BDSM

For years I exposed myself in the window while no one mattered, until the night I crossed the street barefoot to kneel before the only man who dared to truly look at me.

He offered me double the salary of anyone else. What wasn’t in the contract was everything his hand on my shoulder was demanding from me.

When he looked in the mirror, he no longer recognized himself: blonde wig, red corset, heels. And she, smoking on the sofa, was waiting for him with a smile he had never seen before.

Many people ask me where my fetish for rubber gloves comes from. Almost nobody knows the answer. It started one Friday, in my aunt’s room, with the door locked.

The store suddenly emptied, and when Diego peeked into the fitting rooms, he never imagined that afternoon someone would watch him while he watched without permission.

I’d been protecting that job like gold for three months. That morning, alone with him before opening, I discovered how much I liked being told what to do.

I’d written that it would be my first time submitting. I never imagined the first thing she’d do when she opened the door would be slap me and order me to kneel.

I didn’t let you lift your face until you understood that, while you’re behind me, my mouth and nose belong to me and you’ll use them however I order.

Each step made the hidden metal beneath her skirt ring out. Vera had learned to live wet, on the edge, waiting for the next needle he would drive into her flesh.

He knew he was going to lose before they even started. But giving in right away gave him nothing: the pleasure was in resisting, in forcing the other to wrench victory from him with bites under the full moon.

When we close the bedroom door, we stop being the proper couple everyone knows. In there there are no limits, only the ones we set in order to break them.

The receptionist handed me a package with no return address. Inside, a metal plug and a note in his handwriting: “For our date, I want you to wear it.”

He told me that wait wasn’t paid for with money. And instead of getting out of the taxi, I stayed to find out what he wanted me to pay with.

She smelled the flower that should not have existed, and her body stopped obeying her. Among the trees, someone watched and waited for the exact moment to approach.

We hadn’t touched each other in two weeks. That afternoon, with the house finally empty, I discovered that the smell of his sleeping body could turn me into another woman.

I was never attracted to him, but every message he sent left me hotter than the last. And that night, with my husband only a few feet away, I stopped resisting.

I found her panties folded on the top step, still warm, and knew it was no accident: it was an order I had to obey on my knees.

When he turned his back to make the copies, his hand slid up my stockings as if he had every right to do it. And I didn’t say no.

The night I waited for him with my blouse half-open, I knew I was no longer the same woman: I had remade myself to ignite one man's desire.

I was half-naked in the car of a man I didn’t know, in a crowded parking garage, and he told me to relax because my checkup was only just beginning.