A Walk on the Wild Side

Dressed up like a prostitute, Tricia takes a walk through the deserted warehouse district in the dead of night.
It’s all part of the game she and her husband Kevin use to spice up their marriage, taking turns to make one of their partner’s sexual fantasies come true.
Tonight, Tricia is playing out her fantasy of being a hooker, taken by force. When two men, neither of whom is Kevin, accost her in the dark, isolated neighborhood, Tricia decides that Kevin has truly raised the bar, and that her walk tonight is going to be wilder by far than she could ever have imagined.
An erotic short story of approx. 5,000 words.


“Maybe she’s got the cash on her, not in the purse,” the blond one piped up.
“Good point. Show us what’s under the jacket, honey.”
I crossed my arms, hugging myself. These guys were good. The way they were looking at me, as if I were just prey, was sending a thrill of fear down my spine. It was only adding to my excitement, but I wanted to play my role properly.
“Look, that’s all I’ve got, OK? Just take it and leave me alone.”
“Looks like she needs some encouragement, Rick.”
The blond one, Rick I guess, got behind me and grabbed my shoulders. Like I was going to be running anywhere in these sandals.
“C’mon baby, show us what you got.”
I shook my head, my eyes on the dark one since he seemed to be the leader out of the two.
Rick chuckled behind me.
“Stubborn, isn’t she, Kyle?”
So that was the dark one’s name, huh? It suited his brooding, slightly menacing look.
Kyle became a lot more menacing when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. The snick of the blade flicking out when he pressed the button sounded a lot louder than it should have done. It gleamed in the night, sending my pulse up yet another notch.
“OK, OK. Look, just don’t hurt me…please?”
The quavering note of fear in my voice was entirely feigned, and my fingers trembled as I found the zipper of my jacket. I pulled it down slowly, gradually revealing the pale inner curves of my breasts as I held the sides as closed as I thought Kyle would let me get away with.
He made an impatient gesture with the knife, and I knew he wasn’t going to let me get away with anything. I pulled the two sides of the jacket open, my nipples hardening under his heated gaze as I exposed myself to him in the cool night air.
While his attention was held by my boobs, I slowly started to slip off my sandals, staying on tiptoe so that Rick, behind me, wouldn’t notice either. I was getting ready to make a run for it, even though I had every intention of getting caught, and the risk of stepping on something sharp seemed a lot better than the outright certainty of breaking an ankle if I tried to run in these ridiculous shoes.
Kyle stepped closer as he gave a low, appreciative whistle.
“Looks like you were telling the truth, huh?”
The blade of the knife was cold as he placed the flat of it against my skin, and I couldn’t help jumping. He started to slowly stroke the blade downwards, not cutting me or hurting me in any way, but making it very clear that he could if he wanted to.
The blade of the knife traveled slowly down over my stomach. I kept my eyes on Kyle, watching his face as he watched the knife.
“Still, even if it’s not in your jacket, you could still be hiding tonight’s take somewhere else, couldn’t you?”
I held my breath as he slid the tip of the knife under the waistband of my skirt. I didn’t think there was any way I could have hidden a nickel under a skirt that short, but I don’t think that was really the point. I tried to suck in my stomach and make myself as thin as I could, to leave as much space as possible for the knife blade to avoid my skin.
I felt the skirt’s waistband pressing into my back as Kyle pulled back on the knife, then the blade had cut through the material and the skirt fell to the floor.

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About imogenlinn

I write erotic stories, often with a BDSM twist. I was born in Chicago in the 80s (no, I'm not telling you what year - a girl has to have some secrets). I was always a bit of a wild child. My stories are mostly about good girls who end up submitting to dominant, older men. (Autobiographical? Who, me?) I try to write my sex raunchy, and make the situations and characters believable. For me, if there's no build-up, or I read something and think, "But, she wouldn't do that!" then it kills the experience. I write about encounters and situations that turn me on and get me hot. Some of them are (loosely) based on things that really happened, others are based on things I only wish had happened!
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