Strangers

“I set the rules, and you follow them,” she said, and none of the four dared contradict her. Three months of confinement had left us at her mercy.

There was a locked door next to Barbara’s room. I opened it out of curiosity, not knowing that by that same afternoon I’d end up tied down inside.

For twelve years I’d been fading in silence. That night I put on the dress he hated, left without saying a word, and came back changed.

She caught me watching those videos behind her back. Instead of getting angry, she smiled and asked, “Do you really want another man to fuck me in front of you?”

I pulled out my cock pretending to piss under the tree, waiting to see whether that stranger would dare come closer in the park’s dim light.

We agreed to meet through the app in twenty minutes. I never imagined that that same night a stranger would decide what my body did and whom I gave it to.

The light stayed red, his latest photo stayed on my screen, and my hands had already stopped asking permission. I just had to get home. Or not.

I turn off the light, open the story, and let my hand drift down. In my head there’s always someone in the corner of the room, watching, waiting to come in.

They put the blue ribbon around my neck, the only one different from the rest, and I walked down those stairs knowing those six men would discover what I was hiding.

Marcos let me go in first, like a gentleman with a crooked smile. Inside, on some planks, two strangers were looking at me, their hands already at their zippers.

I only dress up when I have a date, always in a hotel room, and that night the stranger waiting for me had no idea what he’d find under my dress.

After midnight I put on the red heels, opened the gate with the remote, and went out for a walk. I only wanted to feel seen. I didn’t expect someone to stop.

He watched me from the armchair while I knelt in front of the stranger I’d picked at the bar. It was my first night being a whore.

I arrived at two in the morning with a dry mouth and one idea in my head: that night I wasn’t going to set any limits, no matter what happened among the pavilions.

I had tried it before and only felt pain. That night, in a hotel room with a stranger, I discovered how wrong I was.

I liked feeling watched, desired, chosen above all the others. That night a man from the countryside pulled me off the dance floor and took me somewhere with no turning back.

I followed her out into the street convinced it would be just another night. I had no idea what she was hiding under that tight dress or how far she would take me.

I only wanted sun and silence. I wasn’t looking for anyone, least of all a man who waited for me on the shore just to tell me he wasn’t letting me go.

I asked her to open her legs at the gas station, and the attendant’s eyes nearly popped out. That morning we learned that being watched got us hotter than anything.

I left work without underwear and with my blouse half-open. I only wanted to feel the air between my legs. I had no idea who I’d find in the train car.