Saturday Spankings #SatSpanks #erotic #fantasy

Welcome to Saturday Spankings - here's a few from DANGEROUS TO KNOW which is one of my few pieces of pure erotica (no romance!) and is a seriously filthy story about whore fantasy.

Back Cover Information

For too many years I’ve hidden a sinful, erotic craving in the darkest corner of my soul. Within this deeply buried sliver, shameful fantasies rule and images—seedy, degrading, filthy images—burn through the dark of night and hold my dreams hostage.

Luckily, the center of my whore obsession is keen to play my slutty game. I know nothing about him, other than his taste, touch and smell, but that’s how I want it, because of one thing I’m certain—this man is dangerous to know. But despite the risks, in the very heart of New York, in open view, I’ll tempt him with my wares, show him my skills and prove I’m up for the job.

I wore my slutty purple skirt and silver stilettos again, but this time I teamed it with a tight bottle-green top, large gold hoop earrings and a short denim jacket. I pulled on a pair of panties, black lace, quite pretty for a whore. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be on long. 

He was waiting for me, standing with his hands deep in his jean pockets. He wore his usual clumpy dark boots and today a faded-at-the-seams black U2 t-shirt. As I approached him, walking sluttily and provocatively, I once again realized how damn tall the man was. He was lean and not overly big built. His long muscles were sinewy and defined, his shoulders wide and angular, and his pants just hugged the top of his thighs. He hadn’t shaved for some time. The stubble on his jaw was dense and shadowed down his neck. It wasn’t much shorter than the closely shorn hair on his head. 

The whole look was the opposite of vain. He didn’t care, just wore his skin in a way that suggested he had confidence in his ability to take care of himself, no matter what. I guessed it was that self-assured magnetism that had attracted me to him from six floors up. It was dangerously strong and scarily appealing to my depraved antennae. 

“You look so cheap,” he said as I approached.

I shrugged and gnawed on my gum. “Yeah, but it’s up to me to name the price.”

He laughed and the sound almost held humor. “We’ll see. Come on, this way.” 

For the second time he tucked his hand into the small of my back and urged me forward. We walked out of the park and past the entrance to the alley we’d been down previously. 

My nerves were scattering all over the place, but in a good way. Did I look like his whore? Would passersby know I was going off with this dodgy-looking man to have sex for money? What if I saw someone I knew? Would they stop and speak, ask if I was okay and be shocked by my attire? 

It was another risk I was willing to take. The end result was too exhilarating to be missed. 

I was living my whore dream.