BDSM

I thought it was just a game of late-night messages until one afternoon he shut my office door, turned off the light, and stopped asking permission.

I came back from the kitchen naked, cloth in hand, and knew that night there would be nothing left of my pride on the black marble of his living room floor.

I knew my parents were dominant. What I didn’t know was how far they’d go to give me the gift I asked for that morning.

The hot water ran down my back and, for the first time in that captivity, I felt his calloused hands like a caress. I didn’t open my eyes. I had promised him.

Unai’s suitcase was packed, but before crossing the ocean there was one last night left: four bodies, two harnesses, and a goodbye none of them would ever forget.

I had spent a year looking for someone willing to take complete control of me. The stranger’s email changed everything: she wanted my entire life.

He knocked expecting a routine exam. A stranger in a robe opened the door with a smile that promised trouble, and he knew that afternoon he wouldn’t be in charge.

She left them by the mat, still warm from her bare feet. It only took my daughter being distracted for a moment for me to commit the madness.

—Tonight you don’t serve me with your hands —she said, lifting her skirt while I remained on my knees, waiting for the only order that truly mattered.

Her feet resting on the edge of my chair were only the beginning. That night, I discovered how far I was willing to go to please her.

I’m a patrician used to buying everything I desire. That afternoon I discovered there are men you don’t command: you obey them.

She told her grandfather she was leaving, but she never even exited the building: Sonia was waiting at the end of the hall with five unwashed old men and a promise that made her tremble.

For years I’d been stealing her flip-flops to get off with them. The afternoon she caught me on a ladder, she knew exactly how to use my secret.

The neighbors’ complaints didn’t scare her; they turned her on. In that elevator it smelled of beer and dirty man, and she was already on her knees before reaching the top floor.

It took only her catching me on my knees beside her bed for friendship to break and something else to begin: obeying every one of her whims without a word.

The first time she ordered me to paint my toenails, my hands shook. Not from fear: from wanting to obey her.

I'd kept that secret for years. All it took was a bottle of vodka and an old white flip-flop for her to take control and bring me to my knees.

When she grabbed my arm on the way out, I understood she wasn’t looking for an apology. She was looking for a slave, and I was already on my knees before she asked.

I told her to bring the most outrageous outfits she had. I wanted to parade her through the city and, back at the hotel, lose myself between her feet for hours.

It was enough for her to look at my bare feet on the cold tiles to understand, before I did, what kind of man I could become if she ordered me to.