Domination

I’m 1.62 and he was 1.88. When he opened the door in shorts and I saw what he had between his legs, I thought about turning around. I didn’t.

Her nickname said “active transvestite,” and I’d only had one experience so far. That afternoon, in a hotel near the subway, I learned what it was to be truly dominated.

I walked into that apartment with my bag full of lingerie and walked out transformed into something else: the obedient little puppy of two men.

We invited him thinking he’d back out when he saw us in person. We didn’t count on that short guy, almost our age, taking control the moment he walked through the door.

I came out of the shower soft and soapy, not suspecting that that afternoon a muscular stranger would turn the three of us into his obedient servants, ready for anything.

I heard her in the shower that first morning and, for no reason I could name, I froze in the doorway. When she turned and looked at me, I didn’t look away.

She came in wearing her white uniform and her usual smile. What neither of them saw coming was that the other woman was on the sofa, three meters from the game.

The rule was simple: keep the mask on, no talking. What Marcos didn’t know was who he was touching on his knees in my living room.

I never told him about my tastes. A WhatsApp notification on his sofa was enough to change everything between us that night at his house.

The voice on the other end of the headset gave me a simple order: I couldn’t finish until she decided. Then she disappeared, with no warning when she’d return.

When I looked up from my phone and saw him walking toward my bench, I knew that afternoon in Zona T would not end with a simple chat under the palm trees.

The skirt was torn, her lips swollen, and she smelled like a man who wasn’t me. The worst part wasn’t seeing her like that: it was what she ordered me to do next.

When she opened the door in that short dress and that smile loaded with alcohol, I knew the night wasn’t going to end the way she’d planned.

The message came from an unknown number: triple pay to keep him company on Christmas Eve. I put on the red dress, the impossible heels, and crossed the city not knowing what waited for me.

My mouth and body were ready, my heart pounding in my chest. All that was left was for him to walk through the door and look at me the way I needed him to.

He told me he’d show me three moments of pleasure and send me away light. He didn’t mention the cuffs, the balcony, or the vibrator that would change everything.

The rumor raced through the bakery like wildfire: Espiguita was back. And the only man who truly knew her felt the past crash down on him.

I served her the four o’clock coffee as always. Only this time I’d added something that wasn’t on any schedule.

The first time I knelt before my cousin, I stopped being who I was. What came after changed my body forever.