BDSM

The air in the room had become unbreathable when He looked at us and said that night we had to prove how far we were willing to go for his pleasure.

It took only slipping the heel off my heel for him to stop looking me in the eyes. And I discovered how much power could fit on the tip of one foot.

I thought I was only going to watch the filming of Europe’s dirtiest movie. They hadn’t told me about the two seats—or the woman occupying the one beside me.

We’d been at it all night, but seeing her from behind, about to step into the water, reminded me that morning had its own rules too.

I had never taken a job like that before: he only wanted to sit and watch while other men used me, and keep for the end what they left inside me.

Her feet were swollen from the match and she had a smile that knew everything. I only wanted to kneel and show her how far I was willing to go.

I couldn’t stop staring at her boots. When she caught me, instead of pulling away, she asked if I was one of those who die to kiss soles.

Every gesture is calculated: the brush of stockings, the heel dangling from my toes, the smile that makes them feel guilty. Today I woke up wanting to play.

I asked him to put on my heels so I’d tower over him, and on his face I knew that night he wasn’t in charge of anything.

The padlock snapped open, and before leaving the cage she knew he had returned with another woman’s scent clinging to his skin.

I could never tell them apart. One kissed me tenderly; the other tied me up and used me. It took me too long to realize there was never a mistake: they planned everything together.

When the walls fell and swords were drawn on her knights, she had only one bargaining chip left: kneel naked before the man who had destroyed everything.

She came to my house with two beers and a story she needed to get out: the night she realized she loved giving up control completely.

All it took was a firm hand on her neck for her to understand that I set the rules that night. The rest depended on whether she dared to stay.

His first night in cell 118 was enough to teach him he no longer owned his body, only belonged to the man in the lower bunk.

Her ass offered, the unused whip in my hand, and her begging me to begin. But the master’s pleasure is something else: making her wait until fear and desire become one.

While my husband was sucking on my breasts in front of the mirror, I was thinking about her and the body of the man we’d be having dinner with that night.

While he boiled the tea, the two men tied to the table were beginning to realize that no one would leave that living room tonight the way they had entered.

I woke naked between the two of them, my body wrecked from the night before, and from the brush of that green ruler along my back I knew they weren’t finished with me yet.

The old man at the deli had the last two bottles of the wine I needed for that night’s dinner. And he knew exactly what he was going to charge me before he let me leave.