Humiliation

I went to the bathroom with a simple urgency and found her there, soaped up and smiling, already knowing the order I was about to give her.

I woke up tied to the leather bench, naked and gagged, and understood that the session wasn’t meant to cure me: it was meant for them to have their fun with me.

For weeks I’d been admiring her feet from the back row. The day she slipped off her sandals and pinned me with her gaze, I knew there was no turning back.

She came back from training still in uniform, looked down at me from above, and I understood that afternoon that something between us was going to change forever.

I’d spent years pretending I didn’t stare at her feet. That night, barefoot on the bed, she ordered me to kneel—and there was no turning back.

I don’t go to the cinema for the movie. I go to the back row and wait for unknown feet to rest on me and decide how much I can take.

I started graduate school not knowing anyone. It only took one look at her crossing her legs and slipping off a sandal for me to stop paying attention to anything else.

The moment the gathering loosens up and no one’s watching, I slip into the bathroom. I know exactly what I’ll find in the basket, and I know perfectly what I’m going to do with it.

It had been two weeks since anyone had used me the way I needed, so I put on the easiest dress to take off and went down to the only place where I knew I’d never be told no.

That afternoon, she walked through the curtain into the back room knowing she would obey every order, however degrading, without anyone forcing her to.

She knew those two men would despise her the moment she walked through the door, and that was exactly what kept her coming back for more.

She got thrown out of the mansion for asking too much. Lost in the night, the stench of a garbage truck made her smile: at last, someone spoke her language.

She went down those clinic stairs knowing she would not leave as the same woman: three pairs of hands were waiting to remind her what she really was.

I thought I was going to spend a quiet afternoon at Renata’s villa. I never imagined I’d end up holding my breath while she ordered Ximena around.

She ordered me to take off my clothes, and I let her hands adjust every cable against my skin. When I started getting wet, I knew there was no turning back.

When I pulled my leggings down in front of him, I knew from his look that he’d do exactly what I asked, no matter how filthy it was.

I ordered him to stay on his knees and not move. What came after taught him that with me, obedience isn’t an option: it’s the only rule there is.

I spent the whole afternoon holding on, thinking about the exact moment I’d cross that room’s doorway and he’d understand, once again, why he was there.

I went into the bedroom and found the dresser drawers empty of lace and full of men’s clothes. That night she learned she no longer got a say.

I felt her bare feet on my shoulder in the darkness. Then a voice asked me if I liked how her socks smelled, and all I could say was yes.