BDSM

I slipped into the house without making a sound to look for a paper and found my wife with her slipper in hand and her friend over her lap, waiting for punishment.

She had all the proof of everything on the desk. She could ruin me with one call. Instead, she locked the door and told me to kneel.

I blush just thinking that you’re going to read this, but he ordered me to: I must tell, without hiding anything, how I learned to kneel and give thanks.

I summoned her at six with one condition: a short skirt and the lingerie I chose. I would decide the rest when she walked through the door.

I sent him two photos hidden in the bathroom to provoke him. His answer wasn’t praise: it was an order to open the drawer I always kept locked.

He was limping, sweating, and too scared to look at me. When I ordered him to remove the towel in front of his brother, I knew he’d do everything I said.

She was hungry, cold, and had no reason to trust him. But when he looked her in the eye and offered her a roof over her head, she knew saying yes would change everything.

I went up in a robe, barefoot and furious, ready to yell at him. He opened the door, looked me up and down, and I knew I was the one in trouble.

Before, she argued politics and read the classics. Now she sits on his lap and waits, smiling, for the next whim of the man who transformed her.

A comment at the office was enough for him to decide his wife would go into surgery. Not for the baby: to remain the sole owner of her body.

I arrived trembling at the room, closed the curtains, and undressed following his instructions. I only wanted to be a usable mouth. I had no idea what would come out of it.

At twenty-nine she still had a good girl’s face, but that morning she walked into my office knowing exactly what she’d have to do for her father to sleep at home.

Four purplish marks on my hips were the exact shape of his fingers. I dressed like an impeccable executive, but we both knew who my body already belonged to.

He always made the important decisions. So when he said he needed someone else in the house for those weeks, I knew it had already been decided.

I got off the bus in my flowered dress and with my head bowed; none of those tattooed women had any idea what they would turn me into before the first month was over.

I asked for it a thousand times without believing he would do it. That night, with the ropes tight and his voice in my ear, I learned there was no going back.

We connected for weeks through a screen, but what if none of that spark remained in person? Then I saw him cross the bar, and my body responded before my mind.

She was twenty days late and still wearing that same look of superiority. That night, she learned that in my house, rent could be paid another way.

I was the serious guy in the suit and SUV. All it took was for a woman to challenge me with her eyes for the animal inside me to wake up, and that village fair set him loose for good.