Confinement

I stepped through the door and heard nothing. That silence meant only one thing: tonight my Mistress was in no mood for games, and I was going to pay for every minute of her bad temper.

I wanted him to understand that no title or promotion means anything when he’s naked on my tiles, waiting for me to decide what he’s worth.

He spat at the sorceress while two slaves held him down. She smiled, licked the contempt from his cheek, and promised to turn him into her next masterpiece.

They threw him naked into the mud among beasts, and the masked overseer smiled: she knew exactly how long it would take the baron to beg on his knees for a piece of meat.

I woke up bound, gagged, and blind, not knowing where I was or how much time had passed. I knew only one thing: the woman I had been no longer existed.

I drove to a lost cave to chain myself up for the whole weekend. What I didn’t account for was someone finding the keys before I did.

When the door opened again, Rubén realized that the previous night had only been the beginning of what those women planned to do to him.

The message arrived just before bed: an invitation for the following day at noon. I didn’t know how many people there would be or what awaited me, but I’d already said yes.

Three months clean, nine men under lock and key, and one goal: the night when they would all be mine, with no rules, no hurry, and no fear.

After the fourth gin and tonic, my wife got up from the sofa, crossed the living room, and started undressing in front of our friend. I could only watch and want it.

The emergency door was locked and my wife was trapped on the other side with him. Only a plaster wall separated us. Then I started hearing.

I went up the mountain alone under a red alert, running from my husband. I wasn’t looking for shelter: I was looking for impact, for something to finally crack the glass I lived trapped inside.

They used me as a mule and I got busted over a suitcase I didn’t even know I was carrying. Inside, I learned the only currency that mattered was my own body.

When the power went out and we were trapped between two floors, I knew those hours in the dark would change everything. And I did nothing to stop it.

The metallic voice announced the next phase and, instead of panic, I felt something I shouldn’t have: a ridiculous urge for it all to start again.

The hot water ran down my back and, for the first time in that captivity, I felt his calloused hands like a caress. I didn’t open my eyes. I had promised him.

I went upstairs to drop off some paperwork and came back down with a stranger who smelled of expensive cologne. Then the elevator stopped, the lights died, and everything changed between us.

I had spent a year looking for someone willing to take complete control of me. The stranger’s email changed everything: she wanted my entire life.

I held it in all afternoon, thinking about the exact moment I’d walk through that door and he’d understand, once again, what he was there for.

Many people ask me where my fetish for rubber gloves comes from. Almost nobody knows the answer. It started one Friday, in my aunt’s room, with the door locked.