Domination

He was more than twice her age and her mother’s man. But when they were left alone in the house, Carla understood he’d wanted exactly this for months.

I left home wearing the red thong and my heart racing: my uncle never called me in on a day off, and I already knew why.

The perfect daughter by day, my own mother’s lover by night. I learned to fake it in front of everyone, until my sister came back and I had to choose between them.

Standing in front of them in nothing but the pink lace set, I waited for the order. The bag with the dress weighed in my hands, and I was already trembling before it all began.

I’d spent months avoiding coming back, but that afternoon my sister put a video on the screen and nothing in our family was ever the same again.

I thought the whole house was mine that night. Then the lock turned, he looked at me from the doorway, and I was still naked on the sofa.

He hadn’t touched anyone in months when I started looking at my aunt differently. She prayed every night; all I could think about was how to bend her without guilt.

Every afternoon, when he returned from university, he put his men’s clothes in the bottom drawer like someone hiding evidence of a crime. And he went down the stairs in heels.

I thought my secret was safe between these walls, until I heard his window slam shut and knew someone had just seen who I really am.

The silence at the table said it all before the words did: my father had a debt, and this time it wouldn’t be paid with money.

She lowered her forehead onto the oak desk, between the son and his mother, and understood that her title as a respectable mother-in-law had just died in that office.

For years she’d looked down on me, but that afternoon, bent over in front of the freezer, Marisol made the mistake of putting her ass at eye level.

I went over just to watch the final. When the whistle blew, a hand sank into my ass and I knew the real plan was starting then and there.

She was on her sofa, her skirt hiked up and her cunt wet, and all she had to do was say one sentence for me not to leave her there, waiting for her husband.

She knocked on my door in desperation: her husband had been arrested. I agreed to go, but on one condition, and she was in no position to refuse anything.

When my daughter walked through the door laughing, I was still wearing the trace of the man she was going to marry on my skin.

I’d spent years looking after her, paying for everything, putting up with her screaming. That dawn, in front of the empty alleyway, I decided that for once she was going to give me something in return.

I was left tied on my back, legs spread, with no idea what she was going to pull out of that black bag she left on the hotel bed next.

He came to my room to confront me about what happened on Saturday, but what he confessed afterward left me breathless: he had seen everything, and he liked it.

He crossed the city with nothing but his desire. When the door opened, he knew that man wasn’t going to ask permission for anything that happened.