The College Girl Who Dreamed of Being Submissive

Camila was twenty years old and had a way of shrinking whenever someone looked at her for too long. She was petite, with a flat stomach and narrow shoulders, her brown eyes always halfway between curiosity and apology. She was in her second year of biology and sat in the back row, where no one expected anything from her. No one except Tobías.

Tobías was twenty-four and occupied space in a way she didn’t know how to. He was dark-haired, with arms honed at the gym he went to almost every day, and he had that calm certainty of someone who never rushed to get what he wanted. They had been dating for two weeks when he invited her to his apartment to watch a movie.

That night, halfway through the film, Camila rested her head on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her, she lifted her face, and they kissed. It was a slow kiss, until, without thinking, she bit his lower lip.

—Sorry —she went quiet, her cheeks burning—. I never…

—Never what? —he asked, pulling back just enough to look at her—. Never kissed anyone before?

Camila shook her head, now biting her own lip.

—You have nothing to be ashamed of —he said, hugging her again—. But then I have a question. You haven’t done anything else either?

—You mean if I’m a virgin? —Her voice came out sharper than she meant it to—. Yes, I still am.

—Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask it like that. I’m just surprised. It’s not that common.

—Forget it —she murmured, looking away toward the screen.

—You can tell me. I don’t judge anyone.

Camila stayed silent for a moment, weighing whether it was worth it. Then, in a very low voice, she let out the sentence she had gone years without saying to anyone.

—I’m not a virgin because I don’t want to be. It’s just that I have somewhat unusual tastes.

—Oh, yeah? —Tobías looked into her eyes, genuinely intrigued—. What kind?

She pulled out her phone. With trembling fingers, she opened her history and held it out to him. It was bdsm pages, one after another, an entire list that confessed by itself everything she didn’t know how to say.

—Interesting —he said, without laughing, without scandal—. Want to show me something too?

—Okay —Camila replied, more curious than afraid.

***

He took her to his bedroom and opened the bottom drawer of the dresser. Inside was a small case with padded handcuffs, a blindfold, cotton ropes, and a short riding crop, all of it obviously new, still arranged the way things are when they’ve been bought but not used.

—I’ve been interested in this world for a while —he said. It wasn’t entirely true: the idea of taking charge, of having someone surrendered to him, had been with him long before he had anyone to share it with.

—I didn’t imagine you’d like it too —Camila said, almost in shock. What she still didn’t know herself was how far she was willing to go.

Tobías took her by the waist and brought his mouth close to hers, slowly, but he didn’t kiss her. He waited. He forced her, without a word, to be the one to close the distance. When she did, the kiss was different, deeper, and he already had one firm hand on her ass when Camila jerked back.

—Sorry, I got nervous.

—Don’t worry. If you want, we’ll go slowly. Something softer for now. Another day, if you feel like it, we’ll prepare your first time calmly, so it won’t be abrupt.

He took off his T-shirt and guided her to the bed. He laid her back against his chest, took off her blouse, and began to caress her breasts with deliberate slowness, as if he had the whole night. Camila answered with a barely audible moan. He unhooked her bra and kept going, playing with her nipples, watching every reaction.

She masturbated sometimes, almost always with those videos in which women her age appeared tied up and at someone’s mercy. And now it was real: the boy she liked, who also shared exactly that, was stroking her body. She felt herself getting wetter than ever, felt something throbbing between her legs, and she knew he noticed because her thighs wouldn’t stop moving.

Tobías pinched her nipples, tugging them up slightly, then drew slow circles with the pads of his fingers. He moved his hand lower, helped her out of her pants, and touched her over her underwear, over the already soaked fabric, tracing the same circular motion.

—Do you like it? Are you enjoying it? —he asked, his voice thick.

Camila lifted her head just enough, found his eyes, and nodded.

Then he slid his hand under her underwear and began to stimulate her faster. She moaned louder, arched, felt she was about to come. And right there, one second before, Tobías pulled his hand away and brought his fingers to his mouth.

—Enough for today —he said calmly—. We’ll have time. Better to sleep.

Camila stared at him, incredulous, still trembling. She had read a thousand times about orgasm denial, had seen pleasure being denied to submissive women in her videos. She had never thought she’d live it in her own flesh, and much less that it would be him doing it.

***

The next day they went to the university together and didn’t talk about it. At lunchtime Camila went off with her friends and Tobías stayed behind finishing a presentation. When he closed it, he opened a separate document and noted, with the coldness of someone making plans, what had happened the night before. He settled on an idea that excited him more than any other: to find out how far she was willing to surrender, to turn her, with her consent, into his submissive, into someone who belonged to him within the rules they agreed on.

That same afternoon, once classes were over, they sat on a bench in the nearly empty courtyard.

—Did you like last night? —he asked.

Camila blushed. In public she was even more shy.

—I wasn’t expecting you not to let me finish. I’d read about it, I’d seen it, but reading it is one thing and having it happen to you is another. And especially with you.

—Your history was long —Tobías said with a half smile—. Tell me the truth: don’t you want it to happen again right now? Your body wants it again. You want it. Don’t you?

She nodded, her face red, glancing sideways at the two couples occupying the nearby benches.

—Then I think we should talk about it seriously —he said—. I’m proposing something. Neither of us is from this city, we both live alone. Move in with me. That way it’ll be easier for us to explore this without schedules or excuses.

Camila thought about it for a moment that felt long. But she already knew the answer. She wanted exactly that: someone to guide her, to set the rules, to correct her when she made mistakes. She agreed.

—Before anything else, tell me your limits —he continued, now very serious—. I know you’re a virgin, but you’ve read enough. What things don’t you want? What wouldn’t you tolerate?

—Honestly, I don’t have many —she said, lowering her voice until it was almost nothing—. To be honest, my biggest fantasy is to be whipped. To be punished and then made to walk around marked, as if showing off what was done to me.

Tobías’ whole body tightened. She was more submissive, more surrendered, than he had calculated.

—We’ll save the part about showing you off for when you trust me completely —he said—. But nothing that would really hurt you. Nothing that leaves marks that won’t fade. That’s off-limits, always. Understood?

—Understood —she replied, and for the first time in a long while she felt someone understood her.

***

Once they were settled in, that same week, Tobías repeated what had happened on the first night. Camila, in a burst of courage, asked him to take her virginity already. He said no.

—I want your first time to be something special —he explained—. I want to prepare it. Do it my way.

—And what’s your way? —she dared to ask.

—I have a fantasy. One that obsesses me. —He paused—. A total surrender scene. I tie you to a cross, one of the ones used for this, an X-shaped cross. I leave you exposed, unable to move, completely at my mercy. I punish you slowly. And while you’re there, tied up and trembling, I make you mine for the first time.

Camila’s pulse sped up so much that if Tobías hadn’t stopped touching her at that instant, she would have come just from the words.

—You want to tie me to a cross? —she repeated, in a thread of a voice.

—Without nails or real pain —he clarified, reading her face—. Straps, leather, nothing that leaves a mark. You immobilized, me deciding every single thing that happens to you. And a safeword that, if you say it, stops everything immediately. That word is above me, understand? Always.

She said nothing. She had never thought about it in those terms, so literal, so ritualistic. And yet she felt herself getting wetter still. At her silence, Tobías touched her again, one hand on her sex and the other on her nipples, and, like the first night, he left her on the edge without letting her finish.

—Please —she begged, in an act of submission that surprised even herself—. Let me come.

Tobías brushed her clit only slightly, without enough force, prolonging the torture.

—Please —Camila insisted, defeated—. Let me finish. After that, do whatever you want with me.

—I’m going to have you on that cross —he answered, his lips at her ear—. But it’ll be in three weeks. I’m going to prepare it carefully. In the meantime, every day is going to be like this: I’m going to touch you, I’m going to take you to the edge, and I’m not going to let you fall. And I’m going to spank that very white skin of yours slowly, as training, so that when the day comes you’ll be ready.

Camila closed her eyes. Three weeks of held-back desire, of denied orgasms, of a wait designed to drive her insane. She had no choice but to surrender to the idea, and she discovered that surrender was, precisely, what turned her on the most.

—Yes, sir —she whispered.

And she accepted her fate, knowing that each night of those three weeks would bring her, step by step, closer to the place where she had always wanted to be.

To be continued…