BDSM

My adrenaline surged just thinking about it: going out at night to a remote area and letting men I didn’t know use me however they wanted. I knew the risks.

I’ve spent years working among the dead and thought I’d seen everything. Until that man on my steel table twitched when I sank the scalpel into his chest.

The sea spat me onto a yacht deck with not a single man on board. When I woke up a second time, I was already wearing their dress and didn’t understand why I was letting them.

She arrived in the arena like a semiprofessional with perfect manners. Three lessons later, she was the one putting the crop in my hand and telling me not to go easy.

Balloons had terrified and aroused me in equal measure since childhood. On that birthday, locked in the bathroom, I discovered how far that contradiction could take me.

She left them folded on the sink, still carrying her scent, with a note: “You’re wearing these today.” I knew the afternoon would be a long one.

Nuria came to the practice to be cured of her lust; she left having taught the young psychologist that some urges aren’t cured—they’re obeyed.

I read the name on the corpse tag and my heart lurched: it was her, the same girl who had humiliated me for six years. And now she was still, at my mercy.

When I saw the video on her phone, I knew there was no way back: my neighbor knew exactly what she wanted from me, and I had fallen into her trap.

She’d been in all afternoon when she walked in. I knelt to fit her with a heel, and with her bare foot in my hands, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.

When I sat down in front of him with the list in my hand, I already knew I hadn’t gone to check materials. My boss had sent me to get the discount, and I was the currency.

When she knelt in the shower and looked at me with that smile, I knew there was no turning back: her fantasy and mine were about to cross a line.

She entered the half-ruined market looking for evidence for a complaint and found four men ready to use her like no one ever had.

I agreed to accompany him, knowing I would be his woman for a few days. What I didn’t know was that my body was already part of the deal.

The moment he got behind the wheel, Carmen knew who was in charge: no kiss or caress would come when she wanted, only when he decided.

Three years barefoot, two rings on her toes, and the certainty that at day’s end he will kneel to lick every footprint she left behind.

I had asked her for one simple condition, and when she walked through the door, I knew from her look that she had chosen to obey me completely.

She cranked the heat all the way up so none of them would stop sweating. She wanted them to arrive tired, dirty, and hungry to do to her all the things no one dared ask for.

He left me alone in his living room, still trembling, and I walked out of his house without saying goodbye. That same week I understood that something inside me had ignited and I would no longer be able to turn it off.

You threw me your still-warm panties and a smile. “Put them on and wait for me,” you said. Two hours later I was still on my knees, counting the minutes until you came back.