your freak on in under 2,000 words.

Today, my short piece “The Depths of You” goes live at the Erotic Review magazine. A little long to be technically flash fiction, it’s a sort of prose poem about why it can be scary to use a strap-on:

Performance anxiety? Sure, some. But I’m good at what I do to you. I know it. I know just the depth, rhythm, angle to take you apart. Then to pull you back together, so you burst again. All the while driving into you towards my own pleasure, my own ascent and plummet into something dark, full, and for each moment, enough.

Somewhere in that helpless satisfaction is the thing that scares me so fucking much.

It’s better, sometimes, when you’re not facing me. When it’s just sensation. Our bodies slide with the same motions, friction traveling along the length of the silicone cock inside you to my clit, and that’s all we share. An encompassing awareness that we only need to feel. Not something to think about or communicate or soften with kisses. I hear your gasps and moans but your breath falls on the pillow; I don’t feel its wet heat lick my face. I don’t look into your eyes and drop into them, those beautiful dark bottomless pits.

But the kinky December fun doesn’t end there! I also have a piece in The Big Book of Submission, Volume 2edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and coming out December 19. It’s titled “First Slap”:

“Can I slap you?”

He was struck by how she asked the question. Clearly, but softly, revealing not shyness but a sort of respect for the request’s significance. It was the same way she had suggested their first kiss, resolving his private uncertainty over the nature of a conversation which had grown steadily warmer and more intimate.

Lastly, a longer flash piece with a bondage theme, “Outnumbered,” will be part of New Zealand-based erotic journal Aotearotica, Volume 4.

They’ve been going at it for almost an hour—just the two of them, one on one, but really, she’s got him outnumbered. The cuffs help.

He strains at them suddenly, so hard the bedposts groan. She chuckles. They’ll hold. He’d hold, too, even if in the moment he doesn’t realize it. She slows down, giving him more space to ask for anything he needs. If he isn’t too proud.

Silence. She goes back to what she’s doing, riding out his reaction. Under her he bucks, trembles, struggles. A body in tension and frantic release.


More Free Fiction for Halloween

It’s the 31st of October and I still haven’t picked out my costume. From the array of cosplay/Ren Faire odds and ends in the back of my closet, I’ll have to decide what to go with based on the weather. If it dips below freezing, I’ll probably choose the Victorian frock coat in which to hand out candy rather than the ball gown or diaphanous nightie (candlestick and running shoes optional).

In the following story, let’s assume the characters are somewhere October 31st-November 1st remains well above freezing.

“I see.” He raised his hands—each caught in a loop of shadow-soft cord, tied in turn to Lucas’s right wrist. He smirked. “Bound?

“I can keep you as long as we’re joined like this. Or until sunrise, whichever comes first.”

“Binding Him Between”

Lucas hadn’t been to the cemetery since the funeral. He hadn’t seen the point. If anything, it’d only make Colin seem even more impossibly distant. But he remembered, he knew exactly where to go. Through the dark, he found his way to the line of glossy granite stones and shorter grass between the oaks.

With each step, his hold tightened on the rope in his pocket—it felt more like ribbon, or vapor, or the finest silk scarf, so barely tangible that it might be crushed to nothingness in his fingers or slip free and vanish into the night. Insubstantial as the barrier between lives was supposed to be at this hour, at this time of the year.

When a witch accosts you on the street, says to your face exactly what you most want, and presses a gift on you… Lucas was desperate enough to try anything.

He crouched at Colin’s headstone and lit the candle from his other pocket. Hoping the surrounding markers and trees blocked the flame, he repeated what the self-proclaimed warlock had told him. It sounded like dog Latin to Lucas, but there was some comfort in words so devoid of meaning—free of the pressure to make sense. Things had stopped making sense at the doors of the emergency room eight months ago.

The shadows cast by the candle stirred over the ground. Stirred, like liquid. Lucas stumbled back as the brown grass disappeared under mist, and the mist rocked with waves like the surface of a silver lake. He took a deep breath. The directions on this point had been very simple, very clear. He pulled the cord out of his pocket, knotted one end around his right wrist, and reached into the grave.

It didn’t feel like anything at first.

He cried out when another hand found his.

But he didn’t hesitate, plunging his other hand into the mist. His fingers closed around those holding his, traced down them to find the wrist. Unable to see beyond the silver ground, he tied two more knots by touch, then tightened his grip and pulled.

Colin stepped out with the same lanky, unusual grace he’d always had. That was all Lucas saw before throwing his arms around him, pulled tight in return by two bound hands grasping his sweater. He hid his face against Colin’s neck, scratched by his suit collar. He smelled like…nothing, really, a pure absence of scent, but underneath that a glimmer of warmth that Lucas knew was Colin, again, at last, and he opened his mouth as if he could swallow it. That made Colin chuckle.

Lucas stepped back. Unable to help himself, he reached up and brushed back an untamed lock of hair that Colin had rarely let him correct in life. Now he allowed it. Colin’s forehead was unlined, from pain or confusion or anything else. Despite the warm candlelight, the illumination that touched his body glowed silver. Maybe that was why he looked…different. Yet if anything, better. Not healthier, but more visibly himself. Free of some veil Lucas had never noticed until it was stripped off.

Colin glanced around them, and a corner of his mouth pulled in an achingly familiar way. “Not the most romantic place for a reunion.”

“I know.” Lucas joined in his laughter, almost giddy. “But the, um…the magic is bound to your physical…remains.”

“I see.” He raised his hands—each caught in a loop of shadow-soft cord, tied in turn to Lucas’s right wrist. He smirked. “Bound?

“I can keep you as long as we’re joined like this. Or until sunrise, whichever comes first.”

“Well…” He stepped closer. “I think we can make the best of it.”

He kissed Lucas’s smile away. That warmth in his scent infused the taste of him too, and the smooth pressure of his lips and slickness of his tongue seemed to melt through Lucas.

Because he couldn’t help himself, in between their kisses, Lucas asked, “How has it been?”

“Missing you is the worst part.” Colin nipped his jaw lightly, in his old playful way. He didn’t ask how it had been for Lucas, for which he was grateful. That was over now, at least for one night.

He unbuttoned Colin’s suit and ironed blue shirt—blocking out the day he had taken both from their shared closet to hand to Colin’s sister—then pulled the cloth down his shoulders and as much of his arms as their bonds allowed. Colin returned the favor of undressing him, tugging up the hem of his thin sweater. Thank God it wasn’t a cold autumn. Even if it had been, the warmth now beating off Colin seemed to reach through his fingers into every inch of Lucas’s flesh.

“Wait.” Lucas pushed him prone on the ground, taking advantage of his untied left hand to explore his lover. Touching all of him, whole, alive. Or if not exactly that, still present. In some thrilling way, more present than he had ever been before.

Colin caught Lucas’s face between his hands and pulled him up for another kiss. Lucas parted his lips for him, sipping at his tongue even as he groped between them to undo Colin’s fly. Colin kicked off his shoes, and after Lucas pulled back to strip off his own jeans, he felt his lover’s silk-stockinged soles run along his calves. Just as they’d used to do on lazy evenings in bed.

He pulled down trousers, briefs, and pressed his face to Colin’s navel, nuzzling, nipping at the skin above his hips. He licked his way down until bittersweet-musky hair met his tongue, and then he found Colin’s cock, and he savored it the way he always did.

Oh.” There was a new surprise in Colin’s voice, mixed with the old appreciation. As if it felt different now. His fingers curled in Lucas’s hair, not pulling but tangling.

Lucas was never able to take him all the way in, even now when he felt so hungry for him, but he’d always thought Colin was just the right length. His left hand stroked the rest of the shaft that he couldn’t reach, in between slipping lower to hold his balls. The warmth and a salty taste, like sweat or precome but airier, filled his mouth, the undeniable presence filling all of him.

With a gentle twist in his hair, Colin drew his mouth away and guided him higher along his body.

“Yes,” Lucas said, straddling him. “I want you everywhere.”

He had to get up on his knees so that Colin’s bound hands could reach between his legs, and then he was parting for his fingers, sinking onto them, shivering and gasping.

Colin met his eyes, and his brows lifted. He added a third finger, coiling deep with a practiced gesture made easier by Lucas’s arousal—and earlier preparation.

“I got ready for you…before coming here…” He bent his head, breaking the connection of their gazes, not embarrassed but nearly overwhelmed between Colin’s expression and the sensation uncoiling inside of him. “I…really fucking hoped this would work.”

They both laughed—not for long. Lucas was breathless as he fell across his lover, hips hiked to let his hand keep working. Colin was…beyond that, it seemed, into a new level of awe and ecstasy and focus. The beckoning of his fingers against Lucas’s prostate made him cry out, then bite into the suit fabric bunched at Colin’s shoulder to keep from shouting.

“Come on,” he nearly whimpered. “I’m ready for you. I’m so ready.”

Colin took his fingers away, and Lucas reached down to guide him in.

They’d always used condoms before, but it didn’t seem to matter now. Colin’s cock, still slick from Lucas’s mouth and pulsing with silver warmth, joined their bodies with a smooth stroke. Lucas twisted his hips, finding a rhythm that he matched.

Eyes hot, tasting salt, Lucas sat up, taking him deeper. He shoved Colin’s bound hands over his head and began to ride him. Colin groaned approvingly, but he’d never been one to submit with complete passivity; he drove several thrusts home as Lucas stroked himself with his free hand. He was already close. Yet the unbelievably of the situation kept him from giving himself over to it, as if that would be taking it for granted. He remained conscious of every centimeter Colin moved inside him, every brush of his knuckles over his own cock. He didn’t let this blur together, adding up into the suffusion of orgasm. He didn’t let himself forget Colin.

Not that he could. Not that he really ever had.

Too soon, but after an eternity, he came with a fall of pearlescent drops across both their stomachs.

He released Colin’s hands, and they gripped his thigh, nails digging sweetly into the flesh. At other times they might have held his waist, his ass, adding leverage to pump him up and down. Now any touch was enough. Lucas lowered his head and they kissed as Colin finished inside him with slower, deep-rocking strokes.

“Stay in me,” Lucas murmured.

Colin’s voice caressed his ear. “Do you remember the night I stayed inside you until I was hard again?”

Lucas grinned.

Colin’s responses weren’t much faster than they had been in life, but effortless and sure. As they night passed, they encountered the inevitable faltering or uncertainties, but nothing a word or gesture couldn’t clarify. Except, of course, the biggest confusion, the dizziness of the miracle of being together at all. Unable to explain—Lucas didn’t waste words talking about the warlock or why he’d believed him—they only made the most of it. At one point Colin switched, something he rarely did but showed no hesitation about now, and spread his legs for Lucas, who’d probably be sore in the morning but didn’t care, couldn’t care; he would have endured real pain to have this night again.

And then the night was over.

As dawn made the horizon a bruised apricot, Colin began to undo the knots in the cord. “We shouldn’t remain joined much longer. When I return, I want to go alone.”

He looked at Lucas deliberately. After a moment, Lucas nodded. He did have things to live for. Sometimes they were easy to forget. But Colin had always been good at reminding him.

Then Colin whispered, “Same time next year?”

Lucas didn’t have a word stronger than “Yes,” so that was what he said. When the sun rose, its light was no more dazzling than the silvery brightness of Colin’s smile when he did.

The mist slipped between them but could not eclipse it.

Lucas headed home with the rope and candle in his pocket, alone, eyes steady on the path before him.


If you’re looking for more erotic ghost stories, “Bodies of Ghosts” is still free at all major ebook retailers, and it’s included in the new Haunted anthology from Mofo Pubs. Happy Halloween!


Erotic Flash Fiction Publishers: A Non-Exhaustive List

Sometimes you just want to skip to the good parts. Because you’re impatient. Because you’re revved up and ready to go. Because sometimes instant gratification is sexier than any tease.

Because when a story is focused on a single idea, act, or scene, it has room to explore more depths than a bigger piece with a lot to cover. Because a brief story honed to a knife’s edge of eroticism can haunt you longer than a novel. Because a flash fic can be the written equivalent of a porn gif, and we fucking love those.

Because stories are stories, and we fucking love those, and the shorter the stories are the more we can devour.

This goes for writers as much as readers. I love to write flash fiction for the same reasons I love reading it, in all my impatient, curious, prying, pulsing, greedy glory.

So this list of Erotic Flash Fiction publishers is meant to appeal to both readers and writers. It’ll talk a bit about the style of each publication, and then provide information for submitting to it. It’s based on my personal notes. Erotic short fiction is a fast-moving market, with new places opening every year and some classics shutting their doors far too soon. These are all open to read and/or submit to at the time of this post’s publication. In the interests of full disclosure (and yeah, a bit of self-promotion), I’ll mention if I’ve been published at a particular market, but don’t read anything into this. I mean, the places that have published me are fucking awesome and you should totally check them out. But check out the others, too.

Some markets pay money, and some pay only in exposure. All accept stories <1000 words, but some also accept and even prefer longer short stories. Some also take poetry. Many publications showcase erotic fiction alongside art, photography, and video, so be forewarned not all linked sites are SFW. In fact, assume that they’re not.

Bright Desire: Among its feminist, sex-positive subscriber content, Bright Desire posts fiction about once a month. The editor says, “I’m looking for stories that are more than just a sex scene. Blow-by-blow accounts of sex are boring. I want to see stories with interesting scenarios and fascinating characters; stories that explore the issues and emotions surrounding sex.”

Payment is $15 for flash fiction <500 words, $25 for short fiction 500-2000 words. Full guidelines are here:

I’ve sold three stories to Bright Desire:  “Her Perfume” (f/f),“For Myself” (masturbation),  and”If You Were My Lover” (hard to classify).

For the Girls: High-quality short and flash fiction featured once a month. “[S]uccinct, erotic pieces that successfully get an idea across in a small number of words. Cleverness is encouraged, as is out-and-out dirty hotness.” Also, “Stories can cover any topic, however it must be erotic in nature, relatively explicit, sex positive and be written expressly for female readers. Female protagonists are preferred.”

Payment is $15 for flash fiction from 300-500 words and $25 for erotic fiction up to 2000 words. The guidelines are very similar to Bright Desire (both are edited by Ms. Naughty), but they are different websites.  Full guidelines are here:

Bust: There’s nothing quite like getting your smut in a glossy magazine, in between interviews with trailblazing women, fashion photography, and articles on everything from pop culture to feminist wedding planning. Bust’s “One-Handed Read” section features cliche-busting hotness between 800-900 words (stories longer than 900 words are accepted, but will be cut down to size during their thorough editing process). Pay numbers aren’t listed in the website but from the experience of writers who have worked with them (including yrs truly), it’s a $50 gig, plus a gorgeous and thought-provoking contributor’s copy.

Details for writing for Bust–not only erotic flash but nonfiction articles as well–are here:

My femdom story “Breakfast Time” appeared in the August/September 2016 issue. 

Nerve: How does one begin to describe Nerve? Check out their Fiction and Experiences tabs for the erotic, bold, and intriguing.

If you’ve got work of your own to share, Nerve takes 300-2500 words through their Nerve Writers Network membership application. Pay is $300 provided the article gets 40,000 unique visitors in a month. Writers should also provide an image to which they have the rights to post alongside the story.

I appeared in Nerve in October 2015 with “A Tender Thing,” another femdom piece.

Aotearotica: This print journal offers “a clever, modern and stylish erotica and work exploring sex, sexuality or gender expression, with a preference for a distinct New Zealand flavour. ”

Payment is NZD$50 and a contributor’s copy for fiction, creative non-fiction, poetry, art or graphic narratives. Written work <3000 words. To submit or order a copy, see:

Peach Fuzz: A print zine combining illustrations (paintings, comics, digital graphics, and more–though photoshoots are done in-house) with writing that need not be “strictly sexual in nature, anything pertaining to the human condition will be considered. We want your smutty editorials, erotic flash fiction, research-based articles, thoughtful op-eds, long verse poetry, and haikus about your first butt plug.”

Pay is $20 for 500-1500 words, $30 for 1500+ words (including research-based articles). For details and to order copies, see:

Lascivity: With the tagline “Refined Perversion,” this website offers erotica as well as nonfiction guides to everything from cleaning sex toys to slapping your lover safely and true stories.

Pay: unknown (likely exposure). To read or submit, see:

Omnia Vanitas Review: I can’t put it better than they do themselves:

“Send us your work : your sexiest, silkiest, naughtiest work : your full manuscripts : your short stories : your poetry : your love letters you ought to have burned : your multi-media projects with thought-provoking titles : your naughty pictures : your movies : your website, so we can become bedfellows.

 Send us YOU. 

I want bodies on paper.”

However, this appears to be an unpaid credit (except for exposure on the website) and there is a reading fee for stories longer than 5,000 words. This is what makes me think of it as a market mainly for short-short fiction. For more information and to read the online issues:

Circlet Microfiction: This publisher of erotic science fiction and fantasy publishes short-short stories of 250-1000 on its blog. “Microfictions should be sex-positive. literary quality, and although they may be explicit should be tastefully written.” Their focus is on sf/f more than horror, but they do publish a special round of stories around Halloween. Pay is $5 per microfiction. For submission guidelines, see:

I’ve had several microfictions published on Circlet’s website. You can read them here

Cliterature Journal: This erotic journal with a timeless title releases issues on themes including everything from “Voice” to “Technology” to “Sisterhood” to “Patriarchy.” They take submissions of prose, poetry, and nonfiction up to 10 pages. Compensation is exposure. See guidelines:

Cliterature: A similar title but different aesthetic, this website publishes fiction not in issues but in tagged categories. Check ’em out:  (Like the other Cliterature, compensation is in exposure, though no length guidelines are given)

Math Magazine: If you’re having algebra flashbacks, fear not: this is a “playful & provocative print quarterly for adults” out of Brooklyn. The deliberately bland cover is a tribute to old-time porn that had to be discreet on the newstand.

If you’re having algebra flashbacks, and it’s turning you on, maybe you should write for them. But submissions need not be arithmetically inclined. In any event, check Math out here:

Body Parts Magazine: Eros and Thanatos combine in this magazine that embraces the speculative, the surreal, the erotic, the horrific. They publish flash fiction as well as short stories up to 8,000 words, plus essays, interviews, artwork, and photography. Take note of their issue themes–Alchemy, Grave Robbing, Metempsychosis, and more–and view their submission guidelines here:  Payment goes from $5-$20 depending on category and length.

Bare Back Magazine: Their mission statement says “The human back is a reflection of the soul.  It is our vision that, a back that is bare tells a story, is strong, and is sexy.  It is our mission to feature stories, poetry and art that reflects this vision.” They have online archives of both fiction and poetry. Pay is $3 per story for stories from 800-2000 words; $1 per poem. Guidelines here:

Honeydew Erotic Review: This deliciously named magazine releases themed issues of work that’s “hard, …dark (grey), and we like it pretty damn spicy.” Feminist and LGBTQ welcome.  Also, though they like it “dark,” “Happy endings are good.” Length of story not specified, so long as there’s a clear beginning, middle, and end.

Compensation is $5 per story. See details:

Pink Litter: Editor Misty Rampart says, “Our project is an attempt to marry what some might call “beautiful” and what still others might call “obscene.” ” Both poetry and flash fiction are accepted. Payment appears to be through exposure, facilitated by a 30 word author bio with social networking links, which should be included in your submission.

Horror Sleaze Trash: This website combines videos and poems, stories, interviews, reviews, art/photography. You can also buy a hat.

Send that in (the stories and so on, not a hat), along with an author bio. Re: compensation, “I cant pay you cause no cunt ever paid me.” Check them out at: 

Heather: A digital, tri-annual literary magazine publishing fiction & flash fiction, prose poetry, creative non-fiction, digital art. Erotica should be female-focused. “Heather is your friend. Heather is your girlfriend. Heather is your girlfriend’s girlfriend. Heather is leaning against the wall at your neighbor’s house party. Heather is next to you in bed, naked.” Submit here:

Please note two things: first, the website for Heather is (the other Heather Magazine is “an Australian online publication championing women in music.” Which is also awesome). Second, the editor-in-chief’s name is Kelsey, not Heather.

Erotic Review: A nonprofit “literary lifestyle publication about sex and sexuality aimed at sophisticated, intelligent readers” that’s been running since 1995. The website is just its latest incarnation, and publishes reviews, articles, and videos alongside fiction. As a nonprofit, it’s an unpaid publication credit. See guidelines at: “