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FFF - Feb 15 - Love and Punishment

Key Words

Word Limit
Who can put a limit on love?
I can
300 words

Set it on Feb 13th

If you are confused as to the rules guidelines click here ---> HERE


She walked through the door and set her keys on the table. They sounded like dropped chimes against the lacquered wood. Her briefcase, like always, was placed underneath the table, between the hand-crafted legs.  She inhaled the rich aroma. Stepping out of her high-heeled shoes she felt the change in height, it acted as a gateway between work and home, between the stilettoed executive and home.

She turned, absentmindedly locking the door, there would be no visitors tonight. Shoes in hand she walked down the entryway and turned on the lights to the living room. Without even looking she knew he was there. She forced herself not to look. She busied herself in the kitchen, preheating the oven, and selecting a premade meal that was clearly labeled in the freezer Lasagna-use by 2/13”

With her hand on the refrigerator door she saw his reflection in the stainless steel, fuzzy from the texture, unmistakably him. She refused to turn, to look, she simply opened the door and extracted the salad, the rolls, butter and jam, and the ice cold water that he always liked. She closed the door and turned, keeping her eyes cast down to the counter and prepared the simple meal.

The oven creaked as it warmed, preparing itself, as she removed the tinfoil from the lasagna she felt her body preparing itself as well.

With dinner in the oven she moved to the center of the room and undressed, laying quietly, touching, crying, and cumming. The timer on the oven beeped and she awoke, chilly in the silent apartment. Now she looked.  He was gone. Of course he was gone, he was never really there. Her love for him was her punishment.  He would never be there.

She plated her dinner and logged-in.  Maybe he would be here.  (300)


She walked through the door and tossed her keys onto the table. They sounded like crashing chimes against the lacquered wood. Her briefcase, like always, dropped between the hand-crafted legs, almost underneath the table this time.  She inhaled the rich aroma. Stepping out of her high-heeled shoes she felt the change in height, it acted as a gateway between the stilettoed executive and home.

She locked the door, nobody would be leaving tonight without her permission. She walked down the hall and knew he was there. She could smell him.  She took in a deep breath and smiled at the aroma of freshly made lasagna.  Without looking she knew there would be a green salad, ice water, homemade rolls with jam and butter from the farmer’s market.

She didn’t even look at him as she walked through the house, she didn’t need to, he was there, he was always there.

She stood at the end of the granite counter flipping through the mail. Bills to the left, junk mail to the right. She shrugged off her jacket dropped it on the chair next to her. Absentmindedly unbuttoning her starched white blouse, she read the magazine covers on the stack. Her blouse and skirt hit the floor and she was glad that she had foregone underwear.

She laid down on the blankets he had prepared for her and touched, stroked, played, and climaxed. She felt him fidget across the room.  Sneering, she plunged fingers inside wet flesh and came again. She flipped open her phone, dialed, laughed, described, and came again, confirming romantic plans for the holiday.

She tasted her fingers and faced him, spreading wide to show him what she had done.

“You may go now.” She said. 

His love for her was his punishment and he accepted his sentence with gladness.


There are always 2 sides to every story, two version of every relationship. They never fully reconcile and couples, real, hopeful, imaginary, virtual, or theoretical, have to deal with that. I love this picture, is sexy, sensual, open to various interpretations and moods. There is an exquisite tension in the physical distance between two within the picture frame. Is this a power struggle? Who has that power? Is he watching, waiting, or observing and testing?

I hope you enjoyed writing and reading this week as much as I did.
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