My Girlfriend’s Friend Summoned Me to Punish Me

It was the last Friday before the holidays, that day when almost every office throws its Christmas dinner. I had dressed better than usual, an ironed shirt and the jacket I only wear on special occasions. I knew I was going to drink more than I should, but I had no idea how dearly that night was going to cost me.

After dinner, the whole group decided to carry on at a nearby club with good music. I drank, danced, laughed with people I barely exchanged two sentences with all year. At some point in the early hours, a coworker from the next department over, Sara, came too close. We held each other’s gaze for a second too long and kissed. It was a short kiss, almost a brush of the lips, nothing worthy of a story. But if I’m honest, I liked it. And that was what doomed me.

The rest of the night passed without anything worth mentioning. Around three in the morning I went home alone, fell into bed fully dressed, and slept off the drunkenness in one shot.

I woke late, with a pasty mouth and a heavy head. I ate something, got into the shower, and let the hot water bring me back to the world little by little. When I got out, I turned on my phone and saw several messages from Marina, Lucía’s best friend, my girlfriend. That surprised me. Marina and I got along well, but we weren’t the type to text each other.

I opened the conversation and my heart sank. Marina had sent me three photos. In all of them I was there, my mouth pressed to Sara’s, my hands where they shouldn’t have been. Underneath, a single line: “Are you going to explain this to me?”

I replied with trembling fingers.

—Marina, it’s not what it looks like. It was just a kiss, a drunken stupid thing. Please, don’t tell Lucía.

—You’re an asshole —she replied instantly—. Lucía adores you and you do this to her. Who the hell do you think you are?

—Marina, Lucía is the love of my life. I made a mistake, I know, but if you tell her she’ll never forgive me. I’m begging you.

It took her a couple of minutes to write back. Those minutes felt endless.

—Look, this isn’t something we’re discussing on the phone. I’m waiting for you this afternoon at my parents’ house, at seven. You know where it is. And don’t even think about not showing up. I took the photos myself, so spare me the excuses.

***

I got there on time. I left the car on the street and crossed the garden to the house. The villa was spacious, with a carefully kept lawn surrounding an empty pool covered by December cold. Marina was waiting with the door open. She seemed calmer than her written tone had suggested, and that calm, instead of reassuring me, put me on guard.

She was wearing a white wool sweater, jeans, and sneakers. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. She was beautiful, she always had been, even if I had never let myself think it out loud.

She let me into the living room and poured two glasses without asking whether I wanted one. I sat on the edge of the sofa, unable to relax my back.

—Daniel —she said, staring straight at me—, how could you do something like that to her?

—I already told you. It meant nothing. It was two kisses at a party, that’s all.

—I was there. It wasn’t two kisses. There were looks, hands, embraces. You were damn close to taking her to the bathroom and you know it.

I lowered my head. I had nothing to defend myself with.

—The alcohol, the party, I got carried away… —I muttered—. I know it was wrong. I’m sorry, I swear.

—Regret is useless, Daniel. Lucía deserves to know who she’s with. I’m going to send her the photos.

—No, please. —My throat tightened—. I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you ask me. But don’t ruin her life because of my stupidity.

Marina set her glass down on the table with deliberate slowness. Something changed in her face. Indignation gave way to something else, something colder and sharper.

—Whatever I want? —she repeated.

—Whatever you want —I confirmed, too quickly.

—Good. There is a way for this to stay between us. But I’m not sure you’re ready for it.

—I am. Tell me what I have to do.

She stood up without answering.

—Stay here. And don’t move from the sofa.

***

Marina disappeared down the hallway and left me alone with my drink and my conscience. The minutes began to stretch. Five, ten, fifteen. Each one longer than the last. What the hell is she plotting? The silence in the house was broken only by the ticking of a wall clock somewhere.

And then I heard it. The sharp clatter of heels coming down the tiled corridor. I was surprised, because Marina had gone off in sneakers.

When she reappeared in the living room, I was literally left open-mouthed.

She had her blonde hair slicked back, straight, falling over her shoulders. She was wearing a black leather bra and thong that clung to her body like a second skin, and thigh-high stiletto boots that rose above her knees. Her makeup was unlike anything I had ever seen on her, with her lips painted a bright red. In her right hand she held a thin riding crop.

—Surprised? —she asked, her voice changed as much as everything else.

—Y-yes —I managed to say.

—Shut up. And strip.

—But, Marina…

—You can leave whenever you want —she cut in, shrugging—. But if you walk out that door, I’ll call Lucía before you get to the car and tell her everything. Your choice.

I said nothing else. I stood up and started taking off my clothes with clumsy fingers, folding them any old way over the arm of the sofa. The chill in the house raised gooseflesh on my skin, or maybe it wasn’t the cold.

Marina circled around the sofa and told me to turn my back to her. I felt the leather tip of the crop travel across my shoulders, slowly down my spine, tracing lazy lines over the small of my back. The touch was soft, almost a caress, and to my own shame I noticed my body responding, hardening against my will.

The first lash caught me by surprise. A sharp crack against one ass cheek, a burn that tore a moan from me. Before I could recover, the second came, and then a third. Five in all, spaced out, each one preceded by a silence in which I didn’t know when the next would fall. The anticipation hurt almost as much as the blow.

—Kneel —she ordered, sitting on the sofa and crossing her legs.

I obeyed. Marina stretched out one leg and brought the point of her heel to my mouth.

—Lick it. Slowly. Like your life depends on it.

I closed my eyes and obeyed. I ran my tongue over the leather boot, over the curve of the heel, while she watched me from above with a half-smile. She was humiliating me, and the worst part was that every command from her ignited me a little more. I had never pictured myself like this, on my knees, begging with my eyes for instructions, but I didn’t want her to stop.

—Better than I expected —she murmured—. Maybe you’re not a lost cause.

***

She took me by the hand and made me stand up. Without letting go, she led me down the hallway to a dim bedroom. There she took off the thong and lay down at the edge of the bed, boots still on.

—Now show me you know how to do something right with that mouth —she said, opening her legs.

I knelt between them and started licking her. Marina let out a contained sigh, and then a lower moan, almost a purr. I played with my tongue, following her reactions, attentive to every ragged breath, every time her fingers tightened on the bedspread. Her moans kept growing, losing the control she liked to display so much.

When she was close, she grabbed my hair and pressed my face against her, barely letting me breathe. I didn’t pull away. I kept going until her whole body trembled and she collapsed onto the mattress, gasping.

For a while we both lay still, me naked at her feet, her catching her breath with the leather bra rising and falling. Then she made me get onto the bed. She started stroking me, unhurried, with her fingertips, allowing me nothing more. Every time my breathing quickened, she pulled her hand away and waited for me to calm down.

—Tonight you don’t get to decide —she said softly—. I do.

When she got tired of torturing me, she climbed on top, guided me inside her, and started moving. At first slowly, almost lazily, and then faster and faster, setting the pace herself, controlling everything. I tried to stay still, to let her do it.

—Don’t you dare finish without permission —she warned between gasps—. Hold it.

I clenched my teeth. Every second was a fight against my own body. I dug my nails into my palms, thought of anything, counted backward. Marina noticed and laughed, enjoying seeing me at the edge.

—Marina, I can’t take it anymore —I begged—. Please, let me finish.

She stopped just in time. She slid down and took me in her mouth, licking me with cruel slowness.

—Now —she said, looking me in the eyes—. Now you can.

I came with a force that left me empty. But before I could even react, Marina grabbed my head with both hands and kissed me, giving me my own semen back and forcing me to swallow. I did, still shaking, while she watched me with a satisfaction that had nothing to do with pleasure.

***

We stayed lying there a while longer, in silence. Then I got up, gathered my clothes from the living room, and got dressed without saying much. Marina walked me to the door, calm again, once again the same friend as always, as if the woman in the boots and with the crop had never existed.

—Are you going to delete the photos? —I asked at the threshold.

She smiled and said nothing. I just thanked her, like an idiot, convinced that I had paid my debt and that it was all buried forever.

I drove home with a strange mix of relief and shame, trying to convince myself that it was over.

But it wasn’t over. I would understand that much later.