Punishment

Two chairs with holes in the middle, a rope with a knot, and two men tied up not knowing if the next round would be theirs. The game was about to begin.

When the closet door closed and we were left in the dark, I felt her hand slide up my leg. We only had ten minutes.

One phrase was enough for her to climb onto the bed, rest her heel on his chest, and tell him that tonight he’d have to earn every touch.

I’ve always had a strange fixation. That afternoon I decided my best friend would be the first to obey me, on his knees and with nothing to hide.

We had signed the agreement and chosen a safeword, but nothing prepared me for the moment his shadow rose from the tunnel and I no longer knew what was play.

I was always the confident one of the two. But with cold handcuffs on my wrists and her new smile over me, I understood I was no longer the one in charge.

I thought my secret was safe behind a half-open door. I never imagined she’d end up holding my fate clenched in her fist.

She locked the storehouse door and slipped the key ring into her apron. Only then did I understand that afternoon wasn’t going to end with a lecture.

When her boyfriend left after slamming the door, she stood in my kitchen, barefoot, waiting for me to speak the first word of her new life.

Every time I slacked off, I paid for it with nettles, lashes, and her muddy boots. Worst of all was that part of me was already waiting for the next punishment.

She picked me up, pointed to her cheek for a kiss, and I knew the orders wouldn’t stay in the bedroom this time: they started the moment I got in her car.

I arrived in a red top and black skirt, without underwear, knowing that once I crossed that door I would no longer belong to myself.

He’d been tied to her desire for a month. That night, Selene would decide when, how, and how much it hurt before finally letting him let it all out.

Damián accepted the challenge thinking of the thousand dollars. He never imagined he’d end up tied in the sand, watching his wife ride five strangers while he took electric shocks.

Before every take he put on the mask and stopped being himself. He knew she wasn’t going to fake a single blow, and that was exactly what he paid for.

Ámbar had accepted the master’s rules: no pleasure until they returned from the trip. What he didn’t know was which of the two women would have the last word.

At first I only watched from the crack: naked men, tied up, begging for more punishment from the woman laughing over them. Until she held out her hand to me.

Every Christmas we hid our secret under modest clothing. This year I opened the door with my wife kneeling and bound in the living room, waiting for the guests.

I caught him masturbating alone and should have run out in shame. Instead I stayed, barefoot before him, waiting for him to tell me what to do with my body.

He stepped out from the bushes to shock the women runners. That night, the woman who screamed at him wasn’t scared: she was waiting for him.