The Weekend My Wife and I Were Her Submissives

Marisa and I were introduced by a mutual friend. We fell in love quickly, got married a couple of years later, and built an orderly, almost predictable life. That’s why, when one Sunday afternoon we were driving home after lunch with that same friend, I wasn’t expecting my wife to break the silence with the sentence that changed everything.

—You know Renata likes to be in charge —she said, looking out the window.

I knew. I knew better than she imagined.

—I’ve heard something —I replied, deliberately careful.

Marisa slowly turned her head. She had that way of weighing her words before letting them go, as if she measured each one.

—I was with her. Several times. Before you and I were serious. —She paused—. I was her submissive. And today, at lunch, she asked me if I’d like to come back.

I stopped at a red light and looked at her. I was expecting reproach, shame, anything but what I felt: an enormous, almost physical relief.

—Marisa —I said—. I was with Renata too. And I liked obeying too.

The light turned green. Neither of us spoke for a long while, but something had been loosened between us, a knot we’d gone years without naming.

***

That same night, in bed, I proposed the idea that had no longer let me sleep.

—Talk to her. Ask her if she wants both of us. Together.

I said it and regretted it for half a second, and the next second I knew I regretted it at all.

Marisa propped herself up on one elbow. The streetlight came in through the blinds and striped her face.

—Are you sure about what you’re asking?

—More sure than about almost anything.

It took her three days to write to her. The reply came that very afternoon: Renata loved the idea. She was inviting us to her house in the outskirts on Saturday, for the whole weekend. She would be our Mistress; we would simply be hers.

***

We arrived on Saturday in the midafternoon. The house was large, with dark walls and dim light, and it smelled of wood and something sweet I couldn’t quite identify. The first surprise was waiting inside: Renata wasn’t alone. Beside her stood another woman with similar features, a few years younger, and a tall man with a calm presence who had an arm around her waist.

—My sister Lorena —Renata said, indicating her—. And Darío, my partner. Today they also get a say over you.

Marisa searched for my hand. Renata noticed and smiled.

—I want you to listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once. —She crossed her arms—. If you cross that line on the floor, you stop having any will until Monday. You’ll be ours for whatever we want, and I won’t accept a single “but” during your training. —She paused for a long moment, looking us in the eye—. We agreed on a word beforehand: if either of you says “winter,” everything stops immediately, no questions asked. That’s your only protection. Otherwise, this is your last chance to leave without anything happening. After that, you’re mine.

We looked at each other. There was no fear in Marisa’s eyes, only hunger. I knew her well enough to tell one from the other.

We crossed the line together.

***

The first thing was to strip us naked. We did it slowly, under the three of them watching, and a shiver ran down my back at feeling so exposed and so calm at the same time. Renata put a leather collar on each of us, snug but not uncomfortable, and clipped a leash to each ring.

—Look at those nipples on this one —she said to her sister, running her fingers over Marisa’s chest, which was small-breasted but had large, responsive nipples—. You’re going to enjoy punishing them.

Lorena moved closer and pinched them without hurry. Marisa held her breath, closed her eyes, and from her throat came a sound halfway between a complaint and desire.

Then Renata turned to me. She took my chin and forced me to look at her.

—And you, worm —she said, with no trace of real cruelty, only a role played to perfection—. You’re going to let us do whatever we please with your wife. And you’re going to watch. And you’re going to like it.

—Yes, Mistress —I replied, and my voice came out firmer than I had expected.

***

They took us to a padded bench, a kind of low bench. They tied us with our arms stretched forward and our backs arched, side by side, hips raised. The ropes were adjusted carefully, just enough to immobilize us without cutting off circulation. I noticed it even then: behind the hardness of the game there was meticulous attention to our bodies.

—Lorena, ten each —Renata ordered, handing her a thin riding crop.

The first blow landed across me and burned like a line of fire. Marisa took the second, and I heard her bite the air beside me. They alternated, ten for her, ten for me, and with every impact the heat spread and turned into something else, into a current that climbed up my back and clouded my head.

—Do you like it? —Renata laughed, pacing around the bench—. Look at their faces, Lorena. They love it.

She wasn’t lying. Marisa had wet cheeks and parted lips, and I was in a state I had never known, suspended between pain and a strange, pure pleasure. The session went on for quite a while, until our skin glowed and our breathing came in ragged gasps.

Between blows, Renata would stop to check how we were doing. She would lay an open palm on the hot mark, ask in a low voice if we could continue, wait for our “yes, Mistress” before gesturing to her sister to go on. That cadence — tension, relief, tension again — was what truly undid us. Each time I thought I had reached my limit, she would step back one pace and let me fall one rung deeper into myself.

***

When dinner time came, they left us tied up.

The three of them sat at the table a few meters away and ate calmly while we remained in that position, offered up, listening to the clink of cutlery and their banal conversations about anything at all. The waiting was part of the game, and I understood then: they were teaching us to desire, to count the minutes, to depend completely on their will.

After dinner, Renata came over. She ran a hand down Marisa’s back, then over mine.

—The two of you are new to something —she said quietly—. And that has to be cared for properly. Not just any old way. Slowly.

She gestured to Darío. He positioned himself behind Marisa, and I watched as he stroked the nape of her neck, as he took his time, as he waited for her shoulders to loosen and for her to yield before beginning. Marisa moaned, first from tension and then from something else, while he moved forward with an almost unbearable slowness. Renata never took her eyes off her, attentive to every reaction from my wife, ready to stop at the slightest wrong sign.

—That’s it —she murmured—. Breathe. Let go. Like that.

I watched it all from my spot, tied up, burning, and discovered that seeing her yield didn’t hurt me: it turned me on in a way I couldn’t explain.

When my turn came, Darío repeated the same care with me. Renata crouched until she was at ear level.

—If you need to stop, you know the word —she whispered—. If not, take a deep breath and let yourself go.

I didn’t use the word. I took a deep breath. And I let myself go to a new place, intense and overwhelming, where the body was learning something the mind would take days to understand.

***

The torment —if it could even be called that, when it was so desired— went on until the three of them were satisfied and we, undone and trembling, hung from the ropes more relaxed than we had in years.

Renata freed us herself, with firm, gentle hands. She rubbed our wrists, gave us water, covered us with a blanket. The implacable Mistress from a little while earlier was now taking care of every detail, and I understood that this contradiction was precisely the heart of everything.

—We continue tomorrow —she said, stroking Marisa’s hair—. There’s still a lot to teach you. Sleep. You’re going to need it.

They settled us together in an adjoining room, on a low mattress, still wearing the collars. Marisa curled up against me in the half-dark. Her skin was warm and her eyes were bright.

—Are you okay? —I asked her very softly.

—Better than okay —she replied, and kissed me slowly—. And you?

I couldn’t answer with words. I held her tighter and stayed there listening to her breathing, thinking about everything we had kept silent for years and that night had finally said out loud without uttering much more than a sentence.

Those were only the first hours of that weekend. What came after deserves its own story.