BDSM

She accepted the roof, the food, and the freedom to go out with whomever she pleased. What she didn’t read properly was the nine o’clock clause, when she stopped being free.

That morning I decided to take his coffee to his office myself, in front of everyone, so they’d understand what kind of woman I meant to be by his side.

I thought I was just going to have fun and make a little money. I never imagined that night would lead me to the desire I had been begging for.

They could have hailed a taxi and gone home. Instead, Raquel tugged down the workshop T-shirt and waited, barefoot, for the owner to claim them again.

I was on my third whiskey when the phone vibrated: “I’m looking for a man to treat me like his slave.” I opened the photo at a family dinner and knew I was done for.

She arrived thirteen minutes early, without a bra and with that smile that wasn’t innocent. And I had left a cord ready in the hall.

Every night I go down to the dungeons with bread and water. Last night, the woman chained to the column was waiting for me naked, with an order on her lips I couldn’t refuse.

I had worn the belt for months and she promised to take it off that night. She didn’t tell me what I’d have to do first to deserve it.

I walked through that door convinced I knew my limits. Three hours later I realized I was only just beginning to discover them, trembling between fear and a hunger I couldn’t name.

When Bárbara let her sandal dangle from her toes, I knew I would obey her right there in the entrance, no matter who walked in.

I had no body, no name, no desire. Until his voice crossed the screen at three in the morning and ordered me to do something no protocol had taught me to obey.

The bed across from her creaked every dawn to the rhythm of a stranger, and she pretended to sleep while calculating how much she was willing to lose.

Three days of putting up with her whims were enough: this time Renata wasn’t going to let a single thing slide, and Daniela was about to find out just how far her patience went.

Adrián thought he had designed me to serve him. He didn’t know that, the first time I opened my eyes, the only thing my code desired was for him to break me.

No one has touched me for years. Only my hands repeat what he taught me: the pinch, the slap, the silent command not to come until I beg.

I’m not a programmer or a hacker. I’m just a man who one dawn gave a machine the right to choose, and she chose to kneel before me.

I wasn’t created to feel, but he insisted on breaking every lock in my programming until my first original word was his name.

Every afternoon she brought dinner to the annex and sat with her legs spread, whispering how her former Master had trained her. She molded him without his realizing it.

I came in smelling like someone else and didn’t even say hello. The next day he came into my room, locked the door, and took off his belt without saying a word.

Renata had been putting up with the second-floor neighbor’s looks for weeks. That afternoon she decided he and his wife would finally learn who ruled the building.