Damián's Rules for Saving My Family

I come from a line of women who learned to use beauty as a tool. My grandmother seduced a textile manufacturer in the sixties and lifted the family out of the mud into a house with a garden and household staff. My mother repeated the trick with a stockbroker, and for twenty years there were cars, trips, and jewelry that were now being sold one by one to cover the holes. When my father’s import business went under, everyone turned their eyes to me. It was my turn, they said without saying it.

At twenty-six I embodied that inheritance with a precision that made me uncomfortable: tanned skin, light eyes, a body honed by gym and discipline. But unlike the women who came before me, I had a different plan. I didn’t want a ring in exchange for obedience. I wanted a job, a life built with my own hands.

The problem was debt. It grew every month, and family dinners had become pressure campaigns disguised as loving advice.

—Renata, my love —my aunt would say, pouring me more wine than I wanted—, Damián Solís is a man with enormous power. A little of your charm and he saves us all.

Damián owned the Solís Group: mines, land, half-built towers on every corner of the city. Widowed, pushing forty-five, with a fortune big enough to buy the whole neighborhood. He had seen me at a charity auction and, ever since, my family had been courting him with the same desperation with which they wanted me to court him.

But Damián was mistaken if he thought that simply showing up would be enough to make me fall at his feet.

***

I saw him walk into the house one May night: dark suit that did nothing to hide a well-kept body, straight jaw, black eyes that lingered too long on everything they looked at. He smelled like expensive cologne and something harder to name, a confidence that filled the room. During dinner, my parents laughed at his limp jokes. I answered in monosyllables and held his gaze every time his eyes dipped to my cleavage.

When the others drifted away with clumsy excuses, he cornered me in the study.

—You’re the most interesting woman I’ve known in years —he said, closing the door without hurry—. Your family has told me a lot about you.

—I’m not merchandise, Mr. Solís. If you want to help my family, do it out of decency. Not in exchange for me.

He laughed, low and rough, and closed the distance.

—Don’t play innocent. They all end up understanding how the game works. I can give you everything. I just need you to stop pretending you don’t want it.

He brushed a strand of hair away from my neck with two fingers. It was the lightest touch and yet I felt heat rise from my stomach, a betrayal by my own body that made me furious. My cunt clenched under my skirt, suddenly wet, and I was glad he couldn’t smell it from where he stood.

Don’t give him the pleasure.

—You’re trembling —he murmured, pleased.

I shook my head, but I didn’t move when he kissed me. His mouth was demanding, unapologetic, and when he grabbed my hip to press me against him I felt his hard cock against my stomach, thick even through his trousers. I bit his lip, one last act of resistance that only made him hotter. He slid a hand under my skirt, up my thigh, and ran two fingers over my soaked panties. He pulled them away, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them clean without taking his eyes off me.

—Rebellious —he said against my mouth, my taste on his tongue—. And wet. Better.

That night I didn’t give in. I shoved him away, went up to my room, and locked the door. But in the darkness, alone, my hand ended up between my legs, three fingers buried in my cunt and my thumb pressing my clit at a desperate rhythm. I imagined him licking me the way he had his own fingers, imagined his cock opening me slowly, and I hated myself for coming twice in a row, biting the pillow, legs spread wide and the sheet stuck to my ass from how wet I was.

***

Flowers arrived, invitations, a velvet box with earrings I returned unopened. My family pushed harder with every gesture of his.

—Don’t be stupid, Renata. It’s just a matter of being polite.

I eventually accepted a dinner at his penthouse. “Just talk,” I told myself in the elevator, knowing I was lying. Under my dress I was wearing the red lingerie he’d sent me that afternoon, and the fact that I had put it on was already an answer.

He was waiting for me with his shirt open and two drinks poured. We talked about numbers, about his proposal to inject capital into my father’s company in exchange for my “company.” When I grew tired of the detours, I was the one who set my glass on the table.

—Say what you want, without the embellishments.

—I want to see you —he replied—. Start by lowering that zipper.

I did it slowly, watching him, determined he’d understand that I was the one allowing it. The dress fell. He ran his eyes over the red lingerie before touching me, and when he finally did, he did it like someone checking that something belonged to him. He pinched my nipples through the lace until they hardened, lowered the cups of the corset, and sucked my tits with calm precision, never taking his eyes off my face.

—Lie down —he said, and the order left no room for argument.

He tied my wrists to the headboard with two silk ties, testing the knots carefully, asking me with his eyes whether I was okay. I nodded. That silent question was what undid me: his hardness had a layer of care beneath it I hadn’t expected.

He moved down kissing me, skipping nothing, until his mouth stopped between my legs. He yanked off my red panties in one pull, parted my cunt lips with his thumbs, and looked at me for a second before burying his tongue inside. He wasn’t in a hurry. He licked me from top to bottom, sucking my clit until it swelled, sliding in two fingers and curling them against the exact spot that made me shake. When I was about to come, he pulled his tongue out and blew gently.

—Ask nicely —he said, lifting his face shiny with my wetness.

—Please —I let out, with a voice I didn’t recognize—. Please, lick me. Make me come.

He lowered his head again and didn’t stop until I came in his mouth, squeezing my thighs around his face while he swallowed and kept licking. He made me come again with three fingers inside, fucking me slowly until I screamed against the restraints, and only then did he free one hand.

—Now show me how you do it by yourself.

I touched myself in front of him, humiliated and aroused in equal parts, two fingers in my open cunt and my thumb on my clit, while he watched me the way one watches a paid performance. He pulled his cock from his trousers, thick and veined, and started stroking himself as he watched me, unhurried. When he entered me, he did it slowly, centimeter by centimeter, watching my face so he wouldn’t miss anything. He opened me from the inside with calculated slowness until he was all the way in, and there he stopped, pelvis pressed to mine.

—This is mine now —he said, and I hated how much I loved hearing it.

He started fucking me slowly, almost pulling out completely before sinking back in to the hilt. Then he picked up the pace, gripping my hips to slam me against the mattress, my tits bouncing with every thrust, my thighs sticky from all the wetness I was leaving on him. He made me come again with his cock inside, and only when he felt me clench tightly around him did he let go, coming hot and thick inside me without pulling out, moaning my name in my ear.

That same early morning was also the first time from behind. He prepared everything with patience, his face buried between my ass cheeks, his tongue tracing my hole before he slid in one finger, then two, cold lube and his low voice telling me to relax. He put me on all fours, positioned himself behind me, and pressed the tip of his cock against my ass. He pushed slowly, millimeter by millimeter, holding me by the waist so I couldn’t get away. It hurt at first, a burn that made me bite the sheet, but he didn’t move until I’d opened fully for him. When he started fucking my ass, he did it with the same patience he’d used for everything else, one hand keeping time on my hip and the other slipped around front, two fingers rubbing my clit. Little by little the burning became something else, a filthy intensity that left me moaning into the mattress, and I came like that, with his cock deep in my ass and his fingers soaked in me, trembling and empty when he finally emptied himself inside me with a long growl.

***

Damián kept his part of the bargain. The money entered my father’s company, the bank letters stopped arriving, and at family dinners they started toasting again. No one asked the price. Everyone knew I was the one paying the bill, in silence, in his penthouse and wherever else he felt like taking me.

In his office he sat me on his desk one afternoon, with the whole city behind the glass wall and the papers from a contract scattered across the floor. He opened my blouse without unbuttoning it, popping the buttons, lifted my skirt to my waist, and tore off my panties with his teeth. He knelt between my legs, draped my thighs over his shoulders, and ate my cunt right there, on top of the signed contracts, until I came all over his mouth and the desk. Then he stood, lowered his fly, and shoved himself into me in one hard thrust.

—You’re my favorite secretary —he said, holding my wrists behind my back and fucking me with dry, punishing thrusts that made the wood creak—. Every deal I sign, we celebrate like this.

He came on me that time, pulling out at the last second to paint my tits and belly with hot semen, then made me clean it off with my fingers and suck them one by one while he watched.

I became his secret. Midnight messages, meetings with a safeword he respected to the letter, and rules I pretended to hate. He made me suck him in the back seat of the car while the driver drove, one hand on the back of my neck setting the pace until he came in my throat and made me swallow every drop. He spread my legs in a hotel jacuzzi, my back against the edge and water getting everywhere, and fucked me until I lost count of how many times I came. The strange thing was that, within those rules, I felt strangely free: for once I didn’t have to calculate, or seduce, or manage beauty like capital. I just had to obey, or not, and live with the consequences.

But resentment grew beneath the pleasure. One night, with him tied to his own bed and me on top setting the pace, I leaned down to his ear. I’d put the silk ties on him with which he used to tie me up, his wrists bound to the headboard, his cock hard and pointing at the ceiling. I sat on him slowly, letting the tip barely brush my soaked cunt before dropping down in one go and taking him all the way in.

—Now the one at my mercy is you —I told him, pressing down with my whole body until I felt him losing control.

I rode him without letting him touch me, grinding his pelvis with mine, watching him clench his teeth every time he threatened to come and I slowed down to leave him hanging. I pinched his nipples, put my tits in his face so he’d suck them, and when I finally let him come it was inside me, his neck veins standing out and a rough groan sounding like surrender. I came like that, on top of him, feeling his seed fill me from within, and then I got up and started getting dressed, cum running down my thighs.

—It’s over. My family is safe. I’m not a toy.

Damián, sweaty and still tied up, smiled with a calm that made me cold.

—You’re coming back, Renata. Not for me. For this.

***

I held out for two weeks. The nights were the worst: my body remembered on its own, and my hand never managed to finish what he’d started. I fingered myself with three fingers buried to the knuckles and still couldn’t get there, shoved the handle of my hairbrush inside and still couldn’t get there, ended up crying in rage with my cunt dripping and my need intact. When he called to invite me to his beach house “just to close the deal,” I already knew it was a trap, and yet I still put my purse in the car.

There the game was different, slower and crueller. He tied me to a chair on the terrace, naked, facing the sea, with my legs open and bound to the legs so I couldn’t close them. He kept me on edge for what felt like an hour, kneeling in front of me, barely licking me, sliding a finger in and pulling it back out, whispering in my ear everything he planned to do to me while I begged him to do it already. When he finally let me come, he did it with his tongue buried inside and a thumb in my ass, and I screamed so loud the gulls took off.

In the pool, with the water up to my chest, he held me against the edge, lifted one leg over his hip, and shoved his cock into me under the water. He fucked me against the tiles, one hand over my mouth and the other pinching a nipple, and made me promise I’d say his name when I was done. I said it. I shouted it, actually, with his fingers filling my mouth, no one for miles able to hear us. He came inside me and made me stay still, with his cock still hard inside me, until he felt the semen starting to seep out of me.

On Sunday we improvised: him, an unbearable boss; me, the employee who needed to keep her job. I knelt under his improvised desk, opened his fly, and sucked his cock slowly, looking him in the eyes, licking his balls between laps, taking him to the back of my throat until tears filled my eyes. He came in my mouth, ordering me not to spill a drop, and I didn’t; I swallowed it all while he stroked my hair like I was a diligent student. When it was all over, I felt ridiculous and powerful at the same time, because I knew that in that theater I was the one in control, that I could drop the curtain with a single word.

I said that word on Monday, before leaving.

—This is tearing me apart inside. I need to really stop.

Damián, leaning back against the chair, nodded without arguing.

—As you wish —he said—. But you know where to find me.

***

I didn’t go back.

I got the job I’d wanted so badly, a modest desk and a salary that was all mine. I rebuilt a routine with schedules and coworkers who knew nothing about me. My family prospered, oblivious to the details of how. The months went by and I learned to live without telling anyone the price I’d paid.

But there are nights when the memory returns whole: the silk ties tightening around my wrists, his tongue between my legs, the cock opening my ass with a surgeon’s patience, that unbearable mix of command and care I never found in anyone else. I wake up with my cunt soaked and my hand already between my thighs, and I come fast and dirty thinking about him, biting my wrist so I won’t scream his name in an empty apartment. The desire didn’t go away completely. It just went to sleep, waiting, like a tame animal I know will wake again one day.

And then I’ll know, once more, how strong I really am.