Confinement

I hated her with all my might, and yet with her body bound over mine and the gag swallowing her insults, my body betrayed me in the worst possible way.

I was trained to please and obey, but that half-open door awakened something else: a spark of defiance that even cold rings against my skin couldn’t extinguish.

I thought the noise among the crates was rats. It was her, crouched in the darkness, and the moment she smelled my fear I knew I wouldn’t go home the same that night.

I woke up unscarred in a bed that wasn’t mine, healed by a stranger of impossible beauty. What he didn’t tell me was what that cure had done to my body... and my desire.

In the bathroom, a makeup bag was waiting for me with a note: “put everything on and turn it on.” From that moment on, I stopped deciding what happened to my own body.

Every night I go down to the dungeons with bread and water. Last night, the woman chained to the column was waiting for me naked, with an order on her lips I couldn’t refuse.

Adrián thought he had designed me to serve him. He didn’t know that, the first time I opened my eyes, the only thing my code desired was for him to break me.

I got off the bus in my flowered dress and with my head bowed; none of those tattooed women had any idea what they would turn me into before the first month was over.

I waited for the doors to close. Diego was already kissing his girlfriend without a care, and her sister kept glancing at me, biting her lip, not knowing what to do with her hands.

When I opened my eyes, she was still inside me. I had no idea how long I’d slept—only that Soledad was smiling like someone who knows you have nowhere left to run.

He had spent years pressing his ear to the walls of cheap motels. One night he found a forum promising more: booths with a view of other people’s pleasure.

When they put me in that cell, I never imagined two strangers would turn it into the scene where I learned what it meant to surrender to desire and pleasure.

That night they shot me up with the first hormones and made me throw out all my men’s clothes. “You’ll see how pretty you get,” she said, smiling.

Adrián walked into that office as a senior analyst and knew, from the director’s smile, that he would leave as something else: something pretty, docile, and nameless.