Confession of a Submissive in the Private Mansion

Applause filled the room when Damián raised his hand to show that he was finished with Mara. It was not the applause of a party or courtesy, but dry, excited, cruel claps from adults who had come to watch a scene of domination pushed to the edge. She was on the marble floor, facedown, her breathing ragged and her hair stuck to her face.

The guests surrounded her unhurriedly. There were three men and three women, all dressed in black, all wearing that restrained smile of someone who had just been given permission to play with something they had wanted for hours. Damián stepped aside slightly, his shirt still open, and let them look at Mara’s defeated body as though it were an offering.

—We heard you screaming from the corridor —said Vera, a tall woman with a calm voice and cold eyes—. I thought you were going to break her before it was our turn.

—She’s still useful —Damián replied—. Ask her.

Mara opened her eyes with effort. She was in her thirties, knew where she was and why they had brought her to that room, but the punishment beforehand had left her dazed. Her thighs, ass, back, and nipples were burning. She tried to plant her hands and sit up, but one of the women placed her heel beside her fingers and forced her to remain still.

—Look at me when you’re spoken to —Vera ordered.

Mara raised her face. The first spit landed on her cheek. Then another struck her mouth, thick and warm. The other women approached one by one to spit on her as well, and then the men did the same, forcing her to part her lips so she would receive every glob. She swallowed nauseously, humiliated, listening to the laughter around her.

—That’s it —said one of them, Tomás, grabbing her by the hair—. Good submissive. Swallow what we give you.

They dragged her toward the center of the room. Mara felt the cold marble against her breasts and the weight of several hands arranging her as they pleased. One woman spread her legs; another lifted her hips; Tomás knelt in front of her face and gripped her jaw. Everything happened without gentleness, with the precision of a group that already knew the ritual.

First they made her suck. Tomás pushed his cock against her tongue, still wet with everyone’s saliva, and did not wait for her to find a rhythm. He took the back of her neck in both hands and began feeding his cock down her throat, slowly at first, then with short thrusts that made her eyes water. Mara coughed, but he did not pull away; he kept her there, forcing her to breathe through her nose while the others watched.

—Open wider —he said—. I want to feel you choking.

She opened her mouth as wide as she could. The taste was sour, mixed with skin, sweat, and humiliation. Every time Tomás went all the way in, her throat closed and her entire body contracted. One of the women leaned over to stroke her hair with false tenderness, as though comforting a beaten pet.

Behind her, another man, Esteban, spread her ass with his fingers. There was no preliminary caress. Only pressure, saliva, and the order to keep still. Mara clenched her teeth around the cock in her mouth when she felt the first finger enter her sore anus. Then another went in, twisting, stretching her, tearing a muffled moan from her that Tomás received with a low laugh.

—Her ass can still take more —Esteban said.

Damián watched from a chair, a glass in his hand. He did not intervene; he merely watched his slave being shared. When Esteban replaced his fingers with a thick dildo, Mara arched her back and moaned around the cock filling her mouth. The plastic entered slowly, hard, opening her until her legs began to tremble. Vera slapped one of her buttocks hard.

—Don’t cry yet. There’s a lot more to come.

The third man, Bruno, positioned himself between her legs. He rubbed his cock against the entrance of her vagina, soaked with other people’s saliva and with the arousal her own body produced even as shame burned inside her. Mara tried to close her thighs, but two feminine hands held them open. Bruno penetrated her with one dry shove, all the way to the bottom, and she screamed around Tomás’s cock.

For several minutes they kept her like that: one cock in her mouth, another inside her cunt, the dildo working her ass. Mara lost track of the faces. Only the thrusts existed, the air she could not get, the fingers digging into her skin, and the voices ordering her to serve better. Tomás pounded her face with his pelvis; Bruno fucked her with deep thrusts; Esteban moved the dildo in her anus with a slow, cruel rhythm.

—Look at her —Damián said at last—. She’s pretending to be destroyed, but her body is responding.

The remark provoked fresh laughter. One of the women, Julia, knelt beside Mara and inserted two fingers into her vagina alongside Bruno’s cock, just to feel how open and hot she was. Mara let out a hoarse moan she could not hide. The mixture of pain, shame, and pleasure tore through her with a violence that made her furious with herself.

—That’s it —Julia whispered—. Even humiliated, you’re still getting wet.

When Tomás pulled away, Mara fell onto her side, coughing and drooling. They did not let her rest. Vera took her face between her fingers and ordered her to stick out her tongue. She obeyed. Vera spat onto that extended tongue and forced her to close her mouth and swallow. Then she kissed her brutally, pushing more saliva into her mouth, biting her lip until it burned.

They placed her on her back on a low rug. The women took control for a while. Julia held her wrists against the floor while Vera pinched her nipples, already sensitive from the clamps Damián had attached earlier. Another, Clara, brought small weights with rings and hung them from the outer lips of her sex. The pull made Mara writhe, but they held her down among them.

—Stay open —Clara ordered—. We want to see you suffer prettily.

The weights pulled downward every time Mara breathed. Vera took a smooth dildo, moistened it with saliva, and sank it into her vagina without asking anything of her. Clara did the same with a narrower one in her anus. They began moving them at different rhythms: one fast and deep, the other slow, opening her with patience. Mara moaned, muttered insults through clenched teeth, then moaned again when the movements synchronized and made her lose control of her hips.

—Don’t you dare come yet —Damián said from the chair.

Mara closed her eyes. Pleasure mingled with unbearable shame. She did not want to give them the spectacle of her orgasm, but her body was trapped between penetrations, pulls, and hands that knew it far too well. When Vera increased the rhythm of the vaginal dildo and Clara pressed the anal one all the way in, Mara felt everything tighten. Damián stood up and gave her a measured slap, not to hurt her further, but to bring her back.

—Open your eyes. If you come, you’ll do it looking at me.

She looked at him. The order finally broke her. The orgasm rose from her belly like a furious, humiliating, inevitable contraction. She screamed with her mouth open, her body arched, her legs trembling while the dildos continued moving in and out. The weights swung between her thighs, and each tug prolonged the spasm until it became a mixture of pleasure and punishment.

No one applauded that time. They merely watched her while she panted. Then Tomás climbed over her face again and rubbed his cock across her swollen lips. Mara opened her mouth before he ordered her to. He smiled, satisfied, and penetrated her again, using her mouth more hurriedly. Bruno positioned himself between her legs, and Esteban moved behind her, lifting her hips between them to change her position.

They left her on her knees, her chest against the rug. Esteban held her waist and entered her ass with a thrust that tore a rough cry from her. Bruno settled beneath her, on his back, and guided his cock toward her vagina. Mara was impaled between the two of them, filled front and back, while Tomás pushed his cock into her mouth from above.

The triple penetration left her incapable of thought. Each movement by one pushed against the other. Esteban struck her buttocks with his pelvis; Bruno lifted her from below; Tomás set the rhythm with his hand on the back of her neck. Mara drooled, moaned, and gulped air whenever she could. The women took turns pinching her nipples, spitting on her back, and stroking her hair with that twisted tenderness that humiliated her more than the blows.

—This is what a real confession looks like —Damián said, approaching—. No pride. No mask.

Tomás was the first to come. He pulled his cock from Mara’s mouth just in time to finish across her tongue and lips. She swallowed what she could and let the rest run down her chin. Bruno came inside her vagina with a deep growl, holding her thighs to keep her pinned on top of him. Esteban took longer; he kept thrusting into her anus until Mara’s body trembled again, exhausted, and then he discharged with a hoarse sound.

When the men moved away, Mara fell to the floor again. She was covered in saliva, sweat, and semen. She had red marks on her hips, her chest was flushed from the pinching, and her throat was raw. She thought they would let her breathe, but Damián approached and took her by the chin.

—On your knees —he said.

She obeyed with clumsy movements. The beating, the penetrations, and the humiliation had left her trembling, but she was still able to get onto her knees. Damián stood in front of her, his half-hard penis in his hand, and pointed toward her mouth.

—Open up and drink. If you spit out a drop, you’re going back on the floor and I’ll fist your ass.

Mara opened her mouth. The first stream of urine struck her tongue hard, hot, bitter, impossible to receive without grimacing. Damián stopped when her mouth filled so much that it began to drip down her chin. She closed her lips and swallowed, her eyes watery and her face twisted in disgust.

—Again —he ordered.

She opened again. He filled her mouth once more. Mara swallowed faster, obeying before the threat became real. The process was repeated several times, until she learned the rhythm: open, receive, swallow, open again. The others watched her in silence, enjoying that automatic obedience, that final way of breaking whatever remained of her pride.

When Damián finished, he urinated over her face, her breasts, and the open sex between her legs. Mara remained still, kneeling, her shoulders slumped. Then he spat on her cheek and leaned down to speak into her ear.

—Today you were useful.

She curled up on the marble and wept softly. It was not a clean or dramatic cry; it was exhaustion, shame, and relief mingled together. Damián walked away without looking back, while the others gathered their glasses and left the room. Mara was left alone beneath the yellow light of the lamp, marked by them all, knowing that night would be the confession she could never recount without shuddering.