Domination

When the Mistress snapped her fingers, I knew my wife would stop being only mine that night, and I’d watch every second without looking away.

Three women, three men, and one rule that night in the bungalow: nobody knew who would end up with whom, and the timer was already running on the living room table.

I let my guard down for a second and Renata had already locked the door. She knew my secret, and she intended to use it to get exactly what she wanted from me.

She came down the stairs in a black dress that barely covered her, and the two guests realized that dinner was about to be unlike any other.

Five men, an empty bus, and a route that veered off course. I recognized every face and knew that night I wasn’t getting home early.

I’d gone a week without hearing from him when he waited for me after class, took me to a secluded corner, and let three strangers watch everything.

She trusted her blindly, which is why she didn’t ask where they were going when the car left the highway and headed for the coast with the professor in the back seat.

They left the club at two in the morning. Renata had no idea the real show that night was playing on a screen at the foot of the bed.

I thought the steam room was mine alone, along with my toys. Then the door opened and a very tall stranger looked at me without any hurry to cover herself.

I never thought a woman’s hands could touch me like that. When my boss offered me a massage, I had no idea she was opening a door I would never want to close.

“Normally now you’d have to kneel and wait in silence,” she said as she fastened the collar on me. She didn’t know I’d be the one ending up in charge.

She locked the door and slipped the key into her pocket. “From now on you do what I say,” she whispered, and part of me, tired of deciding, wanted to obey.

When I pinned her head between my thighs, I expected her to resist. Instead, I felt her hot breath against my panties and heard a low moan.

For months I’d felt her searching for me in the crowd during the sermon. That Sunday I decided to follow her home and find out what that look was hiding.

I got home thinking I could sleep, but my phone lit up with her name on the screen, and I knew I wasn’t going to rest that night.

We’d been writing to each other every morning and every night for a month and a half. When I finally saw her sitting at that table, I knew neither of us would sleep alone.

The age gap should have been a problem, not an invitation. But when she kicked off her shoes and looked at me from the sofa, I knew I’d obey every order.

I was wearing a too-tight red dress and had just turned forty-two when that blonde woman put her hand on my waist and pulled me against her.

Beatriz no longer resisted when I put the chain around her neck. I changed her name, her routine, and the idea she had of herself.

I thought I had her cornered against the wall. It took me a second to understand that the only one trapped in that empty house was me.