Punishment

While he boiled the tea, the two men tied to the table were beginning to realize that no one would leave that living room tonight the way they had entered.

I woke naked between the two of them, my body wrecked from the night before, and from the brush of that green ruler along my back I knew they weren’t finished with me yet.

When the anesthetic wore off and he opened his eyes, he was already naked, handcuffed to a chair, and surrounded by four women who had spent a month waiting for that moment.

I’m a closet tranny. I’d spent months obeying his emails when he wrote that he’d be coming to my city, and I knew that afternoon he’d do with me everything he had ordered.

Forty minutes earlier my hands were shaking. Now I’m holding the harness, and for the first time in eighteen years, I’m the one deciding what happens in this room.

I showed her the video and she collapsed on the living room floor. But when she got back up, she was no longer the woman her husband had humiliated for twenty years.

I had her caged beside the table, on all fours, while my friends ate and tossed leftovers onto the metal tray. That was only the beginning.

That week I behaved like an insolent girl, and he warned me: we’d see whether I was still so haughty when he had me right in front of him, on my knees.

When the cabin heater went out, my husband reminded me that his rules don’t break just because it’s cold. That night I learned what truly belonging to him meant.

I rang his bell with trembling hands. Twenty years older, a declared sadist, no mercy. And me, a virgin, begging him to begin the moment he closed the door.

Three weeks without hearing from him, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I texted “hiii,” and his reply reminded me of the only thing I was to him: his obedient slut.

When Inés pulled back the tent flap, her girlfriend was already on top of another girl, still panting from an orgasm that wasn’t hers.

He came to the apartment of a stranger promising not to hold back. He still had no idea how big the cock was that would take his virginity, or how far that paddle could go.

When I crossed the dungeon door, she held out her hand for me to kiss. Then she pointed to the floor. I knew at that instant the night would be long.

She tied the ropes to her wrists and stepped toward the mud, unaware that someone was watching from the undergrowth, a sharpened knife in hand.

Santiago walked into the classroom that Monday in that fitted shirt and with a deep voice that raised goosebumps on my skin from the first word he spoke.

I pressed the buzzer with trembling fingers. I knew that beyond that door awaited someone capable of turning me into what I had always dreamed of being.

When I opened my eyes it was already too late. Two bodies were pinning me to the mattress, and the cold steel on my wrists told me that night had changed everything.

When my stepmother locked the bedroom door and started unbuttoning her blouse, I knew that punishment wouldn’t be like any sermon before it.

I was on my knees in the dog run, handcuffed and unable to move, while they laughed and their dogs circled closer and closer.